#and I try and I try to get me what I need
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also like if I may weigh in as someone who did their third-year anatomy project on a fat cadaver
uh
it's fine?
like i'm not saying i loved the amount of adipose (i.e. fat) tissue I had to remove to access the chest cavity (especially since it took up a LOT of embalming fluid so it was quite liquid a lot of the time), and it definitely required more work to access than a thinner cadaver might have. But ultimately, the hardest part of that project wasn't "oh no the cadaver is fat", it was "oh no I've never had to remove ribs before and I somehow wasn't prepared for this to involve pliers".
also, honestly, the parts of that cadaver with the most fat (breasts and jaw - I was dissecting for the laryngeal nerve, which is in the neck, so I didn't go below the first two ribs) were actually the easiest parts to remove the adipose tissue from, because you could do it in lumps. The hard parts to deal with are the thinner or visceral fat patches, because those are more delicate work - but you also don't know those are there until you get to them, because they're not visible from the outside and are just as likely to be significant in a skinny person as a fat one. (also they tend to be around the delicate structures you're looking for, whereas the fat which is most affected by being fat is the large areas immediately under the skin, like the belly and breasts and butt, which is on top of the core structures so it's easier to remove without needing to be super delicate.)
meanwhile the other person who had the laryngeal nerve project was working with a cadaver which had almost no body fat at all and she did NOT seem to be finding it significantly easier.
Time-wise, I actually finished my project second out of a class of 12, by the way, and did extra work on it (the chest investigation wasn't in the original plan, I just hit a point where I'd fully dissected and recorded the neck and throat and I still had four lab sessions left). Almost like the weight of a cadaver doesn't correlate directly to how long it takes to dissect. go figure.
The reason fat cadavers are not accepted for medical programmes is that you need to cut through every layer of fat carefully. Which takes time, and lab sessions are inherentely limited in that. It's better for med students to spend that time looking at what organs actually look like in bodies. This isn't fatphobia, it's just .. the way dissecting bodies works? In the same way surgeries on fat people take longer because there's just physically more tissue. The alternative would be to force the med students who get fatter cadavers to do more lab sessions at weird times outside of the usual schedules. Or force them to stay over the holidays. Or not let them get enough time to do the lab work they need to. Which imo would be a bit fucked up especially when med school is already so difficult and time-consuming.
Itâs fatphobia. Fat bodies absolutely need to be studied. To ignore an entire demographic of oppressed individuals in the medical field for the sake of convenience(?!) is violence. Did you even read the article? They called working on fat cadavers âunpleasant.â Itâs fatphobia and itâs unacceptable.
#cw: death#cw: dissection discussion#fatphobia#tell me you've never done anatomical dissection without telling me you've never done anatomical dissection#pal the time-consuming bit is not âremove fatâ the time-consuming bit is stuff like âtrace this structure without snapping itâ#and if you're me it's also âremove skin super neatly even though it takes hours and it doesn't need to be that neatâ#i'm just a perfectionist lol#but adipose tissue is REALLY EASY TO DEAL WITH ACTUALLY! gross but easy.#literally you can either pull it out or scoop it out with your hands and it's unlikely to have too many delicate structures in it#it's a bit gross but tbqh if you can't handle gross then why the fuck are you dissecting a corpse#i can't believe i have to say this but dead bodies are in fact full of gross things#(so are live ones tbf)#fat is not in the top 10 of those gross things#even badly-embalmed fat!#like i should say that the cadaver i had wasn't morbidly obese or anything but it was fatter than i am and i am Not Skinny#the only extra difficulty with a fat cadaver is moving the weight and that's kind of the lab techs' problem tbh?#(it is worth considering but only in a âcurrently doing a risk assessment for the lab techsâ way not a âdesign our study around itâ way)#also i see these sorts of things and i'm always just like. some people really do not understand what cadaver dissection is LIKE.#like the challenges in it are âmassâ and âtoo much stuff to take outâ#nah. the challenges are in the small bits#like how a nerve is almost visually indistinguishable from strings of fascia. or how you can't see the capillaries.#or how sometimes you accidentally cut something you were trying to follow and both ends just SCHLOOP into the surrounding tissue#and you want to scream but it's a professional science environment and swearing and kicking things is frowned upon#i kind of miss doing dissections though :( i didn't get an anatomy job so i haven't done them in seven years.
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boat scene with rafe
requested by @gibson-g1rl l <3 đ
credits: oysters png from @saizun , and amazing gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs
The boat rocks beneath you as you step toward where Rafe sits bound against the wall, looking both furious and oddly vulnerable. You catch his eye as you enter the room, holding a small packet of aspirin and a plate of food. His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, but his cocky smirk returns almost immediately.
âLook whoâs here to take care of me,â he drawls, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing tone, though thereâs a flicker of genuine relief in his eyes.
âDonât flatter yourself.â You roll your eyes, but thereâs no real bite to your words. You set the plate down next to him and hand over the aspirin, glancing away to avoid letting him see the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips. âThought youâd need this. Canât have you passing out on us.â
Rafe takes the aspirin from your hand, holding your gaze just a little too long before he swallows it dry. âIâll admit, I wasnât expecting room service,â he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. âDidnât know you cared this much.â
You scoff, folding your arms. âYou should know by now I donât want you dead, Rafe,â you say with a wry smile. âBut donât expect this to become a habit.â
He chuckles, the sound low and a little smug. âWeâll see about that,â he says, shifting against the ropes, clearly enjoying the attention. He nods toward the plate. âSo, whatâare you gonna feed me, too?â
You blink, taken aback by his nerve, and then raise an eyebrow, letting sarcasm color your voice. âWould you like me to? Or do you think you can manage?â You narrow your eyes, daring him to keep pushing.
Rafeâs smirk wavers, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink as he quickly looks away. âI can handle it,â he mutters, clearly flustered but trying to play it off. âDonât get carried away.â
âOh, donât worry, I wasnât planning to.â But you canât help the grin tugging at your lips as you settle back, watching as he tries to pick up a piece of food from the plate with an awkward, fumbling grip, struggling against the restraints.
You stifle a laugh as he tries to eat without making a mess, and he catches you smiling, his jaw tightening. âSomething funny?â he snaps, though thereâs a hint of embarrassment in his tone.
You shrug, biting back your amusement. âNothing at all. You look perfectly in control.â
Rafe grumbles under his breath, focusing intently on his food to avoid meeting your eyes. Another wave rocks the boat, causing you to steady yourself against the wall, and you look back to find him watching you, something almost like concern flickering in his gaze.
âBe careful,â he mutters, his voice softer, dropping the bravado for a split second.
For a moment, you just look at each other, the storm outside and the chaos around you fading into the background. His cocky expression softens, and he gives you a small, grateful nod. He wonât say it, but you know heâs thankful.
âThanks,â he says quietly, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer.
âYeah, yeah,â you reply, crossing your arms as you lean back against the wall. âJust donât make me regret it.â
Rafe grins, his cockiness slipping back into place, but now itâs warmer, less of a wall and more like something shared just between the two of you. As he reaches for another bite, he murmurs, âWouldnât dream of it.â And as much as you try to resist, you canât help the small, reluctant smile that crosses your face in response.
The storm hits hard, the boat rocking violently beneath your feet. Youâre barely able to keep your balance as you make your way through the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Waves crash against the hull, each one sending a jolt of panic through your body. But thereâs something else clawing at youâsomething that wonât let you ignore the sound of Rafeâs voice, sharp and desperate, calling from another room.
âCome on! Cut me loose!â His voice cracks, the desperation in it too raw to ignore.
You freeze, breath catching in your throat. Rafe. Heâs still tied up. The ropes are holding him in place as the boat teeters precariously on the brink of capsizing. You can hear Pope and Cleo yelling from the kitchen, their voices overlapping, trying to convince you to leave it alone. To save yourself. But you canât. Not this time.
You grip the knife tighter, your fingers cold and trembling from the anxiety rising in your chest. Thereâs no time to think. Rafeâs call keeps echoing in your head, and that voiceâthe urgency, the fearâpushes you forward. You make your way toward the room where you heard him last, the sound of the storm growing louder as it pounds against the sides of the boat.
Before you even get to the door, Cleoâs voice rings out. âNo! Y/N, No!â
Popeâs voice follows, sharper. âY/N, stop donât let him out!â
But you keep moving. You donât stop. You canât. Thereâs no way youâre going to let Rafe stay there, helpless and bound, when you can do something about it.
When you reach the door, you shove it open, and the sight of Rafe tied up against the far wall hits you with a jolt. Heâs slumped slightly, sweat slicking his forehead, his face drawn with exhaustion and frustration. His eyes snap to you, and for a split second, they soften with something almost like relief.
âCut me loose, come on!â He says again, his voice strained, but louder this time, more insistent.
His hands are bound tightly in thick ropes, his legs spread out uncomfortably beneath him. The ropes seem too thick for him to break on his own. You can see the tension in his body, the way his muscles twitch from the strain, and the panic that flickers behind his gaze. Thereâs no time to waste. You donât think twice. You crouch in front of him, the knife in your hand glinting in the low light.
Rafe watches you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. âDonât make me regret this,â you murmur, feeling your heart beat faster as you cut into the thick rope thatâs holding him in place. Your hands are shaking, the knife slipping slightly as the boat tilts again, but you focus on the task at hand.
âCome on, hurry up.â His words are clipped, desperate, and you push aside the nervous tightness in your chest as you work faster, cutting the ropes.
Youâre close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, a stark contrast to the cold, wet air from the storm. The boat groans as another wave slams against it, and Rafeâs eyes flicker to the window, then back to you.
âPlease,â he breathes, and itâs that one word that makes everything else fade awayâthe roaring storm, the panicked shouting from the others, the ticking clock of time slipping away.
The last thread gives way with a sharp cut, and Rafeâs hands are free. His arms immediately reach for you, grabbing hold of your wrist with a surprising amount of force, pulling himself upright.
âThanks,â he mutters, his voice rough, but thereâs something deeper in it, something like a sense of vulnerability youâve never seen from him before.
You donât have time to say anything, to wonder if heâs really thankful or if heâs just grateful to be free. The boat shudders violently, and you both stumble as the hull groans beneath you. The wind howls outside, whipping against the windows, and you know thereâs not much time before things get worse.
Rafe doesnât wait for an invitation. He grabs your arm, pulling you toward the narrow hallway. âWe need to get to somewhere safer,â he says, his tone not leaving any room for an argument.
Youâre both moving quickly, though the boat keeps pitching wildly. The wind screeches, and water sloshes against the floorboards. Every step feels like a risk, like the boat could capsize at any moment. But Rafe doesnât let go of your arm. He pulls you behind him, guiding you toward a small corner near the engine room, the only place that might offer even the slightest bit of shelter.
You slide into the corner, pressing yourself against the cold wall. Itâs not the safest place, but in the madness of the storm, itâs all you have. Rafe follows, wedging himself beside you. Thereâs barely enough room for the two of you, but you donât mind. Youâre not focused on that right now. All you can think about is how the boat is rocking, how youâre both on the brink of disaster, and how Rafeâs body is so close to yours.
He leans into you, his breathing ragged and uneven. For a moment, he pulls away, but then his hand is at your waist, his grip tightening. Itâs almost like heâs afraid you might slip away from him. He presses his body closer, his face now inches from yours, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart.
Rafe places his head on your neck, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder. The warmth of his breath on your skin is both comforting and unsettling, but you donât pull away. Instead, you place your hand on his back, the pressure of your touch grounding both of you as the storm rages on around you.
âYouâre okay,â you whisper, though youâre not sure if youâre trying to reassure him or yourself.
Rafe doesnât respond, but you feel his muscles relax, his tense body unwinding little by little. Heâs not just holding onto you for stability; it feels like heâs holding onto you for something more. You canât explain it, but thereâs something in the way he leans into you, something raw and vulnerable that youâve never seen before.
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#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe x you#rafe fic#outerbanks rafe#rafe#rafe imagine#rafe obx#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#obx cast#obx#obx4#outer banks#obx season 4#obx s4#outer banks netflix#outer banks season 4#obx fic#obx spoilers#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron fanfiction
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ellie, who uses a vibrator on you for the first time, and just canât get e-fucking-nough.
wc: 2.2k (smut + light fluff)
âââ â± âââ â
ÊâĄÉâ
âââ â° âââ
âthe fuck is that?â you hum from the crook of her neck after having examined the small toy, and it rests in her palm, her voice a little shaky from nerves. âokay.. so.. uh.. this little guy, helps stimulate certain areas..â
âthis little guy?â you repeat her words with a playful smirk, pupils dilated with adoration when you look at her, resplendent enough that she can see her flustered expression reflecting back at her when she maintained that eye contact.
âyeah, this little guy..â she has a teasing smile to her, which only amplifies the pooling anticipation in your stomach.
âturn it on. turn it on.â you eagerly whisper against her neck, your lips still numb from your previous make-out, tingling from her savoured taste. after a few seconds of tampering with the remote, you hear a silent whirring. âalright.. says here that this is the lightest level. ân then..â she mumbles, and the whirring intensifies into a jarring buzz.
âi see..â you mumble as you watch the toy convulsing in her palm, and you touch it, your fingertips shivering intensely upon the metallic. âdamn.â
but whilst your eyes are inspecting it, her eyes are plastered onto you, eyes brimming with desire. lust. hunger. you donât notice it, you just feel her seductive breath on your cheek; her inviting whisper following shortly after.
âlet me.. please?â
you slowly turn your head to look at her, noting her low lids and desperately parted lips that beg for your acceptance. you donât answer, admiring her features as it fuels the fluttering in your chest and the cudgelling of your heartbeat against your ribs.
you want it. you want her so bad.
