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gydima · 2 days ago

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Paddy/Eoin fic: Give Me Good Sleep

After Paddy is released from Ghadzi, Eoin needs him to stay out of trouble for one night. Just one.

Read on AO3 or behind the read more.

Rating: Explicit

Contains: First time, confrontations, oral sex, anal fingering, anal sex, barebacking, creampie, Vaseline as lube because IDK what else they'd have access to, Eoin treating his undershirt like a napkin again but worse this time

Notes: This is based on the TV show characters, as I have little to no knowledge of the real people. Set during S01E02, after Paddy is released from Ghadzi military prison and before SAS recruitment begins. For the sake of getting Eoin and Paddy alone together in a private room with a real bed, I'm pretending they needed to stay overnight in a Cairo hotel before meeting up with Stirling, Lewes and the other recruits. Title comes from "You Belong to Me" by Cat Pierce, which is a fantastic Eoin/Paddy song for the vibes of this fic.

Eoin is sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, head in his hands, when Paddy returns from bathing. Eoin's slept so little in the past few days, it takes a moment for him to catch on that Paddy's hair is wet but neatly combed, and he's wearing the fresh uniform Eoin brought for him. He does not look at all like he's ready to turn in for the night.

"What're you doing?" Eoin asks, fighting a yawn.

Paddy tosses the filthy clothes he'd worn in Ghadzi into the corner, where no doubt he'll leave them for good. "Going to meet Reggie, get some drinks," Paddy says. "You want to come with?"

The sleepy lassitude abruptly flees Eoin's body, and he sits up straight. "No," he says. "I don't."

Paddy had started to move toward the door, as though Eoin's company was a foregone conclusion. Now he stops and turns to back to Eoin, brow furrowed and left eye still half-swollen shut. He doesn't ask for clarification, only shrugs. "Suit yourself."

Adrenaline surges and Eoin's across the room before Paddy has fully pulled open the door to leave. Eoin reaches over Paddy's shoulder and slaps his palm against the door, shoving it firmly closed.

"You're not going either," Eoin grits.

Paddy doesn't turn to face him. His fingers are gripping the doorknob, and his whole body is stiff. Eoin knows he is standing too close, his chest less than a foot from Paddy's back, but neither of them moves for a long, brittle moment. It breaks when Paddy huffs out a breath like an angry bull and says, "The hell I'm not," trying to wrench the door back open. Eoin shoves with all his might to keep it closed against Paddy's furious strength.

"I said no," Eoin snarls, and finds himself shoving Paddy flat against the door with his whole body, pinning Paddy with a forearm across his back. He leans into Paddy with his full weight to rob him of his leverage.

Paddy is a tense, seething line of heat against him, but Eoin knows he could fight his way free if he wanted. He doesn't. Instead, Paddy drops his forehead against the door with a subdued thud and asks, "What is it then?"

Eoin's left breathing hard against the back of Paddy’s neck. He's glad Paddy doesn't turn, so Eoin doesn't have to look him in the eye. It leaves him with the courage to speak.

"Do you know what the past week has been like for me, Paddy?" he asks plaintively. "I have spent every waking hour trying to get you out of that prison. I had no power against the people who wanted you to get yourself killed in there. Did you think it a miracle that Stirling intervened? You think I didn't have to chase him down and beg him to pull any strings he could to free you? The way you make enemies, I thought I might never see you again."

Paddy remains silent and still, and Eoin is lost. Anger can't sustain him because it isn't what motivated him to begin with.

"I was scared, Paddy," Eoin confesses to Paddy's back. Paddy's hand is still on the doorknob, and Eoin's palm flat against the door. He finally lowers it, wrapping his fingers around Paddy's wrist so he can feel Paddy's pulse thrum reassuringly against his fingertips. "I don't want to change who you are. I can't take the fight out of you and would never want to. But I need you to stay out of trouble, stay safe, for one night. Just tonight, until we leave for Heliopolis in the morning. Can you do that?" Eoin asks. His voice cracks, so he tacks on: "Or do I have to tie you up, lad?"

It's meant as a joke, albeit a weak one. It doesn't land that way.

He feels Paddy's shudder every place they're touching, and his fingers tighten reflexively around Paddy's wrist.

"Oh," Eoin says softly, knees going watery on him for the briefest moment. Paddy must misunderstand Eoin's response, because he makes a sound of distress and starts struggling against Eoin's grip. Against his better judgment Eoin drops the arm he'd held across Paddy's back, molding himself to the contours of Paddy's body instead. "Hush now," he says, and lets himself press a lingering kiss to the nape of Paddy's neck.

Paddy's breath is ragged in the silence that follows, and Eoin's not sure he himself is breathing at all as he waits for Paddy's response. He'll let him go if Paddy tries to free himself again, though he won't know how to face him if that's what Paddy chooses.

Eventually Paddy does move, but not to pull away. It's a small movement, but there's no space between them to miss it when Paddy pushes his hips back, rubbing against Eoin in welcome.

It's Eoin's turn to shiver, cock stirring, and he rolls his hips forward to show Paddy he's not alone. He notes distantly that Paddy's hair is still damp when he skims his nose up Paddy's neck to rest in the spot between Paddy's hairline and his ear. "Will you stay tonight?" he murmurs.

The sound Paddy makes is a cross between a laugh and a sigh. "I'd not leave you now unless you told me to," he says, voice rough.

"Good," Eoin says, stepping back reluctantly and tugging Paddy's wrist until Paddy turns to face him. Paddy's gaze is fixed in the vicinity of Eoin's collarbone before Eoin nudges under his chin with two fingers. When Paddy finally looks him in the eye, his expression is unsure, no trace of the fiery focus Eoin longs to see.

Eoin dares cup Paddy's cheek and sweep a thumb over his cheekbone, under that swollen, bruised eye. "And will you come to bed with me?" he asks.

Paddy nods, then turns his face to brush his lips across the inside of Eoin's wrist. "You know I'd follow you anywhere."

"I didn't know," Eoin says honestly, joy surging into a smile. "But I hoped."

Paddy lets Eoin slide his fingers into his hair and pull him forward. He tips his head back and his mouth is softer and hotter than Eoin could have imagined when Eoin gets to kiss him at last.

He loses track of time, maybe, because when he comes back to himself, his fingers ache from how tightly he's holding Paddy. He doesn't know how long it's been since the kissing turned deeper, since he took possession of Paddy's mouth with his tongue and dragged Paddy's body so hard against his own that there's not a lick of space between them.

When Eoin pulls back just far enough to catch his breath, one look at Paddy knocks it right back out of him. Paddy's head remains tilted back, mouth red and wet, and his eyes are hazy.

Eoin is suddenly starkly aware of how hard he is, and that Paddy is, too, where he's pressed against Eoin's thigh.

"Come on, then," Eoin says, turning Paddy as if they're dancing, then walking him backward to the bed.

Paddy sits abruptly when the backs of his legs hit the mattress, and Eoin goes to his knees between Paddy's feet.

"Fuck," Paddy breathes. This time he's the one to reach out and cup Eoin's cheek. "A lovelier sight I've never beheld."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Eoin teases with a grin. "I've got more planned for you, if you’re keen."

He sits back on his heels and pulls Paddy's feet into his lap. He unlaces one boot, then the other, and eases them off carefully. Paddy's socks are next, and Eoin runs a finger down the arch of each foot just to see Paddy squirm. Then he moves in closer and dips his fingers under the waistband of Paddy's trousers. "You want to take care of your shirt while I take care of these?" he asks.

Paddy's stripped off both the shirt and his vest before Eoin's even finished easing the trousers past Paddy's hips. Once they're out of the way, though, it's the view of a lifetime, to look up at Paddy and see his chest bare and flushed, cock hard between his thighs.

"See, I've found something lovelier still," Eoin says, smoothing his hands up Paddy's strong legs, then hooking them behind Paddy's knees to pull him to the edge of the bed. "May I?" he asks, nodding toward Paddy's cock.

Paddy laughs. "May I, he asks! Never have I heard such a polite request to suck a cock."

"Hmmm," Eoin hums. "Well, you would be doing me a favor. I've wondered a long time how you'd taste."

Paddy's expression shifts from amused to heated, and he slides his fingers into Eoin's hair. "Have you now?" he says. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't make you wonder any longer."

"Such a kindness," Eoin says with a smile, eyes fixed on Paddy's face, watching his reaction when Eoin takes Paddy's cock in his hand and gives it a stroke.

Paddy doesn't disappoint, eyelids fluttering for a moment and his hips lifting instinctually into the pleasure. He licks his lips and looks down his body to where Eoin's keeping his movements slow but firm, drawing Paddy's foreskin over the head of his cock before dragging it back down so the tip is exposed again, growing sticky with precome.

Eoin can't decide whether he should keep watching Paddy's face or look down and try not to lose his mind at finally seeing himself touch Paddy so intimately.

"Christ, your hands," Paddy breathes. "I love your hands."

That decides it for Eoin. He looks down, first at the hand he's unconsciously rested on Paddy's thigh, then higher, to where Paddy's cock is straining in his fist.

"Fuck," Eoin says, the view making his own cock twitch. Why is he still wearing clothes, he wonders distractedly. But more pressingly, why hasn't he got Paddy in his mouth yet?

So instead of bothering with his own clothing, Eoin ducks down and licks the wet tip of Paddy's cock, then curls his tongue along the underside and drops his jaw to take Paddy in. Paddy smears across his tongue when he takes his cock deeper, and Eoin pulls back for just a moment so he can swallow the taste of Paddy before going back down.

He's only gotten in a few more good sucks, and barely started taking Paddy closer to the back of his throat, before Paddy's tugging at his hair, pulling him away.

"Much as I'm enjoying myself," Paddy says unevenly, "I won't last long if you keep going."

Eoin considers for a moment before pressing a kiss to the tip of Paddy's cock in a 'farewell for now,' and sitting back on his heels. He doesn't move his hands from Paddy's thighs.

"Would that be a problem?" Eoin asks. "Or is there something else you wanted?"

"Me?" Paddy says. "I'll take whatever you want to give me. Or give whatever you want to take. I just need to know which one it is first, in case you still need me hard for it."

Eoin squeezes his eyes closed and digs his fingers into the meat of Paddy's thighs at the same time. "Ah, fuck," he says. "I'll have you any way you want, but I have to get these damn clothes off first."

"Aye, I would like to see that," Paddy responds, and then he's leaning forward to tug Eoin's shirt over his head while Eoin fumbles with his trousers. He barely gets them open before he remembers to kick off his boots and socks.

Suddenly Paddy's standing from the bed, and Eoin stops with his trousers halfway down. "What are you--?"

His words dry up when Paddy walks naked to Eoin's bags and leans over to rustle through them. He's seen Paddy nude plenty of times, but this is not the same. It's all right now to drink in the sight of Paddy's muscled thighs, trim waist and tight arse; he doesn't have keep his eyes and thoughts to himself.

Still, he feels his face flush darker when Paddy turns back toward him and catches him staring. Paddy lifts an eyebrow and holds up Eoin's tin of Vaseline.

"Yeah, come here, come here," Eoin says, wrestling his trousers the rest of the way off and standing so he can catch Paddy 'round the waist, bring their bare skin together and kiss him again, deeply and thoroughly.

"I can taste myself in your mouth," Paddy murmurs against Eoin's lips, so Eoin dips his tongue back into Paddy's mouth and lets him taste as much as he wants.

Eventually they stop to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together, and Paddy asks, "How do you want me?" into the hot space between them.

Eoin shoots for the stars. "Would you let me fuck you?"

Paddy’s eyes slam shut and his face twists into a pained-looking snarl. He gives a chest-deep groan and shaky nod as he takes Eoin's hand and presses the Vaseline tin into it.

Eoin stands dumbstruck as Paddy gets on the bed, settling onto his elbows and knees before looking back at Eoin over his shoulder. "Well?" he says, a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Eoin wastes no time situating himself behind Paddy. From his new vantage point, the vulnerable curve of Paddy's body is too much to bear; Eoin can't take his time opening Paddy up the way he knows he should. He digs his fingers into the Vaseline and rubs it over Paddy's hole before sinking a finger inside abruptly. Paddy hisses, but pushes back into the stretch.

Eoin should take care, should focus on making it good for Paddy, but he barely manages to add more Vaseline and get Paddy to take another finger before he's smoothing his hand over his own cock to get it slick.

His hands tremble when he reaches down to line himself up with Paddy’s hole. He can’t look away as he rubs the head of his cock there.

"Fuck," Eoin breathes as he sinks the tip in just a bit, watching Paddy’s rim stretch to accept Eoin, to make room for him inside all that tight heat.

He stays there longer than he ought, barely rocking his hips to tease the crown in and out while Paddy’s back flexes and heaves underneath him, sweat gathering down the line of his spine.

"Perfect, you're perfect," Eoin says breathlessly, finally rolling his hips further forward and coring deeper into Paddy’s body. "So tight for me, love."

Paddy shudders out a sound akin to a sob and arches his back, lifting his arse to push himself onto Eoin’s cock and give Eoin a better angle to fuck him.

"That’s it," Eoin says, and lets himself bottom out in one too-quick, barely controlled thrust. Paddy moans again and Eoin’s hands find his hips, fingers digging in so he can hold Paddy just so, perfectly positioned for Eoin’s pleasure.

It takes only a few moments before he’s moving mindlessly, rutting into Paddy like an animal instead of the gentle way he’d always imagined doing. He could go mad from the way Paddy’s body goes supple, bending to Eoin’s will with such ease. It’s as though this is where Paddy is meant to be, underneath Eoin, letting Eoin reshape Paddy with his own lust, spreading his legs wider so Eoin can further debase him.

He thinks wildly that he should never stop; he should keep Paddy in his bed, slick and open, always waiting for Eoin to fuck him. Always dripping with Eoin’s come, claimed and safe. He thinks Paddy would let him if the world were different, and his breath punches out of his body at the thought.

He falls forward over Paddy's back, arms shaking where he's barely keeping his full weight off of Paddy. Paddy, who hasn't formed a single word since Eoin put his fingers inside him. Paddy, whose breathing is labored, his body jostling with the force of Eoin's thrusts. One of his hands is white-knuckled, gripping the sheets. The other must be around his own cock, given the flex of his arm and shoulder. Eoin, who already feels unforgivably selfish, greedily wishes he could see that too.

He presses his open mouth to Paddy's shoulder and licks at the sweat there before giving in and sucking a bruise into Paddy’s skin. Paddy’s broken moan makes him want to bite.

So he does.

"Eoin!" Paddy gasps, tightening around him, and Eoin feels it like a punch to the gut.

"Inside," he says in a rush, "can I come inside?"

Paddy cries out and shudders, pulsing around Eoin's cock, and Eoin knows Paddy's somehow found his pleasure despite Eoin’s selfish focus on his own.

Still, that will have to be permission, because Eoin's orgasm overtakes him at once. He fucks Paddy through it, his spend slicking the way even more in those last, hard thrusts. His arms give out and he lets Paddy take his weight now, bearing him down into the mattress, his hips rolling slower as he spills his last inside Paddy's lax body.

He would stay there, plastered to Paddy's back, but his cock starts to soften and he wants to see. Needs to see his mark on Paddy.

He pulls out and rises back onto shaky knees. Paddy is still gasping for air, with a darkening bruise and the shape of Eoin's teeth sunk into his shoulder, his legs splayed open. Eoin can’t help but touch where Paddy's rim is red and puffy, press his fingers inside and watch Paddy gasp and lift his hips whorishly.