âitâll feel good, baby.. iâll try..â her whisper is a plead, delicate kisses peppering your jawline so seductively as she guides the device to your chest. your breath is unregulated, shaky with her intuitive touches.
you sigh, when she grazes it over your clothed nipple, the vibration a pleasure on your breast. âit tickles.â you breathily laugh, your stomach shuddering along with the device.
âtickles?â she laughs against your lips, smooching at the corner of them amorously. her elbow propping herself up, and you watch as she grazes it repeatedly over your nipple; watching as the fabric starts raising slightly when it hardens.
the vibrations start teasingly streamlining down to your underwear, wetness so evident when your clothed slit engulfs the metal.
âgonna put it on your clit, my love..â she whispers, as if sheâs asking for your permission, your guidance.
her breath ghosts your cheek as her gaze focuses on your thighs - the heaven between them. the way your dripping cunt swallows it, blissful sensations on your swollen and clothed clit when she applies pressure.
âoh..â you whisper shakily, your hips instinctively and subtly rutting into it. because you want more.
âoh?â she repeats, eyebrows arching momentarily. she experiments, fingertips guiding the device - circling, tapping and grazing your clit.
itâs when she pulls the dampened fabric to the side, holding the vibrator down onto your hood that you seem rather eager. âwait. keep it-keep it there.â you sigh, thighs twitching. you feel your core tightening, clit pulsing with it's own lustrous heartbeat, and your hips subconsciously rolling into it. âkeep it-there..â
âfeels good, baby?â her lips subtly turn upwards into something you could only describe as a snarky smirk, tongue resting between her teeth.
youâre focused, ankles quivering and your abdomen tensing repeatedly from the ecstasy. you hear her mumble again through the concentration, her irises narrowed at your bodyâs reaction. âshaking so much, holy shit.â
your breathing is a little jagged, and youâre clutching at her wrist, making sure she doesnât move or mettle up that teasing courage of hers to deny you what you so desperately want need. âjust donât move it..â you gasp, your back arching into the vibrations.
you scan her features through the haze; pretty verdant eyes tainted with desire, the fruitful shape of her lips, and that fucking scar slicing her eyebrow. she's wearing that stupid black shirt you like so much, and has that stupid hairstyle you love. âyouâre so hot..â you whisper faintly, impulse that reflects your innate need to finish spilling out. âiâm gonna-fuck. iâm gonna ride your fucking face after this..â
âyeah?â she arches her eyebrows, voice a pitch higher, as if sheâs challenging you. mocking you, even.
âuh huh.. gonna-iâm gonna-â you try to think of what to say, but nothing other than your whimpering blither seeping from your helpless lips. and so she interrupts you,
âgonna what, baby?â she whispers, and you know for sure now - she's definitely mocking you. you look down to her hand between your thighs; watching the tendons that manifest her slender wrist start to twitch, those admirable veins framing her knuckles.
your impending orgasm is obvious by how tremulous your body reacts, her fingers amping up the vibrations as she presses it deeper onto your clitoral hood.
"oh, that's it. just let go, feel it.." she whispers, her free hand slithering down to your tremoring hip, measuring up the clenching and troubled muscles within them. her mouth is watering, she doesn't realise it until she swallows back her saliva.
she wants nothing more than to suck at your clit, coat you with her, slurp up your taste so disgustingly that you wouldn't be able to look at her the same tomorrow.
her free hand glides towards your slit, your thick juices coating her slim fingers so seductively. you hear her hum, a low and guttural moan, as you feel one of them slew inside your hole. it contracts so welcomingly around her finger, and it's so easy for her to slide another in.
"m sorry, baby.. i should've asked.." she whispers when she hears your troubled whine, but its not troubled in the sense you don't want it, it's troubled in the sense that you've never understood how fucking good it feels to be stuffed with her fingers.
so you shake your head with difficulty, trying to notion to her that it's fine, she can do as she pleases.
so she teasingly twines them upwards, feeling the harsh vibrations of the toy on your clit internally against your walls. "you feel that?" she asks softly, her voice silk.
"more.. just-just a little more.." you exhale unstably, so desperate to feel her against your most sensitive nerves, so guiding and patient with her. she takes your words, absorbs them with gratitude.
"more, my love.. i got you.." she's also unsteady with her breath, and just like your desperation, she's desperate to impress.
you feel her curl further against your spongy and quivering walls, eyes rolling back as she gradually fucks you with her fingers. "like that, pretty girl?"
"uh huh.. uh-like that.. like-oh fuck, ellie, baby-"
she can tell you're gonna come by how choked up your breaths are, and how rigid your body feels under her hands. "nice and easy, nice and easy.." she whispers, and you suddenly feel her wet tongue on your stomach, streamlining up to your abdomen and leaving a trail.
you can hear your own thighs walloping against her hand, your cunt squelching with every appreciative pump of her fingers. and ellie does what ellie does best, she talks you through it.
"thas' it, feel what i'm doing to you. just relax.."
"you whining for me?â
and it's suddenly too much, your eyes rolling back and head digging further into the fleecy pillow. "please please please please-" you're begging, pleading like a whore for it. you feel her tongue lick selfishly at your sternum, your shirt riding up and the air whipping against your piping hot skin.
when you look down to watch her tongue start relentlessly flicking at your nipple, her eyes dreamily shut, the sneezelike sensation in your core possesses everything in your body.
you're coming so aggressively, back arching into her as she keeps the vibrator on your messy folds - only this time, grazing it directly over your overstimulated clit, her fingers still urging you to your overbrimming limit.
you're whining like a mess, how she likes it.
sheâs trying to hold you down, or at least stabilise you when you come, her fingers seeping out of your cunt and clutching at your shaking hips.
"i know it feels good, i know.." she murmurs against your skin, goosebumps littering your chest and arms. her fingers are glossed with your cum, thumb tracing patterns into your waist.
youâre trembling so much that she keeps losing grip.
she decreases the vibrations drastically to aid your oversensitivity, but keeps the device buried against your clit; your underwear slowly going back over your drenched slit as she lets go.
youâre confused at first, shuffling around uncomfortably when you feel your underwear soak up your cum, your clit still getting ambushed from the low vibrations.
but sheâs not one to disappoint, stripping off her sweatpants and her bare thighs smoothing against yours as she situates her bare and drooling cunt against you.
your thigh is hoisted against her clothed abdomen, and you can feel the dips of her lanky muscle contract slightly. sheâs worked herself up.
âride my face in a minute, babyâ i just.. i need this..â she sighs urgently, feeling the wetness of your underwear; sheâs thirsty for it, dehydrated for it.
her clit is purple and erect, subtly grinding against your underwear, the vibrations humming through the fabric and stimulating her so divinely. the tone in her arms and the impulsive rolling of her hips, her stomach rubbing against your bare and piping hot thigh.
fuck, you like her using you like this. so selfish, self-serving.
youâre starting to uncontrollably tremor again, her movements forcing the vibrator against your overwhelmed clit. âiâll be quick, prettyâiâll be quick-â she gasps, delectable lips parted.
her rutting hips are becoming sloppier, the bed frame starting to rock against the wall and creak.
âellieâellie, please- please hurry, itâs too much..â you whine, because the overstimulation is too shattering for you to orgasm again. but youâre trying to cherish the high of watching her face scrunch from abundant pleasure and yearning, the prize of hearing her guttural whimpers.
and itâs all so worth it, the torture of sensory overload, when her thighs start quivering against yours. her fingers clenching your thigh so frantically, her frenzied state erupting as she orgasms.
âmmph-holy shit-âmm babyââ she gasps, lips parted erotically against your knee, the adrenaline forcing her fingers to twitch around your thighs.
sheâs still rutting against you, bathing through the last remaining ripples of her orgasm, before she takes note of your raw state. her fingers are delicate, sliding your swamped underwear down your legs and turning the vibrator off. itâs submerged in your cum, sweat and enjoyment.
âare you okay? was that too much?â she asks softly, hands gently squeezing your kneecaps in reassurance. sheâs not sure why, but now that her impulsive drive to finish on your vibrating pussy is satisfied and fulfilled, she has some worried aftertaste on her tongue.
worried that she pushed your boundaries, or didnât consider your feelings.
âno, you idiot. that was-â you sigh, covering your dazed eyes with your arm. âthat was so fucking hot.â
you hear her relieved laugh, and itâs silent for a few seconds. nothing but the sound of the light drizzles of rain outside, the balance of your relaxed and seduced breaths.
âstill wanna ride my face, maâam?â you hear her ask, not ignoring the tinge of hope in her tone. and so you laugh, looking up at her. she has a hue of mauve under her eyes, bags bags that demonstrate her careless sleep schedule.
but sheâs stunning. and she makes those eyebags annoyingly sexy.
âi always wanna ride your face..â you mumble, unable to resist the spirited smile that tugs your lips upwards when you see the rosiness in her face bloom. sheâs excited, sheâs a loser for it.
âbut.. maybe.. in the shower.. iâm likeââ you mumble, sluggishly sitting up, discomfort when you look down and see thick strings of your arousal between your thighs. âiâm hot, and sweaty, and gross.â
you look at her, and youâre strangely flustered by how she maintains eye contact. itâs out of character, even for ellie, but sheâs jumped through the hurdles of being awkward with you.
all of the timidity and shyness has been bleached; she looks at you with such intimate love. âokay.. fine by me, maâam..â she nods, lazily blinking through her infatuation.
and for the first time, itâs you that canât uphold the eye contact. your eyes darting anywhere but hers - her collarbone, freckled cheeks fanned by her lashes, those admirable hands that are still resting on your knees.
they trace tender and doting patterns into your shins, nails that tickle and gently scratch your skin.
and when you look back up, sheâs still looking at you, nailing that romantic and worshipping gaze straight through you.
fuck, stop looking at me like that, williams.
âi love you..â you whisper, hands resting on her shoulders, before gliding up to cup her cheeks. her skin is also piping hot. âyouâre so good to me.â
she looks calm on the outside, but on the inside, itâs absolute fucking havoc. her heartbeat hammering against her chest, eyes softening, and her hands reluctantly hovering above yours.
her palms rest on your wrists, and she slowly tilts her head to kiss your fingers, unblinking eyes that are still staring at you. her whisper is faint, anticipatory, and vanilla.
âi love you more, pretty..â
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The Batboys being clingy headcanon:
Including Duke and Bruce <3
Hope you guys like it!
Tim Drake Timâs clinginess is low-key, but itâs also constant. Heâs the type to text you âWhatâs up? I miss you <3â while youâre just sitting 5 feet away from him. If you so much as stand up to go get a snack, heâs immediately there, like, âWhere are you going? Donât leave me.â Heâll lean against you, his hand finding yours without him even realizing it. When you're watching TV or reading, heâs definitely leaning into your side, trying to get as close as possible without being too obvious. But if you move to shift positions? Nope, heâs following you. Heâll slip his arm around your waist, all like, âDonât think I didnât notice that.â Heâs not a big PDA guy, but when itâs just the two of you? Prepare for cuddles, hand-holding, and small, random kisses. Heâs gotta be touching you constantly.
Jason Todd Jason is obsessive, no doubt. Heâs that partner whoâll try to act like heâs tough and independent, but the moment you show him any kind of affection, heâs all over you. Like, you canât just hug him. No. Heâll climb into your lap and basically trap you there, rubbing his face into your neck like a cat. Heâs gonna constantly ask for kisses, too, but not just little pecksâhe wants full-on, deep kisses where he can pull you close and remind you that youâre his. If youâre doing something, like, working or even hanging out with friends, heâll try to drag you away, be like, âHey, come hang out with me, stop ignoring me for two seconds.â Heâs possessive, but in the cutest way, constantly needing your attention. If you even talk to another person for too long, heâll give them side-eye and pull you back to him like, âYou good? Youâre not gonna leave me for some random guy, are you?â Heâs also the type to cling to you in bed, hogging the covers and curling up like a human koala.
Dick Grayson Dickâs clingy energy is pure gold. Heâs the most affectionate of the bunch and doesnât shy away from public displays of love. He loves hugging you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, and just randomly planting kisses all over your face. Heâll text you âmiss you <3â every few hours when youâre apart, and when youâre together? Itâs all about touch. Heâs sitting on your lap, or leaning on your shoulder, or pulling you into his chest just because he needs to be close to you. If youâre watching a movie, heâs definitely going to have his head in your lap, just to be as close to you as humanly possible. He gets giddy when he gets attention from you, too. You could be playing with his hair, and heâll melt. Heâll whine like, âIâm not clingy, youâre clingy. But also, I love it. So donât stop.â Honestly, Dick doesnât care if heâs acting like a bit of a puppyâheâs obsessed with you, and he makes sure you know it.
Damian Wayne Damianâs clingy moments are hilariously dramatic. He might start out cold, acting like he doesnât need anyone, but as soon as you show him any affection? Heâs all in. Heâll randomly grab your hand and hold it like itâs the most important thing in the world. If you try to walk away from him for whatever reason, heâll growl and pull you back in, like, âWhere are you going? Youâre staying right here.â He has this whole vibe of âI donât need anyone else, just youâ, so if youâre talking to someone else or looking away from him for too long, heâll wrap his arm around your waist and be like, âI donât think you should be talking to them. They might steal you away from me.â In bed? Heâs a hug monster, wrapping his arms around you like heâs never letting you go. Heâs all about the intimacy, thoughâwhen itâs just the two of you, heâll be soft and surprisingly vulnerable, making sure you know that he needs you more than he lets on.