He touches Paddy there longer than he should, until Paddy makes a quiet sound of discomfort and Eoin stops, chagrined, and grabs his discarded vest to perfunctorily wipe off his fingers and cock. He’s more careful cleaning between Paddy’s legs.

He tosses the soiled vest into the same corner as Paddy’s dirty clothes, then slowly settles next to Paddy, who turns on his side to face Eoin.

“Are you satisfied, then?” Paddy asks.

“Mmmm,” Eoin hums, leaning forward to kiss Paddy soft and fleeting. “For now,” he says. “Though I fear I may never have my fill of you.”

Paddy’s answering smile is one to cherish and tuck away in his heart. “Nor I of you.”

“What, no poetry?” Eoin teases, linking their hands together.

Paddy sighs. “Can’t remember a line of it. It would seem you fucked all the poetry out of my head.“

“Here I thought you would be more romantic," Eoin says.

“And for some reason I always thought you would be gentle,” Paddy says, and shakes his head when Eoin grimaces. “That is not a complaint. I very much enjoyed myself and your gorgeous cock.“

Eoin laughs. “Gorgeous?”

Paddy nods. “Aye, like the rest of you.”

This time Paddy’s the one to kiss Eoin, long and lingering.

“So you’ve thought about me like this before?” Eoin asks when they part. “Forgive me for asking, but you are known to be an impulsive man.”

“Oh, not when it comes to this. There have been times I thought of little else but you.” Paddy looks down at their joined hands and asks quietly, “And you said you’ve thought of me?”

“I have. Many times and in great detail. I think, though, I might not have acted on it now if I hadn’t felt so frightened to lose you.”

Paddy is silent for a moment before he meets Eoin’s eye again. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” Eoin assures quickly. “Not a bit. I’m glad of it.”

“Good," Paddy says. "That’s good.”

A great, jaw-cracking yawn breaks through Eoin’s attempt to suppress it. “Sorry,” he says. “Haven’t had much sleep these past few days.”

Eoin leans into it when Paddy touches his jaw gently. “I don’t understand what I’ve done to make you care for me so, but I am grateful for it,” Paddy says. “I’m sorry I caused you worry, and I wish I could tell you I won’t again. But I will do my best to remember this, and to think of you, when the next fella gets my goat.”

“Thank you,” Eoin says, knowing it’s as close to a guarantee that Paddy can give during a war. His eyelids droop from exhaustion. “Now come here, I’d like to hold you while I can.”

Paddy scoots closer, and their legs intertwine as Eoin wraps an arm around Paddy’s back and drags him nearer still.

“Rest now,” Paddy says. “I’ll be right here and I’ll wake you in the morning.”

Eoin nods and brushes one more kiss to Paddy’s forehead before he relaxes into sleep at last.

***

(Then they join the SAS, Eoin survives the first jump, they both make it through the war and live happily ever after together!)

#paddy/eoin #paddy mayne/eoin mcgonigal #paddy mayne #eoin mcgonigal #sas rogue heroes #sas rogue heroes fic #my fic

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brainrotcharacters · 6 months ago

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the easy grip on the knife. the leg over the seat. the hand over the other seat. the sassy "come get it" move. you know the bitch is smiling behind that mask even as he said the line.

#i can't believe i'm saying this #DEADPOOL CAN GET IT #Logan I'm sobbing I understand why you lunged at him #I would too bestie #it's the sass for me folks #paint that car white as much as they painted it red my god #a deadpool thirst post? from me? more likely than you'd think #this is a branch in realities i know it #i've never had Feelings for this motherfucker until this movie #all i'm left with is anger now because WHAT DOES HE WANT FROM ME #camera crew could have just made it landscape but noooooo they had to do a medium shot of this son of a bitch #i'm sending an especially affectionate fuck you in ryan reynolds' direction #i love how you love deadpool #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #wade wilson #logan howlett #poolverine #deadclaws #don't get me wrong i've always adored deadpool's personality. nobody's that hilarious and not have humongous balls i mean trauma.#but i've never went 'why he kinda' until this specific shot right here #@ camera crew why the fuck did you zoom in? WHY?#for me? well it's infuriating #do it again #gif is credit to the owner #30 tags aren't enough for me to dismantle how this shot made me feel. tumblr you gotta update #damn tumblr i'm tryna feed a village here #guys just find my other post

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churipu · 1 year ago

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YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?

being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.

the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.

gojo gets very pissy about it.

frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.

and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.

you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.

gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.

the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.

he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.

GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.

after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.

geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.

he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.

although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.

geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.

he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.

with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.

getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.

he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.

but you were there to prove him wrong.

after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?

you. apparently.

he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.

and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.

letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.

with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.

toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).

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slightly-knot-insane · 4 months ago

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Corruption

Monstertober 2024 - day 11 + 12 [ Medieval Menace + Devilish Charm ] by @ozzgin

[ m!demon x virgin fem!reader ]

"Come ooooon." He is there, again, whining like a spoiled brat. You try to speed up, but you know he can catch up with you easily. He can fly, and shapeshift and who-knows-what other devilries. And the worst thing is...

"Come on, my lady, just one little peck."

Only you can see him.

The demon had appeared before you for the first time about a month ago. You jumped out of your bed, screaming and ran into the castle's chapel, praying to the God for help. But the demon, he... He stood behind you, unbothered by the holy grounds, and laughed. He hasn't left you since. No prayers, no medicine, no begging helped. He became your lustful companion, always whispering lewd things into your ear, enjoying your reactions.

"No. Leave me alone, you foul creature! Why must you torture me?"

He feigns anger. "Foul? Torture? Lies. I know I'm dashing. My beautiful skin, my perfect physique, my voice and charm... Don't lie to yourself." In a blink of an eye, he is behind you, whispering into your ear. "I know you dream about me."

You gasp and jump, ready to start running away from him, but he stops you. He pulls you close to him and your noses almost touch. He truly is so handsome. B-but he's a demon! He even has horns and a tail and extremely long tongue. You blush hard thinking about that time he has shown it to you. Long, purple and...

But that is so wrong! You are a god-fearing maiden, pure and betrothed to a nobleman. Why is demon following you? What does he want from you? You pray, you obey, you have no desires whatsoever... Well, maybe sometimes...

"I know you dream about me. I know that your virgin cunt gets wet just thinking about me. Believe me, I get hard too imagining pushing my cock and stretching your sweet little hole."

He pushes you against the wall and you realize you're completely alone. With him. He licks his lips before taking you by the chin and kissing you. You push his shoulders, but he doesn't budge. His snake-like tongue worms in between your lips and finds your tongue. Before you know it, you stop resisting.

"Nur eine Nacht," he whispers while you take your breath. "That's all I ask. One night. With you."

He cups your cheek, and slides his clawed thumb into you mouth. Without even thinking, you suck it because that feels right. "Good girl. My good little slut." You tremble listening to his voice. His hand lifts your skirts and finds your cunt. "Such a dirty little hole. It is ready for me already."

He kisses you again and this time he pushes his tongue deep into your throat. You are surprised, but his finger finding your clit surprises you more. You try to moan, but you can't. He fucks your throat with his tongue while rubbing your bundle of nerves. The wave of pleasure that is approaching you is stronger than when you touched yourself. You hold his hand, trying to slow him down or you think you will shatter. But he doesn't slow down. He twirls his thumb around your clit and rubs your entrance, massaging it and stretching it.

Just as you're about to climax, he stops and withdraws. You almost fall down. "No... don't stop now..."

He giggles and wipes his lips. "On your knees, harlot."

You drop down and quickly unbutton his pants, drooling and panting, wanting that wonderful pulse in the bottom of your stomach to continue. His thick cock is in your mouth and you eagerly lick it. You push your wet finger in his sheath and pull it, and the demon sucks air through his teeth. "Who taught you that?" He sounds surprised but satisfied and you eagerly continue. Nobody taught you anything. You just know what you want.

The demon grabs your hair and thrusts hard down your throat. "Ahh, I want to cum in your beautiful mouth but..." He picks you up and slams you against the wall again. He rips your bottom skirt and underwear in two swift moves and then pushes your bodice down so that he could bite your tits. He isn't gentle when he pushes his cock inside you; it hurts only a little, but the pleasure that is pumped into you with his every thrust is more than enough to forget everything. You moan and whimper, holding him firmly against yourself. "Fuck me harder," you demand. "Fuck me."

"You slut, I knew you would love this," he replies and pushes his cock inside your slick hole, all the way until your cervix, und fucks your tight pussy until it explodes from orgasm. You scream and he catches your yowl with his mouth, inserting his tongue again. With an animalistic grunt that pushes its way into your throat, he cums filing you with his demonic seed.

"From a peck to a fuck," he says, smirking. "I knew you were a dirty little harlot after all."

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pellucid-constellations · 6 months ago

Text

Trial and Error (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Illness, Azriel's pov 👀

a/n: Someone sedate me at this point. Also I'm posting this earlier than planned because I am susceptible to peer pressure

Read part one | part two | part three | part five

Main Masterlist ♡

Azriel sat at the table for breakfast, his attention occupied by the window to his right. A plate of eggs, bacon, and toasted bread sat forgotten and untouched before him. To be honest, Azriel was unsure of how it even came to be in front of him.

Cassian was saying something, the rest of the table humoring him with sleepy mumbles and raised brows. He was always so lively in the mornings, a sentiment not shared by the rest of the inner circle.

Azriel was typically one of the more responsive people, but his shadow was late today. It had been a few weeks of sending one out to check on you every night, and this one was late. The rest of them swarmed around his feet in anticipation.

“Az?” Mor’s voice had him breaking his stare from the window. “What are you looking at? You’ve been checked out all breakfast.”

Azriel cleared his throat and readjusted in his seat. “Nothing. Just distracted.”

She snorted. “That’s an understatement. You’re been distracted for weeks now. What’s been going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Azriel repeated. He picked up his fork despite his stomach protesting, the nerves twisting it to the point of unease.

“Hate to concur, Az, but you have been rather absent. I think this is the first time you’ve had a meal with us this week,” Rhysand chimed in.

From beside him, Feyre shot her mate a look.

Azriel, feeling eyes on him, glanced to his left to find Cassian leering at him with narrowed eyes. His brother leaned his head back and hooked his arm over the back of his chair, analyzing Azriel amidst his lax posture.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “What?”

With his tongue pressed into his cheek, Cassian let out a disbelieving huff. “You’re seeing someone,” he concluded. “Who is she? Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I’m not seeing anyone. Why would you come to that conclusion?”

“You answered that way too quickly to be believable.”

“Azriel, are you seeing someone? There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that,” came Mor’s soft tone—trying to play the opposite side of the coin.

“No, I—“

“He is. I know he is.” Cassian, with his assured pestering. “And don’t think I don’t notice how Rhys is being silent here. And Feyre. The only two people in the room that can read minds.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Feyre defended.

“Yeah!” Nyx yelled, quick to defend his mother. “Nothing!”

But Nyx’s interference only made Cassian turn his attention to the small child and knock his head to the side.

“Nyx—“ Cassian began. In response, Nyx shoved a fork full of eggs into his mouth. “Azriel’s been taking you to school an awful lot, hasn’t he?”

“Mmhmm,” Nyx nodded.

“And he’s been going to all of your school events?”

Nyx nodded again, this time with a mouthful of juice.

“Does Azriel talk to anyone when he’s at your school?”

“He talks to Ms. Fern.”

Cassian let out a barking laugh and turned back to Azriel with a wide grin. “Ms. Fern? Okay, Az, if that’s what does it for you. You should bring her to the house.”

Although he felt an immense pride for Nyx keeping his secret (because Nyx had seen him talking to you countless times) a strange, hot anger licked at the bond hanging loose in his chest.

He wasn’t seeing Ms. Fern. The reasonable part of his mind told him that it was better this way, you would feel safer, but the unreasonable side wanted to knock Cassian across the room.

You were so much better than Ms. Fern. The teacher didn’t “do it for him” and never would. It was insulting to you.

Azriel ground his teeth. He knew this reaction was more borne from the fact his shadow hadn’t returned and the worry he was feeling was paralyzing, but reasoning with himself did nothing.

“I will not be—“

Sick, sad, help.

A whisper at his ear made Azriel rein in his words.

Alone, alone, alone.

Azriel snapped his head to the side to find his missing shadow whisking down to join the rest, the hoard of them now rising to leave. To get to you, he realized. He had to—

“What is it?” Rhysand asked.

Azriel could feel his talons scratch along the barrier of his mind, but there was no time to let Rhysand hear what he’d heard. In one fluid motion, Azriel was up from the table and out of the house, his wings spread wide behind him as he flew to the outskirts of Velaris where you resided.

One of the first things he would suggest after he got you to trust him was for you to move.

He’d already reinforced your locks and checked your neighbors, but you were still so far and that side of Velaris wasn’t the best.

He’d ask you to move into the House of Wind, but he knew that’d be pushing it. Obviously.

His back ached as he pressed his wings further, desperate to make it to you. He flung his body one way and then the other to dodge buildings as he went, flying low to save time. Luckily, the streets were barren this early.

But it wasn’t early enough for your shop to be closed, an all too alarming fact when faced with the “closed” sign on the front door. He yanked on the knob anyways, but the door wouldn’t budge.

He cursed himself for ensuring their stability.

He started knocking next—soft at first and then with a blistering urgency. He knocked and knocked and was moments away from flying up to your window and possibly scaring you off for good when the door wrenched open.

You looked beyond disheveled, bone-tired, and frankly gaunt as you stared up at him with an incredulous gaze. Your gaze softened a fraction when you saw it was Azriel beating down your door, but a tinge of irritation remained hazing your eyes.

“Azriel, we’re closed for—”

“Are you okay?” he rushed out.

Since the open house, Azriel had been more open with his vies to take care of you. If he were being honest, the intrinsic need to protect you and Melanie was overwhelming and he was barely scratching the surface of all he wanted to do, but you became guarded any time he got too intense. So, he walked you home and asked you about your family and he didn’t care if he got a stonewall in response.

But right now, you did not look well.

Right now, there was no Melanie peaking behind your legs as you stood at the apothecary door.

So, right now, Azriel didn’t have a mind to be subtle.

“Where is Melanie? Are you hurt?” he asked before you could formulate a response.

He watched your knuckles pale as you gripped the door. You breathed in deeply. “Mel has been sick all night. I’m not sure what it is and I’ve been trying everything. I’m about two seconds away from calling a healer but…”

Azriel knew that tell—the way your eyes shifted and your expression pinched.

More people.

Anytime you were confronted with introducing more people into Melanie’s life, you crumbled.

“Let me come see her,” Azriel requested, the tension leaking from his voice into a softer tone. Now that he knew the two of you weren’t dying, there was some relief. Some.

You shook your head, pressing your lips into a firm line as you deflated. “I don’t want to get you sick. I think I'm already a lost cause, but you—you have important things to do.”

If only you knew how important you were to him.

Azriel felt his fists clench at the defeated look in your eye. “If you’re sick, you can’t take care of her. Just let me come in. Let me help, y/n.”

“Azriel…”

“Please. Let me take care of you.”

He wanted to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth, afraid of you drawing back in fear, but they were already lingering in the space between you. Azriel decided you must have been truly exhausted because your only reply was a pained sigh followed by your door swinging open to let him in.

You didn’t even send him a sidelong glance.

Azirel’s hand twitched as he followed you up the stairs to your apartment, the urge to press his fingers along your back stifling.

One step at a time, Azriel—you were only just letting him into your house.

Any examination of your apartment abruptly halted as soon as his feet met the threshold of the sitting room. Melanie was lying on the couch looking worse for wear with a cloth along her forehead and a flush to her cheeks that did not sit well with the Shadowsinger. His chest caved in at the sight, a feeling that intensified when her small voice filled the space.

“Mr. Azriel?” she croaked, attempting to lift her head. You rushed over to press her back down, running your fingers through her hair. “He’s always at my house,” Melanie said, turning to look at you. “Always.”

You let out a breathy laugh as Melanie shut her eyes and began to softly snore against the arm of the loveseat. Azriel’s shadows rushed to the girl and brushed against her forehead and arms, offering the cool wind they provided.

In a few steps, Azriel took a knee beside you. He looked at you first—at the way you hovered over your daughter with furrowed brows—and then let his gaze wash over Melanie. Against his better judgment, he wrapped his scarred fingers around her tiny hands.

No poison, his shadows reported, although he didn’t expect it to be. She was feverish, hadn’t eaten since last night, couldn’t keep anything down; it was rare for fae to get so sick, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t concerning.

Even more worrisome was the fever emanating from you. Azriel could feel the heat on his shoulder and he could tell you hadn’t stopped to rest.

“I know a healer that can help. She wouldn’t say anything to anyone,” Azriel said after a beat of silence.

You paused your fingers in Melanie’s hair. “Do you promise?”

The sickness had worn you down, taking the fight and fear right out of you.

“I promise on everything. I wouldn’t bring someone here that wasn’t safe.”

Azriel called Majda.

Majda arrived in a few minutes, much to your surprise. Azriel had gotten the door upon her knock, his eyes catching the way your knees shook as you went to stand.

Majda kneeled in front of the couch where you and Azriel once were, her healing magic lighting up the room. Behind her, Azriel stood with you and he watched.

He watched your worried brow and the way you picked at your fingers. He watched the flush on your face get worse and worse as your daughter’s illness gradually got you sicker. He watched the way you tracked each of Majda’s movements, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.

He watched your body shake as it held you up.

He watched his mate and saw how alone you were.

Azriel reached up and tucked a hair behind your pointed ear, using the ploy to feel for the temperature on your cheek. You turned to look up at him and he felt the way his expression strained.

“You should let her look at you too,” he said, voice low and calm.

You shook your head. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“You aren’t.”

You turned back to your daughter, looking on.

Azriel no longer cared for the farce he’d been putting on. He stepped closer and let his palm rest on the small of your back if only to support you from collapsing. He saw you glance at him from the corner of your eye, but you made no move to step away.

It took Majda 13 minutes to come to a conclusion. Azriel knew that because he had been counting.

“Well, first of all, she will be okay. As will you, as I see you may have the same illness,” the older healer spoke, rising from the ground with a grunt. “It is most unusual—what ails you. Do you have Autumn's blood?”

The fingers you had pressed to your mouth were abruptly dropped. You looked up to Azriel with panic in your eyes, a question clear in your expression.

He hadn’t known where you were from, but he had guessed, and you were looking at him as if he knew—as if he knew and you wanted to know if it was safe for the healer to know as well.

Azriel nodded his head and ignored the bittersweet feeling in his chest.

He had wanted you to tell him when you were ready.

“Yes,” you uttered, shaking your head much faster than you spoke. “We both are. Is that—does that have something to do with it?”

Majda offered you a thin smile. “You have Autumn fever. Something to do with the fire that lingers in your blood. Sometimes it does not align with the other courts and your body revolts. It will pass in a few days as most. Uncomfortable bugger to be sure, but nothing that cannot be managed.”

You sagged against Azriel in relief, the shadowsinger catching your weight as your knees buckled. He pulled you closer to his front but didn’t feel complete until he guided you back to the couch and leaned over Melanie as she slept.

“She’ll be okay?” you asked.

Azriel thought the question was for Majda, but when he looked to his side you were staring directly at him, fear and fever in your gaze.

He lost his breath and captured your face in his hands. “She’ll be okay,” he assured. You were so hot against his skin. “You will too. I’ll fix it.”

Something righted in your expression—something softened. For the first time since he entered your house, you let out a full breath and allowed your eyelids to drop. It was barely thirty seconds before your head fell as well, your forehead landing on Azriel’s collarbone. He trailed his hand up to rest against your hair and placed his other on Melanie’s knee as he stayed beside the couch.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Shadowsinger,” Majda crooned. “That’s a whole lot of responsibility. A lot of secrets.”

Azriel tightened his hold on you. “Do you have herbs that would help? To lessen fever or pain?”

Majda hummed. “I will leave a few.” A pause. The floorboards creaked as Majda went to make her exit. “Heed my words, Azriel.”

“I know what I’m doing—what I’m getting myself into.” He dropped his nose to your temple, listening to your breath as you slept. His shadows continued their mission of cooling Melanie’s feverish skin.

“Do you?”

Azriel considered the question, and no, he didn’t know.

But he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

part five

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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alwayslurkinginthebackground · 18 days ago

Text

Anger - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E (is there anything else with him?????) Truly this is the least crazy thing I've written in days. Unprotected p in v. Word Count: 1155 a/n: Sometimes I spend all afternoon trying to write Joel and get nothing and other times I write 1000 words in less than 30 minutes. There is no in-between. Written for TLOU Sundays!

"You've really gotta do something about him," Ellie tells you from where she's sitting at the kitchen table.

You're barely through the door, coat still covered in a layer of snow from outside. "Well hello to you, too, Ellie," you respond, pulling off your boots before you track any more water into the house. It's strange, how something like keeping the floors dry didn't matter for twenty years and now suddenly again it does. "You're the fourth person to say that to me today though, so I assume you also are talking about Joel?"

She's flipping through the pages of a comic, barely paying you any attention. "Yes, Joel," she emphasizes, not that you need any further confirmation. Maria had cornered you at the saloon, the other half of your patrol had been on your case, and you had a run-in with Jackson's resident grandma first thing in the morning, who gave you an earful about how you needed to learn how to satisfy your man so he would stop torturing the entire town with his bad mood.

You sigh, shucking your coat and flexing your toes in your thick socks as you make your way into the kitchen. "Any idea what's wrong with him? He seemed fine this morning."

Ellie shrugs, still engrossed in the pages in front of her. "I don't know, Dina just told me he was being a real fucking asshole. You know how he gets."

That you do. You're well aware of the way Joel Miller can make or break an entire day based on his mood, especially since you've been at his side to witness it longer than anyone else.

Before you can contemplate further, the man in question storms through the door, a grumble on his lips before it's even closed behind him. Ellie meets your gaze, glancing over at him before turning back to you and then quickly rising. "I've gotta get going," she says quickly, sneaking past Joel to grab her jacket.

She's out the door before he can even say a word.

"Where the fuck is she going?" he questions, ignoring the way his boots squeak on the floorboards as he makes his way to the couch, collapsing into it. A part of you wants to scold him for the wet spots now littered all over the floor, but based on the furrow in his brow, there's no use, and you simply follow him instead, swinging a leg over his thigh to climb into his lap and settle there.

Only he has the audacity to grumble. Again.

"Joel," you say sternly, "don't do that."

"Don't do what?" he fires back, and now you know exactly what everyone had been warning you about. "I didn't do anything."

"What's up with you today?" It's a simple question, an inquiry that he should have no problem answering, but he doesn't, so you continue with a follow-up request, "Just tell me why I had four separate people tell me that I needed to figure out who you're so angry today."

"I'm not angry."

You frown. "Bullshit, Miller. Tell me what the fuck is wrong."

His answer is to seal his lips to yours, his rough grip dragging your hips against his so you can feel the hard press of him between your thighs. This felt familiar, especially since he'd been in an equally shit mood the day you first met, something you'd promptly fucked out of him later that night. And usually, that did the trick, but there was always something else lingering beneath the surface.

Not that you have time to contemplate what it might be because he pushes any thought of his mental well-being from your head when he rips your shirt from your body and latches onto one of your breasts. Likewise, any train of thought is gone just as quickly as the remainder of your clothing.

It's a good thing Ellie left quickly, because within minutes he has you spread out on the couch beneath him, one of your legs hitched around his hip as he pounds into you. There's little space left between you, the moment feeling intimate even with the intensity of the way he's pressing you down, grunting with each thrust until he has you clenching around him.

His fingers are on your clit before you come down from your climax, already drawing you higher a second time. "Joel, fuck, I can't," you whine, gripping at his hand.

"You can," he emphasizes, "you're gonna take every fucking inch of me."

And then you can see it. The rage behind his gaze, the emotion that has his eyes glassed over. The anger he has to unleash somehow. It scared you when you first met him, the first time he had you like this back in Boston, pressed up against the door, the first time you watched his fist collide with a FEDRA officer who tried to touch you, and the first time you saw him have to kill someone who definitely wasn't infected.

But now, you know better. You know that he won't hurt you, but he still needs a way to release the pent-up emotion that boils beneath the surface. You don't know what happened to get him here today, but you do know how to fix it.

Joel groans when you shift to wrap your legs fully around his waist, pulling him down so the soft expanse of his stomach presses against your own, increasing the pressure of your walls wrapped around him. It's all he can do to rut into you, your back slowly snaking up the arm of the couch as he fucks you. The angle changes the higher you move, guiding his lips to yours so he can catch the scream that rips from your throat when you clench around him a second time.

He follows you into the abyss, pulling out seconds before he spills against your center, jerking himself off until the last drops drip down onto the fabric.

When he regains his breath he stands, cock softening as he moves to grab a cloth to wipe his spend from your core. And then he's pressing you into the couch again, settled in the safety of your thighs as his head rests on your chest.

"Do you wanna know what Mrs. Davis told me today?" you ask softly, fingers curling through his hair.

Joel rests his chin on your breast as he looks at you, eyes softer now, more playful. "Fuck, what did she say?"

You smile. "She saw me at the store and pulled me into the corner to tell me that I needed to get you home and ride your cock because she was sick of your shit."

His laugh is rough, but he says nothing else as he settles back against you.

"Was she right?" you ask, your own laughter threatening to bubble up.

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't deny it either.

#joel miller x reader #tlou sundays #joel miller #lurking and writing

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mooooonnnzz · 6 months ago

Note

holy shit world/insure made me sob. would you consider doing a part two ? i’m imagining stan and ford telling dipper and mable childhood stories with the reader. they’re vague about it, saying stuff like “they aren’t here anymore” so the twins just think read died. then reading coming back through the portal and they connect the dots. omfg i’m obsessed with this concept.

Word/Insured Part 2

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ GUESS WHO FINISSHHHEDDDD!!!

☆ this'll have 2 parts so it's easier to digest, since it's lawnngg so if it abruptly ends, that's just me splitting it

☆ 4,5k words

☆ gender-neutral reader

☆ possible tw: drinking to cope, mentions of suicide, gagging and descriptive chewing? and just angst

☆ srry this lowk kinda took long to write both keyboard and mouse just died on me when i was writing this so i had to find an old keyboard oops

☆ if this does well, i'm considering on making hcs of reader adjusting back to their home dimensions and diving deep into the twins n their trauma !!

☆ that's all. i hope you all enjoy! :3

✶ Stan and Ford hadn’t talked to each other since your disappearance. The anger and hatred that Stan held onto was enough to deter him from even granting a glance at Ford who tirelessly tried to get Stan to talk to him. He’d begin the conversation with ideas he’s thought through the night prior, ideas that most likely secured a chance on bringing you back. But Stan wanted nothing to do with him. His head was shrouded with your screams, the way you yelled out for Stan instilled such a soul-crushing guilt on Stan; he wasn’t sure he’d properly function as a normal human being after this. Not to mention, you and Stan were two peas in a pod, spending 10 years together after the collapse of their family truly brought the pair together, closer than they’d ever thought they would be. And now Stan is going through the same grief he felt when he was kicked out of the house, Ford doing nothing but sparing a sorrowful glance to him as he shouted for his brother, anticipating Ford to do something; to clean his name and everything would go back to normal. But instead, he turned his back on him. The situations were massively different but the pain was eerily still the same.

✶ Stan would spend majority of his nights clutching your belongings close to his chest. He didn’t care if it looked weird, those were the only things that he had left of you at the moment. Nights were spent crying himself to sleep, envisioning different scenarios where he had caught onto your wrist and pulled you back to the ground, where it was safe, where he was there to protect you. He couldn’t let his mind linger on the idea of you being stranded in another dimension, helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or where to go. The mere thought of it sends his heart crumbling down to his palms, all shredded and shattered beyond repair. He was your big brother, he was supposed to protect you. To keep you safe from harm's way, he betrayed that very promise by leading you to the place where you were taken away from him too soon. And that alone gutted him. Ford would hear Stan sobbing into the night and all he did was lay there in his bed, submitting himself to the torture to hear his brother’s wretched cries. Because, this was his fault. Stan wasn’t shy to tell him that almost every waking moment of the day when he has the chance. The guilt haunts him.

✶ Verbal arguments were pretty common between the pair. Stan mainly started them when he was pulled out of the haze he was in and roughly back to reality. A reality where you weren’t around anymore and that irked him, because who else was at fault other than his idiotic brother? “Do you ever wonder how more lively this house would have been if ya hadn’t pushed [Name] inside the portal?” His tone was harsh. They carried thick venom to them, his words permanently burning their way into Ford’s brain. “Not this again,” Ford’s heart quivered. He had just recollected himself from yesterday's fight and now Stan wants to barrel through another one? Ford avoided Stan’s glaring eye contact. “Stanley, I told you many times before. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for screwing up, I’m sorry for being the reason why [Name] isn’t here anymore.” Ford’s head tilted back, his eyes staring longingly at the ceiling. “You don’t know how much this eats at me, Stanley.” He blinks away the tears threatening to escape, his head lowering back down to meet Stan’s fiery stare. “But I beg of you, please. Don’t hate me for it. I can’t lose you again, not after losing [Name].” The look in Ford’s eyes was something Stan would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried. He looked so broken, so shattered, the shell of someone who once was a prodigy at everything he touched was now crushed to bits; pieces of him scattered, lost to time. Stanley’s anger faded into a mellow irritation. Shifting his hands awkwardly on his chest, his face softened ever so slightly. “Fine,” He grumbled, rushing past Ford, their shoulders roughly rocking against each other. Ford sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. This was a new development. A spark of hope flickered in Ford.

✶ Alcohol and cigars were Stan’s life vest. He’d rob a few packs of beer and down them within two days. It wasn’t healthy, but at least it distracted him from everything that was happening, right? Stan was pretty much drunk every day, and if he wasn’t, he was out on the porch smoking cigars, hoping that one day Ford would find him dead on the floor with beer cans surrounding him, his last moments spent thinking about how much he missed you. Stan wasn’t an angry drunk much to Ford’s surprise, considering how he spent his times where he was sober yelling at Ford, rather he’d rot away on the couch or floor, silently crying to himself in a puddle of his own tears. Many times Ford would have to pick up Stan, rest him on the couch and try to sober him up. And it wasn’t an easy task to do, picking up Stan with his weak arms was a workout for Ford. “Why couldn’t I save them?” Stank drunkenly babbled out, his head swaying side to side. “Don’t move too much, Stanley. You’ll give yourself a headache.” Ford warned, propping his head up with a pillow. “If I wasn’t so slow, [Name] would still be here.” Stan hiccups, his eyes glistening with tears. No matter how many times Ford hears Stan painfully talking about you, it still hurts the same and even more. “It’s not your fault, Stan.” Ford said, pulling a blanket up to his chest. “It’s not yours either.” Stan’s hand patted Ford on his face, thinking that it was his head. When Stan pulled his hands away, tears were streaking down Ford’s cheek. Hearing Stan tell him that it wasn’t his fault healed a piece of him and that quickly triggered the waterworks. “There, there, brother.” Stan patted Ford’s back as he sobbed into his hands. “It’s not my fault,” He repeated in loud sobs. “It’s not your fault.” Stan echoes.