Duke Thomas Duke is lowkey super clingy, but in the way thatâs goofy and endearing. He loves to follow you around, like, just wherever you go, heâs tagging along. Youâre going to the kitchen? Heâs there. To grab something from the laundry room? Heâs there. If you sit down, heâs sitting on the floor next to you, asking if you want to âcuddle and watch dumb shows together.â Heâs always finding excuses to touch youâlike, his hand will just casually rest on your knee or heâll come up behind you and play with your hair. And if you donât give him attention? Heâll pout, even if heâs trying to play it off, like, âArenât you gonna give me a kiss? Câmon, donât leave me hanging.â Heâs the type whoâll give you a silly smile, lean in for a kiss, and then pull you into a full-on hug like, âDonât go. Iâm not done with you yet.â Heâs all about the hugs, especially after a long day. Youâll be just chilling, and suddenly heâs like, âHug time, right? Let me get one.â
Bruce Wayne Now, Bruce is not the type to openly admit heâs clingy. Heâs still the stoic, brooding billionaire whoâs been through a lot, but when itâs just the two of you? Heâs softer than anyone expects. Heâll always make sure youâre physically closeâhis hand on your lower back, your legs touching when you sit next to him, and if heâs standing near you, his hand will casually rest on your arm. When youâre working late or doing something serious, Bruce will occasionally pull you away for a few minutes just to kiss you or hold you close. Heâs not great at asking for attention, but when heâs feeling clingy, heâll show you through little gestures. Youâll find him just sitting beside you in silence, just content to be in your presence. Heâs a man of few words, but when heâs clingy, itâs all about the touchâthe way he holds your hand, how he presses his shoulder to yours, and how heâll insist on driving you home or waiting up for you, just to make sure youâre safe.
#batboys#batboys headcanons#damian wayne headcanon#damian wayne x reader#dick grayson#dick grayson headcanons#jason todd#jason todd headcanons#tim drake#tim drake headcanons#nightwing x reader#nightwing#dc x reader#duke thomas#duke thomas x reader#bruce wayne#batman#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x reader#tim drake x you#tim drake x reader#damian wayne#damian al ghul#batfamily#batfam#headcanon#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood#dc robin
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Danny, as ghost king, has no actual ruling authority (Since ghosts hate being told what to do). This makes things awkward when magicians or heroes or cultists summon him to ask him to command his "subjects".
"Stop right there!" Spoiler cried, tied up and wriggling. Red Robin and Robin were near her, also similarly tied up and trying to get out. "You won't get away with this!"
One of the cultists laughed. "That's why you're wrong, hero! We will summon our god and he will turn this world into a paradise! Well, for us that is. For you... perhaps it will be hell."
"Can any of you hurry up and escape?!" Robin hissed.
"I don't see you getting out any faster!" Red Robin spat back.
"Shut up and focus!" Spoiler snarled, wriggling even harder.
However, they were too late. The spell was completed and as the world turned dark, the sigils glowing green alongside the candlelight, a young boy appeared in the portal.
"My lord, the Ghost King, High King of the Infinite Realms, Master of Darkness and God of Death! Obey us and heed our instructions!" The cultists said, as Robin started cursing up a storm.
The young teen stared at the cultists. There was an awkward moment of silence where even the three vigilantes paused.
"... right. What did you call me here for?" He eventually asked.
"We command you to call for your army of the undead and take this world under siege!"
The boy blinked several times. Then he said slowly, "Okay." He stood there in the rune circle, unmoving.
Another one of the cultists shouted, "Why are you not calling your undead army?!"
"Hmm? Oh, right, yes. My... undead army. Of course. I'll get right to it."
He still didn't move. Eventually, he turned to look at his wrist, but there was nothing except his gloved wrist. He looked to the other wrist, but there was still nothing. Now all three vigilantes and the other cultists stared at him with baffled expressions as the teen then said in a mutter, "Crap."
Pandemonium erupted as they then realized that whatever being was summoned did not actually know how to call for an army or needed to obey the bidding of the people summoning him.
Later, as Red Robin and Spoiler asked him who he was or why he couldn't do anything (since he seemed really agreeable), he answered with a grumble, "You try to wrangle over a billion ghosts who think you're a superpowered baby who shouldn't be ruling the ghost zone."
#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny phantom x dc#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc crossover#ask#danny fenton#anon ask#tim drake#stephanie brown#damian wayne#ghost king danny#ty for the ask!
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Robin had gotten a lot of things from becoming platonic soulmates with Steve Harrington. Rides to school, hair care tips, unrelenting trauma, slightly bitchy dating advice that to her eternal chagrin actually worked, and entree into a weird little family that she couldn't imagine living without.
But also... Robin had to listen to sex talk.
It wasn't bad at first, she had actually gleaned a lot of advice from his stories that stood her in good stead with a few select girls. But then on the Family Video bathroom floor Steve had asked if Robin would be okay with him talking about sex with guys.
She said yes one time and now it was her life.
Steve had spent most of their shift moving tapes around the store, shuffling them into different genres based on what he thought they might be about. It was his standard 'I have something to talk about but I don't know if I can say it' behavior.
"Look," she said flatly. "I'm stopping this now. You have five minutes to sum up the problem and then I don't want to hear it anymore."
Steve put the last tape, a copy of St Elmo's Fire, into the Action-Disaster section before coming back to the counter, sharing his head. "I appreciate the thought Robbie but I don't think you're ready for this."
Robin gasped, ready to take full and dramatic umbrage when a Tasmanian Devil made of leather jacket and cheap sterling silver jewelry banged into the store.
"Babe, did you ask her," Eddie asked, grinning madly.
"Not yet," Steve whined and before Robin could gather her thought she felt two sets of eyes settle on her, one steady and concerned and the other sparkling with glee.
Robin stepped back from the counter and held her hands out in front of her. "I don't know what's going on here but no, I will not carry a baby for you two. Get Steve knocked up the old fashioned way if you want kids."
Steve brightened for a moment before pouting, "You wouldn't want to bring a little Buckley-Harrington-Munson into the world? Wow, Robs."
Eddie lunged forward, pushing past Steve to plant his hands on the counter. "We'll come back to that Buckley, but we have a different issue. We need you to be a completely impartial party."
"We really don't," Steve said. "This is not a big deal."
"I disagree," Eddie said. "I happen to think this is a very big deal."
"Well, and--," Steve said. "Isn't 'big' the problem?"
"It's not a problem for me," Eddie said, leering at Steve.
Robin stepped forward and waved her hands between the two guys, interrupting their creepy eye contact. "Okay, fine, tell me what's going on but make it snappy."
Steve hummed but didn't say anything. Eddie grinned and looked from Robin to his boyfriend and back again. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything Steve's hand was pressed half over his face.
"Eddie wants me to try sitting on his face but I'm afraid I'll, like, suffocate him to death." Steve grimaced and pulled his hand away from Eddie before rubbing it roughly on his jeans. "Gross, Eds."
Robin shook her head while they started squabbling. Steve was her best friend and Eddie was a close second. Part of being a best friend was apparently arbitrating their weird sex arguments.
The squabbling had evolved into a slap fight so Robin took the opportunity to examine them. They were the same height but Steve probably had a few pounds on Eddie. Then again Robin knew Eddie was stronger than he looked. Given the way Eddie hadn't stooped smiling since he walked in he definitely didn't seem intimidated by the idea.
Okay.
"Okay," Robin said sharply. "Knock it off. I decided."
The two boys stopped, Steve's arm locked around Eddie's neck while it looked like Eddie was trying to either give Steve a wedgie or just straight up shove his arm down Steve's acid-washed jeans.
It took a few moments for them to separate and put themselves back to rights before they were finally standing in front of her waiting for a verdict.
Robin looked from Steve to Eddie, then back again. She nodded towards Eddie before winking at her best friend. "If he dies, he dies."
"Thank you, Buckley," Eddie crowed, before turning on his heel and heading for the door.
"Where are you going," Steve called out.
Eddie turned back. "I gotta do some stretches, baby," Eddie said, rolling his neck. "I have plans." Eddie blew Steve a kiss before rubbing his hands together and walking out the door.
Robin looked at Steve, his hand still clenched in front of him where he had 'caught' the kiss, a bright red flush on his cheeks.
"I'm gonna marry that man," Steve murmured.
#fanfiction#fanfic#littlechivalry#my writing#steve harrington#steddie#eddie munson#stranger things#robin buckley#steve and robin know way too much about each other#steve and eddie are idiot4idiot
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can u do kinda inspired by new season where Rafe finds out what Sofia did and confronts her and calls her saying get out of his house but itâs bitchy!kook!bsf!reader x Rafe where theyâre kinda more than friends and she tells Rafe a lie about Sofia and he believes her and gets super mad at Sofia
Passenger Princess || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
A/n: love this idea tysm!!
Warnings: r is manipulative, slight angst
Word count: 1,583
MASTERLIST
divider by @h-aewo
âWanna come over?â you ask, your voice casual but your eyes lingering on Rafeâs profile, gauging his reaction. He turns his head to you briefly, pausing as the car idles at a red light. Without missing a beat, he reaches over, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb gently across your skin in a way that makes your heart flutter.
But tonight, his words hit you before the warmth of his touch does. âI canât. Sofia wants to go out later,â he says, his gaze flickering back to the road, oblivious to how your expression shifts instantly. The mention of her name is like a slap, and your expression falters instantly. You let out a scoff, the sound sharp and almost bitter.
Without thinking, you pull your hand out of his grasp and cross your arms over your chest, turning your gaze out the window. The hurt and jealousy youâve been pushing down surge to the surface, making your chest tighten.âSheâs still living with you?â The words leave your mouth more accusatory than you intend, but it doesnât matter now.
You need him to feel what youâre feeling, to understand just how much Sofia is getting under your skin. Rafeâs eyes flicker to you, his brow furrowing slightly, but he doesnât say anything right away. He rolls his tongue against his cheek, his gaze narrowing as he presses down on the gas pedal when the light turns green. You can tell heâs frustrated, but you want him to feel more than that.
âY/nâŠâ he says, the soft plea in his voice making you grit your teeth. Heâs clearly trying to de-escalate the situation, but youâre not having it. His voice falters slightly when he says your name again, as if heâs unsure of how to handle you when you get like this. You donât respond, eyes fixed on the road, even though you donât see anything.
Your mind is consumed by the thought of Sofia still lingering in his life. âI donât understand why youâre still with her!â you snap, turning to face him, your voice sharp with frustration. Your heart races, and you know exactly where this is going. Youâve been waiting for the right moment to make your move. Then, with a practiced vulnerability, you let your eyes soften, allowing tears to well up.
You turn your head slightly toward him, making sure he sees the hurt in your eyes. You know the exact tone to use, the one that cracks just enough for Rafe to feel guilty, to feel like heâs let you down. You draw in a deep, shaky breath, letting your eyes glisten with tears. With a careful tremor in your voice, you speak softly, like youâre letting out something painful. âAfter everything she did to meâŠâ
Just as you anticipated, Rafeâs head snaps in your direction, confusion and concern filling his expression. His eyes dart between you and the road, brow furrowing as he tries to process your words. âWhat are you talking about?â You let the tears begin to fall, looking down as though ashamed, your shoulders subtly shaking as you pretend to hold back sobs.
âWhat did she do to you?â His eyes flickered back and forth from the road to your tear-streaked face, searching for answers. He was desperate, each glance showing his growing frustration and need to understand. âY/nâŠâ he said, his voice lower now, tinged with an edge of anger that made you shiver. âTell meâwhat did Sofia do to you?â
His tone was a mix of urgency and something fiercer, like he was barely holding himself back. You continued to sob, letting your shoulders shake as you turned away, keeping up the act. Rafeâs jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin as he stared ahead, but his entire focus was on you.
~
âHey babe, whatâs up?â Sofiaâs voice rings out, saccharine sweet, and it instantly makes you cringe. The way she says it, as if sheâs trying to mask something, makes your skin crawl. Rafeâs eyes flicker over to you for a split second, taking in your tear-streaked cheeks, red from how much youâve cried.
Your heart races, a cold pit settling in your stomach. Youâve made sure Rafe is in the right headspace, pushed all the right emotional buttons, and now itâs time to watch it unravel. Rafeâs grip on the steering wheel tightens as he presses the phone to his ear, his expression hardening into something unreadable.
The silence that stretches between him and Sofia is palpable. You can feel the tension in the air, the unease settling like a storm cloud. âRafe⊠whatâs wrong?â she coos, trying to soften the tension. You can tell sheâs trying to maintain control, but you know itâs slipping. But Rafe is done. Heâs had enough.
âIs it true? Is it true what Y/n just told me?â he demands, his voice suddenly low, razor-sharp. The words are a punch, sharp and deliberate, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Thereâs a long pause, a dangerous silence on the other end. You can hear Sofiaâs shallow breathing, the way sheâs stalling, trying to figure out how to save herself.
Itâs almost like sheâs trying to put on a mask for him, pretending everythingâs fine, but you both know itâs not. Sofiaâs mind races, the memories of her deal with Hollis flooding in through her mind. âIs what true?â she finally asks, her voice faltering, a hint of nervousness breaking through her usual façade. âDonât play games with me, Sofia,â Rafeâs voice is firm now, his jaw clenched.
You can feel the weight of his anger simmering just beneath the surface, ready to burst. You watch Rafe closely, your chest tight with both anxiety and satisfaction. This is what you wanted. You wanted him to finally see her for what she truly is. And now, itâs all about to come crashing down for Sofia.
On the other end of the line, Sofiaâs silence is deafening. You can almost hear her panic, her inability to talk her way out of this one. Rafeâs anger is too much, too raw. And itâs all aimed at her. Rafe canât contain it anymore. He slams his fist against the steering wheel with a deafening sound, making you jump in your seat.
The force behind it makes the entire car shake, and his anger is now fully unleashed. His knuckles are white, his body tense with fury, and for a moment, you think he might explode. You can see the muscle in his jaw working, his anger mounting as he struggles to keep his cool. The tension in the air is suffocating, and you almost feel bad for Sofiaâalmost.