✶ Ford handled his grief and stress by huddling himself in the lab, isolating himself from Stan’s drunken state and researching his work. Trying to find loopholes that he can tie them close with a workaround, with a quick fix that would bring you back. Cans of beer were discarded around his lab, just the same as upstairs. But he wasn’t downing beers like Stan, he chugged one or two to dull out the ache in his heart, to keep it from distracting him. He knew when to stop and limit himself. He wasn’t dependent on alcohol. Sleep was something Ford considered useless. That would only distract him from his work, from his progress. Stan walked into the lab, puffing a gray smoke of air out onto the air. Your absence has bestowed so much despair onto the pair and he hadn’t realized until this very moment. Walking over to Ford, he placed a hand on his back. He was messily sleeping on top of his work, glasses hanging off his face, mouth open, drool dribbling down to his arms and paper. His dark circles were so dark and he was unshaven, chin stubbly with hair. Has he been getting any sleep? He wouldn’t know because he’s always drinking the day away. Stan internally groaned at himself. Not only has been neglecting himself, he’s been neglecting his brother. Burning out the cigar, he grabbed a blanket from upstairs and draped it over Ford. “Sleep tight, Stanford.” He said, gingerly squeezing his arm. Stan sat right next to him, wanting to keep him company and dozed off. When morning came, Ford awoke to Stan’s head colliding with his chair. For that one morning, Stan’s snores were music to his ears.

✶ “S-Stanley!” Ford’s body lunges up from the couch when he sees Stan briskly pass by him and into the kitchen. “I-I’ve done some research and I-I think I found a way to get [Name] back!” He stumbles over his words, the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his foggy brain. The only thing that is keeping him up as of now is coffee he had been taking in shots for the past few days. The way he moves is fidgety and erratically and Stan takes notice of that. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself in a mug, he leans his back against the counter. “You need sleep, Stanford.” He brings the rim of the mug to his lips, his eyes never leaving Ford’s trembling figure as he takes a big gulp from his coffee. Ford couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stan spoke to him! It was measly four words, but that’s more than he has ever said in the past five months, that wasn’t angry nonsensical words that were being thrown at him or depressing drunken babbling. “No, there’s so much to be done.” Ford runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “You need to hear me out. We need to find the other two–” Stan shushes him. “I won’t talk to you until ya sleep, Stanford. Don’t you bother trying to back out from this.” He looks at Ford with a stern expression, almost the same one Mom wore whenever he warned Ford to not do anything stupid in the backyard with Stan. “B-But!” Stan doesn’t hear his weak objections, he’s already out of the kitchen before Ford can conjure a good enough excuse. With a groan, Ford trips over his own feet while he makes his way back to the couch. Pushing all his research and books off the couch and onto the floor, he topples over the couch. When his head crashes on the soft plush of his sofa, his body automatically shuts off, revealing how dangerously tired he was. His eyes fluttered close and it didn’t take long for him to crash out on the couch. Stan came in to check on Ford and was pleasantly pleased to see his twin at last getting the rest he deserved.

✶ Clinking his fork idly on the ceramic plate, Stan watched Ford make breakfast. Originally Stan was going to prepare breakfast, but Ford saw he was cooking and pushed him out of the kitchen, telling him that it was “his treat,” Stan couldn’t even utter a single word to him. He just wanted simple scrambled eggs and toast and now he’s left to fear for his life as Ford concocts a science experiment for his breakfast. “And for you breakfast, Stanley.” Ford swoops in, leaning forward as he shuffles the plate of food onto the table. “Scrambled eggs and buttered toast,” Ford smiles knowingly, placing his breakfast down. He had the same breakfast but the crust of his toast was cut off. “I don’t even know why I doubted you.” Stan scoops up the scrambled eggs with his fork and shoves it in his mouth with giddy excitement, a display of emotions Ford hadn’t seen in over 10 years. Who knew a simple breakfast would get him so happy? “Still being a baby about the crust?” He points to Ford’s crustless buttered toast with his fork, mouth muffled with food still being chewed in his mouth. Ford cringes at the sight of mashed up food in Stan’s mouth, suppressing a gag as he nods his head. “Chew your food before talking, Stanley! We’re not kids anymore.” He rasps out, his palm covering his mouth, his body shuddering with full body heaves. “Alright, alright!” With a loud gulp, he swallows his scrambled eggs. “Happy now?” Said Stan with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe not,” Using his other hand, Ford pushes the plate of eggs away. “Don’t want to eat anymore,” Stan shrugs, pouring the scrambled eggs on the plate. “More for me!” As Stan is chowing down on his eggs, Ford regains his composure. Though, he couldn’t watch Stan eat his eggs without the image of the yellow goopy food in his mouth so he averted his gaze to his hands.

✶ “[Name] sure had grown up the last time I saw them.” This was Ford’s feeble attempt at sprouting a conversation with Stan, but he soon regretted what he said when he realized the fragility of the topic. Stan blinks, stunned. A beat passes and Ford’s ready to divert the conversation to another topic when Stan replies with a weird look on his face Ford can’t quite catch. “Well, yeah,” Stan looks off to the side. Ford lets out a breath of relief, Stan wasn’t upset at the mention of you. “They left with me when you and Dad kicked me out and we haven’t seen each other since then.” There’s a distant look in his eyes when he speaks, his words carrying a light anger to them ever so slightly. “How were th–” Stan shoots up, the chair skidding behind him. “Just because we’re all chummy now doesn’t mean you get to ask all about [Name].” The sudden shift in his emotions slapped Ford right in his face. “I’m sorry.” Ford whispers. Stan clicks his tongue, uttering to himself before shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry.” Stan rubs the sides of his head with his fingers. “Let’s not talk about them right now, okay? I don’t think I’m ready yet.” Stan pulls the chair to him and sits down. He rests his head on his fist, eyebrows pinched together with a long frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to blow up on ya like that.” Stan looks Ford in the eyes, and he could see the sincere sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, Stanley. Why don’t we talk about what you do for a living?” With that, they eased themselves into a comfortable conversation, with a few hiccups here and there, but in the end, the twins both had a soft smile adoring their faces.

✶ The repairing of the portal was a stepping stone that repaired Ford’s and Stan’s relationship. They weren’t going to lie and say that their relationship now was perfect, they still had their moments of anger and differences, but with a lot and a lot of patience, their bond was soon regaining its spark. “Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan slapped a sloppily written plan on how to fix the portal in front of Ford. “What is this?” Ford looked at the piece of paper like it was garbage. “A plan to fix the portal, isn’t it obvious?” Stan snatched his paper back up, eyes speedily reading his work, doubting his work. “Stanley, that is unnecessary. I have the blueprints to fix the portal.” Discarding his plan, he slapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. “Alright! So where are they?” Ford sucks in a breath. “In the other journals.” Stan nodded his head slowly, as if that information was already obvious. “And where are the other journals?” Ford coughs into his fist, speedily saying; “I hid them.” Stan looks at him weirdly. “Can’t we just unhide them?” Ford rubs a hand up against his prickly cheek. “That’s the thing. I may or may not remember where I hid them.” Closing his eyes, he braced for the gust of angry yelling. “you WHAT?!” Stan’s hands flew to the side of his head. “How do you forget where you put them?!” Stan made a mental note to mark down how many times Ford screwed up, so far he has two. He has a long way to go before he could be anywhere near Stan’s record. “I was in a flurry of panic! I wasn’t thinking straight.” Stan groaned, smacking his face with his hand. “Was it at least in Gravity Falls?” Stan had his fingers crossed. “Yes, obviously.” A triumph “Yes!” leaves Stan. “Okay, let’s get digging then!”

✶ Stan severely underestimated how truly difficult it would be finding one of the books in a forest that seemed like it stretched out for miles. Every turn looks the same and whenever he’d think he’s making progress, he’s right back where he started, at least he thinks he is. Frustrated, he bangs his head on a tree. The sound of metal clanging rang in his ears and shook through the tree. He groaned, holding his head with one hand as he curiously examined the possible metal tree. “Stanley!” Ford came running to Stan’s side, panting heavily. He wasn’t used to running for more than 5 seconds, and that was evidently proven with his flushed face and out of breath wheezes. “This tree is metal,” Stan notes, taking a few steps back, winding his leg back and hammering his shoe into the tree. The tree simply shook, the metal sound nowhere to be heard. “What?” Stan can feel his brain heating up, he couldn’t make any sense of this. The tree he kicked felt like a tree, not some metal contraption. It was only when he knocked his head—An idea springs to mind. Leaning his head back, he slammed his head on the tree. Shocked noises sputter out of Ford as he watches Stan rub the sore spot in his head. “There’s something here,” He gestures to the general area where he smashed his head in. “I can see that!” Ford walks up to the tree, knuckles gently knocking on the metal plate that was disguised as a tree. His hands move around the tree, searching for a way to open the plate. His fingers snag on an elevated piece of tree and with his fingertips, he swings it open, revealing a control panel. The memories of constructing this rush to his mind. “I remember now!” He flips a switch, his head turning over to where the large log rested. In front of it, a patch of grass was pulled back to unravel the hidden place where book three was. Ford eagerly snatched the book in his hands, showcasing it to Stan. “Great job, Stanford!” He claps Ford’s back. “So where’s the other one, you remember?” Unfortunately for the both of them, Ford doesn’t remember. He had seemed to bury most of his memories after meeting Bill Cipher, anything beyond that point was an empty mess for him.

✶ With the two books in hand, they managed to tinker and repair the damage to their best efforts. After each exhausting night in the lab, he’d attempt to pull the lever in hopes that whatever they did that day would work and to their utter disappointment, it never dislodge from its spot. “Man,” Stan wipes his forehead with his forearm, sweat glistening on his arm. “For a brainiac like you, I would’ve never imagined you being terrible at building this!” Stan barked with a laugh. Ford scoffed, his attention laser focused on fixing a part of the machine. “How did you manage to build the portal in the first place?” Stan wondered, the flashlight he was using to help Ford see what he was doing began to steer away. “Stanley,” Ford snapped. “The light!” Stan jolted up in surprise, the light quickly going back to Ford. “Sorry,” He sheepishly said. “But seriously, how did you build this?” He looked at Ford curiously. “I had an assistant.” Ford mumbled, a leak of oil dotting his clothes. He hissed, grabbing a tool off the ground to fix whatever started leaking. “Had? What happened?” Ford hummed happily. He had fixed the leak. Placing the tool back down to the floor, he directed his attention to Stan. “He quit.” Ford scratched his head, unintentionally smearing oil on his cheek with his hand. “Why?” Stan tossed him a piece of clean cloth, silently motioning to his cheek. Ford took it, wiping his cheek with the cloth. “He, uh,” If Ford told Stan that he went inside the portal momentarily and came out completely traumatized, Stan would go berserk on him knowing that you went inside the exact portal that mentally ruined Fiddleford. Ford did not want to go back to the arguing and suffocating silence so he lied. “He just thought what I was doing was unethical.” That wasn’t a complete and total lie, but it was far from the truth. Stan bought the lie fortunately for Ford. “Glad at least someone had the brain to call a quits!”

✶ Before they knew it, they were tremendously low on money. Stan was the unfortunate one to discover this revelation. On a quick supply run, Stan had gone to the grocery store and stock up on some food. When the cashier rang up him, totaling his price to 30 dollars, Stan had pulled out a penny, paper clip and a wrapper. Mentally cursing Ford for spending all his money on unnecessary science stuff, he weakly smiled at the cashier. “Can you hold onto my groceries for a quick second?” The cashier nodded their, a big bright smile on their face. “Of course, stranger!” And right when Stan was going to snag the groceries bags in his hurried rush, a woman spoke from behind him. “Hey, that’s no stranger! That must be the mysterious science guy in the woods!” She points, gathering a crowd around Stan. “Ah, no. That’s my nerdy twin brother.” Stan says, causing the crowd to coo in interest. “There’s two of them?” Someone in the crowd asked. “He probably cloned himself just so he could do two things at once!” Someone else said. “That’s probably what happened. I’ve heard strange stories about that old shack.” Toby Determined spoke up. “Yeah! Mysterious lights and spooky experiments!” Daryl added. “Gosh, I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up in there!” Pa said. Susan perked up at that. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give tours?”

✶ A sly smirked pulled to Stan’s face. He had the perfect idea. “Yes, I do give tours! Ten…no-no fifteen bucks a person!” The crowd erupts in cheers, waving their green bills around. “Is it possible we get to see the man of mystery himself?” Susan questions. “Hmm, I’m not sure.” Stan eluded them to think that there was no possible way to get to Ford to gauge their reactions. And what they gave him sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. “You know what?” The crowd lightens up with hope. “Fifty bucks if you all want to see the man of mystery himself!” Another boisterous cheer from the crowd. “And what did you say your name was, twin of mister mystery?” Stan smiled proudly. “Stanley, Stanley Pines.”

✶ The crowd bustles into the shack, ooo’s and aaa’a left their mouths in awe of the place. “Step right up folks to a world of,” he pauses for a moment thinking. “A world of enchantment!” He gestures to all the wild findings. Grabbing a dial box with two antennae, he showcases it to the crowd. “Behold! The um, nerdy science box.” Susan looked at it with interest. The device rumbled to life and zapped her in the eye, rendering it closed. “Ah, my eye!” She covers her closed eye, stumbling back. “Uh, I can assure you, that is no way permanent!” He offers an uneasy smile. “I paid sixty five dollars for this!?” With Susan’s comment, the whole crowd erupted in complaints. Quickly thinking, he grabs a skeleton and makes a half-assed joke where the last customers didn’t make it out alive. The crowd laughs at his horrible joke and Stan smiles. “What is with all this ruckus?” Ford walks in, irritation evident on his face. “Is that him?” Someone excitedly shrieks from the crowd. “Oh my god, it is! Take my money!” Wads of dollar bills get thrown at Stan who was making a great effort to make sure he caught all of them. “Stanley, what did you do!”

✶ After answering a few questions he was coaxed into, (they stroked his ego), he kicked them out, accidentally saying that they could return another time before closing the door, smacking himself in the head. “What was that?” Stan turned over to Ford, buckets of money shoved inside into his shirt. “I got us money! And look how much we got!” He pulls a ten dollar bill from his stack in his shirt. “Stanford, this the best thing that’s ever happened to us so far.” Ford looks at him, unsure. “I’m not a fan of ripping people off,” Stan’s hands fall to his sides. “It’s their choice to throw money at me like a madman. Listen, if we get more money, we can stock up on good materials to fix the portal, like really good parts and we can finally bring [Name] back.” Ford stewed in his thoughts for a little more. He hated to admit, but Stan was right. With a little more money, they could be sailing straight to victory with a higher chance of your return. Ford let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but I don’t want you to mess with my stuff, got it?” Stan beamed brightly. “I promise!” He broke that later on.

✶ Gradually, the scary shed in the woods turned into a tourist spot people would frequent. Together, they advertised the shack by plastering various signs and posters all over the woods. They even went as far to tape advertisements onto people’s windows. Ford wanted to use actual beasts he had found in the woods to show to people, but in the end they all ran away, horrified for their lives. Ford was respectfully peeved because when he’d glance over to Stan, he had somehow had the crowd hanging on to every word that spilled out of his mouth. And when he’d show the crudely sewed animal he had made within five minutes before the tour started, they all gasped in delight, their money flying to him. “How do you do it?” Ford asks as Stan closes the door, reveling in the pool of money he had made. “I just say whatever comes to mind.” Stan shrugs. “But none of your stories make any sense logically! How did they believe in a half beaver half bat?” He gestures to the taxidermy animal. The beady eyes were slowly sliding off its face, leaving a trail of glue. “Hey, the people love to spend their money on things that are obviously fake, weirdly enough.” The door rattles with a knock. “Wanna take this next crowd? I gotta sort this money.” Against his will, not really, Ford opens the door and flashes an award winning smile he had learned from Stan. Cash was already being shoved in his face. At least he earns money for looking good. Ford attempted Stan’s whole shtick and to his very surprise it worked! It wasn’t as good as Stan’s performance, but it worked well enough that people were swarming him with cash. His bitterness from before was quickly washed over and he continued on his act. When the crowd dispersed, satisfied with their tour. Stan was there in the middle, clapping widely. “That was some good acting there, Ford!” Ford smiled, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only doing this cause we need the money.”

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spectersgf · 7 months ago

Text

— driver's seat storm chasing 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

pairing: tyler owens × reader

summary: he was about to take off again, chase another storm, leave you worrying for hours upon hours. the least he could do was give you a parting gift.

warnings: SMUT! kinda angsty a little, cute yeehaw banter, cowgirlisms, hair pull, ass smack, titty suck. all the good stuff.

wordcount: 3.2k

a/n: watched twisters literally two days ago, had this thought, here we are. not proofread at all (as always, soz) but filled with passion (and horny)

(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)

"oh, you're such a prick, tyler owens!"

you were shouting at your best friend, which was a regular occurrence due to his dangerous passion. tyler was a professional 'tornado wrangler' which was his idiotic way of saying he chased tornadoes for the sake of content creation. you knew it went much deeper than that for him; this was his passion and he was smart and knew so much about storms, but that doesn't mean he wasn't stupid and reckless.

he had just come back from a particularly dangerous storm, one that left you more worried for his safety than ever before. you cried seeing him come back to town and fretted over his injuries and bruises, begging him to stop and not go again.

according to what he just told you, your begging was pointless.

he was about to take off again, chase another storm, put himself back in harm's way. leave you worrying for hours upon hours, shaking until he'd return.

"do i mean nothing to you? does my begging and pleading mean nothing?" your voice was strained but you didn't lower your volume, desperate for him to see your anguish.

"you know that's not the case, darlin', but storm chasing is my life. you know that better than anyone." his tone was much steadier than yours, and his comments were entirely reasonable. you knew how much of his time he dedicated to his passion, but that didn't stop your frustration.

"don't play that fucking card with me, ty. it's not even been 48 hours since i thought you'd died, and now you're up and leaving again!" your anger had subsided and your tone had softened, now showing vulnerability and hurt. your shoulders sagged and you turned away from him, tears that you didn't want him to see stinging your eyes.

"y/n..." his voice trailed off, unsure if he was supposed to move to comfort you or give you space.

“you don’t understand what it does to me to see you walk out that door, ty. every single time i’m stuck asking myself if today’s the day i lose my best friend. and i know you’re careful and you know your stuff and you’re basically a pro but sometimes i can’t even bring myself to watch the streams and the videos because i’m so scared.” you rambled your confession, back still turned away from him but you’d started pacing. when you finished speaking, you turned to face him, eyes pleading. “i’m not asking you to stop. i’d never ask you to quit your passion. i just wish you’d understand from my perspective.”

"i'm sorry," he started, but you knew where his apology was headed. "but i have to do this. this is my life, and i'm helping people by doing this."

your tear-filled gaze met his as he spoke, and the look of sincerity on his face made you cave, as usual. "fine, go. it's not like i could've stopped you."

you watched him pick up his hat and place it easily on his head as he turned to walk away. he opened the door but turned before heading out. "you know i love you, y/n," he said quietly, sounding almost defeated.

his words struck you but before you could say anything, he was out the door. for a couple of minutes you stood in place, stunned at his proclamation. when you finally snapped out of your shock, you walked out the door, following behind him as he walked to his truck.

it had started to rain and the water caused his shirt to stick to him like a second skin, but you didn't allow yourself any time to ogle his physique. you reached out and grabbed his arm, feeling his cold skin against your warm touch. you pulled his arm, forcing him to turn and face you as you seethed.

"love me how?" you asked, obviously distressed. the rain was making your hair to stick to your face but you didn't care; all you cared about was the man in front of you. your best friend. "love me how, tyler?"

"y/n..." for the second time today his voice trailed off after saying your name like that and it infuriated you. your face burned from embarrassment and before you had fully processed your reaction, you slapped him.

when he turned his head back to look at you again, his eyes were swimming with hurt. you loved his eyes. you hated seeing them like this. but all you could focus on was your own hurt. after years of being his best friend but craving more, and years of casual touches and flirting and cuddling and rumours in your small town, this is what it had come to. a halfway confession.

"fuck you," you spit before turning away to walk back inside.

this time, it was tyler who reached out to grab you. his big hand encased your bicep and forced you to face him again. before you could say anything, he spun you around so that you were pinned against the door of his truck.

"what the fuck is your probl–" your words were abruptly cut off when he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. you stood still in shock for a few seconds before melting into him, one hand on the junction between his neck and shoulder, the other hand on his bicep. meanwhile, he had one hand on your waist and the other held your face, fingers splaying across your cheek and neck. you kissed him back with passion and vigour, easily letting his tongue explore your mouth for the first time.

your hands snakes upwards, pulling his hat off his head and slipping it onto yours while your free hand fisted his hair, threading your fingers through his locks. his hand trailed from your waist to your ass as he pulled away from your kiss for a second.

"you sure you wanna wear my hat, darlin'?" he panted, raising one cocky eyebrow as his eyes searched yours.

"wear the hat, ride the cowboy, right?" you asked, smirking confidently. he immediately matched your facial expression, smirking in return, but his eyes twinkled with joy and amusement.

tyler was much taller than you and evidently he was starting to see your height difference as an issue, since he brought his other hand down to your ass and lifted you, urging your legs around his waist and bringing you face to face. he kissed you again, just a quick kiss, before asking, "so, cowgirl. where are we doing this?"

"if i'm the cowgirl, are you my wild stallion?" you teased playfully, smiling as you looked at him affectionately. after seeing the fiery look in his eyes, you were unable to resist, and you pulled his mouth to yours once again, this kiss more intense than the last. you messily pulled his bottom lip into your mouth and sucked on it, followed by a gentle bite, before pulling away and desperately kissing down his neck. "i want you in your truck. driver's seat," you murmured against his skin.

before tyler was able to haul you into his truck, you detached yourself from him. once your feet were safely back on the ground, you eagerly grabbed the hem of his soaked t-shirt and peeled it off his tanned torso, shamelessly admiring his body as you did. you dragged your nails across his toned abdomen and brought your mouth to his chest, sucking and biting at his skin. you could barely register his groan, only able to focus on his body and being able to maintain skin-to-skin contact with him.

tyler pulled you away from him by gently tugging on your hair and you looked at him quizzically. "ty, what the hell?"

"enough teasing, cowgirl. time to ride the stallion," he told you, causing you both to erupt in a fit of giggles.

"never say that again, tyler," you replied, leaning up to peck him quickly.

he picked you up briefly and immediately put you down in a spot away from the driver's side door and swiftly got comfortable in his van, away from the cold rain. while he did so, you made quick work of unbuttoning your flannel shirt, leaving you in just a lacy, sheer bra and jeans. and his hat. once he was seated, tyler gave you a thorough once-over, letting out a low whistle as he did.

"somebody call for a ride?" his playful tone was supplemented by his signature cheeky smile, but you rolled your eyes at his comment.

"god, you're so fuckin' corny."

you boosted yourself into the truck, situating yourself easily on his lap. you shuffled around to get comfortable on tyler's lap and were rewarded with a strained groan. this time it was you giving him a cheeky smile followed by a quick roll of your hips over his. he placed his hands firmly on your waist, fingers dipping into your jeans and stopping your movements.

"keep that up and this'll be over before it started, sweetheart," he told you, voice strained and you could tell it was from arousal. you watched his mouth as he spoke and, unable to resist him, you leaned in and kissed him again. your almost bare chest was pressed against his and your hands roamed his skin, picking up water droplets as they went. the feel of his toned muscle under your hands caused you to moan into his mouth, turning tyler on even more.

his hands wound into your hair, all the way up to the root, and he tugged lightly. you whimpered and dragged your hips over his, and when tyler pulled away from your kiss you unconsciously followed his movement. tyler clicked his tongue in condescending disapproval but smirked at your reaction to him.

“needy for me, baby?” he asked mockingly, one hand on your hips to halt your movement again, the other still tangled in your hair.. you nodded your response, not trusting yourself to speak in your current state. “words, sweetheart. what do you need?”

you whined but when you realised he wasn’t going to do anything until you spelled it out for him, you let out an exasperated huff. “need you to fuck me.”

tyler laughed affectionately at your desperation. “there you go, sweetheart. that’s what i like to hear.” you preened from his praise, craving to receive it again. with the hand that was on your hips, he undid the button of your jeans and pulled the zipper down with a quiet hiss. instead of pulling down the restrictive fabric like you expected, he slipped his hand into your barely-existent underwear and stroked with a featherlike touch.

“this all for me?” he asked as he dragged a finger through your arousal; you were soaked and his teasing tone was only making it worse. you dropped your head onto his shoulder and tried to slyly jerk your hips forward, though you were unable to. “patience, baby. i’ve chased this storm so long, now let me enjoy it.”

his words jolted you caused a moan to fall from your mouth. your skin was feverish despite the biting cold and you were becoming increasingly desperate. “next time, please, tyler. i need you inside me, please,” you begged, mouth against his tan skin.

he didn’t say anything in response, only chuckled quietly to himself as he removed his hand from your underwear. he brought his hand up to your mouth and you looked him in the eye as you took one finger, the one that had been touching you, into your mouth and sucked. you bobbed your head back and forth for just a few seconds and hummed quietly around the digit in your mouth before releasing it and pulling tyler’s mouth to yours in a heated kiss, urging him to taste you from your own mouth.

“god, if we weren’t in my truck right now i’d have my mouth on your sweet cunt,” he grumbled.

“don’t care, need your cock inside me.” without breaking your kiss, you pushed your jeans down over your hips but only to your knees. “i’m ready, you know i’m ready, what are we waiting for?” you asked frantically. you started to paw at his stupid belt but his hands covered yours, stopping you from getting to what you were craving.

“are you sure? we can’t go back after this and you know it.” his eyes were swimming with concern as he spoke, searching yours for any indication of your feelings.

you moved one hand to his face, placing it on his cheek and stroking his cheekbone delicately with your thumb. “i want this. i have for a longass time. i’ve felt it for so long, and now i’m finally chasing it. are you chasing it with me?” your words were entirely sincere and this was obvious to tyler, especially when you looked in his eyes and deep into his soul.

“using my own words against me?” he teased, breaking the tension in a charming way that only he could pull off. “i’m with you.” his words were equally sincere, though you could sense the double meaning. you weren’t distressed by it; his way of telling you how he was feeling made your heart swell and added to your already dripping arousal.

you resumed your work on removing his belt, followed by unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper. tyler could only watch cockily as you did so, both hands behind his head, muscles flexing, as he admired your naked beauty. jeans pulled down, only a sheer bra covering your breasts, and his hat on your head.

“go on, baby. take me out; it’s all yours.”

his words empowered you and you happily obliged, appreciating his quiet hiss as you made contact with his skin once again. you tunnel visioned on his thick cock in your hand, swiping your thumb over the tip and pumping it once, twice, three times. tyler watched your every moment and facial expression, and he could see you practically salivating, bringing a wide and cocky smirk to his face. “another time,” he murmured despite his better opinion of letting you take him in your mouth the way you so obviously craved. you simply nodded in agreement, seemingly in a trance as you eyed the way your smaller hand wrapped around his girth.

the feeling of his hands on your hips gently urging you forwards and upwards snapped you out of your dreamlike state but you didn’t resist his manhandling; instead, you welcomed the way he took control of the situation. took control of you.

before proceeding further he looked you in the eyes again, showing that same sincerity and vulnerability, silently asking ‘are you sure you’re sure?’. you smiled at the gesture, appreciative of his concern, and nodded. your eyes sparkled with excitement as you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and reached behind you to guide tyler’s hard cock into your wetness. the pair of you moaned in tandem as you sunk down on him, fitting together perfectly.

“c’mere, cowgirl,” he murmured, voice heavy with arousal. you shifted forward with him inside you, pulling a groan from deep within his chest as he pulled you in for another kiss. the combination of his searing kiss and the way he filled you up was electrifying. your entire body moved on its own accord, as if you had come alive for the first time; your mouth worked against his and you circled your hips against his and you were consumed entirely by him.

one of his hands pawed at your ass while the other worked on removing your bra. when he did finally get your bra unhooked, it was practically ripped off your body and thrown to the backseat. tyler’s lips reluctantly left yours but they immediately attached to your right breast, with his hand squeezing the left. he sucked a harsh mark into the flesh before his mouth circled your peaked nipple, sucking eagerly before rolling it gently between his teeth.

“you have no idea how desperate i’ve been to get my mouth on your pretty tits, sweetheart,” he mumbled against you. his words caused your hips to stutter against his as you rode him, hitting your sweet spot and forcing a high pitched moan from you.

“i need you to do it, ty,” you whimpered, hungry for him to take control again.

“such a good girl, telling me what you need.” his praise made you glow and you unconsciously clenched your muscles around him.

his grip on your ass tightened slightly before he slapped it, deliciously stinging your skin. you moaned and jerked forward again and your head immediately fell backwards, eyes rolling back.

“god, y/n, you’re a walking turn on,” he moaned, hips starting to buck as he fucked into you. “you have no fuckin’ idea what you do to me. the number of times i’ve wanted to do this with you right here, audience be damned. the way i crave the taste of your sweet cunt on my tongue. having to stop myself from smacking your ass or squeezing your tits whenever you’re in those tiny bikinis or scraps of fabric that you call pyjamas. and now you’re mine and we can do all of it.”

you moaned and whimpered pathetically throughout tyler’s speech, the words that you were longing to hear from him finally being voiced while he fucked you.

“i’m close,” you mumbled, bringing your hand to your mouth to muffle your noises. “need you to fill me up.”

his eyes squeezed shut due to your muffled words and he pulled your hand away from your mouth. “i’ll give you whatever you need, baby, but i need to hear you when i do,” he told you, linking your fingers together and resting your joined hands on his glistening chest. “cum for me, sweet girl. cum on my cock, let me feel you.”

his words tipped you over the edge and your muscles spasmed around him as you reached your climax, moaning his name as you did. tyler followed suit, filling you upon your request.