You got him hereâyouâve got him angry at her, and itâs exactly what you wanted. âPack your shit. Get out of my house,â Rafe says through gritted teeth, the words biting and final. His voice is low, full of rage that you can feel in the pit of your stomach. Sofiaâs voice cracks on the other end. âWhat?â Her voice wavers, like she canât believe whatâs happening.
You can practically hear her trying to regain control, but itâs too late. Rafe scoffs, his patience wearing thin. âWeâre done, Sofia. Done.â he seethes, his hand slamming against the wheel again with a force that makes the whole car jerk. You jump slightly, but you canât help the small, satisfied smirk that pulls at the corners of your lips.
âPack your shit and get the fuck out of my house,â Rafe repeats, his voice steady now, but laced with disgust. Thereâs no room for negotiation, no chance of a second chance. This is it. With one last frustrated breath, he ends the call, the click of the phone punctuating the finality of it all.
#rafe cameron#drew starkey#rafe cameron x reader#fanfiction#rafe cameron x you#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron and reader#rafe cameron and you#rafe cameron and y/n#outer banks#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x y/n#sofia x rafe#obx4#outer banks x reader#outer banks x you#outerbanks rafe#outerbanks fanfiction#outerbanks au#outer banks smut#outer banks season 4#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x female reader
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CURB FLIRTING - LN4
summary : In which Lando finds a girl crying on the side of the road and decides to help her a bit.
listen up : this is the cutest thing iâve ever written. no pt.2âŒïž
word count : 1438
âïœĄâ§Ëâ
Tears stream down my face, I try to control my breathing but I'm still in shock. Even though I'm sobbing, I want to laugh.
Iâm sitting on a curb outside of a club, itâs gross and thereâs cigarette butts by my feet. I can only smell alcohol and the scent of my vanilla perfume.
I want to rip it off my body. I try to take a deep breath but my chest hurts and I start coughing. People around me ask if I'm okay but when I nod they leave.
Until a manâs shoes appear in front of me, âAre you alright?â I look up, breathing heavily still before nodding and looking back down at his shoes. I like them.
He sits next to me, âYou sure?â He has an accent. British, I think.
âNo.â I laugh as he cracks a smile.
âIâm Lando.â He holds out his hand for me to shake, so I do. His ring is cold against my burning skin. When I meet his eyes again, I realize theyâre green and unfairly stunning.
In fact, his whole face is stunning. Heâs got curly hair, dark and mullet-ish, his clothes are light and his jewelry is nice.
âIâm Y/n.â I sniffle, wiping a tear from my face, âI like your shoes.â
He smiles again, âThank you. I like your dress.â I glance down to my bare legs, hot and uncomfortable with the icy air. He seems to notice my body language and shrugs off his jacket, laying it over my legs.
I frown, crying more, âHey- I didnât mean to make it worse.â He looks genuinely worried.
âYou didnât. Iâm just- Thank you.â He nods, âIâm kinda embarrassed.â
âNo need. Plenty of strangers have seen me cry.â He shrugs, eyeing my hair and earrings, âYou donât need to worry though, youâre a pretty crier.â
I let out a laugh, something I havenât done for a few hours, âI doubt you arenât.â His presence is oddly comforting yet also awkward because I was bawling in front of him.
His smile is kind and soft while his body looks sharp and hard. âYou flatter me, Y/n.â I like the way he says my name. But that could just be because of my tears.
âWhatâs your deal, Mr. Lando no last name?â My eyes are still wet but my tears are no longer falling, âAre those your friends?â
We both look over to the group on the other side of the road, three men staring. Lando eyes them but quickly looks back at me, âUh, yeah.â
âDo they think a twenty four year old woman is going to hurt you?â I look at them again, âBecause they sure are protective.â
He laughs, âProtective is a good word for it. Where are your friends?â This makes me frown and he sees it instantly, âAre you visiting Monaco?â
I nod, âYeah. Are you?â
He shakes his head, âI live here.â My eyes instinctively widen at this. He looks young. I mean, he could be studying here I guess but still.
âHow old are you?â
âTwenty five.â This makes my brows pull together, he laughs at this.
âAre you⊠rich?â I whisper it as if itâs illegal.
He leans it a bit close, âSort of.â
I hum, âHowâŠ?â
âIâll tell you if you come and sit in my car with me.â I raise a brow at this, crossing my arms, âI promise itâs just because I'm worried youâre gonna catch a cold.â I look at him skeptically too, âYou can hold my keys if it makes you feel better.â
I stand, holding his jacket close to me as he drops his keys into my hand. I stare down at them, blink. âA McLaren?â I roll my eyes.
âAn eye roll is not the usual reaction I get for that!â He starts walking and I follow him.
âOh, so you bring all the girls you find crying in the street into your car?â He eyes me, a slight smirk on his face.
âOnly the pretty ones.â
I roll my eyes, âYouâre going to let a stranger take the keys to your McLaren?â He just shrugs.
âI know your name. You know mine.â
He lets me sit in the driver's seat, he turns the car on and Mamma Mia starts blasting. âShit.â He mumbles, turning it down quickly as I giggle.
âA musical fanâŠ?â His face is serious and definitely embarrassed. I canât help but laugh more, âOkay, Okay. How are you, Mr. very mysterious Lando no last name, rich?â
He stretches his arms up, grinning but staying silent. Oh god. Heâs fit as hell.
âOh no.â I feel doom approaching me.
âWhat?â he asks.
âDonât tell me youâre a footballer.â
He looks horrified, âAn american footballer?â I did forget about that one little difference between us. âWhy would I be an American footballer?â
âWell youâre-â He raises a brow as I groan, âYou clearly work out.â He laughs at me. âLando! Iâm serious, youâre an athlete arenât you? Oh god I donât want to know. Do you play soccer? Youâve got the height for it.â
His jaw is dropped at this point, âCalling me hot then calling me short is insane!â
âI did not say, âhotâ!â I scoff, turning towards him, âTell me what you really do then. Are you in the Mafia?â
He sighs, leaning his head against the glass of his car. I hadn't realized before, but I'm much more comfortable here. Well, I suppose a McLaren has got to be more comfortable than a street corner.
Itâs quieter and definitely warmer. Plus, I do feel safe with Lando which is a bit odd because I just met the guy.
âIâm a formula 1 driver.â
Oh?
âOh.â I nod. I donât know anything about motorsport so I'm a bit lost, but I guess I got my answer, âSo you drive cars?â
He looks happy at my answer, his smile making my cheeks heat, âYeah⊠Yeah I drive cars.â
Lando Norris.
An interesting name for an interesting man. We stay in his car for another⊠hour? I donât know. I lose track of time when Lando starts telling me about everywhere heâs traveled.
He lets me rant or stay silent, something I've been waiting for all night. Or maybe all my life.
He leaves me for five minutes alone, in which I peek around his car, finding absolutely nothing but a golf ball and a bag of chips. He comes back with a smile on his face and an ask.
I move to the passenger seat, saying hi to his friends. He said that he wanted me to feel safe and after the conversation with his friends, I really do. I donât think I've ever laughed harder at a manâs friend group.
He plays âThank you for the musicâ on low while I look out the window, my hair blowing in the wind.
âHey uh-â he clears his throat, âCould I get your number? Just to check in tomorrow.â I bite my lip as he hands me his phone, smiling to myself as I type in my number.
âDont abuse it.â I joke as he taps his finger against the wheel.
He's grinning again, âCanât promise anything.â
I sigh, watching the city pass by me, some of the boats on the water quiet and some bright and loud. I like it here. Even if me crying had to get me in such a good mood.
âThanks for driving me.â
âOf course, I hope to do it again, one day.â
âYou know we're probably not going to see eachother again, right?â I see the corner of his mouth quirk downwards, âIâm going home tomorrow.â
âAnd I have access to private planes.â He shrugs as I scoff.
âLando. I just met you. What if I was some crazy stalker?â Does this man not know stranger danger?
He eyes me, âWell, are you?â
âNoâŠâ
âSo,â he glances at me, a curl falling into his face, âI'll see you soon.â
Sadly, my hotel isnât far and when he pulls up to the front, I get an odd sensation of sadness washing over me. âWant me to walk you up?â
I shake my head, âYouâve done enough for me.â I lean over the middle console and press a soft kiss to his cheek, âHave a good night, Lando.â
âYou too, Y/n.â I grab my bag, and slip out the expensive car, looking back one last time to see Lando watching me. His eyes are meaningful and something I have a feeling I wonât be forgetting anytime soon.
#fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris comfort#lando norris fluff#lando x you
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8x06 fix-it fic: Amnion
Buck doesn't bounce back from Tommy the way he did with all his other breakups for reasons he can't articulate or even look at. He thinks of how long it took him to recover from Abby, but even that felt different, because he'd had hope carrying him through most of it. He doesn't have that now.
The worst part is it's bringing everyone else down. It's starting to affect the job, and he can't take any more of Bobby's pity dinner invites or the kid gloves Eddie handles him with. Then one day, Chimney (in an attempt to lighten the mood) asks Buck if he's pregnant, and it awakens some primordial rage in Buck that he never knew he possessed and damn near rips off Chimney's head about it.
But once the blood levels in his adrenaline start rising and he calms down, he starts thinking about it. Before he knows it he's thinking about it day and night, and now that's starting to affect the job more than his heartbreak had been.
Then one night Maddie invites him over to watch trash TV and eat junk food until they can't feel feelings anymore, but instead of the patented Maddie Hug he's expecting, she hands him a First Response test stick the second he walks in the door.
Five minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom pale-faced and dripping tears because there are two lines in the test result window, and Maddie leads him over to the couch where they curl up and cry together. Just like the old days.
Maddie asks if he's going to tell Tommy, but there's no judgment in her voice, like she's behind him no matter what he decides, and Buck tries to make her laugh when he says, "How do you know it's his? I could've been living it up for the last month. New person almost every night. Exploring myself."
She just gives him a Look. Also patented.
Under the weight of her scrutiny, Buck thinks about Tommy's face before he left the loft that night and how ''Buck'' looked and sounded so wrong coming from him. Like the shape of it was so painful he could barely move his mouth around it.
Finally, he shakes his head. His eyes well up with more tears, which feels impossible, because the human body can't possibly produce this much liquid. He's going to drown them both. "I thought... I thought we had a future, Maddie. I really did. I guess I still get one... but only with part of him."
A couple of months pass and Buck's entire world shifts. The 118 have rallied around him in a way that almost feels like they're closing ranks to every other firehouse. Eddie becomes especially protective and devises a 5000-point care plan that makes him twitch if Buck so much as thinks about deviating from it, but he also keeps telling Buck that he needs to tell Tommy about the pregnancy.
"If only to get his family history," Eddie says reasonably, but there's something pleading in his voice every time, like there's so much more under the surface that he's trying to keep under wraps. Like there's more about this that he thinks Tommy should know.
Chimney's in the middle of explaining why he's stealing the cool uncle crown from Buck and sitting pretty on the throne when Buck asks him about it.
"Is there something about Tommy that no one's telling me?"
It trips Chimney up. Literally. He just barely catches himself from going headfirst into the kitchen counter.
Buck's heart starts pounding. "Chim, does he know?"
"No," Chimney says, firm and almost a little offended. "We promised you we wouldn't say anything. But Buck... you should tell him. You should talk to him."
Part of him wants to whip his phone out right then and there and dial Tommy's number. He could do what he did the first time: ask to meet somewhere and laugh about bad coffee and plead his case for a second chance. He could reach across the table for his hand, but this time, he'd stand up and walk over to Tommy and place it on his belly. "I don't care about firsts or lasts," he'd say. "I care about only's. And you're the only one I want."
But the other part of him, still licking its wounds, hormones in flux and forcing organs to shift and bend as it makes room for the thing he and Tommy made together, bares its teeth and snaps, "He made it very clear that he had no interest in hearing what I had to say."
Chimney never brings it up again.
Meanwhile, Hen goes a little overboard with forcing him to undergo random physicalsâshe pops out of the shadows twice a day to ambush him with the blood pressure machine, and he keeps threatening to avoid rooms that have doorsâbut he loves it. His body is a complete stranger to him for the first time in a long time, but the changes he's experiencing are interesting and he's having a blast cataloging every new one. He and Hen have a spreadsheet with like fifty tabs, and she helps him navigate every test his actual OBGYN sets him up for.
He's over her house at least once a week, although pregnancy talk at the dinner table is verboten.
"If one of you says the word 'amniocentesis' one more time, I will start a food fight," Karen had said, finally putting her foot down. Across the table, Denny perked up.
As much as he hesitates to even think the Q-word, it's a pretty quiet pregnancy. The cravings are kind of wild, though, and he goes most of his first trimester feeling like he's going to die if he can't eat rice krispie treats with cottage cheese. Every time Bobby sees him cracking open another container of Hood, it looks like he's seriously reconsidering sobriety.
But as incredible as they are about the pregnancy, they're all tiptoeing around the other elephant in the room: when Buck is going to stop working scenes. He and Bobby have a series of discussions that satisfies neither of them and resolves nothing, and it builds to a big blow-out that ends when Bobby tearfully begs Buck to stop risking his own life and the life of Bobby's grandkid.
After that, it's like some stone thing in him dissolves into sand and he finally eases back a bit in his fifth month. He doesn't put up a fight when Bobby orders him to only handle the winch or stick with hose duty, and if he stays a little closer to the engine because he gets winded so easily these days, no one comments on it.
In his sixth month, the inevitable happens: there's a call out at Palos Verdes and it's all hands on deck, which means the 217 is there too. At first he thinks he might make it through without running into Tommy at all, but he turns a corner andâthere he is. Smudged with mud and looking like a drowned rat because of the downpours, but in his turnouts he's big and capable and, for a second, he's walking into First Presbyterian and apologizing for missing the ceremony.
But the memory is easily wrestled back into the past the second Tommy's gaze fixes on Buck's belly.
Buck wants to stage a retreat that would make the Allies at Dunkirk stand up and applaud. He wants to throw his arms open so Tommy can get a better look at it, say something cool and mean, like, "Did you know that INNOTEX makes turnouts for carriers these days? Pretty progressive of them, if you ask me."
He wants to be weak and ask if Tommy will spare him a hug. Just one. Nothing greedy. Justâa moment to soak in his warmth, to inhale the smell of his skin. Enough to carry him through the rest of it.
But he does none of that. He inhales through his nose, lifts his chin, and says, "Firefighter Kinard."
At that, Tommy smiles, and it's completely awful. There's no joy in it. Not even amusement. He looks like he wants to be sick, and Buck feels like a monster.
But Tommy swallows and says, earnest as anything, "Congratulations. I-I knew you'd find it. I never doubted for a second that you'd find the person who'd be your last."
Even as he says it, Tommy's face does something indescribable, but it rips through Buck's chest and shatters his ribs, tearing through pericardial layers until it scores the vulnerable muscle of his heart. It's so shocking that it almost knocks the truth right out of Buck's mouth.
Someone comes over the radio and requests all available first responders with flight experience to report to the B-zone, and Tommy straightens up and locks whatever it was away.
With an unsteady hand, he tips an invisible hat to Buck and says wryly, "Firefighter Buckley," before jogging away.
And Buck stands there like an idiot watching him go. It's that night all over again. It's Buck instead of Evan.
"See you around," he whispers, and then runs back to his post in the A-zone.
+
Tommy gets the call when he's halfway through a burrito foisted upon him by Dana, who had taken one look at him and said, "You look like a flood victim. Eat something before I get HR involved."
He'd taken a mutinous bite and couldn't argue with her. Months later and it still felt like he'd watched everything he loved wash away with a tide he couldn't fight. Except he'd sent the tide himself. He had no business feeling like this.
But they send him to the site of a car accident where a pregnant driver had been T-boned by some asshole who ran the red light, and the RA unit called to the scene didn't have the right equipment to assess the fetus. But the victim's belly was hard enough to warrant a med evac.
By the time Dana gets the victim loaded on the backboard and inside, Tommy's already on with both First Presbyterian and LA General to see whose neonatal surgery team is available.
The door on Tommy's side slides open and Tommy turns in his seat to ask what the hell Dana's doing over there, but it's Hen who's pulling herself inside.
His stomach clenches with dread. "Hen?"
"I'm riding with you," she shouts, taking the headset that Dana gives her.
He looks just beyond her and wishes he'd had the presence of mind to listen to the manifest when Dana had read it aloud to him, because Evan Buckley is strapped to the gurney and looks like he's on a completely different planet.
"Hen." Tommy can't hear him say her name, but he sees Evan's mouth shape the word. Evan reaches clumsily out for her with one hand while pressing the other to his belly.
Hen murmurs something to him that the comms can't pick up, and Tommy wonders if they've notified Maddie, if they've notified the father, whoever they are. If they're already at the hospital waiting for them. If Tommy will have to see them, talk to them face to face.
Tommy bites the inside of his cheek until he feels the hot wash of blood over his tongue, then forces everything down to join the burrito from earlier that really wants to make a reappearance. It isn't his right to know any of it. That went out with the tide, too.
He locks it down tight enough that he gets them into the air so easily they might be a feather on the wind, then he heads in the direction of First Presbyterian. The real start of it all.
They're maybe halfway across the city when Evan shouts, desperation and fear carrying his voice over the rotors, the words sliding together, "Hen, check Nora! Y-Y'need to châ"
"Nora's fine, Buck," Hen says, her voice clear as a bell in Tommy's ear.
Staring at a skyline he can't see, Tommy says, "'Nora'? Was someone else in the car with him?"
When Hen comes over the comm, her voice is as inescapable as a flood. "Nora's what he decided on for the baby. It's her name."
Tommy's hand tightens on the cyclic so the way it starts shaking won't be so obvious. "Nora was my grandmother's name."
He'd told Buck about the woman who was basically the only family he could stand, who was responsible for not letting him become his piece of shit father, who accepted him when no one else would. She'd meant the world to him. She'd been the world to him. And for Evan to give his kid her nameâ
Realization hits like a levy breaking, and he turns to look wide-eyed over his shoulder at Hen, because it can'tâhe couldn't beâ
"Patient, male, 33, prenatal course complicated at 8 months gestation," Dispatch had said.
The timeline is right.
Hen stares right back, as good of a confirmation that he could get outside of a DNA test.
Without breaking her gaze, Tommy tells Dana to take over. She gives him an unreadable look but says nothing except, "Copy that," and smoothly resumes their journey while he squeezes into the back. There's hardly any room next to the gurney and his knees are compressing his lungs, but he takes Evan's' hand and stares blankly at the shiner forming around his right eye until Hen breaks the silence.
Why didn't you tell me, he wants to demand, but he knows that if he so much as opens his mouth, he's going to start screaming until someone sedates him.
"For the record," she says, "I hate what you did. I hate what you took from him. But I understand why you did it."
Tommy rolls his lips inward and wants to suffocate himself to death. She understands? Does she? Does she know a life can be obliterated in the span of a minute? Does she know what it is to live a half life, to walk through the world like a five-year old drew a scribble on a blank sheet of paper that was supposed to be a person?
Does she know what Evan looks like when his joy is sucked away? Because Tommy does. She hates what he did? No one hates what he did more than him. No one hates him more than him.
Shakily, he lifts his other hand and touches the tips of his fingers to Evan's birthmark, which used to know the touch of his lips so well that Evan would joke that it was actually in the shape of Tommy's mouth print. Like a brand.
He forces himself to inhale. It seems impossible that Evan's here, carrying their child, their Nora. Evan used to say the lightning strike gave him super powers, made him invincible, and Tommy's ashamed to admit that he almost believed him. It seemed like nothing could ever bring Evan Buckley down, but here he is in Tommy's sky, halfway to Heaven already.
He glances at the LifePAKâwhere Evan's life has been concentrated into a series of lines and numbers, the reading strong despite everythingâand then looks back at Evan, who is still the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen even now.
"Evan," he chokes out.
There's no answer. At least not from Evan.
Across from him, Hen breathes through her nose and then quietly says, "I'm only going to say this once, Tommy, so I hope you're listening. If you can't trust him to know what his own heart wants, then this flight will never have happened. When he wakes up, you will not have been here. I'll change the manifest myself."
Tommy closes his eyes. Something hot spills down his cheeks.
"I know things haven't been all sunshine and roses for you. Lucy's said you've basically shut down since it ended. I know you're hurting just as much as Buck is... which is why I'm telling you: be sure. He's going to have enough on his plate without worrying about whether or not you're going to swan out of his life again. You need to be sure, Tommy."
Tommy doesn't say anything, but he opens his eyes and holds her gaze without flinching, and he tightens his hold on Evan's hand.
The rest of the flight passes in the kind of silence that feels like a cyst was lanced. Or maybe a boil, as it were.
+
Buck wakes up in stages to find he's in a hospital bed, and when he puts a hand on his belly it's smaller and almost deflated beneath his palm. He is just starting to hyperventilate when suddenly Tommy's there, murmuring to him, "You're okay. Everything's okay, I promise, she's fine. She's fine. Look."
And Buck, heart racing, forces himself to breathe slowly while he follows Tommy's gaze down to the bundle in Tommy's arms. Then he stops breathing altogether.
"She's fine," Tommy says. "A little early, according to the doctor, but absolutely fine."
Buck collapses back to the bed and weeps in relief, because she's fine. She's here and she's fine and she's perfect. Tommy gently places her in Buck's arms before retreating to the chair next to the bed which has a dent in the vinyl in the shape of his ass.
But Buck is enraptured with Nora, who smacks her lips in her sleep, and he marvels aloud, "She has my mouth."
"Thank God for that," Tommy says with a laugh. "It'll help take the focus off my nose. Poor kid."
It hits Buck like lightning that Tommy is here. He's in this room and talking about Nora likeâlike he knows. And there are things Buck should probably be saying, like apologizing for not telling Tommy about her as soon as he found out, or asking why he's there at all, but the words are crowding in his mouth and he can't figure out which ones should go first.
Tommy's lips twitch in a smile that is awful to look at, like he completely understand Buck's struggle, but his voice is soft and even when he says, "I need you to know that it wasn't about you. Not you personally. It never was."
Buck stops trying to speak and just stares at him, because that is bullshit, and oh, he knows which words should come first, and he opens his mouth to release them into the wild but Tommy holds up a hand.
"I know," he says. "I was a coward and an asshole, and I'm more sorry than I can possibly say. I won't ever be able to make up for what I did. But I need you to know why I did it."
And, in fits and starts before he finally finds the thread, Tommy tells him about Jeremy.
After Tommy ended things with Abby and then finally came out, he dated around for a long time before he met Jeremy, who was brilliant and fun and new. Tommy was the first man Jeremy had ever been with, and Jeremy was the first person Tommy saw a future with. He'd been so sure about Jeremy. He'd believed that Jeremy was it.
Until, almost two years in, Jeremy ended it. He'd sat Tommy down and said kindly, cruelly, "You're amazing, Tom, but you're just the first. You can't be my last." And then he'd left Tommy completely shattered in the rearview.
"That night, when you asked me to move in... it was like I was watching him put on his coat all over again," Tommy says shakily. "But what I felt for you was lightyears beyond anything I felt for him. I'd fallen so hard for you that I knew if I had to watch you walk away I'd never get up again."
Buck stares at Tommy, eyes rimmed red, and says, "So instead you made me watch you walk away."
It must land like a fist because Tommy exhales sharply and hangs his head, bowing around the pain. He sits like that for a moment, absorbing it, before he lifts his head and nods. "Yeah. That's exactly what I did."
There are deep, dark circles under Tommy's eyes that speak of a hundred sleepless nights, and his body is sharper, leaner, trimmed entirely of anything soft. He's made entirely of angles. He's so unfairly hot. He's miserable to look at.
Buck swallows and murmurs, "You look like there's no love in your life, Tommy."
Sucking in a trembling breath, Tommy smiles weakly and sketches a shrug. It looks like the fatigued steel of his edges are starting to crack.
"I left all my love with you that night." His gaze darts down. "Among other things."
Buck looks down at Nora, who's sleeping the sleep of someone already exhausted by existence, or maybe just by her fathers' drama, and thinks that maybe he really has been carrying all his love plus Tommy's around. Because otherwise he has no idea how he's so full of it.
"She's absolutely perfect," Buck says, smiling dopily.
"She's... more than anything I could've ever dreamed of."
He looks up in time to see Tommy drop his gaze to the floor at the same time his shoulders lift and lock like they're bracing for a blow. And in a voice so thin it's barely a sound, Tommy says, "I know I don't have... any right to ask, but is there any... any chance I could be part of her life?"
The tears that have been languishing at the edges of Buck's eyes finally see an opportunity. He doesn't think he could've held them back any longer if he tried.
Mouth trembling, he whispers, "Just hers?"
At that, Tommy looks up, eyes wide, disbelief and hope chasing each other across his face like dogs. He jerks a little in his chair but he doesn't move. He doesn't move.
Buck stares at him, a tsunami pulling everything back from his shoreline, and bites out, "Thomas James Kinard, if you don't get over here and kiss me, I swear to Christâ"
But Tommy's out of the chair and at his bedside, cupping Buck's face and tenderly smearing a kiss over his open mouth, licking the relieved gasp right off Buck's tongue.
Between them, Nora makes a tiny noise, and Tommy startles away just enough that he can press the side of his head to Buck's and gaze down at her with a tremulous smile.
"She really is something, huh? Sorry about the nose, kiddo," he says softly.
Buck knocks their heads together and says, "I happen to love that nose, thanks. And like you said, my lips will help balance it out."
Huffing a laugh, Tommy kisses Buck's lips. And the side of his nose and the bolt of his jaw. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to Nora's little pink and blue hat.
"I'm sure if you are," Tommy murmurs, tilting his chin up so he can flash a brave smile up at Buck, who smiles back.
"I was always sure."
#bucktommy#bucktommy fic#tevan#tevan fic#mpreg#911 8x06#fix it fic fest 2k24#fun fact: i originally wrote this in the tags of another post but guess what! there's a tag limit! and i lost 2/3 of it#it forced me to actually write it as a story instead of tag fic though so... thanks tumblr?
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I'm not your enemy
credits: thank you to @mad3ylncline
The sandy building groaned under the weight of time, its cracked walls and sunken roof barely holding together. Dust and grit hung in the air, and the dim sunlight streaming through broken slats created an eerie haze around the tense group.
Rafe stood at the center of it all, the map clutched tightly in his trembling hands. His chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. He glanced between John B, Sarah, JJ, and Kie like a trapped animal, his paranoia simmering just beneath the surface.
âRafe, baby,â you said gently, taking a small step toward him. Your voice was steady, but your heart was hammering in your chest. âJust give John B the map.â
Rafeâs head snapped toward you, his jaw tightening. His eyes were glassy, tears threatening to spill over. âNo!â he barked, shaking his head violently. âYouâre just going to screw me like everyone else in my life!â
His voice cracked, and the rawness of his words echoed off the fragile walls. His fingers curled tighter around the fragile parchment as though letting go of it would unravel him completely.
âI know you will,â he muttered, his voice breaking as he looked at you. His hands trembled, and his gaze darted between you and Sarah. âYou all will.â
You took a tentative step closer, hands raised to calm him. âRafe, no oneâs trying to screw you over,â you said softly. âWe just need the map so we can find the crown. Thatâs it.â
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife. âOh, yeah? And then what?â His gaze fixed on Sarah, a storm brewing in his eyes. âYouâll just take it for yourselves, wonât you, Sarah? My own sister would rather side with them than with me!â
âRafe, thatâs not true,â Sarah said, her voice trembling. She took a cautious step forward, but JJ grabbed her arm, pulling her back.
âDonât,â JJ muttered under his breath, his eyes never leaving Rafe. âHeâs a ticking time bomb right now.â
âDonât tell me what to do!â Rafe snarled, his voice rising as he took a step back. The fragile map crinkled under his grip, and the group collectively tensed.
You watched him closely, your chest tightening at the desperation in his eyes. This wasnât just angerâit was fear. He felt cornered, betrayed, and utterly alone.
âRafe,â you said again, your voice calm and unwavering. âLook at me.â
His gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, his hardened expression softened.
âNo one here is your enemy,â you continued, taking another step closer. âIâm not your enemy.â
His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. âYou donât get it,â he muttered, his voice cracking. âTheyâll screw me over, just like they did Dad, just like everyone else.â
âThey wonât,â you insisted, your voice firm. âAnd even if they try, I wonât. Iâm here, Rafe. Iâm always here.â
He stared at you, his chest heaving. The cracks in his armor were widening, the vulnerability he worked so hard to hide bleeding through.
âRafe,â Sarah said softly, her tone cautious but sincere. âThis is what Dad wouldâve wanted. He wouldâve wanted us to work together.â
Rafe let out a harsh, bitter laugh, tears welling up in his eyes. âYeah? Like you worked with him? You let him die!â
Sarahâs face paled, her breath hitching as the accusation hit her squarely in the chest. âHe died taking a bullet for me, Rafe,â she said, her voice trembling but resolute. âHe died protecting me.â
Rafeâs lip quivered, and tears began streaming down his face. His hands shook as he clung to the map, but the anger drained from his expression, replaced with pure sorrow.
Sarahâs heart broke as she stepped toward him. âIâm so sorry, Rafe,â she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Rafe stood stiffly for a moment before his shoulders sagged, and he let himself lean into the hug. His tears soaked into her shirt as his walls crumbled, his sobs muffled against her shoulder.
When Sarah finally let go, her own tears glistening on her cheeks, Rafe turned to you. His face was still streaked with tears, his vulnerability laid bare in a way youâd never seen before. Without hesitation, you reached for him, your hands gently cupping his face.
âRafe,â you murmured, brushing a tear from his cheek. His blue eyes locked onto yours, searching for somethingâcomfort, reassurance, hope. You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a sweet, tender kiss. His hands instinctively found your waist, grounding himself in the moment.
When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his. âYouâre not alone,â you whispered. âYouâll never be alone as long as Iâm here.â
For a moment, it was as if the rest of the world melted away. Rafe exhaled shakily, his grip on the map loosening as he let the weight of his pain lift, even if just a little.
âThank you,â he whispered, his voice barely audible.
You smiled softly, taking the map from his trembling hands. As the group exchanged nervous glances, you kept your focus on Rafe, your fingers brushing his one last time.
âWeâll figure this out,â you said quietly, holding his gaze as the group began to move out of the crumbling building.
He didnât respond, but the flicker of hope in his eyes was enough.
taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01
#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe outer banks#rafe fic#rafe#rafe cameron x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron#rafe imagine#rafe obx#obx#obx season 4#obx4#outer banks#obx s4#obx cast#outer banks season 4#outer banks netflix#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron blurb
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why is Thunderbolts Bucky so đ„”đ„”đ„” please eat me up
I agree, nonnie!
Eat You Up
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky comes home after a mission and wastes no time making up for the time apart.
Word Count: Over 1.7k
Warnings: Established relationship, oral sex (f. receiving), light dirty talk, mention of cockwarming, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I was inspired. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
âJust landed. Safe and sound. Tough mission, but successful. Missed you. Be home soon.â
You reread the message, your heart rate picking up. Bucky had been away on a mission for a few days and couldn't reach out much. God, you missed him so much. Knowing now that your man would be home soon where he belonged, you let out a breath of relief and smiled.
You rushed to your bedroom and wasted no time getting ready for his arrival. The message was to the point: He was safe and sound, no injuries, and a tough mission meant heâd need some stress relief. Why not let him play with the person he missed most?
Your heart raced when you heard the footsteps outside of the bedroom door, waiting in anticipation in the middle of the bed. In a few moments, you two would reconnect. Being without him in your home for a few days left you longing. You missed his smile. His dry humor. The sight of him reading a book in his favorite chair. You missed all of him.
Bucky slowly pushed the door open, and you lost your breath when he met your gaze. The heat in the room spiked, but you shivered, your body suddenly feeling cold after days without his touch. His massive build took up most of the doorframe and he was still in his black tactical gear, a fingerless glove covering his right hand. Your beautiful soldier looked like he was still on a mission, his shoulders tight and jaw clenched.
And you didn't have a stitch of clothing on, your legs open and ready for him to do whatever he wanted.
His eyes darkened as they scanned your body, his breathing ragged. Whether it was from the mission or the relief of being back with you, the tension thickened in the air. His gaze paused at the juncture between your legs, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you, before he growled, âLook at you. Such a sight to come home to.â Stepping forward, his voice thick with desire, he added, âI could just eat you up.â
The room seemed to shrink as he stepped closer. His eyes never left you as he closed the distance, his gaze filled with adoration and hunger, his presence overwhelming. Everything about him was overwhelming in the best possible way. Your heart raced as he crawled on the bed, but you didnât flinch. You were ready for him.
âIf that's what you need, Sergeant,â you breathed, a teasing challenge in your smile. He exhaled sharply as you slid a hand down your torso, his chest rising and falling faster, as if he was holding himself back from taking you right then and there. âThen you'll get it.â
You could handle whatever he craved... and more. Maybe you'd make him beg for it for once the way you begged so many times before. No. You wouldn't be cruel enough to make him beg. At least not tonight. Not when you both needed it.
âTrying to touch whatâs mine?â He grabbed your wrist before your fingers could reach home, your skin warm under his gentle grip. He was one of the most powerful men you knew, someone with enough strength to rip you in half if he wished, but he would never use his strength to hurt you. âYou miss me?â The ache in his voice was more than desire. It was longing.
âI won't touch. Itâs all yours.â Your chest tightened when he released your wrist, your eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears, your hands itching to feel his body and know for certain he was really there with you. âI always miss you when you're gone.â
You didn't like eating meals alone now since you had come to expect easy and tough conversations as the two of you moved around the kitchen and sat at the table. You enjoyed exploring your surroundings together, but craved nights cuddled up together on the couch as the television played in the background. Building a home with the ex-assassin was a dream come true.
He hovered over you and tilted your chin, giving you a second to take a breath, before he leaned down and claimed your mouth in a feverish kiss. The ferocity made you gasp, your arms wrapping around him to hold him close. Your nipples brushed against his shirt as you deepened the kiss, desperate and needy. The kiss was a promise, expressing everything you wanted to say before the night was over.
That you loved him, that he was all you needed, that your house was a home because he was back with you.
His hair fell in his face as he broke the kiss and moved his gloved hand between your legs. You mewled when he teased your slit, his stare as seductive as his touch. You rolled your hips up, seeking out more friction, wanting him to make good on his promise to eat you up.
âI missed you,â he whispered, gliding down your body with the grace of a large cat. The muscles in his back rippled as his shoulders spread you open for him, your hands gripping the sheets to keep you from grinding against his face. âAnd I missed this. Your taste. Your smell. Your sounds.â
You whimpered when his nose brushed your clit. âBucky, please,â you begged, his hands taking hold of your hips and digging in. And here you thought neither of you would beg tonight.
But Bucky Barnes wasn't a heartless man. He showed mercy when he had to, which was why he took pity and licked a stripe up your pussy with a groan. Flames spread along your body as you threw your head back and moved your hands to grip his hair. He ate pussy skillfully, effortlessly, and all you could do was hold on and ride out the waves of ecstasy.
âGood girl. So beautiful. And all mine,â he murmured before he shoved his tongue inside your hole, your eyes rolling back and mouth parting. Your super soldier had his head buried between your legs like he never wanted to leave.
âI⊠Oh, fuck!â you cried, his gloved hand reaching up to toy with your breast. His fingers teased your nipple, his metal thumb rubbing your clit, and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing your hips closer. You had no shame in humping his face as his tongue moved along your sensitive walls, his beard leaving the most delicious burn with each movement.
And if you smothered your lover with your cunt tonight, heâd proudly saunter up to the gates of whatever heaven you sent him to with a smile.
He pulled his tongue out, his mouth sucking on the swollen bundle of nerves as your thighs trembled. You lifted your head high enough to catch the feral look in his eyes. Pleasure climbed within you so quickly it left you dizzy. âSuch a pretty pussy. Should write poems about it.â
âOh, God,â you moaned, your head falling back again, heat filling your body.
âMy name,â he growled, pushing two metal fingers into your wetness and pumping fast, knowing you wouldn't last much longer. You were right on the edge, ready to fall. Heâd be there to catch you. âSay my name when you come.â
You didn't say his name as his tongue entered you once more. You shouted it, chanted it like a prayer, and soaked his mouth with your juices. He moaned as you fluttered around his tongue, and he continued to lap at you, trying to drink down every drop. He swept you up in waves of bliss and you were lucky you didn't drown.
Sparks still burst behind your eyes as he sat back to admire his work, making you clench around nothing as he licked his lips. You held out your arms with a whine, needing him close once again as you came back to yourself. He stretched out on top of you and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, your essence lingering on his. Your hands roamed where they could reach and it sent a thrill through you when he moaned.
âHi,â he whispered after a moment, smiling and making your heart pound all over again.
âHi,â you sighed, shutting your eyes and smiling, too, when he kissed each eyelid. You were lucky enough to witness this soft side of him, trusted enough for him to be vulnerable.
âYou okay?â He kissed your forehead this time.
âBetter than okay. Youâre home,â you replied, breathing him in before you opened your eyes. Your heart stopped momentarily under his soft gaze. âAre you okay?â
He was the one out there fighting to keep the world safe. Not only that, he still fought the demons of his past from time to time. It wasn't fair, but you were there to help as you could.
âIâm good, doll. Iâm home. Everything I need is right here,â he said, rocking his hips. You moaned when you felt how hard he was through his pants. He deserved to feel good. âAnd we have some lost time to make up for, so no falling asleep on me.â
âLost time? It was only a few days,â you teased, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear when he huffed.
âA few days too many,â he said, not teasing at all as he leaned up to unbuckle his belt. âDrives me crazy being apart from you.â He would never leave you if he didn't have to.
âI know. I was just teasing. We can make up for every second you were away,â you assured him, knowing he wasn't done with you tonight by a long shot. You were fine with that since you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. âBucky?â
He paused before he could push his pants down. âYeah, doll?â
You traced a heart on his forehead, wanting to erase the pain he endured and replace it with only good things. âI love you.â
He blinked the mist from his eyes and leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. âI love you, too.â
When you finally fell asleep the following morning with his cock buried deep inside you, he whispered again that he loved you and that he couldn't wait to eat you up all over again once you woke up.
That's two back-to-back Bucky fics in a little over 29 hours from me with him being in love and not afraid to eat you like his last meal. đ Are you lovelies sick of me by now? I hope not. Love and thanks for reading! â€ïž
Masterlist â Bucky Barnes Masterlist â Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x you#bucky fanfiction#bucky fic#bucky imagine#james buchanan barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan characters#the winter soldier#bucky barnes smut#winter soldier#the winter soldier x reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes one shot#x reader
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YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN
Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Tags: extremely dubious consent, non-con elements, explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, possessive!joel, softdom!joel, unprotected sex, alcohol, hair pulling
Length: 3.3K
Summary: At a client's house party, you catch yourself getting jealous of other eyes on Joel. Joel pulls you aside to show you exactly what he thinks of that.
This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, so please go easy on me <3
âââ
What is it about Joel that makes him most attractive when he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be?
You tip back the last of your whiskey sour, gazing at the tight creases in the corners of his eyes as he nods along with the blond guy who's been talking for twenty painful minutes about the crypto market. Joel is leaning back, arms folded over his chest, his big shoulders pushing at the seams of his denim shirt.
He once told you that no one besides you could tell his emotions on his face. You'd laughed and called bullshit at the time, telling him every thought in that pretty head of his showed up plain as day on his face, but right now it doesn't seem to matter. He's been looking like he'd swallowed glass since this guy started talking, and it doesn't seem to make a bit of difference to him.
When Joel had asked if you wanted to come along to the holiday party one of his clients was having at his house, you'd said yes even after hearing that the guy was 'kind of an idiot' and you'd probably be 'bored to tears'. Joel would have skipped it, but unfortunately it was one of his biggest clients, and the invitation wasn't one he could politely decline.
Right now, though, you're sort of wishing you'd listened to him. The party stopped being fun somewhere around the second MLM scheme that had been pitched to you, and you're now counting the minutes until you'll hit the mark Joel set on the drive there: "Least a couple hours - then we can head out."
The guy takes a short pause, then launches into another tirade on bitcoin, and you realize you're going to need another drink to get through it. Joel's arm slips from around your waist as you pull away.
"Be right back, fellas. I'm going to get a refill."
Joel's brows lift as you leave him behind. "Now hold on there. Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you get your own drink-"
You wave him off, trying to hold in a smirk. "No really, I need to take a lap. Stretch my legs."
He licks his lips, looks off to the side for a second before calling after you, "Grab me one on your way back, will ya?"
You smile innocently. "You got it."
After your host declines your offer to get him something, you head to the kitchen, making a little chit chat on your way to the well-stocked fridge. You decide to get Joel's beer before you return to the open bar to ask for another drink of your own. You hook your knuckles around the neck of a Modelo, no sooner closing the door to the fridge before you glance back in Joel's direction, seeing he's been joined by a few more people.
It isn't surprising. Joel's the type of guy who tends to draw attention, and not just because of his looks. He's the guy who's in charge, even when he's not in charge. People gravitate toward him; just something about his presence that makes him the most interesting thing in every room.
In spite of that, your attention isn't on him at the moment. It's on the girl making moon eyes beside him. She's tossing a long, shiny ponytail behind her shoulder and grinning ear to ear despite the fact that bitcoin boy hasn't stopped talking.
Picking up a bottle opener, you pop the cap off the beer in your hand by muscle memory, not able to tear your eyes off of them. Joel's attention is still on the host, but when she says something to him, you watch him pull his chin back to nod, holding her in the corner of his eye to give a quick smile.
Kelly, you remember. That's her name. She's the receptionist at the client's office, and she's probably seen more of Joel this month than you have.
You watch as she cranks up her smile another thousand watts, laughing at something one of the other guys in the group has said. Kelly, you think. No. Probably spells it with an i. Kelli. Probably dots it with a heart.
Your face is starting to warm up, and when someone on the other side of the kitchen counter gently asks if you're alright, you clear your throat, then reply that you're fine as you quickly open the fridge for a second Modelo. It's time for you to slow down on the whiskey.
As you make your way back to the group, you catch Kelly/Kelli's eyes and give her a subdued smile. She blinks and smiles back, suddenly looking very shy.
"Now what did I miss?" you ask, when the men dissolve into laughter.
Henry, one of the contractors under Joel, shakes his head. "It ain't worth repeating in the presence of a lady."
The host interjects, "So what do you call Kelly?"
Henry puts an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, she's heard it all before, haven'tcha?"
"That don't mean she wants to hear it from you!" one of the other men shouts, and there's another round of laughter while you bite your lip, watching Joel's eyes as they dip to Henry's arm.
You wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle in your hand, letting the taste of the beer give your mouth an excuse to look sour. Henry's hand is dropping from Kelly's shoulder down to her waist, and while the conversation carries on, Joel leans in close so that only Henry - and you - can hear.
"Cool it, Henry."
"Huh?" comes the slow reply, as he pretends not to have understood him.
Joel just lifts his brows, and that's all it takes for Henry to back off, looking a little sheepish as he unwinds himself from Kelly, who looks more than a little relieved.
Henry turns to you, suddenly trying to make small talk, to save face. "Have you two met? This's our girl Kelly. She takes good care of us, don'tcha, sweetheart?"
You give a polite smile. "We've met. Nice to see you, again. Both of you."
"Uh huh," Henry answers half-heartedly before he wanders off, perhaps to join another conversation, or just to find another drink.
Kelly gives you another polite smile, then as the host starts to back away, bringing the rest of the group with him, she goes along with the crowd. Before she leaves, though, she softly murmurs to Joel, "Thanks for that."
He answers with a stiff nod, but it's more than enough to put the stars back in her eyes as she walks away, leaving the two of you alone.
You're biting your lip again, practically chewing on it, as you dangle Joel's beer by the throat, handing it over to him.
"Thank you," he says, then tips it back immediately.
You don't reply, lost in thought, but pretending nonchalance as you watch the group leave.
"Meant what I said, though," Joel adds in your silence. "Shoulda let me get it. I don't like to have you wanderin' around on your own. Not with this bunch of degenerates."
You smirk. "What, like Henry?"
"For one, yeah," he says, turning to face you now that the sounds of the party are fading into the background. "Lookin' the way you do, won't be able to keep their eyes or their hands off ya."
You laugh him off, but can't pretend that his voice isn't settling right in the bottom of your stomach. He's standing a little closer, now, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne. Something about him talking this way puts some boldness into you, and your words come out a bit more reckless than they should.
"Well, maybe you should have asked Kelly to get your drink, then."
He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and you widen your smile to show you're joking.
"I mean, I'm sure she would have," you go on, digging yourself deeper even as your heart kicks up faster. If you'd switched to beer two drinks ago, you probably would have explained yourself better. You would have insisted it was just a joke, because she so clearly has a crush on him. But your words are just swimming in all that whiskey.
"Cute little thing like that," you say, shrugging. "Probably don't mind her 'taking care of you', do ya?"
Joel's eyes are fixed on you, voice easing down into his chest when he asks softly, warningly, "What did you just say?"
He's turned all the way toward you, and all at once the room feels so much smaller, your face so much hotter. He's waiting for an answer, and your breath is caught high in your throat. "I-uh... it was just... nothing."
He's very slowly setting down his beer, looking down to a side table. "Wasn't nothing; I heard it." He looks back up at you, pinning you hard where you stand. "Now repeat it. Wanna make sure I heard you right."
You swallow, mouth dry. "I nn-nothing, I just said..." You force a crooked smile that you know he isn't buying for a second. "Y'know... she's- she's pretty cute, and maybe you... maybe she oughta... 'cause maybe you want her to..."
Your babbling doesn't impress him. He's just staring at you under a darkened brow. He opens his mouth to say something, but the motion of someone else entering the room catches your eye and you snap defensively before he can say anything.
"Joel, I didn't mean-"
He follows your gaze, then turns away and shuts you up with a wide, heavy palm sliding to the small of your back. "C'mere," he says. "C'mon." And the way he breathes it as he guides you out of the room and down the hall, you don't argue.
He finds a bathroom and pushes you inside. While you're looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees you going in together, he's staring straight ahead, and he closes the door with one hand, still holding you with the other.
"I'm... sorry," you confess as soon as the door closes. "That was stupid. I don't know why I said it."
"Yeah," he grunts, crowding you up against the closed door. "You do."
The way he has you held close, arm around your waist and words warm against your mouth, you'd normally try to kiss him right about now. But looking into his eyes, you know there's no kiss waiting for you on his lips.
He's mad, and you're a little scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he might do at a party where people might hear. People that he has to work with on Monday.
He isn't drunk, but he's had a few, and your fear ratchets up when his hand slides to your backside, gripping your ass and kneading it as he growls, "You think I give a goddamn about some teenager?"
Despite the way he's manhandling you through your dress, you can't help but roll your eyes. "She's not a teenager."
She isn't really that much younger than you are. And with Joel in his fifties, the thought has crossed your mind that he might just be keeping you around because he got a thing for younger women. You'd just never said anything out loud. Until tonight.
He stops, pulls back. "Alright, guess I'm not bein' clear enough."
He takes you by both arms, pushes you against the sink so you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Behind you, he starts unbuckling his belt.
"Joel..." you whisper, heat pulsing through you just from the sound of the metal clinking. You know you should ask him to stop - is the door even fucking locked? - but you can't get any other words out besides his name.
He slides a hand under your dress, pushing it up and over the swell of your ass. He doesn't slow down, doesn't even run his hand over your skin. He just pushes your panties to the side, pressing the head of his cock right up against your pussy, holding it there as he grits against your ear, "Guess I gotta show you where I want to be."
He pushes the thick head inside you, wrapping one arm around your stomach to keep you from falling forward. His other hand is flat on the sink, not playing with you, not easing anything. He doesn't give you any prep, just shoves in slowly, his cock stretching you all in one go.
You hiss, brow pinching. He didn't even let you get wet enough to take him. You can feel every damn move he makes inside you as he shifts his hips closer to pin you hard against the cold edge of the sink. When he's all the way in, you watch your mouth pop open in the mirror as you take a few panting breaths. The stretch is almost unbearable, but feeling so full of him, you don't want to stop.
He eases out, just a couple inches to coat himself in your slick, then presses back in even harder. You feel like your lungs are going to give out from how tight your gasps are getting.
"Fuck, Joel... hurts," you whine.
He slowly slides you off of him, then feeds it right back in.
"I know it does, honey," he breathes against your neck. "I know it does."
His deep voice makes you pulse around his cock and he drags his big, calloused hand down to the front of your dress, lifting it up just far enough to see your pussy, stuffed full of him. You're leaking down the sides of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.
"See that?" he asks, unmoving. "That's where I wanna be. You hear me?"
Giving a shaky nod of your head, you whimper, "Yes."
He starts to piston in and out of you, and you can only watch. You close your eyes tight when he speeds up a little. "It's... mm- it's too much."
He doesn't change his pace. "Ain't about feelin' good. You've got to learn."
He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you follow with an answering moan as the tension in your muscles starts to fade. You're soaking down both sides of your inner thighs as he opens you up further.
When you've dissolved into whimpering his name, he hooks one arm around your leg from behind, lifting it up so that you're spread wider. His other hand is still holding up your dress.
"Look at that," he grunts, making an obscene display of his cock fucking into your pussy. "Look how fucking hard you make me, baby."
You whine again, struck dumb by how good he feels with every snap of his hips. "God, feels so good... please..."
He's dragging his teeth against your neck when he replies, "Please?"
"Please, Joel. Feels so fucking good," you repeat, eyes closed.
You want him to fuck you properly, to bend you over and make you take him, to use his fingers - to let you use yours - anything; it doesn't matter. You're so worked up, you just need a little more.
"M'not gonna give you what you want, darlin'," he answers. "Don't work like that."
You can't help but loose a plaintive moan, even knowing you deserve it. "Baby, please-"
He drops your knee, letting your leg come down to the floor as he bends you over the sink. When he starts to fuck you for real, you can't hold it together anymore, softly pleading and whining for more, begging him not to stop, opening your eyes to watch him in the mirror as he starts to lose himself, too.
Until a knock at the door jars you right out of it.
"Is anybody in there?"
Joel doesn't even slow down. Just flattens his palm along your lower back to bend you back over after you jolt up.
"Joel-" you hiss. But he keeps giving you exactly what you need, and your eyes roll back.
"Hello?"
He slides a warm hand down the open neckline of your dress, kneading your breast as he looks at you in the mirror. His brown eyes are stern and steady. "Answer."
He keeps feeding you his cock, and you hiccup, legs shaking as you whisper, "I- I don't..."
"Go on and tell 'em. You're busy."
Fuck fuck fuck. "Uhh, s-someone's in here!"
Your voice comes out strained and airy, and you wait for the reply while Joel kisses the skin of your shoulder, sliding the front of your dress down.
"Joel, it's... somebody is..."
"Nothin' in here that I wanna hide," he growls, pushing his hips right up against your ass as he circles a thumb around one of your nipples.
"Fuck, Joel..." The silence outside has been long enough that the person is probably gone, but your pulse is still pounding, and he's making it so fucking hard to think. "Oh my god, yes..."
He's quietly panting, lifts his head long enough to say, "Understand now, pretty girl?"
"Mm..."
"This here's right where I wanna be. Nowhere else," he grunts, pressing his weight down on you, the squelching sounds between your bodies getting louder than your moans. Your eyes are drawn up to the mirror, watching the veins in his neck tighten as he fucks into you harder and harder. "You got it?"
You frantically nod, desperately near the edge of coming. "Fuck, yes, mhm..."
"Maybe I oughta fill you up right here, leave you with somethin' to think about."
"N-no," you stutter, almost sounding like you're sobbing your words. "P-please, I get it. I heard what you s-said."
He has to let you come. You don't care that you were acting up, making something out of nothing. You don't care what got him mad at you. All you can think about is how flushed his chest is beneath the open collar of his shirt, how tight his grip is, how stiff his jaw is set. You just want to listen to that throaty growl, feel him mercilessly fucking you a little while longer. That's all it would take. Just a little bit...
"Fuck-"
Joel pulls out, hand tightening into a fist around himself. You slump against the sink.
"Goddamn, baby. Almost got me, there."
You're on the verge of tears, shuddering with wild breaths. "No, fuck, Joel, please please please-"
He grips a handful of your ass, fingers brushing through your wetness and making you whimper.
"Told you, I ain't giving you what you want."
You hear him zip up his jeans, and then his hand is back at your ass, but this time he's pulling your panties back into place and tugging your dress down.
"Never gonna learn that way."
You whine pitifully, knowing you brought this on yourself, but still pleading under your breath, face drawn tight with frustration.
He helps you stand up properly, giving you his arm to steady yourself. You straighten your dress, cleaning up your appearance in the mirror, and eventually you're able to leave the bathroom, walking out on trembling legs.
He gives you a smirk as you leave the hallway, and something in you finally snaps. Maybe it's a little unfair, but you know exactly what to say to knock that smirk off his face.
You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Guess you didn't want me that bad after all, or you would have finished."
And all of ten minutes later, you're in the cab of his truck. You're screaming his name as you come all over his cock, hands fisted in his hair, tugging it hard while he pumps you full of his cum, cursing you the whole time.
Turns out, he's the one who's never gonna learn.
--
A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't have a taglist for Joel, but I'll add one if I ever write for him again. Hope you enjoyed! :)
Masterlist
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#last of us#joel miller smut#pedro pascal character x reader#tlou
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need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything heâs done but deep down heâs so down bad for reader and maybe sheâs pregnant instead of sarah and he doesnât find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!
Two lines â Rafe Cameron
Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafeâs baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! â ïž)
Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader
Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)
A/N : as requested đ hope u like it anon!
Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didnât know was that I was pregnant. I hadnât planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.
There I was, back on Rafeâs boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything heâd done.
I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.
âHere,â I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. âI brought some aspirin, just in case youâre feeling dizzy or somethingâŠâ
He snorted, cutting me off. âWhat? Youâre just gonna throw it in my mouth like Iâm a fuckin' seal?â He wasnât exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. âNobody trusts you, Rafe,â I replied, my voice steady. âNot after what you did.â
His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. âI saved your asses!â he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. âAnd not even a thank you was said.â
I took a slow breath, steadying myself. âI know, Rafe. I know,â I said softly. âThank you, really.â I offered him a small, sincere smile.
He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. âYou trust me, right?â he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.
âYeah,â I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.
He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. âThen untie me. Get this shit off me.â
I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. âI canât. Iâm sorry.â I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. âJust⊠eat the food. We wouldnât want you dying in here.â With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didnât even realize Iâd been holding back.
As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiaraâs anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.
"Howâd it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.
I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.
Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"
I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"
She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That youâre pregnant, with his child."
Oh, right. That one.
I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uhâno, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just⊠I donât know how heâd react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesnât want to keep the baby?"
Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. Weâll help you through every single part of this. Thatâs what friends are for, right?"
I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."
She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hopeâa reminder that I wouldnât have to face this alone.
After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.
The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harborâjust like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.
We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.
As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.
JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.
"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.
"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.
I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didnât stop moving.
JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.
"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.
"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didnât trust myself to hold it down any longer.
Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. Itâs been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.
"Yeah, the babyâs probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.
I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.
"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.
Oh god, here we go.
Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.
"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "Iâm pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."
The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didnât say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.
I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.
"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.
Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasnât sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cashâseveral bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.
"Wait what?" JJâs voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They donât take dollars, you idiotâ"
"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJâs protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.
The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafeâs demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafeâs abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.
Rafeâs eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didnât say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.
"I donât care whether you want the baby or not, but Iâm keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.
Rafeâs eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, heyâwho said I donât want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.
I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasnât sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldnât quite wrap my head around it.
"Weâll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "Iâll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. Youâre not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.
For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "Iâll be with you, 'aight?"
I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.
"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorryâ"
Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadnât expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.
My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadnât changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.
"Youâre serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.
Rafe didnât flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "Iâll be there for you. For us."
For the first time, I didnât know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldnât predict.
I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldnât stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.
Rafeâs expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didnât hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.
His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, âWeâre gonna be parents.â His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldnât quite believe them either.
I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldnât shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, âIâm scared, Rafe.â The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. âI know,â he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. âI am scared too.â There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.
âBut weâre in this together,â he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. âI donât have all the answers, and I donât know whatâs coming⊠but Iâm not going anywhere.â He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. âIâll be there every step of the way.â
His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadnât realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.
I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, âIâm glad itâs you.â And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.
He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadnât seen before. âWeâre gonna figure this out together,â he promised. âOne step at a time.â
I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.
Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.
âHere,â Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.
âFeeling better now?â Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.
I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. âYeah, yeah⊠thank you,â I replied, glancing at each of them.
They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much Iâd come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing theyâd been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadnât even thought possible.
As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadnât noticed before.
The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about whoâd paid the most for what theyâd brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the poguesâ attention fixed on us.
Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. âYou really okay?â he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.
I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadnât expected. âYeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.
He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafeâone who wasnât weighed down by pride or bravado. âThat's goodâ His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.
In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldnât want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.
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Hi Mae!
I love your writing so much and think about it maybe too often haha. Today I fell and sliced the back of my hand open so I had to go wait 4 hours at the ER to get it sutured back together and I thought it might be a sort of funny scenario to write about with the marauders where R just walks up to them covered in blood like âheyy who wants to drive me to the ERâ and is pretty chill in demeanour until the reality of having a hole in her hand sets in once they clean her up. I went into shock then, lost my hearing for a few minutes which was scary, but luckily I had a someone nearby who could help. Of course no worries if you donât feel like it, I appreciate you and I hope you have a lovely day!âĄ
Thanks for requesting! I hope your hand is feeling better lovely <3
cw: blood, mention of razors (unrelated to blood)
poly!marauders x fem!reader ⥠788 words
âHey, Sirius?âÂ
Sirius screws the brush of his nail polish back into the bottle. âYeah?âÂ
âAre you busy?âÂ
âNot anymore.â He gets up from the bed, wandering towards your voice in the bathroom. âWhatâs up, gorgeous? You need something?âÂ
Sirius stalls when he finds you. Youâre standing there with a dissatisfied frown on your face, your hand a basin of blood held in front of you thatâs overflowing into the sink.Â
âMaybe a ride to A&E?â you ask. âIf youâre free.âÂ
âWhat the hell happened?â Sirius goes to you. He tries to take your hand, but you move it away.Â
âWait, your nailsââÂ
âIâm not really worried about my nails right now, babe.â He holds you by the wrist, turning the faucet on to a gentle flow before bringing your hand underneath it. The blood washes away quickly, and Sirius blocks your view of the cut, leaning down to see it. âHowâd you manage this?âÂ
âI was just opening my new razorsââÂ
âRazors?âÂ
âIt wasnât even the razors that did it,â you say, a laugh somewhere in your voice. Your raised voices have drawn attention from the rest of the house. Remus and then James appear in the doorway. âIt was the plastic it comes in. Surprisingly sharp.âÂ
âWhatâs going on?â asks James.Â
âShe would like to know,â Sirius informs him, âif itâs convenient for any of us to drive her to A&E.âÂ
You roll your eyes. âAlright, you donât have to say it like that. I just mean that itâs not so dire, Iâm hardly bleeding out.âÂ
âYou might be!âÂ
âWhatâd you do, love?â Remus moves forward to see, he and Sirius now clustered on either side of you, each closer to your own hand than you are.Â
âShe managed to injure herself with plastic packaging.â
âOkay. Again, the tone is a bit much,â you say.Â
âAw, sweetheart.â Jamesâ arms wrap around your waist. He smudges a kiss onto your cheek. âAre you okay?âÂ
âYeah,â you tell him, audibly softening at the affection, âit doesnât even hurt that bad, itâs only stingingâŠâ You go quiet.Â
Sirius glances back at you, and youâre staring between him and Remus, your hand in your view for the first time. You look suddenly paler.Â
âHey, baby.â Siriusâ voice draws the attention of the other two to whatâs happened. He steps in front of your hand again, squeezing up the length of your arm. âYouâre okay.âÂ
âItâsâŠâ You stare at where you had been for a moment longer, then snap your vision to the side. Youâre breathing a tad faster. âGod, sorry. I feel sort of sick.âÂ
âTake some breaths, dove, youâre alright.â Remus holds your hand close to his chest, shielding it from your view as he reaches into a nearby drawer for bandages. âWeâre just going to stop the bleeding and then take you to A&E, you donât have to do anything.âÂ
âAll of you?âÂ
âWhy?â James gives your middle a light squeeze. âAre there some of us youâd rather not have there?â
âI knew she had favorites.â Sirius grins. âCruel. Weâre only trying to be there for you, gorgeous.âÂ
You smile a little bit for their sake. Youâre not sure either of them believe it, but James gives you a thankful kiss nonetheless.Â
âKeep breathing,â he reminds you, big hand rubbing up and down your abdomen. âYouâre really doing so well. I was surprised by how calm you seemed a minute ago.âÂ
âYou should have heard her before you got here.â Sirius squints his eyes at you playfully. âShe wouldnât let me touch her hand because she was worried itâd mess up my nail polish.âÂ
âSweetheart,â James laughs, giving you another fond squeeze. âReally?âÂ
âPriorities, babe,â Sirius chides you.Â
âAlright,â says Remus. You feel a kiss on your knuckles, and then heâs turning around, your bandaged hand still held protectively between both of his. âIs anyone going to warm the car, or do I have to do everything?âÂ
You nod, chastened, and start towards the door, but youâre dragged back by three pairs of hands.Â
âI mean anyone not injured, dove.â Remusâ voice is heavy with loving exasperation.Â
âSee what weâve been dealing with? Itâs a two man job.â Sirius squeezes your shoulder on his way past, presumably going to warm the car. James says something about getting your shoes and follows behind.
You give Remus a woeful look. He tsks, folding you into a hug. âDid you really prioritize Siriusâ nail polish over your bleeding hand?â he asks in a murmur.Â
You mush your cheek to his chest. âOnly for a minute.âÂ
Remus is quiet, but his amused breath fans over the top of your head as he brings his lips down for a kiss.
#poly!marauders#poly marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era
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gojo satoru x female reader; established relationship, you're married. mentions of alchohol, getting drunk, gojo is drunk. fluff and crack. featuring suguru geto. inspired by this dream i had. â masterlist here â
you opened the door to find suguru holding up your completely sloshed husband, gojo satoru, by the shoulders. gojo's bright blue eyes were glassy, his face flushed, and a huge grin spread across his face when he saw you. he nearly toppled forward, but suguru steadied him just in time.
"look whoâs back," suguru sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. "he kept talking about needing his 'wifi.' you were the only person i could think of."
gojo lit up even more at the sight of you, slurring, "my wifi! babe, my wifiâs here!"
"your wife, satoru," you laughed, stepping forward and grabbing his hands. "but yes, your wifiâs here."
he threw himself into your arms, clinging to you like you were the last thing tethering him to the earth. "mm, see? knew my wifi would always come back for me," he muttered into your hair. "youâre⊠so fast, like 5G, even."
"wow, i didnât know you married a router," suguru snorted, gently helping him settle against you.
you laughed, rubbing soothing circles on gojoâs back. âand here i thought i was just his wife.â
gojoâs eyes suddenly went wide with shock, and he leaned back, looking you dead in the eyes with absolute sincerity.Â
"youâre more than wifi. youâre... you're the whole internet." he grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks together. "like, fiber optic. unlimited data."
"okay, okay, i get it," you chuckled, kissing his forehead. âunlimited data and all.â
gojo grinned, totally triumphant, and turned back to suguru with an exaggerated, wobbly point. "see, suguru? i told you sheâs the real deal."
"yeah, i got it loud and clear, buddy," suguru said, looking at you with a smirk. âhe's all yours.â
âthank you for escorting my data-deprived husband home,â you said, shaking your head with a smile.
âno problem. he spent the entire cab ride showing the driver pictures of you, actually,â suguru replied, amused.
gojoâs face brightened even more, as if heâd just been handed the greatest compliment in the world. âsheâs⊠my favorite picture. no, wait.â he blinked, trying to gather his thoughts, swaying a little. âsheâs my wallpaper. like... my home screen.â
you couldnât help but laugh as suguru tried (and failed) to hold back his own amusement. âyouâre a lucky home screen, then. good luck with him.â
after suguru left, you guided gojo to the couch, where he immediately flopped down, reaching for you like a kid needing a hug. you obliged, settling beside him, and he buried his face into your shoulder.
âsatoru,â you murmured, gently running your fingers through his hair, âyouâre so dramatic when youâre drunk, you know that?â
"it's not drama if it's real,â he said, pulling back just enough to look at you with the most sincere gaze youâd ever seen, despite the fact he could barely keep his eyes open. âlike, i knew i wanted wifi in my life, but i had no idea itâd be this strong.â
âoh?â you smirked, leaning in closer. âand what does that mean?â
âit means youâre, like, the only signal i wanna connect to,â he muttered, sighing and nuzzling his head into your neck.Â
âlike⊠one bar, two bar, three bars â full signal, only with you.â
you couldnât stop yourself from laughing at his adorably drunk logic. âyouâre too much, you know that?â
he just hummed, eyes closing as he settled against you. âbut, babe? promise weâll never lose connection?â
you held him a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. ânever. as long as you donât go dropping signals in my house.â
he grinned, letting out a soft, happy sigh. "perfect. âcause iâm⊠gonna marry you, wifi lady."
you held back a snort. âwell, lucky for you, you already did."
he looked up, astonished. âi did?! really?!â
âyes, satoru, you already did.â
he flopped back, looking so utterly content that you could practically feel his happiness radiating off him. "best connection ever,â he whispered, clutching your hand in his like he never wanted to let go.
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#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x female reader#jjk x fem!reader#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk fluff#jjk crack#jujutsu kaisen crack#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x female reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x y/n#satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru x you#gojo crack#satoru crack#satoru gojo crack#gojo satoru crack#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojou satoru x reader#gojo headcanons
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àź NOTHING IS ALL YOU NEED TO BE àź
the secret to inducing pure consciousness
the secret to inducing pure consciousness? when i say thereâs a secret do you want to know what i mean?
drum roll please
đ„đ„đ„đ„
nothing, absolutely nothing, do not let other people tell you some bullshit, you don't need all these methods, all you need is to be.
And I know that sounds so vague, but here me out. Take deep breaths, let your mind wander, you don't have to repeat an affirmation till your brain hurts if you don't want to, just let your mind trail off, let your consciousness travel through different thoughts and feelings, you don't have to focus if thatâs not what you want. all you need is relaxation, aka doing nothing.
And it's nothing, it sounds too good to be true l know, having everything you ever wanted by doing nothing sounds unrealistic but it is the truth and always will be. Think about all the people who have been inducing pure consciousness and shifting awareness long before the time of social media, they couldnt overconsume information, have methods shoved down their throats and overcomplicate things. They still did it because guess what? itâs that simple, you couldâve had everything you ever wanted an hour ago, 15 minutes ago, heck even a few seconds ago, but youâre too scared to âlet yourself downâ, youâre afraid youâll âfailâ and let yourself down.
This is effortless, breathe, let your mind wander or focus whatever you want and youâll have pure consciousness induced. You donât need any elaborate methods, all you need is nothing, just be, allow yourself to take in your thoughts and feelings, immerse yourself in the darkness of your closed eyes and you have induced pure consciousness, there is no if ands or buts about it, thereâs no âit didnât work for meâ or âi tried but-â, but what?
There is no trial and error for a god. If you are an operant power there is no such thing as trying, you just be, you just are. There is no failing this âmethodâ, itâs you who fails to believe in themselves.
That is all you need, nothing, there is nothing you need to do in order to get all that you dream of, just breathe and be.
Yes, it is as easy as breathing, yes it is a basic ability!!
#salemlunaa#shiftblr#reality shifting#shifting#permashifting#loa#law of assumption#void state#success story#the void#void concept#respawning#i am state#pure consciousness#void state tips#the void state#void#voidstate#shifting consciousness#shifters#manifesting
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