“fuck, y/n,” he groaned, pulling your chest to his and kissing you again, sweetly this time despite your expectations.

the pair of you were a panting, sweaty mess when you both finished, but you didn’t break any of your attachments. he didn’t pull out of you, and he didn’t let you loosen your embrace.

“i guess you could say i wrangled your tornado, hm?”

“you did not say that to me while i have your dick and cum inside me right now, tyler owens.”

“c’mon, darlin’, you obviously like my lines,” he teased, smiling sweet and sincere.

“more than just your lines. i like you,” you confessed, voice quiet and shy out of fear of rejection.

“yeah? you got a li’l crush on me?” his playful and teasing tone made you smile. dissipating any worries you had. this was the boy you were falling for.

“just a little one. really, i’m just here for your truck.” the banter between the two of you was light and easy, something that you both always appreciated about each other. you clicked.

“yeah, cowgirl, i know how you feel about my truck.”

you giggled at his response and kissed the bare, warm skin on his shoulder.

“you’re the most beautiful storm i’ve chased, y/n.” he looked into your eyes as he spoke, voice quiet as if speaking too loud would disrupt the moment.

“that’s funny. because you’re the sun coming up after the storm.”

WHEW! first tyler fic done bbz<333 more to come, requests are open HERE! if you want to be tagged in future fics lmk, please tell me what you think, even if you think i should never write again ok thank u bye ily bye

taglist: @ronsbadidea

#save a horse ride a tornado #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens x you #tyler owens smut #tyler owens fanfiction #twisters #twisters fanfic #twisters 2024 #tyler owens x y/n #glen powell

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berryz-writes · 8 months ago

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I'll try harder

11) Ends up in the infirmary a lot, Madam Pomfrey thinks he's a "troubled yet entertaining student"

Theo x reader

"Where is my boyfriend?" I asked Draco, my annoyance increasing with his obvious distractions so he didn't have to answer my question.

He gave me a once over, his cool gaze unaffected by my anger "Your boyfriend is currently busy. I'm sure you'll see him tomorrow...or in a few days depending on the situation"

I was going to pull my hair out if I didn't get a direct answer soon "Draco Malfoy if you don't tell me right now I will drag Pansy here and tell her you like her"

His blank expression didn't change except the flicker of annoyance in his grey eyes "And where did you receive that false information from?"

I smiled at him "Just because it's false doesn't mean people aren't going to believe it. Did you know all it takes is one little whisper for a rumour to be spread across the whole of Hogwarts?"

Draco smirked, crossing his arms "Blackmailing me, y/l/n? Looks like Nott does benefit you in some way."

"Tell me"

"He's in the hospital wing and before you run away to mother him, if I hear a single word about me liking that awful witch-"

"Your threats don't matter to me right now, Malfoy. But thanks anyway" I rushed off to where he had said Theo was, trying to rid my thoughts of everything that I imagined had happened to him. He was fine walking off the quidditch pitch and there were no serious injuries while he played so why was he there?

I knocked on the door, making sure it was loud enough for someone to hear. If the door didn't open I would barge in myself. Before I could do just that Madam Pomfrey opened the door giving me a sympathetic smile "Here to see Theodore?"

I nodded my head trying to see behind her to no avail. All I could see were a few drawn curtains and another few beds unoccupied.

"Go on in then, he's the third one." I rushed past her muttering a quick thank you. She was probably fed up of having me to see me at her door every other day.

I approached the third bed and pushed the curtains to the side. I didn't know what I expected but it wasn't Theo sat up reading a book with his head wrapped in white gauze. Otherwise he looked completely fine.

"Hey" I left a small kiss on his cheek and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to answer the questions I was too afraid to ask.

He let out a sigh and placed his book near his pillow, shifting further to the left so I had more space on the bed.

"Who told you I was here?"

I furrowed my eyebrows in annoyance and confusion "That's not important. What's important is what are you doing here? Don't tell me you got into another fight"

He gave me a slight smile, his expression showing discomfort.

"Theo. Why? Why are you always fighting?"

"For the record I won the fight, sweetheart."

I scoffed "Well clearly not if you've got that on your head and your opponent isn't even in the hospital wing right now"

He grinned as if he found something funny "He's having a meeting with Snape that's why."

He wasn't getting the point. He just didn't seem to care that what he was doing was wrong and it affected others as well.

"What happened? I want the truth"

His smile dropped, becoming suddenly serious to when I asked for the truth.

"Well, the guy who asked you out the other day and you rejected him. He was talking shit about you so I decided to fuck him up a bit. You know, so he'd know that he didn't have the right to talk about you like that...no one does"

I sighed. The fact that he was fighting because of something said about me was nice of him but I didn't want him hurt because of that.

"Theo he said something about me. Not you. I don't want you hurt every time someone says a single thing against me"

He sat up suddenly, anger evident on his face "And why the fuck not? If he's going to talk about my girlfriend like that do you think I'm just gonna stand there and not do shit all?"

"But Theo your hurt because of it! I don't want that for you"

He slumped back down and didn't bother looking at me "I don't fucking care about being hurt. If I hear a single word against you-"

"Just ignore it!" I was getting annoyed now. Why was he so desperate to be hurt because of something I didn't even care that much about?

"Ignore it? Your fucking crazy if you think I'll ignore something like that"

I stood up ready to do something. Ready to shout at him, to push him off the bed, to do anything but sit there and tell him time and time again that I didn't want him hurt because of something so irrelevant. Tears welled up in my eyes, I tried blinking them away but instead a few fell down making their way down my cheeks.

"Well your good at ignoring one thing! Our fucking date that your missing because of your detention. Is that what you wanted?" I wiped the remaining tears from my face, anger coursing through my veins. Theo finally deigned to look at me after having raised my voice, something I rarely did.

His eyes widened in shock "I didn't realise. Fuck. I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't even realise and- I didn't mean for you to cry. I'm so fucking sorry"

"It's a little late for that isn't it. What does it matter when you've missed the second date this month because of some stupid fighting you can't control"

He leant toward me, reaching for my hand the warmth of his hand seeping into me. "I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry, sweetheart. What do you want me to do? I swear I won't fight again...unless the person deserves it"

I sat back down, the anger vanishing from me, Theo's comforting hand grounding me.

"Lay down with me. Please." He asked quietly, eyes full of sorrow.

I turned so I could lay down next to him his arm coming around my waist to pull me closer to him. He dropped a kiss to the top of my head "I really am sorry Y/n. I don't want you to be upset over something I've done"

I shook my head "I'm not upset. I just don't want my boyfriend to be in the hospital wing for half the year"

"I'll try harder" He whispered.

"Just try harder on the fighting aspect. Otherwise your perfect"

I smiled at him and the one he gave back made my heart melt. I loved him.

#theo nott x you #theodore nott #theo x reader #theo x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #slytherin boys

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fairydvsts-blog · 2 years ago

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𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

obx masterlist

summary; your best friend, Rafe, finds out that you're dating someone else and he's not happy about it

warnings; some angst, jealous!Rafe, SMUT, praising and degrading, spanking, oral sex (fem receiving), hickeys, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up you all!)

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

While you were sitting on your bed doing your homework, Rafe suddenly entered your room, looking at you with anger in his ocean blue eyes.

"When were you going to tell me?" he questioned, not even bothering to say hello.

He had showed up unannounced, clearly annoyed at you; but the thing was you had no idea why he was so mad, since you hadn't done anything that could have upset him.

Or so you thought.

"Tell you what, exactly?" you asked.

Your confusion only grew as seconds passed, luckily, Rafe broke the silence and said, "That you're dating someone."

His statement surprised you, you didn't expect him to figure it out that soon; only a week had gone by since you had started seeing the guy. But guess what, Rafe Cameron seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere.

"I don't know, Rafe," you answered him, then added, "I mean, I've barely know him for a few days." You saw his stoic features harden as you talked.

"So what?" he replicated. "You didn't think I would want to know?"

You rolled your eyes at his hypocrisy; he dated a new girl every week and he for sure didn't talk to you about any of them —not that you wanted to know anyways. Why should you tell him then?

"Know what? That I'm fucking someone? I don't recall you telling me such things" you declared as you frowned, starting to get mad at him.

You stood up, taking some steps in his direction, while his eyes widened at your words. He clearly wasn't expecting to hear that.

"You've fucked him?" the blonde snapped; his jaw was visiblely tense.

"Yes, it is wrong now?" you asked him with raised eyebrows at the same time that you crossed your arms.

Your breasts poked out from the neckline of your tank top, drawing Rafe's attention for an instant. Though he looked away quickly, his intense stare made you blush a little and you let go of you arms unconsciously.

"Yeah, it is," he stated, then he added, "you said it yourself, you don't even know him that well."

He was being so unfair to you that your blood started boiling. When he fucked girls at parties, he didn't care about not knowing them; he didn't even ask for their names.

"So what?" you mocked him. "Do you know every girl you've put your dick into?"

He gasped, not knowing how to argue with that; he knew that you had a point, but he wouldn't recognise it.

"It's different," he ended up saying.

"The hell is not," you refuted.

After a few seconds of silence, in which you gave each other a deathly stare, you sighed and decided to speak again, "Sometimes I don't get you, Rafe, I just don't."

Rafe's attitude pissed you off so much; one minute he was all over you, like you were the most precious treasure he had, and the other he was fucking other girl that wasn't you. And it enraged you because you liked him, a lot, even if you didn't want to admit it out loud.

"Bet he doesn't even fuck you properly." His sudden statement made you gasp because he was, in fact, correct.

You couldn't deny the guy sucked at sex, but he was popular and good-looking and just happened to be at that party where Rafe stood you up for some blonde chick; and given that you wanted him to feel as jealous as you felt when he fucked other girls, you couldn't prove him right.

So you held your head high and, then, you lied, "I think he does it quite well actually."

You had to look up at him after he took a step closer, fixating his fiery eyes in yours. Suddenly, you were so close together that you could feel his warm breathing in your skin.

"Bet I could fuck you so much better."

He left you open-mouthed and your heart started hammering in your chest as he spoke. When he finished talking, he licked his lips with a smirk and your eyes betrayed you, looking closely at his mouth.

On a normal basis, you would have been intimidated by him, but that day you were feeling bolder than ever, so you rose up on your toes to reach his ear and whispered, "Then fuckin' prove it."

He shortened the distance between the both of you, grabbing your chin between his fingers and connecting your lips with his; the action took you by surprise and your eyes widened for a moment. In just seconds, the kiss became so hungry and desperate that your breath hitched and your legs started feeling like jelly.

Your hands caressed his cheeks, feeling the stubble on his jaw, while you closed your eyes. As the kiss deepened, you felt his bigs hands grabbing your butt and then Rafe lift you up so that he could place you in top of your bed. You felt your notes getting crushed, so, without breaking the kiss, you fumbled on the mattress for the sheets to toss them to the ground.

After that, you took off his cap, throwing it aside, to tangle your fingers in his messy hair. You pulled his blonde locks to push him away in order to start undressing; your eyes didn't leave his as you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and removed it. His eyes dropped from your eyes to your exposed breasts and his breathing became heavier.

He stood still for a few seconds, just staring at your body, before saying, "You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

He leaned over you to take one of your nipples between his lips, sucking at it like a man starved. You moaned at his action as your hands sneaked under his polo shirt to touch his soft skin; when he let go of your nipple with a loud pop, you decided to take it off.

As you put his shirt aside, he started to kiss and lick your neck, marking it. You were sure he'd leave love bites all over it and the thought of everyone seeing his marks on your body only made you wetter.

You had waited so long for that moment that it felt unreal.

"I want that fuckin' asshole to know who you really belong to, baby," he stated, gently bitting your collarbone.

His hand wandered over your left thigh, caressing your naked skin, until it reached your shorts. He looked at your face, asking for permission to undress you completely; you nodded to make him know that it was okay. Rafe smirked and, then, took off your shorts and underwear.

He didn't waste any time after that; he just buried his face between your legs. His action took you by surprise and you gasped for air while you grabbed at your bedsheets, moaning loudly when he sucked hungrily at your clit. Your back arched because of the pleasure his talented tongue was giving you, licking every sensitive part of your pussy from your entrance to your bundle of nerves.

Seconds later, you felt how Rafe placed his tongue right onto your clit again, licking it up and down at a tortuous pace. Your legs started shaking and you grabbed his hair to bring his head closer to you; he was almost suffocating in your pussy, but he couldn't think of a better way of dying. You felt a little bit ashamed when you started cumming after just a few minutes of stimulation, however, Rafe encouraged you to do so.

"That's it, baby, cum in my face like the little slut you are," he said, rubbing your clit with his thumb to help you ride your orgasm.

"Oh my god! Rafe!" you moaned, desperately grinding your pussy against his mouth.

The pleasure clouded all of your senses for what seemed minutes and when the feeling went away, you looked down to find his blue eyes staring at you, mesmerised.

"I love you," he admitted, climbing over you to kiss your lips hungrily but you couldn't return the kiss.

"What?" you asked, totally surprised by his confession.

"I love you, baby, do you love me?" he answered, caressing your cheek while he placed himself between your legs.

It took you a few seconds to react, but you finally said, "I love you, Rafe."

He smiled at you, giving you a short kiss before unbuttoning his short dress pants under your attentive gaze. You tried to help him undress but he didn't allow it, grabbing your hips to turn you around and place you over your stomach. After that, Rafe couldn't resist the urge to spank you and his action made you moan.

"Stay still, baby," he ordered while he finished undressing.

"Again," you demanded, ignoring his request.

You heard his laughter.

"So my little slut likes to be spanked... Interesting," he pointed out, positioning behind you and lifting your hips from the mattress.

Then, he slapped you again, harder that time, and you moaned, feeling your pussy getting wetter —if that was possible. You looked back, finding him in all his naked glory and your cheeks turned red at the sight.

He was gorgeous, every part of him.

"Please, Rafe," you begged, shaking your butt in need of some sort of friction.

"Fuck, baby, you have the prettiest cunt," he told you, rubbing the thick head of his cock over your clit and you squirmed in response, "I'm going to fucking destroy you, sweetheart."

He penetranted you in one single thrust, taking your breath away because of the sudden intrusion. He was big and it took you a few minutes to adjust to his size, but he didn't push your limits, thrusting into you slowly and carefully at first, which made it more pleasant for you.

When he felt that you were ready to take more, he started pounding into you faster; his dick filled you perfectly, it was like he was made to fuck you, and in no time you were a moaning mess under him. With each thrust, his pelvis hit your ass cheeks, pushing you hard against the mattress.

"I wish you could see yourself, baby," he panted, slapping your thigh while he screwed you hard, "You look like a fucking goddess."

The bedroom was too hot; his skin was covered in sweat and it felt sticky against yours. He leaned over you, reaching for your neck to cover it with wet kisses. At the same time, his right hand trailed toward your pussy, pressing and rubbing your clit with two fingers. You held onto his arm, digging your fingernails into his skin unintentionally due to the pleasure.

You bit your lower lip so hard that your drew blood. He noticed it, so he grabbed your jaw with his free hand to bring your mouth closer to his and licked your lip clean.

"I'm so close, Rafe," you announced, whimpering on his lips.

"I know, baby, I can feel your pretty pussy tightening around my cock," he moaned next to your ear, giving you goosebumps.

Hearing Rafe's moans was your new favourite thing in the world.

"My little slut is gonna cum all over my cock?" He asked, caressing your back until he reached your ass, spanking you again.

"Rafe, yes! I'm cumming!" you almost screamed in pleasure, trembling in his strong arms.

Your muscles became so thigh that your orgasm triggered his own.

"Fuck, baby, I'm cumming too," he warned, trying to pull out because he wasn't wearing a condom, but you stopped him from doing so.

You didn't want your orgasm ruined.

"Inside, please," you begged.

Rafe pounded into you one last time before he came with a loud moan, filling you with his cum. He kept thrusting into you for a few seconds to ride his climax and then he collapsed over you on the mattress. It took him a moment to move to the side to cuddle with you; both of you were gasping for breath.

"Who fucks you better then?"

You couldn't help but smile and answered, "You do, Rafe."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe x oc #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe smut #obx #obx smut #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks smut

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dreameryfics · 3 months ago

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JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: You're new to the Cut and you catch a certain blue-eyed blonde-haired boy's attention

We had just moved to Outer Banks a month ago, specifically, the Cut, as I've found it's been called by the locals. The people who lived on the Cut were the poor/working class, whereas Figure 8 was for the rich people—the ones who didn't have to work to put a meal on the table. My mom had left my stepdad and thought we needed a new place to live too. It was just her and I now, in a new place.

I didn't mind living here so far, the people on the Cut are really nice and always willing to lend a helping hand. I was able to get a job at The Wreck as a waitress. Mom was still trying to find work, so I was working a lot more than I'd like to. I met my boss's daughter, Kiara, during one of my first shifts. She explained everything to me. How the island works, who to stay away from, and who the good people are around here.

I have had a few run-ins with some Kooks, and so far, I can see why Kie hates them. One night, there were a few that came in to order some food and they were assholes the entire night. One was hitting on me to the point where Mike told him to leave. It was some asshole named Rafe. Apparently, he hates Pogues the most, but yet he's over here hitting on one? Make it make sense.

It was just like any other night, I had worked a double shift and it was almost time to leave. I had about an hour left before my shift ended. Kie hadn't shown up, so it was just Mike and me. He tried his hardest to not show how he felt, but I could tell he was upset with his daughter. I didn't mind though because that meant more tips for me. I was helping a table out when I heard chatter behind me. I looked and saw Kie with three guys. These must be who she's told me about I thought. I quickly turned my attention back to the table I was serving knowing I'd talk to her later.

"Dad, I'm sorry, but I had to help John B-" I overheard Kie saying to her dad. "Kie, enough with these excuses," Mike said to his daughter with a hint of anger in his voice, "these damn boys." He looked over at the three, who happened to be sitting at a table now, "They're needy little assholes, and you missed your damn shift."

"I know Dad, it won't happen again," Kie said to him, trying to calm him down. He let out a long sigh before waving her off. She walked over to the boys and talked to them about something. I was too far away to overhear anything they were talking about. "Hey," Mike yelled over to me, "do you want to help Kie with those three? They probably haven't eaten anything today," he said pointing at the group. He may be angry at Kie, but you can't say he doesn't care. He looks out for the people on the Cut. I shook my head before heading over to them.

"Hey Kie," I said looking past the boys and to her. I quickly took out my pad so I could take their orders and when I looked up I was met with bright blue eyes. He was intriguing, to say the least, they all were, but him the most. "What can I get for you guys?" I ask, tearing my eyes away from him and looking to the rest of the table, ready to write down what they want.

"You haven't met these dumbasses yet," Kie says which gets her some angry looks her way. "This is Pope, John B, and JJ," she points to each one before continuing, "Can you just tell my dad we want the usual?" I nodded my head before walking away from them. I couldn't help myself and looked back. JJ had turned around and was already looking at me. I could feel the heat rise to my face, quickly turning around so he didn't see my face get red.

"No, not you too," Mike said as I was walking towards him. I gave him a puzzling look before he rolled his eyes at me. "Just be careful around him, he's-" Mike paused looking over to where his daughter was sitting, "troubled. He does stupid shit and I'd hate to see you get caught up in his stupid shit."

"Mike, I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, assuming he was talking about the blonde boy, but I wanted to make sure. "JJ," he replied bluntly, "just be careful not to get caught up in his stupid decisions." I nodded my head at Mike before looking behind me for another glance at JJ. They were all laughing at something, Kie throwing a crumpled-up napkin at JJ. "Thanks, Mike, but you don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself," I told him smiling at him. "I know hun, just be careful," Mike replied handing me food. I gave him a puzzling look and he just nodded over to the table holding the Kie and the three boys, "this is what they normally get."

I put the food on a tray and brought it over to them, setting the baskets down in front of JJ and Pope. I could feel eyes boring into the side of me. I knew it was JJ, but I fought the urge to look over at him. "Enjoy the food guys," I told them grabbing the now-empty tray and walking away from the table. "Kie, what's her story?" I heard one of them say and Kie responded, "JJ, she's new, don't scare her away."

I felt my stomach flutter at the thought of him asking about me. I know I just met him, but I'd heard so much about him from Kie and knew this was someone I wanted in my life. Not just wanted in my life, but needed in my life. Little did I know that night was the beginning of everything. The next day, hurricane Agatha hit and I was drug into a treasure hunt.

#masterlist #fanfic #request #requests open #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #obx #jj x reader #outerbanks jj #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader

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paulyenvol6 · 21 days ago

Text

Bruised, Not Broken

Based on this lovely request! Thank you so much for the idea and I hope you like it :)

Daemon and you have an ugly fight which leads to him leaving the red keep and you having a panic attack.

Contains: angst, anxiety, mentions of a miscarriage, very slight smut, mentions of physical pain, hotd typical themes like death and fighting, comfort

Wordcount: ~4.43k

Masterlist

The sun was about to touch the horizon when you looked out of the window and it looked so pretty that for a moment you forgot about your upset state of mind.

"Darling, can we please talk about this another time?" Daemon's voice brought you back to the moment and you rapidly turned your head to your husband remembering what he had just said.

"No, we can't. I can't believe you didn't even talk to me before agreeing."

Daemon shook his head like he was speaking to a child that couldn't comprehend the easiest connections and you felt the blood rushing in your ears.

"I'm pregnant, Daemon. I want you by my side when I deliver our child and I most certainly don't want our child to grow up without its father."

You walked towards him putting every emotion you felt in your eyes but his nostrils flared dangerously.

"So you think I would get killed off just like that by some idiot follower of the crabfeeder? My wife thinks I can't fight properly?"

You exhaled deeply and grabbed his upper arm.

"Of course I do. But don't you get the point? It is dangerous and you can't deny that. And as I said, what if you're not with me when I give birth?"

Daemon briefly looked down to the well-visible swell of your belly but then glared at you again.

"I will be back in time," was all he pressed but now your eyes filled with tears.

"You don't know that," you whispered your hands gripping the fabric of his tunic.

"I do, y/n, seven hells. The maesters say you're gonna deliver in two moons. That's plenty of time for me to put this crabfeeder in his place."

"But what if not? And what if the child comes too early?"

You searched for his eyes but this time Daemon avoided your gaze and instead looked to the side.

"This is our first child together, Daemon and I – I'm scared. You know that. I want you with me when it happens."

Now it was him who exhaled loudly and his lips curled in anger. "I will be with you. I promise you that."

"You can't promise me that."

Daemon scoffed and turned away from you all of the sudden.

"Then tell me what kind of marriage this is if my wife does not trust me? Mhm? If my wife thinks that I won't make it at the stepstones and thinks I'm too weak. And if my wife tells me what to do."

He pointed at you with small eyes but you wouldn't let him intimidate you. You pressed your lips together and made a step towards him.

"I fucking wish I could tell you what to do, Daemon Targaryen."

He threw his head back laughing loudly and aimlessly walked around the room.

"You do it all the time, y/n. You do it from the moment I wake up. The last thing I hear before falling asleep is you telling me what clothes to wear in the morning."

Your heartbeat fastened and you clenched your fists trying to fight the urge to scratch or squeeze something.

"How dare you. I want the best for this family and all I do is try to make sure that you're fine and that my child has a good life."

"Oh wait. So you're telling me what to wear because… You want the best for our child?"

You grinded your teeth. "This happened once," you hissed quietly but loud enough so you were sure he would hear you. "And it was because your brother wanted you to behave and present yourself nicely because he had guests."

"Yes. Exactly. So it is not enough to control my life but you're also conspiring with my brother because wild and messy Daemon needs to be controlled and can't be left alone because he might do something stupid. I'm not a fucking child and I don't need your or my brother to act like you're my parents."

You panted heavily and placed your head on your forehead.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

He closed his eyes and laughed uncontrolled. "Do you know that you always do this? You throw all these things at my head and when I don't agree with you you tell me that I'm just too stupid to understand you."

"That's enough, Daemon," you shouted and pushed yourself away from the table you had leaned against. "You don't listen to me, that's why. As soon as I critises something about you you always get into this defensive attitude instead of just listening. I'm not saying these things because I want to upset you."

"Mhm yes, you're just so caring and kind and it's me who brings in all the trouble. Why did you marry me then, huh? Have you only just now noticed that I'm not gonna spend my life chained to our chambers in king's landing while my men are fighting for our comfortable lives at the stepstones? Did you think I'd change my entire personality once we're married and I fucked your cunt once?"

"Shut up, Daemon. I mean it," you hissed close to tears.

"It's good, yes. Fucking you, I mean. But it's not that good."

"OUT. GET OUT RIGHT NOW!" you screamed and pushed against his chest.

For a brief moment he stood still ignoring your attempts of pushing him away and not moving an inch but soon he flared his nostrils one last time and then turned around to leave your chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daemon stomped rather than walked through the streets of king's landing and he was almost certain that there was actual smoke leaking out of his nose. His whole body was on fire and he knew that only two things could calm him now.

The first one was very difficult to do because he didn't know where to find a person that would willingly let him beat him up so Daemon now headed to his favourite brothel that was located on the street of silk. He rarely went there anymore now that he was married and had found a partner that enjoyed sex just as much as he did but tonight he found that he didn't have a choice but to return to this place that had once been his favourite place to be. You wouldn't open your legs for him tonight so someone else had to. There was no way Daemon would be able to sleep or eat or do anything in this state of mind so he had to calm himself.

He saw the familiar wooden sign from the far and contently sighed. There was this signiture smell of this part of the city and when he had been a young boy and Viserys had taken him to a brothel for the first time he had found it to be disgusting and obscene. Today he was in some way used to it. Oddly enough it smelled like a woman's cunt and as filthy as it felt, the scent now excited him.

Daemon entered the brothel and immediately noticed all the women lolling lasciviously on the couches. In the dim light the owner of the brothel, a short man that everyone only called One-Eyes Rog because he had lost his left eye in a fight in an inn a few years ago, didn't notice him at first but when his eyes fell on his silver hair he immediately bowed his head.

"My prince. What an honour it is to welcome you here."

It was obvious that One-Eyed Rog had suspected to have lost his loyal guest to you after his marriage which was why he was so surprised by his unexpected visit.

"What can I do for you, my prince? I just got a handful of new girls from the north. One of them, Ysa is her name, is the loveliest redhead you'll ever see. So young and soft, you'll feel like you're touching a maiden."

He laughed loudly which sounded more like a horse snorting and held his stomach as if he couldn't keep himself up. Perhaps he actually couldn't. Daemon didn't feel like spending so much time in One-Eyed Rog's presence so he rolled his eyes while walking past the man.

"Bring her up to my room. I expect I still have my own room," he whispered quietly and it sounded a lot more threatening that he had intended to.

"Of course, of course, my prince," the owner of the brothel assured him while bowing again. "Please, let me know if there is anything you require. Anything you want, we will bring it to you."

Daemon almost didn't hear his words because he was already making his way up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

You panted heavily and placed your hand on your chest.

You just couldn't help it, his words had hurt you like little knives that he had driven right into your heart. And now you couldn't reach inside to pull them out so all you could do was wait and stare at the door.

You didn't even know whether you wanted Daemon to return. After all it had been you who threw him out but still you wanted him to tell you how sorry he was and that everything had been a big mistake.

'Fuck,' you thought and squeezed your eyes. Everything spinned around you and you quickly gripped the table to your right so you wouldn't fall to the ground. What if you would never reconcile? What if Daemon just left to fight at the stepstones and wouldn't come back? What if you would never see him again? What if your child would grow up without its father and what if you would have to raise it on your own?

The sob came unexpected but since you were alone in your room you didn't fight the waves of tears washing over you. You allowed yourself around ten minutes of self-pity during which you imagined the worst things that could happen but after there were no tears left to cry you raised your head again and inhaled a few times.

Your surrounding were still spinning so you blinked a few times until you felt brave enough to take a step forward. The stumbling that followed wasn't caused by your dizziness but rather by how powerless you felt and suddenly you remembered that it had been hours since you had eaten something. And that was although your doctors had told you to eat enough.

Fresh tears formed in your eyes because how was it that you didn't manage to care for your babe before it was even born? You sat down on a chair and stared at the bowl of fruit in front of you. You had to eat something, that much was clear but you didn't crave anything. For some reason the sight of the apple made your stomach turn and you were aware that you would have to force yourself.

Your trembling hand reached out for the bowl thinking that a peach was the least unbearable food to eat right now so you grabbed it and examined it closely. Despite feeling the rejection from your belly you moved it to your lips and took a careful bite.

It wasn't like it tasted bad. It was a peach after all. And still you almost wanted to throw up and immediately put the fruit down. Your face was drawn with disgust and despite everything the maesters had told you, you would have to ignore their advice tonight. You just couldn't eat anything.

Feeling very helpless and pathetic suddenly you placed your arms on the table and rested your head on top of them. You didn't know how long you were laying there like this. Strangely, you suddenly felt numb and so tired that you couldn't even feel anger towards Daemon, so you just waited and wished you could go to sleep and wake up to find everything as it was before your ugly fight.

But of course none of the gods granted you this wish and instead you were soon disrupted by an awful pain in your core. It started as a light pull but soon you had to straighten up because you thought the position might be the problem. But it only became worse and you anxiously touched your belly.

'What is going on?' you thought and gasped for air when a sharp and intense ache spread throughout your body. It was way too early for you to give birth, that was clear, but what was this? You were more than familiar with the usual and normal difficulties during pregnancy, like morning sickness or your aching back but you had never felt something like this.

'Daemon,' was the first thing that shot into your head but in the very same second you remembered what had happened between the two of you and you wished you could slap yourself. Or Daemon.

Gods, why did this happen right now? You needed him now and you had no idea where he was. You tried to stand up because either way, you needed a maester to look after you and the babe but your knees were so wobbly that you instantly fell down on the chair again which caused another wave of pain. Shouting, it was then.

"Ser Tomas," you said loudly on the verge of crying and after repeating your words two more times the door sprang open and the knight rushed into the room.

"Princess. What is it?"

You held your heart trying to fight the panic that was slowly but surely creeping up on you.

"I-I… Something's wrong. Please get the maester," you whined and you felt your toes curl at the pain. What was happening? This couldn't be true, no. You didn't even want to form the thought in your head but what if – What if you were losing the child.

Suddenly, and you didn't even know when it had started, tears were rolling down your face and combined with your dizziness you feared that you might faint. Ser Tomas had answered you but you hadn't been able to understand him so all you could do was wait while the knight left the room as quickly as he had entered it and you just hoped that he went to get someone.

Daemon. You needed him so badly. You needed him to hold your hand and stroke your hair and tell you that everything would be fine. You needed him to rub over your belly and hear his voice close to your ear. Your eyes sprang open at another sting and you watched your stomach as if you could see if something was wrong that way.

And then, you didn't know how much time had passed the door opened again and Maester Fynnes rushed in as swiftly as his old body allowed him to.

"Princess," he shouted and although he was not the person you wished to see it gave you comfort to have somebody at your side.

"I-I don't know what's wrong," you managed to press. "It hurts, it hurts so bad. W-What i-if I… I don't wanna lose it."

Once again the veil of tears didn't allow you to make out your surroundings but this was your smallest problem right now.

"Breathe, princess. Breathe. That's the most important thing."

You tried to follow his advice and inhaled deeply but it didn't help you at all. It rather increased your panic because you feared you would suffocate as the lack of air entering your body made your head turn.

"I-I don't know what to do," you sobbed hands gripping the chair you were sitting on. The maester had sat down next to you and watched you concerned.

"It's too early for the child to arrive."

"I'm losing it," you cried panting hectically. "I-I think I'm losing the child."

"No, my princess. You need to calm down, it might just be – "

"NO," you interrupted him and threw your head back. "Fuckkkk…. I need Daemon. Please. Get him here. Now."

Maester Fynnes almost jumped to his feet and ran to the door. The next few minutes passed without you comprehending what was happening around you but you were too focused on the pain and trying to breathe to listen to the maester. Only when he was next to you again did you hear him.

"They will search for Daemon. I'm sure he will be back soon."

"Where is he?" you whispered and grabbed the maester's hand. "Where is he, why is he not here with me?"

Fynnes actually looked pitiful when your eyes had found his and soothingly ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

"I don't know, princess. But they will find him."

"I need him now. I need him, fuck… He's the only one – Please, find him. What if he has left? Is Caraxes still here, has he left on his back – "

"Shhh," Fynnes made. "This is not helping. It would be better for you to try and relax."

But how were you supposed to do that? Your thoughts were spinning, your heart was beating so fast that it was almost uncomfortable and your whole body was aching.

"I will bring you milk of the poppy, princess. It might help you sleep."

It took you a moment to comprehend his words but once you did you were shaking your head rapidly.

"No, no, no. I need to help the child. I can't sleep, I have to save it."

Maester Fynnes rose to his feet while patting your shoulder.

"The child will be fine. There is nothing you have to do beside calming yourself."

When the maester returned with a cup your head was still shaking. It was still shaking when he offered you the cup. But then at some point you were simply too tired to refuse and you were actually quite thirsty.

So even before your lips touched the cup your brain already felt cloudy and the liquid evenutally did the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daemon licked over his lip and tasted sweat. He had his eyes closed and his head thrown back in pleasure but somehow he still wasn't in the present moment. His thoughts wandered to you over and over again no matter how deep he fucked Ysa or how tight she clenched around him.

"Oh fuck," she moaned and Daemon registered how her hands gripped the bed sheets but his body felt disconnected to his mind. He felt the pleasure he was receiving but it didn't reach his brain.

And yet he went on to chase his release, gripped her hips and reached around her body to cup her breasts but just as felt himself getting closer to the edge the door opened and Daemon exhaled in dissatisfaction.

He stopped fucking Ysa but stayed inside of her while turning his head to see who had disrupted them. Noticing that it was a knight from the red keep, he frowned.

"My prince. There is an urgent matter. You have to come back to the red keep, your wife has requested your presence!"

At first Daemon hesitated but he knew you so well. And he knew how proud you were. Never would you swallow your pride and ask for him if it wasn't a serious matter. That was why Daemon quickly pulled out of Ysa without looking at her for another second.

"What happened? Is she alright?" he asked while putting on his clothes. He didn't care whether the man would be able to recognise the concern in his voice; it was about getting a grip of the situation now as fast as possible.

"I don't know, my prince. I was just sent to search for you and I was told to be quick."

Daemon nodded and closed the buttons of his shirt with his slightly shaking fingers. "Let's go then."

The prince rushed through the streets next to the knight whose name he didn't know and the longer they went the more scared Daemon became. He wasn't the kind of person that was scared a lot, because what did he, the rogue prince have to be scared of?

But he knew that this was a different situation. You would never ask for him to come to you during a fight if it wasn't important. He remembered all too well how you didn't speak to him for 4 days last year after Daemon had called your traditional wedding gown "prim". You were stubborn. And you wouldn't send knights searching for him just to yell at him again.

That was why when the two men finally arrived at the keep Daemon felt a bitter feeling in his stomach. He really needed to check on you now and make sure that you were alright because despite all the fighting and disagreements he loved you deeply and would never leave your side.

"Where is she? Is she in my rooms?"

The knight nodded and Daemon noticed how he looked anxious as well which didn't exactly calm him either.

"I-I think so. They told me to bring you to your chambers."

"I will find the way."

With these words the prince started to walk through the corridor and once he was around the corner he started to run. Although he wasn't a particulary religious person suddenly he caught himself praying that you were fine. And then he finally arrived, energetically opened the door to your rooms and his eyes sprang open.

A man with a black scarf over his head stood by your bed, and Daemon could see the tip of a dagger glinting in the moonlight. His brain quickly processed and then he hasted towards him exactly in the same moment as the assassin started to approach your sleeping figure.

That was the moment the man noticed Daemon and shifted his attention to the prince as well.

"Little bastard," Daemon hissed while the man made his way to him and quickly pulled out his sword. By now you had woken up from the noise and shrieked when your mind comprehended what was happening.

"Daemon," you gasped and watched with big eyes how your husband swang his sword at the assassin.

It would be an exaggeration to say that it was a long fight. He was Daemon Targaryen after all and within seconds he had managed to disarm the man and then drew his sword through his throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, the man sank to the floor and then everything was quiet so all Daemon heard was your sobbing.

You had buried your face in your hands and uncontrollably cried and of course your husband had to do something about it now. He swiftly cleaned his sword with the assassin's cloak, dropped the weapon and then made his way towards you.

"Come here, darling," he whispered and lifted you up by your arms to pull you against his chest. "It's alright, I'm here. I'm here, love and you're safe."

His left hand held your back while his right stroked your hair and it felt so surreal and good at the same time that you simply couldn't stop crying.

"D-Daemon," you sobbed and buried your hands in his muscular arms.

"Yes, I know. Everything will be alright now."

"I-I… I," you muttered and looked up to him with teary and round eyes.

"What is it, babygirl? What happened?"

You crouched against his strong body hoping that everything would be easier if only you were as close as physically possible and in this moment you were so grateful for the way his arms wrapped around your back. He just knew you and what you needed right now.

It took you a few more minutes until you felt calm enough to explain to him what happened but even then your voice was trembling.

"It was so… It was terrible, I… A-After you left… I j-just sat there," you started and your husband nodded encouragingly.

"A-And then after s-some time…. I felt a p-pain in my stomach. I-I was so scared, Daemon…"

New tears welled in your eyes and your whole body was shaking while you buried your face in his neck that smelled so much like Daemon. His soft voice cut through the air while his hand repeatedly ran over the back of your head.

"What happened then, love?"

"I panicked. And I-I thought t-that I… That I'm g-gonna lose our child. S-So the maester came and I don't know… I don't remember everything. B-But I asked f-for you b-because I w-was so scared and then… Fynnes g-gave me milk of the p-poppy a-and I slept. Until now."

You finally looked at him again and his eyes looked so soft that you wondered how this was the same person you had fought with a few hours ago.

"Oh darling," he said quietly and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. How are you now? Are you still in pain?"

Slowly you shook your head because to your relief the ache had actually vanished.

"No, it's better."

"That's so good to hear, my love."

You quietly let him hold you for a while until you couldn't wait anymore; you just had to share your biggest fear.

"B-But what if I actually l-lost it, Daemon? What if I had a miscarriage in my sleep?"

Your voice sounded so thin and weak that in any other case you would've felt embarrassed but right now you just couldn't think of anything but the babe in your womb.

"No, honey. Do you see any blood on the bed? You would've bled if you'd lost it." He placed a hand on your swollen belly. "Let's see. Perhaps we will hear it."

He rubbed over your skin a few times while kissing your shoulder. For a few minutes you only paid attention to Daemon's steady breathing and the warmth of his hand on your body until you felt something inside of you. It was a kick and you instantly teared up again.

"I-I felt it," you gasped and heard him chuckle softly.

"There you have it. It's alive and it's healthy, sweetling."

You slowly nodded and then lowered your tired head until you leaned against his shoulder.

"That's right, y/n. You can sleep. We will figure out everything tomorrow."

You were too tired to even think about his words. All you knew was that everything would be fine.

It didn't matter how much the two of you fought or if you had different opinions on some matters.

You loved it each other and this love would overshadow anything stepping in your way.

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 11 months ago

Text

1.5k / 20 / post-apocalypse au, part 1

...

You're injured but moving as fast as you can with your bow slung over your back. Soap is close behind you, giving chase, shouting your name as he does. Doesn't he learn? Doesn't he know you'll pull your bow on him again if he corners you?

He must know, but he's too stubborn to give up the chase. You don’t understand it.

He pushes on, just as graceful and twice as effective as you. You slip through the thick trees and their branches trailing whips of brambles. He shoves past them. You’re injured. He’s not. He's gaining, boots heavy in the soil.

"Watch yourself--!"

Your boot lands on leaf litter that falls out from under you--a pit trap. You’re moving barely fast enough for your momentum to save you from falling in. Your waist hits the edge of the pit. You brace yourself by your elbows, fingers digging into the dirt. The soft underside of your arms drag against something sharp underneath.

Soap grabs you by your coat and pulls you up out of the trap and to your feet before you can scramble out yourself. You're neither surprised nor mollified by his careful handling of you.

"Let me go!"

"Na. You're hurt. Stay still."

"Soap, I swear to God--"

"Shut up. I'm taking a look."

He holds your arm firmly with one large hand and, with the other, pulls your sleeve away from the bleeding gash. You grab his wrist with a pained curse. Whatever caught your arms—the rough wood and metal at the trap's edge—tore you bloody. Soap glares at the gash and then at you. He's close.

You could reach for your bow or for the dagger on your hip. But you know for a fact he's armed. With guns. A sniper rifle on his back and two sidearms at his belt. He knows how to use them, too. If you fight, he wins. But you know better than to back down quickly. The world is crueler than it used to be ever since things went to shit. People who show weakness don’t survive.

"Why are you following me?" you growl, your grip on his wrist tightening.

His grip on you loosens in turn when you speak. "You know why. I'm lookin' out for ya."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"Aye, but you still needed it."

"You're not a soldier anymore, Soap," you retort, trying to pull your wrist away. "It's every person for themselves. Stop following me."

"That's no way to live. The world may be a shithole, but there are still folk around who'll lend you a hand even though they don't need to. Soldier or no'."

You can't get out of his grip when he's determined to keep you there, and he is. As much as you'd like to give him a matching wound for being so goddamn stubborn, the rational part of your brain--the part that makes sure you survive--knows better than to expend energy struggling when it's not strictly necessary.

"Nobody lends a hand unless they want something in return," you mutter, glaring down at your wound as he bandages it. "Even if they're pretending otherwise."

He knows you speak from experience. You're a woman, and that means you're nothing but a resource to the worst of whoever’s left. He can't blame you for being guarded. Then again, you wouldn't be making such heated statements to his face if you really thought he intended to hurt you. You're just... defensive. Hiding under all that anger. That's what he tells himself. So he ignores your grumbled protests.

"That's how you'd look at it," he finally replies as he finishes dressing the wound. "Seein' as you've not met the right people. But some of us don't expect anything back."

"You don't expect it because you think you're better than asking. But you still want it."

"Might be so." His voice is soft, gravelly, but you can hear the steel in it. "But am not asking, now am I? So stop your fussin'. You're safe. Nae need to worry." He releases your bandaged arm.

"You run your hand along the wrapping, checking it. "Fine. But I'm... I'm not coming back with you."

"Can't promise you'll be safe out there. Where do ye plan to go?"

"I don't know. Wouldn't tell you if I did."

"Aye." He rubs his jaw, examining you with flint in his blue eyes. Pressing you for an answer would be pointless. Not that you seem to be lying—but you're not telling the whole truth. The short history you share with him is just enough that he can tell. But he also knows trying to change your mind would be pointless. If you won't listen, he'd have better luck bashing his head against one of these huge, mutated oaks.

"Am nae stoppin' ya. But these woods are full of treacherous paths. If ye run into trouble—when ye run into trouble--my boys and I, we know these woods well enough to dust you off and send you in the right direction. Cannae promise to find you before somethin’ else does, though."

You're fairly sure he's not lying. His boys, as he calls them—his old squad, you think—they've made their home in these woods. It's perilous living—bears, wolves, muties, and terrain just as hazardous as the wildlife. And still those men are the most dangerous things in here.

The offer is tempting. You consider it for longer than you should, looking down at your bandaged arm again. But then you step back, shaking your head slowly. "No, thanks. I have to get going."

It tears him up inside. You're making the wrong choice. If he lets you walk away, he's letting you walk to your death.

He looks at you for a moment. You can tell he's got something more to say. But he changes his mind, stepping back as well. He pulls something from his belt and holds it out. A handgun, scuffed and black, grip held toward you. You stare at it for a second before looking back up at him. He's serious?

"I'm not gonna take that--"

"You're damn well gonna take it." His voice is low and insistent. "You think I don't know you'll run into trouble out here? Don't be a fool. I have spare. Take it."

Your one rule is don't owe anybody anything. How the fuck are you about to owe this man twice?

Fine. Whatever. It's not like you have to use it. Could just barter it. Not like you’re going to see him again. You take the gun, biting back a retort.

He nods his approval. The steely look in his eyes softens, though he still looks dismayed. "Mind where you point that. And when you pull it. Biters'll hear it for a mile and come running. Survivors, too. The curious ones." He glances at your bandaged arm one more time. Then he adjusts the bag over his shoulder and turns his back, walking away from you. Back to camp. "Am expectin' you to keep yourself alive with that," he growls. "Or else it's a lot of good time and material I wasted on ya."

"I didn't ask you to waste your breath," you retort, practically snarling at his retreating back in your irritation. You watch him go until he's disappeared into the trees. You need to make sure he doesn't plan on doubling back and following you.

Then you set off on your own. You take a winding path to throw off any trackers. Never can be too cautious. The gun in your pocket is heavy against your thigh, and you try not to think of it as a comforting security.

You came here to get Roach back, and you don’t care how long you have to wander this Godforsaken forest. You’re not leaving without him.

…

Soap feels your eyes on him until you disappear.

He wants to divorce himself from this, but he’s on edge. People who strike out on their own here come to a nasty end. But he’s not going to take away your agency by deciding what's best for you. You were right about him not being a soldier, after all. He doesn’t have the authority to herd you back to his squad’s campsite. Your life is in your own hands.

He just hopes you live to do better than he believes you will.

That night, he sleeps restlessly. Which is why, when he hears a cluster of gunshots in the distance, he wakes up instantly. It's you. In trouble.

The night watch—Gaz tonight—is already there, tossing Soap's gun to him. "You were right," Gaz says.

"Course I was," Soap says with a lopsided grin. "Owe me a ten-piece in the next poker game, aye?"

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3

more Soap / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag