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sunflowerwinds · 1 day ago

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sugar, sugar | v.a

summary: a week after isha’s birthday party, you tell vi it’s time to take the night on to make some blueberry cinnamon rolls. the two of you open up to one another in the midst of your baking session; your feelings for her somehow festering even more but maybe those feelings aren’t as one sided as you believe.

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: modern!au, mila & jinx side-plot (that’s barely touched on), awkward and adorable tension, pining, fluff, talks of parental deaths on vi and reader’s end, possible incorrect depictions of baking (i love baking but im not an expert </3)

word count: 4.5K

a/n: i think i got one more part for you guys and i can’t wait for it :) i love love all of the overwhelming support for this little series; i cannot express it enough!! the reblogs & comments really help me keep going. i hope you guys enjoy this part!!

— THREE

“What are you doing?”

You hear from behind you as you were frantically wiping down the stone top island in the kitchen, making sure it was squeaky clean for Vi’s arrival.

After attending Isha’s birthday party, another week had flown by before you were able to have everything prepared. Okay, you had most of the materials at home already.

You felt you needed to mentally prepare to have Vi here in your childhood home; a place you go to for comfort at the end of a restless day. You had sent her messages with your address and what time she should make her way over to yours.

You hold back the eye-roll threatening your eyes at Mila’s judgemental tone. You were as ready as you could be, wearing a simple pair of striped sleeping pants and a dark gray sweatshirt that hung slightly off your shoulder with a back tank underneath. You were home so you wanted to be cozy yet cute. Your hair was up in a simple ponytail, a few flyaways escaping from your vigorous cleaning.

“Cleaning. What does it look like I’m doing?” You sarcastically respond to your sister, sucking in a deep breath as you move to another spot.

“I can see that but I mean, why are you scrubbing so damn hard? You’re going to carve the stone, dude.”

You close your eyes as you try not to snap at your sister. Your grandma had given you the day off so that you could spend as much time with Vi as you could. Even after insisting to her that it wasn’t necessary, she made sure you weren’t on the schedule and to not leave the house unless it was with Vi.

‘I need a daughter-in-law,’ were her words as she left the house to go to the bakery. She was very hopeful for you.

“I’m… a little anxious, okay?” You admit, ready to hear your sisters mocking.

She snorts at your words as she rounds the island to look at you. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Okay can you keep that to yourself, please? I-I don’t need this right now,” you wipe back some of the flyaways as you put the rag in the sink.

You wash your hands in silence, hearing your sister shifting behind you.

“Look, what I was going to say was that you are going to be fine. Clearly, she already likes you or else she wouldn’t have agreed to come over to help you,” Mila quietly tells you, tilting her head to try and find your eyes. “I know this doesn’t happen often for you but I don’t want you to screw it up.”

You take that in, ignoring the dig at your antisocial skills and lack of dating experience. You knew this was your sister's way of trying to comfort your scattered mind.

“Thanks… I think,” you squint your eyes at her, drying off your hands.

You hear your phone ding on the countertop, leaning over to check to see who it was. To your demise, it was Vi telling you that she had arrived at your house. You mutter a curse as you turn to your sister getting ready to tell her to go somewhere that wasn’t here. You hadn’t even heard the car rolling up the dirt driveway.

“You’re welcome. Now, I’ll be doing you a favor and leaving so you can have the house to yourselves.”

Your brows furrow at her words, questioning your sister’s whereabouts.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Mila grins at you before shrugging one of her shoulders, seeming sheepish. “Hanging out with a friend. I’ll see you. Have fun with Violet.”

She drags out Vi’s full name to tease you as she throws her brown suede purse over her shoulder. You practically shove her out of the house as you peek out the window once she shuts the front door. You knew your sister didn’t have a car, and she was not using yours, so you wanted to see who the hell was picking her up. Your eyes squint to see a streak of light blue hair in the driver’s seat and Vi walking up to your front door.

Vi passes your sister and gives her a slight nod and wave, telling her something that you couldn’t quite hear due to the fact that she was outside still. It took you way too long to realize that the head in the driver's seat was Jinx. Mila and Jinx were friends? And she just forgot to tell you?

Absolutely shocked by this news, you tug open your front to reveal Vi with her hand raising to knock but eyes widening at your confused expression as you look behind her at the car reversing and leaving the dirt driveway.

“Hey, uh,” Vi shoved her hands into the pockets of her zip-up, tilting her head at you, “is everything okay?”

You blink as your attention switches to Vi’s awaiting expression. You shake your head, an embarrassed chuckle leaving your lips.

“I’m sorry. Hi, Vi,” you grin at her before opening the door wider for her to step in.

“You’re okay. It’s Jinx and Mila, right?” Vi questions, an amused smile forms on her lips.

You nod slowly as you allow her to step further in, asking her to take off her shoes before nodding with a shocked expression as you shut the door and lock it.

“Yeah. They’re… friends?” You press, wanting to know your sister's business.

Vi pries off her shoes near the door and places them next to the small line-up of you, your sisters and your grandmother’s shoes.

“Yeah, I guess Jinx went to the bakery on her own and your sister was there and they started talking after that,” she breathed out a laugh.

“That’s crazy. I love my sister but she is cranky as hell at work,” you chuckle.

Vi shrugs her shoulders, her laughter fading to a small grin. Vi’s bright eyes dart around the interior of your grandmother's home, curiously examining every inch of the house you grew up in. You linger behind her as you try to compose yourself over the fact that she was here. You fiddle with your rings in an attempt to ease your bouncing mind.

“It’s so… cozy here,” she voices her thoughts as she smiles at a photo of you, your sister and your grandma when you were younger that was sitting on a shelf underneath the living room TV.

Her light gray zip up was slightly falling off her shoulders to reveal the inch strap of her black wife pleaser underneath. The sight distracts you for a moment before you cringe at your younger portrait but Vi merely admires how much you’ve grown yet somehow look the same.

Beautiful, nonetheless.

“Everyone says that when they come over. My grandpa actually helped build this place with his friends when they were younger. He really loved my grandma.” You explain softly, looking at the back of Vi’s head.

Vi turned her head to look at you, nodding as she glanced around the room wondering how long it must’ve taken to do this.

“It’s really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you accept the compliment on your grandmother and grandfather's behalf. “Oh, and I did make the dough last night because it needs to rise overnight so it can be all light and fluffy.”

Vi slowly nods at your words, furrowing her brows as she motioned towards the kitchen area that was adjacent to the living room.

“So what more do we have to do other than, you know, assembling them?” Vi questions as she waits for your response.

You hold your hands behind your back as you tilt your head towards the fridge, an eager smile spreading onto your face.

“Do you want to listen to music while we bake?” You question.

Vi’s eyes flicker to your elated gaze and she can’t help but smile at your question. When you look at her like that, she thinks she would do anything for you. She watches your movements as you scurry over to a side table that was next to the living room couch to undo the clasp of a vinyl player that was disguised as a leather brown suitcase.

You kneel down to tug out a crate that held around 50 records, humming to yourself as you pick up a record that satisfied you. Vi couldn’t see from where she was standing but was hesitant to move forward. You carefully remove the vinyl from its paper shell to place on the spindle, moving the tonearm to rest it on the song of your desire.

“This is just a bunch of different blues and R&B songs,” you inform Vi, your back still turned to her. “I thought it was fitting.”

Vi nods in understanding even though you weren’t able to see her. You stand back up to your feet once adjusting the volume, walking back over to Vi’s awaiting figure. You take her hand in yours and motion for her to follow you into the kitchen.

“Is this going to be messy?” Vi asks, distracting herself from how much she loved feeling your hand in hers.

“Mmm, I would be lying if I said no so you either roll up your sleeves or take off your jacket so you don’t get it covered in anything,” you suggest as you release her hand to tug open the fridge to retrieve what you needed for the filling.

Vi, to your wonderful surprise, zips down her jacket and lets the cotton roll over her toned shoulders. You stand frozen near the fridge for a moment at the sight of her back nearly covered in ink. You had to thank whatever or whoever sent her to your grandma’s shop because how the hell is she real?

Standing here in your kitchen looking like that?

Vi sets her jacket aside on one of the chairs that was pulled up to the island, her hands finding their place on her hips as she awaits further instruction.

“Okay so, what you’re going to do is sprinkle a bit of flour onto the island. Just all over it,” you motion to the bag of flour and use one of your to make a spreading motion to the lengthy surface.

Vi nods in understanding at your instruction, clearing her throat as she reaches carefully into the paper bag to grab a good handful as does exactly as instructed. You hold back your glee as you watch her lean over a bit to even out the flour. She glances at you through her peripheral to make sure you seemed satisfied with how that looks.

“How’s it look?” She hums, dusting off her hands over the spread.

“Perfect. Now, take the dough and just give it a few kneads to press out the air bubbles.” You point to the metal bowl full of dough, stepping to the side to move out of her way.

Following your words once again, Vi takes the malleable tan dough into her palms to plop it down onto the surface. You turn your head to cough at the gust of powdery air that blew upwards. She, too, waves a hand in front of her face to brush the puff away from her nostrils.

When Vi had said you only wanted her there so she could do all the kneading, you didn’t expect to actually be gawking over her doing it. She digs her palms and fingers into the dough, leaning her chest forward to press it into the flour. Her triceps tightened at the motion, readjusting the blob to spread the flour evenly throughout. You swore you heard a grunt of struggle leave her lips as the dough was a bit thicker than she was expecting.

You raise a hand to your mouth to push back the infatuated smile that was tickling your lips, just watching her knead the dough.

“Is this good?” Vi asks through another press into the surface, another light grunt leaving her mouth.

“Yeah,” you say without thinking, lost in your lust-driven daze.

Vi looks up at you from her kneading as she stops with her hands still buried into the dough, no longer sticking to it as it was covered in flour. You dart your gaze away from her as you shake your head, chuckling and muttering ��right’ to yourself.

“I’ll get the, uh, rolling pin so you can flatten it out.”

You suck in a deep breath as you turn your back to her, shutting your eyes as you internally scold yourself to pull it together. Had she noticed your lingering almost creepy stare at her arms?

If she did, she hid it very well.

“Do I need to wash my hands?” Vi questions from behind your back as you kneel down to retrieve the rolling pin from the cabinet.

“No, not yet. After rolling them, you can. I’ll put the filling and roll them if you want,” you offer from over your shoulder as you grab the wooden object.

“Okay. You’re the boss,” Vi chuckles.

You stand back up on your feet, blinking harshly from the sudden rush to your head. Change the subject, you begged internally as you handed her the rolling pin. As you flicker on the stove and try to think of something else to talk about, you can hear Vi humming along to the song currently playing as she rolled the dough as instructed.

You smile to yourself as you begin to make the filling as quickly as possible.

“You know this song?” You question the red-haired woman, turning to her slightly as you watch the filling simmer in the small pot.

Vi seems to be caught off guard at the fact that you could hear her humming to herself along with the song's lyrics, pausing her movements for a second.

“Uh, yeah,” she clears her throat as she takes one glance at you before looking away flustered. “My… mom would sing it all the time. She was obsessed with it.”

“You know, you’ve never talked about your mom,” you state carefully. “Not that you have to. It just hit me.”

Vi shook her head, muttering a ‘no, it’s okay.’

“I guess I never really had a reason to but I don’t mind,” she reassures you to glance at you once again with a small smile.

You send her one back as you stir the filling slowly, watching the ingredients dissolve over the heat.

“What was she like?” You question.

“She was… loving. She, uh, passed when I was 11 and Jinx was 6. She gave us home hair cuts that were just so terrible,” Vi shook her head with a chuckle as she recollected on her childhood. “I mean, seriously. I mean, it looked like we had cut them ourselves but my dad claimed that we loved the look. I think it was because it was the fact that it was her cutting our hair instead of some stranger.”

You can’t help but smile at her words. Her voice had softened the second she had brought up her mom, signaling to you that her mom was a gentle soul. You could feel how much that transpired within Vi.

“Were her and your dad together for a while before they had you and Jinx?” You hum.

“They were never together. They were actually friends but my mom got knocked up by some random guy twice that they never knew about and my dad kind of took that position of being, well, a dad.”

Vi explains as she sucks in a deep breath, seeming as though she was composing herself. You furrow your brows as you are afraid that you’ve pushed it too far with the questions.

“Well, when did Isha come in?” You ask in hopes to distract her.

This Vi freezes at, releasing the rolling pin to turn to you with a soft sigh.

“She came out of nowhere. My dad told us one day coming home from school that someone had left a baby on our doorstep. We thought that kind of stuff only happened in the movies so we thought it was a joke,” she leaned her back up against the counter top, folding her muscular arms across her chest. “But then we came into the living room and there she was wrapped up in a little blanket in a bassinet. Jinx was more excited than I was because she got her own little sister.”

“You have a very loving family. It’s obvious, honestly. I can tell you have a good heart, Vi,” you tilt your head to make eye contact with her to show the sincerity behind your words.

Vi’s eyes hold contact with your own, pupils dilating to the point where the blue of her eyes was a mere ring. She exhales a soft breath as she just stares at you.

“What about your parents? Are they…?” Vi blinks and reroutes the attention to you now.

“Uh, no. My mom and dad died when I was 6 or 7 and Mila was just 1. They weren’t the best parents from what my grandma has told me. They tried but they were… angry and overworked,” you shook your head as you turn down the heat on the stove lower before looking at Vi with a shrug to your shoulders. “I guess they thought having kids would bring them closer but it only seemed to push them further apart. They had dropped Mila and I here one day and just never came back. My grandparents found out a week later that they had gotten into a car accident and died on the way to the hospital.”

You wince to yourself at the silence that had fallen over the two of you. The soft crackle of the record switching songs and the soft bubbling of the blueberry filling in the pot were the only sounds in the house.

“But I’m okay. My grandparents raised me and my sister and I can guarantee it was the better choice,” you attempt to make a joke but Vi simply looks at you with a genuine expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry too.”

You clear your throat, a strained chuckle leaving your lips as you clasp your hands together.

“Sorry, the filling’s ready. I didn’t mean to get all– Well, to bring that subject up.”

Vi shakes her head to reassure your frantic mind, reaching for your hand. You allow her to do so, heart leaping into your throat when her thumb wipes over the back of your hand.

“I said it was okay. I meant that,” she persists.

You look at her with a hesitant expression, opening your mouth about to apologize but she gives you a pointed look as if she was testing you to try it.

“Okay, okay, let’s roll these.”

Vi seems content with that and releases your hand to let you bring over the pot to the counter of rolled out dough. You ignore the bothersome want to grab her hand right back as carry it over and rest it on a crocheted pot holder so it wouldn’t burn the surface. You two stay in a comfortable silence as you take a wooden baking spoon to scoop it and carefully spread the blueberry-cinnamon filling across the flat dough. Once everything was properly rolled up and placed onto the baking sheet, you popped it in the oven for its designated time period.

About 20 minutes passed of sharing soft words to one another in the kitchen, the timer on your phone went off. With the rolls fresh out of the oven, you started to make the cream cheese frosting to wrap it all together. You could see Vi lingering over the delectable smelling pastries out of the corner of your eye, seeming to be examining them.

“You really do have a knack for this, cupcake. These look incredible,” Vi praises you as you plop the ingredients into the bowl.

You tuck a flyway piece of hair behind your ear as you bashfully smile in her direction.

“Well, you did all the kneading. They wouldn’t been made without your help,” you switch it around to the pink-haired girl.

“I knew you were staring,” she teased as she took a few steps forward so her shoulders were a few inches apart from your own.

The close proximity made your stomach flip but you simply continued to whisk in the bowl. You gradually add the milk, careful not to add too much or else it wouldn’t be thick enough.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through your teeth. “I was making sure your technique was good. I’m the baker here.”

“If you say so,” Vi held her palms up in defense, that annoyingly attractive grin on her face.

You shake your head before vigorously whisking the frosting, watching it turn into the perfect texture. You sigh as you dip your finger into soft white glaze and hold it up to Vi’s mouth, wiping it on her bottom lip without thinking.

Your eyes widen as you realize what you’ve done, watching Vi’s eyes match yours. She licks her lips to taste the frosting regardless, raising her fingers to her lips when yours just was.

“I’m so sorry. I—When I bake at home with my grandma or my sister, we usually just do, well, that because we’re the only ones eating it,” you cover your mouth with both of your palms, shaking your head. “I’m sor-I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” Vi raises her hand to wave you off, a weird chuckle leaving her lips. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

You sigh, the embarrassment still clinging to your skin as you replayed in your mind how easily you did that.

“It’s good, though,” Vi adds through the silence.

You can’t help but let out an amused laugh at the way she immediately tries to assure you that what you did was in fact very normal. You knew it wasn’t… by any means but she attempts to make you feel better regardless.

“What?” Vi asks through her own soft laughter.

You shake your head as you motion to the fresh cinnamon rolls.

“Can we frost these, please? I’m trying to save myself from embarrassment.”

Vi simply grins at you as she reaches two fingers into the glaze to gather a bit on her pointer and middle before sticking it in her mouth. You stare at her, unable to utter a word. What the hell is wrong with her?

“See? It’s good.”

Instead of humiliating yourself further, you shove her back with one arm as you scold: “Did you even wash your hands?”

“I did, actually.”

“Then get to it,” you point to the cinnamon rolls and hand her a spatula.

Vi glances down at the bowl of frosting and the wooden spatula with a soft blue rubber before taking it from her hands to do as you had asked. You watch her step around you to take a good scoop of the glaze to spread it over the warm treats. You spoke quietly to one another, asking her random questions to pick at her mind a bit more; to get to know her better.

“You think you could teach me how to kick box?” You question as you are now sitting in your living room.

Two small ceramic plates that were in the style of pool balls on the coffee table in front of you; Vi’s being the 6 green ball and yours being the 8. Cinnamon rolls sat on either one; yours being less eaten than Vi’s. She had mere crumbs left as she nodded into her last bite.

“Oh yeah. You can let me know and I’ll clear out some space for you.” Vi grins as she licks her lips to be rid of the cinnamon from her lips.

“I will definitely,” you chuckle as you take another bite.

“Hey, uh, speaking of that, I have this kickboxing tournament coming up in a few days. I… want you to be there,” Vi looks at you with an awaiting expression; hope glimmering over her eyes.

Your eyes meet hers as you chew your food, a hand hovering over your mouth so you don’t drop crumbs. I want you to be there, her voice rang through your mind.

“You’ll be competing?” You wonder.

“Yeah and a few of my older students,” she confirms.

You’d be an idiot to say no. A stupidly giddy smile spreads onto your face as you set the last quarter of your cinnamon roll back on the plate.

“I’d love to be there. I’ll cheer you on from a distance.”

Vi tilts her head from next to you, bumping her shoulder with yours.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. I’ll embarrass you with a huge sign that says ‘Go Vi’ in rainbow glitter,” you lean closer to her face as you tease her.

Vi eyes flicker down to your lips for a split-second as you lean in. You notice the action but brush it off as the closer proximity.

“You’ll be my cheerleader?” She questions, a smirk forming.

“Always,” you whisper, sucking in a deep breath as you shift yourself so that your body is facing hers.

Your answer sends a shiver down Vi’s spine, her heart leaping into her throat. She lifts her hand to take one of yours before she opens her mouth to say something. A loud knock fills the house causing the both of you to jump.

You mutter a curse to yourself as you excuse yourself to Vi to walk over to the door to unlock it to see your sister and Jinx standing on the welcome mat. They both held cheeky, suspicious grins.

“Hey guys,” you furrow your brows at the two. “Back so early?”

“Early? It’s been three hours,” Mila states with raised brows, stepping into the house.

Vi must’ve heard Mila’s voice and appeared behind you at the door, cursing to herself as she did not realize how much time had passed. She checked her own phone before looking at her sister.

“Shit, I gotta go. I promised I would take Isha to the park before it gets too dark,” Vi runs to grab her zip-up, sadly shielding her toned arms once again. When she walks back over to you, Mila and Jinx, she wraps her arms around you to give you a warm hug. “I’ll text you all the details, I promise. Thank you for letting me come over. I had a good time.”

You hold onto her tightly, discreetly inhaling the cinnamon-blueberry scent that was clinging to her skin.

“Yeah, me too. Let me know everything, Vi,” you pull away to see your sister and Jinx giving each other weird looks.

Okay, their friendship was going to drive you up the wall.

“See you, cupcake. Bye, Mila,” Vi grins at you and waves at your sister.

“Bye, Vi. Bye Jinx. Text me!” Mila calls after Jinx as they both walk away to the running car.

Jinx turns her head to send your sister a knowing smile, calling back: “I will, Mils!”

You and your sister watch the two open their designated sides of the car, leaning against the door with a long sigh.

“God, could you act like you’re not in love with her?” Mila teases before walking over to the kitchen to probably devour the pastries you had baked.

You shake your head to yourself as you think that no, you really can’t.

previous part -> next part

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

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Steadfast 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: King!Bucky Barnes (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you serve Duke Rogers, but when his friend, the king, takes an interest, you find your work in turmoil.

Note: I’ve wanted to do medieval drabbles for years. I bit the bullet and now we’re all doomed. I was torn on whether to make this one Stucky however… I think Steve deserves a wifey in his own installment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“A tavern ahead,” the king declares as he slows the horse’s canter. “We should rest lest the bandits be upon us.”

You shift and bow your head. You hold back from giving his title. “Yes, poppet,” you agree.

He hums and approaches the low stone wall around the wood and wattle inn. As he does, you catch sight of a young boy sat upon a rootless stump. He looks up as he tucks away the sling in his hands. He approaches the gate as the horse stops at the post.

“Board for the night. For the beast too,” the king puts on a gruff affectation.

“No rooms, good sir. Only the loft above the chattel,” the boy replies.

“You should bring clean hay,” the king stirs beneath his cloak and presents a silver coin. “Feed the beast sweet oats and you will have another.”

He hands the reins to the stable boy and nudges your hip. He keeps hold of you as he helps you unhook your legs from over the mare and eases you to the ground. He slides off after you. The chestnut horse is led away as your muscles snag and tug.

The king stretches with a groan then offers his bent arm. You loop yours through in quick acquiescence to his act. You recall the duke’s words. You must keep the king’s true self unfounded, thus you must pretend as he does.

Inside, the space is dingy with the smell of unwashed bodies and yeasty ale. You follow your escort to the corner and sit with him on the wooden bench behind a table. He crosses his arms over the splintered surface as you wring your cold hands in your lap.

“Pip,” he sits back, sensing your fidgeting, “are you very cold?”

Before you can answer him, his large hand is over both of yours. He does not wear his embroidered velvet gloves, rather a leather pair he must have acquired from the stabler. You still and let him warm your brittle knuckles.

“...it isn’t so bad,” you assure him. You are addled at not addressing him properly. In a castle, that would be an oversight worthy of a switch’s bite.

He removes his glove and once more clamps down on your hands, “like ice. We must have you a better cloak for the road. Once we dock upon Gander River, the winds will not die.”

You nod and your brows furrow with a question you dare not ask. It floats away from you as a servant in apron and cap approaches. She offers two flagons and a pitcher. The king demands bread and some hearty stew in exchange for another coin. She goes and he rubs his bearded cheek as he peers around.

“I will not say much and more about our path, but I do hope you are not prone to seasickness,” he girds.

You follow his gaze around the lantern-lit chamber. The hearth burns at the other end. You look down at his other hand still upon yours.

“Come, wife, be close to me,” he says suddenly and you steel yourself as he leans closer. He whispers as he tilts his chin down. “Those who watch must believe we are not who we are. Be not shy with me.”

He nuzzles your temple and draws away. A fluttery warmth rolls through you. You dip your chin.

“As you wish,” you abide.

He reluctantly draws his hand from yours. He pours a cup for each of you, offering the dark ale to you first. You sip and nearly choke upon its wheaty pungency. He drinks without pause and two bowls of soup are set down with heels of thick rye.

You wait the king to eat first. He takes the bread from before you and splits it, offering you a piece. You accept it and lean forward. You dip the crust into the lumpy stew and stir it. You look at him. He watches you calmly. It will be a long road to be so unsettled.

You take a bite. He mimics you, stirring the rye through his soup before he indulges. It is blander than the castle fare. You assume the king is not used to such plain sustenance. Merely the scent of the spices they baste upon the noble’s meals is enough to make you salivate.

“Be mindful, little one,” he warns as he squints over his bowl.

You follow his gaze. A man stares back but not at the king. At you. You shrink down as he sidles closer.

“You will not leave my side,” he commands.

You hum and nod, ‘your highness’ teetering on your tongue. You clear your throat, “yes, poppet.”

“Good pip,” he praises.

You eat until the bowl is empty. Food is food, you do not mind the staleness of the barley as you gulp from the brim. You wipe your mouth with your sleeve and the king slaps his middle.

He doesn’t speak as he stands. He takes your hand and draws you after him. The shadows flicker on the wall as you hide from the glances in your direction. Road-weary men are the villains of many whispered tales.

The king brings you into the night and the boy sits on his stump, hunched beneath a wool cloak.

“Is the loft ready?” The king asks.

“Horse fed,” the boy assures and receives another coin.

The king guides you to the stable. The stink would be repulsive to many unused to it. The droppings and horse-sweat do not bother you much. He slides shut the door and leads you to the ladder’s feet. He urges you up first, hands on your hips until you mount the first rung.

He climbs up after you and pulls the ladder with him. Only the moonlight lights the space through the slats of wood. You crawl around in the fluffed hay as he bends beneath the slant of the roof. He unhooks his cloak and comes close. He surprises you as he sits next to you.

He turns and lowers himself upon his side. He drags you close to him and fans his cloak over both of you. You shiver against his warmth. He nestles into you and rests his chin on your crown.

“We will be off before the sun is here,” he bids as he holds you snug. “Sleep, my pip.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #steadfast #series #medieval au #marvel #mcu #au #captain america #winter soldier #avengers

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alsofoundinpeas · 18 hours ago

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Two Sides of the Same Coin

Summary: Y/N is an international pop star, adored by millions—and maybe a little too adored. When a deranged stalker, obsessed with her every move, begins killing those close to her, the BAU steps in. Derek and Spencer are assigned as her bodyguards, tasked with keeping her safe until the stalker is caught. Trapped inside her house, none of them are happy about the arrangement, but tensions rise as they struggle with cabin fever—and a growing attraction they can't ignore.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+!! MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Reader is kind of a cunt but only because she's extremely upset/disturbed by the situation. Mentions of stalking/violence related to the case (not excessive or graphic I promise!!). Oral (both m and f receiving), fingering (f!receiving), overstimulation (f!receiving), crying during sex (f only and it isn't from pain I swear), spit-roasting, protected PinV sex, spanking, mix of praise and degradation. Mean Dom!Derek x Bratty Sub!Reader x Soft Dom!Spencer.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x fem!reader/afab!reader x Spencer Reid

A/N: Basically think the Lila situation but on steroids LMFAO I really enjoyed having you guys vote for the fic and I may do it again soon :') I'll admit, I really enjoyed writing this and stepping out of my comfort zone a bit! I truly hope you guys enjoy this and if you do, please like, reblog, and consider following! <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

"You’re fucking joking."

The room was heavy with tension, everyone at the table shifting uneasily as Y/N’s words hung in the air. The meeting had only been underway for 45 minutes, most of which consisted of questions directed at her, trying to gather any information that might lead the BAU to her stalker. When it became clear that she had no idea of anyone who would want to leak her private information, the next bombshell dropped: she'd be stuck at home until they caught the person responsible.

Y/N’s manager, Anna, shoots Hotch a wary look as he clears his throat, his stern gaze never leaving Y/N. "At this moment, it’s a serious safety risk for you to leave your house—not just for you, but for anyone seen with you in public. As a result, SSA Derek Morgan and SSA Spencer Reid will be assigned to stay with you for your protection, and they’ll handle any errands you need until we can apprehend your stalker," he explains once more.

Y/N scoffed, her gaze briefly shifting to Anna before locking back on Hotch. "Really? So... not only am I being stalked by some fucking maniac because someone sold my information to the press, but now I’m trapped at home with two strangers? Two men I just met—what, thirty minutes ago?"

Derek and Spencer both sat up straighter, their expressions hardening as their lips pressed into thin lines. Neither of them was thrilled about the plan. They both insisted to Hotch that their skills would be better used helping the team, not playing babysitter for someone who clearly resented the arrangement. Hotch protested that they could still help from her house while also ensuring her safety, effectively shutting down any further arguments.

"We know this isn’t what you want, hun, but it’s either this or more innocent people—maybe even you—get killed," Anna urged, her hand resting gently on Y/N’s shoulder, offering what little comfort she could.

As much as she hated to admit it, Y/N knew Anna and Hotch were right. But that didn't mean she had to like it. The idea of her stalker thinking they had any control over her—believing she’d cower to some deranged loser who killed innocent people—sickened her.

"We’ll do everything in our power to track down whoever’s behind this," Hotch promised, his voice firm. "Once they’re caught, you’ll be able to go back to your normal life."

"Yeah, because everything’s going to feel normal after being stalked by a murderer," Y/N muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She sighed, her gaze flicking around the table before landing back on him. "Fine. Whatever. Thank you. Anna can show them to the guest rooms. Are we done here?"

The meeting concluded once the rules for her quarantine were set and the safety of her family and friends had been addressed. She was to remain in the house at all times, contact with anyone would be made through a burner phone to prevent her stalker from intercepting any personal devices (which Garcia was already examining for any clues about the leak), and her loved ones would be under close surveillance by the local PD, who had already been notified of the situation.

Once Y/N had stomped up the stairs, Anna took the time to show Morgan and Reid around.

Y/N's house, for a pop star, was surprisingly modest. She didn’t have a sprawling mansion or an army of staff catering to her every whim—just a personal chef (whom she paid very well) and a groundskeeper to handle the lawn care. Anna explained that, even though Y/N was one of the biggest names in pop music, she was incredibly grounded and more down-to-earth than anyone she’d worked with, not to mention fiercely independent.

"No offense, but I’m not exactly picking up on this ‘down-to-earth’ vibe you’re talking about,” Morgan grumbled as Anna trailed behind him and Spencer toward their SUV.

Anna chuckled, nodding as she watched the men grab their bags. “Like I said, that girl is as independent as they come. She’s just frustrated because this situation strips her of that independence and probably makes her feel helpless—which isn’t something she’s used to,” Anna said quietly. “Give it time. I’m sure she’ll ease up on you.”

The next few days quickly showed that Anna couldn’t have been more wrong.

Rather than easing up on the pair, Y/N had begun acting as though they didn’t exist. The only time she left her room was to collect whatever meal Vinny, her chef—an affable older gentleman—prepared for everyone, and to chat with him briefly while he cleaned up before heading out for the night. When she did speak to either of them, it was curt, often laced with sarcasm, and was usually a request to leave the house, which was always met with a hard no.

A week passed with no progress on the case and only a handful of awkward interactions. Spencer knocked on her door several times, offering dinner or a chance to play board games with him and Derek, but each time she turned him down. Morgan stopped pushing as hard to get her to talk. He kept telling Spencer that if she wanted to throw a fit over them risking their lives to keep her safe, so be it.

As the second week dragged on with no significant progress on the case, tension started to build among everyone. Y/N’s remarks had escalated from sharp, sarcastic comments to full-blown arguments—mostly with Derek. She no longer confined herself to her room; instead, she began strutting around the house in the most revealing outfits she could find, knowing full well they flustered Spencer.

With Vinny handling the grocery shopping and Y/N’s house fully stocked with everything they could need, there was no real reason for Reid or Morgan to leave for the so-called errands Hotch had mentioned to get a break from her. Spencer had read and re-read every book he brought with him, unwilling to touch the ones Y/N had. Derek spent most of his time in the home gym or on the phone with Garcia and other team members, eager to contribute from afar.

As for Y/N�� well, she was beyond tired of being cooped up in her room all day and decided it was time to take matters into her own hands.

The door creaked softly as Y/N peeked her head into the dark hallway, wincing at the sound before freezing. She held her breath, straining to hear any sign of movement in the house. It was late—just after 11:00 p.m.—and she silently hoped both agents were asleep.

After hearing nothing, she carefully tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room. Just as she was slipping her shoes on by the back door, the light suddenly flickered on, startling her so much she almost lost her balance. Spinning around, she found Spencer standing there in his pajamas, watching her with a wary expression, his face showing signs of exhaustion.

"What exactly are you doing?"

Y/N pressed her lips together, exhaling sharply through her nose as she shifted on her heels. “I… um, I was just going to run to the store. I’m out of—” She faltered, scrambling for a convincing excuse. “—shampoo! Yeah… and I didn’t think it was worth waking either of you up to grab it for me.”

Reid sighed, shaking his head. "Y/N, you know you're not supposed to leave the house, no matter what. Are you really willing to risk your life over a bottle of shampoo?"

"I wouldn’t be risking my life!" Y/N snapped, throwing her hands up in frustration as she stepped away from the door. "It would take thirty minutes tops."

Derek, already awake, had overheard the quiet argument from his room. Curious, he got up and headed down the hall toward the kitchen, pausing to listen. Spencer muttered something else, but it was too soft for him to catch.

Y/N rolled her eyes, releasing an exaggerated sigh before fixing Spencer with a glare that had him swallowing hard. She stepped forward, her chest brushing against his as she tilted her head up. "I’ve been in the public eye since I was seventeen, Doctor. I think I can handle a trip to the store on my own. I’ll even wear a disguise. I just want out of this fucking house," she hissed.

“I get it, Y/N. I really do. But there’s a psychotic stalker targeting anyone who even looks your way right now. We can’t take that risk.” Spencer’s voice was gentle, but his stance was unyielding. Despite how… intimidating she could be, he wasn’t afraid of her.

Morgan rounded the corner, an eyebrow raised as he took in the scene—Y/N and Reid practically nose to nose. He’d caught what she said from the kitchen and decided it was time to step in. “Y/N,” he barked, crossing his arms and leaning against the back of the couch. “Quit giving the kid a hard time. The answer’s no. Not happening, princess. Deal with it.”

Y/N tilted her head, her glare still fixed on Spencer. “And what exactly are you going to do about it? Punish me?” Her voice dropped low, dripping with mockery as she finally turned her attention to Derek, a daring glint in her eyes.

Derek’s eyebrows lifted, a humorless chuckle escaping him that sent a shiver down her spine. He pushed off the couch and closed the distance in two long strides. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her away from Spencer, his voice dropping into a low growl in her ear.

"Maybe I should. Maybe we both should."

Heat surged to Y/N’s cheeks as she glanced up at him, still pressed against his chest after stumbling into him. She swallowed hard, caught off-guard by the dangerous glint in his eyes. Neither of them looked away, both stubbornly refusing to back down.

“What?” Spencer sputtered, his voice laced with incredulity as he finally broke their heated stares. His eyes flicked between them, wide with shock. “Absolutely not! That’s beyond unprofessional—and completely inappropriate!”

"And at what point during this entire babysitting gig has she been professional or appropriate?" Morgan challenged, releasing his grip on Y/N's wrist to throw his hands up in exasperation.

Reid hesitated, opening his mouth to respond, but the words failed him.

"Exactly," Derek said triumphantly. "She’s been a complicated, hard-headed smartass from the second we stepped through that door—" He gestured toward the door with a pointed jab of his thumb. "—and she’s the one who asked for it. I say we give her exactly what she wants."

Spencer gnawed at his lower lip, his expression torn as he grappled with not only the moral implications of what was being offered but also the idea of his best friend and colleague seeing his dick. He shuddered at the thought, then turned his gaze to Y/N, who stood frozen, her expression one of shock—as though she hadn’t considered this could actually happen. "Is that… is that really something you want us to do?"

He couldn’t believe he was actually entertaining the idea. But Morgan wasn’t wrong… she’d been a pain in the ass the entire week they’d been stuck with her. And, despite the attitude, she was undeniably one of the most attractive women he’d ever laid eyes on. Besides, fucking one of the world's most famous pop stars certainly wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him while on a case.

Y/N glanced between the two of them, her gaze flickering before she nodded slowly. "Uh… yeah. It is," she admitted, her voice quiet and subdued—completely at odds with the mouthy, brazen woman she’d been all week.

She couldn’t deny that both of them were devastatingly attractive, and maybe if the circumstances were different then she would have enjoyed their company. It was the fact that they were so good at their jobs that agitated her, successfully keeping her trapped in her own house. As much as she loathed being stuck indoors, she had to give credit where it was due—they were doing everything they could to keep her safe and make her lockdown more bearable. Maybe she had been a bit too hard on them…

"Then go up to your room and wait for us on your bed," Derek ordered lowly. "Naked," he added.

The second she was out of sight, Spencer turned to Morgan, eyes wide with disbelief, and followed him into the kitchen. "Are we really going through with this?" he whispered, pacing back and forth as Morgan sifted through his wallet.

A shameless smile graced his face as he pulled out two condoms, tossing one toward Reid before shrugging. "I am. If you're uncomfortable, you don’t have to do anything. Seriously, kid. No pressure," Derek murmured, his tone reassuring as he noticed the hint of insecurity in Spencer’s expression.

Spencer flinched as the item flew toward him, stumbling back slightly before he crouched to grab the foil packet from the ground, shaking his head.

"It’s not that I don’t want to! I just—Hotch would kill us if he found out, and—"

"Then he won't find out. Simple."

Derek’s voice was calm, the complete opposite of Spencer’s nervous energy. He started toward the stairs, glancing over his shoulder at Reid with a smirk. "You coming, or what?"

Spencer breathed in deeply, releasing the tension with a sigh before nodding and trailing behind him toward Y/N's room.

Spencer wasn't a complete stranger to sex, having had a few short-term relationships that had always fizzled out due to the erratic nature of his schedule. But he didn't have nearly the experience Morgan had. He'd also never had a threesome, something he knew for a fact Morgan had participated in more than once thanks to his ability to overshare and desire to make Reid as flustered as he possibly could.

Derek stopped outside Y/N’s door and turned to Spencer. "Hey," he said softly, drawing the younger man’s attention. "Quit overanalyzing. I can practically see the wheels turning. Just follow my lead, okay? I know you’re a quick learner."

Spencer huffed out a small laugh. "I’ll do my best," he murmured, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the tension in his muscles.

Morgan clapped a hand on his back reassuringly, grinning. "If it helps, I promise my focus won't be on your dick if that's what you're worried about."

Reid shoved him with an annoyed groan, rolling his eyes as Derek stifled his lighter. Once he composed himself, he opened the door, leading the way into Y/N's dimly lit room. The sight before them had Morgan stopping dead in his tracks, causing Spencer to stumble into his back with a quiet grunt.

There before them, splayed in the middle of her bed, was Y/N. She'd listened to Morgan's instructions, having stripped completely bare. Her fingers traced leisurely up and down the inside of her thigh, and there was a coy smirk on her face as she glanced up at them.

"Finally," she sighed, sitting up as they began to strip out of their clothes. "And here I was thinking I was about to have to take care of myself."

Derek arched a brow, tossing his shirt to the floor. Spencer followed suit, lifting his hoodie over his head and letting it fall to the ground. Y/N watched eagerly as more and more of their skin was revealed, deepening the aching need throbbing between her legs.

"You sure you wanna keep running that mouth of yours?" Morgan chuckled, reaching down to shove his sweats down. The sight sent a thrill through her body as she let her gaze wander down his torso, landing on his hardening cock. Her breath hitched as he wrapped a hand around it, stroking himself once before stepping forward.

Spencer froze as he watched Derek round the bed, tossing his condom onto her nightstand before kneeling on it behind Y/N. His fingers lingered on the waistband of his plaid pajama pants, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't help but stare as she shifted up onto her hands and knees, wiggling her ass enticingly in Morgan's direction as she kept her heated gaze locked on him.

"I'm sure—"

Her words were cut off by a yelp, her body jolting forward as a sharp smack sounded through the room. Reid's eyes widened, his cock twitching in his pants reminding him that he was supposed to be taking them off. He quickly sprung back into action, hurriedly stepping out of them.

"Since you're so sure..." Derek mocked her. "Then he'll just have to fill that pretty mouth up until you can use it to be nice."

He motioned for Spencer to move in front of her before pushing the back of her head down, leaving her propped on her elbows with her ass in the air and her head near the edge of the mattress. His hands rubbed up and down her sides, massaging gently as he settled behind her. "If you need us to stop, you just tell us, princess. Got it?"

"Got it," Y/N whimpered softly before another sharp smack landed on her ass. She cried out, savoring the slight stinging left behind from the motion.

Spencer's hand landed on her shoulder, stroking gently before guiding her chin up, waiting for her to lift back up onto her arms. His thumb traced her lower lip almost reverently before he stooped down to meld his mouth to hers in a hungry kiss. The moan that rumbled in her throat only spurred him on, and his tongue prodded at the seam of her lips briefly before he broke the kiss, straightening his back.

"Come on then, sweetheart," Spencer murmured breathlessly, reaching down to grab himself before tapping the flushed head of his cock against her bottom lip. "You heard him."

Y/N's tongue poked out to circle the tip before she moved forward, wrapping her lips around him. A groan slipped from his mouth as she worked her way down his length, adjusting herself to the feel of him in her mouth. She was honestly surprised when she got her first look at both of them—they were big.

Morgan waited until she found a steady rhythm to let his fingers drift down to her pussy, swiftly thrusting two inside of her. Her surprised cry was muffled by her mouthful, and he smirked, cocking his head as he began a brutal pace. "Huh? What was that?" He taunted, palming her ass cheek. "Couldn't hear you over all that gagging you're doing."

Spencer brought a hand up to cup her face as Y/N continued sucking, stroking his thumb along the indention his cock was causing against her cheek. The whine she let out around him was pitiful, but fuck did it feel good. He fought the urge to thrust forward into the warmth of her mouth, letting her keep a pace she was comfortable with.

"It better have been an apology," Derek continued, curling his fingers to stroke the rough patch of nerves inside of her that had her shoving her hips back into his touch. "You certainly owe us one. Doesn't she, Reid?"

Spencer chuckled breathlessly, nodding in agreement. He rested his free hand on the back of her head, keeping the pressure light enough to where he wasn't pushing down but enough for her to register the feeling. "She definitely does," he murmured.

“Then it's settled," Morgan hummed, pulling his fingers out of her dripping core. "Say you’re sorry to us, princess,” he demanded, landing a harsh slap to her ass.

Y/N let out a muffled cry around Spencer’s cock, gagging slightly as the movement pushed her forward. Spencer gently tugged her off of him, groaning at the line of spit drawing a bridge between his flushed head and her swollen lips. He looked down at her expectantly, stroking her cheek as he waited patiently.

“I-I’m sorry!” Y/N sobbed, looking up at Spencer with watery eyes.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she almost looked sweet with her flushed cheeks and pouty lips. But he did know better, and he knew that her being such a brat was exactly what landed her here.

“You behave and I promise I’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” Reid murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head before guiding her mouth back onto his cock.

Morgan chuckled darkly from behind her, massaging the tender skin for a moment before reeling back and landing another sharp hit to the same spot. Y/N's noise was stifled by the thick cock currently stuffed down her throat, effectively gagging her in the most erotic way. He repeated the motion, his eyes locked on the way her ass rippled underneath his palm.

"You better be thankful he's here, pretty girl. If it were up to me, you wouldn't be cumming at all tonight because of how you've acted."

That prompted a low whine from the back of her throat, causing Spencer's hips to jerk forward and a whimper to slip from his lips as the vibrations caused pleasure to sear through his veins. Taking it as encouragement, Y/N continued bobbing her head along his length, fighting against her gag reflex each time she took him deep into her throat. It was needy and messy, the sight of her spit dripping down her chin and her smudged mascara enough to make Spencer throw his head back and squeeze his eyes shut so he didn't cum down her throat.

While Y/N was distracted, Derek had reached for the condom he'd set down on her nightstand and slid it on. He shifted behind her to line himself up at her entrance, running the head of his cock up and down her slit before pushing forward.

She instantly keened at the sensation of him filling her up, her mouth hanging open and letting Spencer's length slip out as her eyes squeezed shut.

"Shh, that's it," Reid cooed, stroking her cheek gently with one hand while fisting himself with the other, pumping himself slowly. "You're doing such a good job, sweetheart. God, you're so beautiful."

"Fuck—" Y/N cried out, her body rocking from the brutal pace Derek set.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, princess,” Morgan grunted between thrusts, reaching up to shove her head back down on Spencer’s cock. "And you better not fucking cum."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she began to bob her head once more, her moans muffled and blended with theirs. She could feel her arousal dripping down her thighs, a physical reminder of how turned on she was from letting the two agents sent to protect her use her, her pussy clenching around him at the thought. The pleasure coursing through her was overwhelming as Derek began to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts, taunting her even further with the orgasm she couldn't have yet.

It didn't take long for Morgan's hips to stutter, ramming into her for a few more thrusts before he emptied everything he had into the condom with a shout. Y/N's body trembled with exertion as she fought her climax with every ounce of willpower she had, wanting to prove to both of them that she could be good. Reid wasn't far behind him, shooting ropes of warm liquid down her throat as he groaned her name over and over, his hips bucking into her mouth sloppily. Morgan rode out his high with a few more weak thrusts before slipping out of her, landing one final slap to her ass with a tired grin.

"I think she's learned her lesson from me," Derek chuckled, gathering his clothes and slipping them back on. "Have at her, kid."

Y/N let Spencer's softening cock slip free from her lips, her chest heaving and face flushed as she fought to catch her breath. The sound of the door closing prompted her to look up at him, her eyes blurred from tears. Spencer smiled softly, moving to hover above her on the bed.

"You did—" Reid kissed her lips tenderly. "So, so good, sweetheart," he murmured as his lips trailed down to her breasts, a soft gasp falling from her lips as his tongue swirled around one of her taut nipples before sucking it into his mouth. "And now—" His words were muffled around her skin. "I'm going to make you cum—" He pulled away, blowing softly on the pert bud before switching to the other. "Over and over and over."

Y/N arched into his touch, tangling his fingers into his hair as his lips moved down her body. "Please," she whimpered, spreading her shaky legs to make room for him.

Spencer took mercy on her, latching his mouth onto her clit and suckling gently before lapping up her essence in slow, hard strokes. A guttural groan fell from her lips as he began to devour her, his own needy moans against her skin pushing her that much closer to her already devastatingly close orgasm. Her hips began to rock against his face as her grip on his hair tightened, incomprehensible babbles of his name leaving her over and over as the pleasure in her stomach coiled tightly.

All it took was the feeling of his tongue prodding against her entrance for her climax to seize her. Wrecked cries filled the room as she thrashed beneath him, her head falling back against her pillows as he continued working her through it.

True to his word, Spencer made her cum another two times after that before finally relenting, pressing a sticky kiss to her forehead before trotting off down the stairs to grab her a water bottle.

When he returned to her room, he gently coaxed her into sitting up and drinking, rambling softly about the importance of hydration after intense physical activity. Too drained to say much, she offered a weak smile and murmured a quiet thank you before handing the bottle back. She then curled up against her pillows, surrendering to the exhaustion pulling at her—but not without asking him to stay.

The next morning, when Morgan and Reid got the call that the stalker had been arrested, they exchanged a small, knowing grin before heading off to share the good news with Y/N. And when she slipped her number into their pockets with a casual "hit me up if you're ever in town" while hugging them goodbye… well, Hotch didn’t need to know about that, either.

Continued A/N's: This took a bit longer to post than I originally planned because I kept coming back to add more whoops I'm so sorry for the delay!! But I hope you guys enjoy it and of course please feel free to let me know what you think! :) <3

REMINDER: I do not give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please just ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

#Spencer Reid smut #Derek Morgan smut #Spencer Reid x reader x Derek Morgan smut #Spencer Reid x reader x Derek Morgan #Criminal Minds smut #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x self insert #Spencer Reid x fem!reader #Derek Morgan x you #Derek Morgan x self insert #Derek Morgan x fem!reader

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wonubby · 2 days ago

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fell in luv - itoshi rin

CHAPTER 01: OTOYA GOT HIS ASS BEAT

SYPNOSIS Rin Itoshi thought life was all about football—until Y/N L/N and their chaotic group of friends proved otherwise. Now, he’s stuck navigating late-night hangouts, dumb arguments, and way too much teasing—all while somehow being hopelessly in love. It’s a story of laughter, love, and Rin just trying (and failing) to keep his cool.

a/n: first part of the series!!! i hope you all enjoy and thank you so much to those who liked/reblogged the first post

written part after all the pics!

< prev masterlist next >

the sound of laughter blended with the breeze as the group of teens lounged together, soaking in their thursday afternoon. rin’s gaze kept drifting to the girl across from him, drawn to her warm smile and sleepy eyes as she spoke. when her eyes met his, she gave him that same soft smile. caught in the act, rin’s face burned with embarrassment, and before he could think, he shot to his feet.

"i… i uh, i'm gonna head home. i need to get up early for training," rin stammered, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

a small frown dented y/n's face at his sudden change in demeanour. with a sigh, she stood up, facing him with a playful pout. "come on, rinnie, you can't leave so soon," she whined, her voice laced with disappointment.

rin hesitated, his fingers still lingering at the nape of his neck as he avoided her gaze. “i really should go…” he mumbled, though his voice lacked conviction. the warmth in her eyes made it harder to leave, and the way she said his name sent an unfamiliar flutter through his chest.

y/n huffed, stepping closer. “just a little longer?” she pressed, tilting her head. “the night’s still young, and besides…” she tugged gently at his sleeve, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “you still owe me from when you left my house early last time.”

rin’s lips parted slightly, caught between the urge to stay and the instinct to retreat. he could feel the expectant stares of the others, waiting to see if he’d cave. after a beat of silence, he exhaled in defeat, dropping his hand from his neck.

“…fine. but just for a little while,” he muttered, refusing to meet her eyes.

y/n beamed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back down beside her. “that’s the spirit! now, where were we?” she grinned, settling in close, her shoulder just barely brushing against his.

rin swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the space—or lack thereof—between them. training could wait just a little longer.

"ah, there he goes again, giving in so easily," otoya teased, leaning back on his hands with a smirk. "rin, you're getting soft."

"shut up," rin muttered, crossing his arms as he looked away, his ears burning.

yukimiya chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "you say that, but we all saw how fast you sat back down."

naomi nudged riya with her elbow, giggling. "he acts all serious, but y/n has him wrapped around her finger."

"obviously," riya agreed, grinning. "it's kind of cute, though."

rin groaned, rubbing his temples. "can we talk about something else?"

"alright, alright, leave the poor guy alone," yukimiya said with an amused chuckle, watching rin sink further into himself. "he’s already regretting staying."

"as he should," otoya grinned, leaning forward. "but, hey, since we're all here, might as well keep the fun going. someone tell a story or something."

"oh! i have one!" naomi piped up, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "but it's kind of embarrassing..."

"even better," riya laughed, nudging her. "spill."

naomi hesitated for a moment before groaning. "fine. so, last week, i was rushing to practice, right? and i tripped—like full-on face-planted—right in front of coach. but instead of helping me up, he just looked at me and went, 'get up, naomi. this is why we work on balance training.'"

the group burst into laughter, even rin couldn’t help the small chuckle that slipped past his lips.

"damn, no sympathy at all," otoya wheezed. "brutal."

"right?" naomi groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "it was so bad."

y/n giggled, leaning against rin’s shoulder slightly without even realizing it. "at least you can laugh about it now," she said, smiling at her friend.

rin stiffened at the sudden contact, his heart stuttering in his chest. he glanced down at y/n, but she was too busy laughing with the others to notice. his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he exhaled and looked away, his fingers curling slightly against his knee.

maybe staying a little longer wasn’t so bad after all.

taglist: @levihanmyotp

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mitsua · 3 days ago

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TIME FOR DESSERT!

synopsis: izuku with an s/o who likes to cook desserts frequently (0.46k)

so we all know about that whole thing that izuku sees himself doing with a partner? the crepes thing? and what would happen if his very own partner knows and likes to cook them frequently?

crepes, cupcakes, pies, brownies, cakes, you name it. You've liked cooking since you remember, little by little you got more interested in the sweet side of cook so from then on, you learned hundreds of recipes!

we cannot forget to mention that everyone who's tasted your pastries has fallen in love with them at the first bite, they always end up asking if you've ever thought of opening a cafe or a bakery yourself.

probably you cooked sweet breakfasts and lunch for yourself when you grew up going to school, prefering your cooking or due to absent parents by those times, whatever reason, all your classmates and friends would come up to you and ask for a taste to the mouth-watering food you brought—highschool being no exception.

izuku would compliment your food every time he eats it, when you first started dating and you offered a bit with the same fork or spoon you used in front of all your friends he'd get all nervous and take the food quickly, his hands rapidly finding their way to cover his burning cheeks, he stutters a small thank you and you'd smile softly because of the cuteness overdose he gives you.

wether you open a bakery or cafe, or not, be sure Izuku would be with you all the way as much as he can while working. he'd ask if you need any ingredients when he's on his way home and goes to grab it to the market.

you'd surprise him on each of your anniversaries with a new recipe or commemorating an old one. some other days, on your early couple days, you'd ask izuku which dessert does he want you to cook and he'd get embarrassed or nervous about anything he could answer you with—so you'd end up choosing for both of you and with him helping you in the kitchen even as you told him multiple times that there's no need since you offered to make yourself.

he wouldn't budge so you let him, and till the date, if he's present when you get cooking, he'd offer a hand in anything you need help with the excuse of "it'd be faster this way" everytime. however, he sneaks some kisses throughout the process and if the recipe asks to put the food in the oven, mind that izuku will have his arms wrapped around your waist until the clock beeps again.

after all, i think izuku is a great partner to have if you like baking or cooking in general—all those muscles crave your food now!

repost from my @mitsuas-priv account 2024. likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

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haguenauisforlovers · 1 day ago

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♡ kiss and make up in haguenau ♡

HAGUENAU IS FOR LOVERS A Webgott Valentine’s Week Fan Event Feb. 12 - Feb 18, 2025

It's happening!! D-11 to Haguenau Is for Lovers: A Webgott Valentine's Week Fan Event. Become the fujo WW2 wife and pull up a cuck chair, write your sick fics and create beloved shit posts in celebration of two haters who are obsessed with each other: Joe Liebgott x David Webster. (Thank you so much for the support so far! Mwah!)

Need a refresher about the event? Click ‘Keep Reading’ for rules, FAQs, and The Good Stuff. Or head over to our Navigation post.

What is it?

A week-long Valentine’s Webgott fan event where you can create beautiful and sick things for every tiny interaction between the two in the land of lovers, depression facial hair, and night patrols: WWII Haguenau. ‘Haguenau is for Lovers 2025’ starts on a Webgott Wednesday and will run from Feb. 12 - Feb 18, 2025. This fan event would like to thank this post by @randlemartin for being iconic, and for literally providing the title of it all.

EVENT DATES TO REMEMBER

Prompts poll open: Dec. 18, 2024

Prompts poll close: December 26, 2024

Prompts reveal: Dec. 28, 2025

Fan event start: Feb 12, 2025

Fan event end: Feb 18, 2025

FIC SUBMISSION DATES TO REMEMBER

AO3 Collection open for Submissions: Feb 12, 2024

Fic collection reveal: Feb 14, 2024

Fic collection close: Feb. 18, 2024

*This page will begin reblogging posts with @haguenauisforlovers mentioned, and/or posts tagged with #haguenauisforlovers or #webgottvday on Feb. 12, 2025.

FAQs

Who can join and what can they contribute?

All those who are part of Webgott nation near and far. This event will be hosted primarily on Tumblr so to participate, you must have a Tumblr account. AO3 accounts are optional but highly encouraged, especially if participating authors prefer to lock their fics for AO3 users only. This fan event is open to: - Fics - AMVs and edits - Fan Art - Webweaves and Moodboards - GIFs - Playlists - Meme nonsense - Historical research, baby

RULES AND GUIDELINES

1. Main Relationship: Joe Liebgott/David Webster This is a Webgott event. That’s what it’s all about, baby. 2. Inclusion of other Ships: Ships apart from Webgott are welcome as background/implied (OC/Canon, Big Ships, Rare pairs). examples: Fic: Baberoe sharing an excruciatingly tender moment in the background while Joe and Web glare at each other in a gay way. Text post/GIF sets: Other ships sharing Tender/Cute moments in Haguenau vs. Joe and Web at each other’s neck at Haguenau 3. Tracking and Reblogging: This page will reblog posts with @haguenauisforlovers mentioned, and/or posts with tagged with #haguenauisforlovers or #webgottvday 4. AI-generated content is not allowed. Romance is created not generated. All Webgott works found here will be organic and free-range. RPF is honest work for real, beautiful, flesh-and-blood sickos. 5. [Fic Specific] Can we do AUs? AUs can be incorporated in, but fics should be set primarily in Haguenau. example: Post-war is allowed but they have to be reminiscing about Haguenau. Modern AU but they’re thrown into a time machine and land right smack behind enemy lines. You get what we mean. 6. Zero-tolerance Policy: Don’t be a dick actually. :) Please be civil and respectful toward one another. There is a zero tolerance policy for posts and/or comments that contain personal attacks or attempts at doxxing. Comments/posts promoting homophobia/racism/ableism or Nazi glorification will be removed. Similarly, there is also a zero tolerance policy for disrespecting characters, pairings, or kinks. This is a YKINMK (Your Kink Is Not My Kink) zone.

*Unironic Webster haters, please sit this one out. That's First and Second Platoon’s job. Cobb, Martin, and IRL Malarkey signed up twice.

Will there be prompts?

Yes! You can find the prompt list here.

What is a prompt?

A thought starter, brain lube if you will. Prompts are there to 1) spark any ideas for your works, whether they’re edits, gif sets, text posts, or fics; 2) keep you on theme. You don’t have to use them as is, but they’re there to help you jumpstart an idea. e.g. Prompt: Spit Fic: Web finally spits out what he’s been wanting to tell Joe since day GIF Set: Side by side: Web open mouthed, Lieb spit compilation

Do I have to use every prompt for each day?

No, you don’t! You can choose one (1) of the prompts, or incorporate all four prompts if you’re a beautiful overachiever like that.

Do I have to participate/create something for every day of the fan event?

Not at all! This is a: No Pressure Zone. Create and post for the event as much or as little as you want. On the same note, just engaging with the posts created by others or the page is already active participation with the fan event. Haguenau is for Lovers just wants a fun week where we all hyperfixate on Webgott in love together (more than usual). Don’t feel the need to put something out everyday single day.

Do I have to participate/create something for every day of the fan event?

Not at all! This is a: No Pressure Zone. Create and post for the event as much or as little as you want. On the same note, just engaging with the posts created by others or the page is already active participation with the fan event. 'Haguenau is for Lovers' just wants a fun week where we all hyperfixate on Webgott in love together (more than usual). Don’t feel the need to put something out everyday single day. <3

Why Haguenau?

Because it’s for LOVERS. Caress Band of Brothers episode 8 “The Last Patrol” in your hands and say a prayer to RPF. Anything can happen at the tailend of war, but especially falling in love. Get as snug as a bug, and let your Webgott imagination roam wild and free in war-torn Haguenau. But on a more serious note, Easy Company was stationed there during Valentine’s Day 1945. Historical accuracy, our collective beloved.

Any more questions?

The inbox is open! All questions will be answered as promptly as possible. If you’re submitting through anon, you can track your answered questions through the ASK TAG.

#egg on and fall in love with a coworker/a quasi nemesis #like follow reblog all appreciated ♡#we're sooooo close!!#signal boost helps us all ♡♡♡♡#band of brothers #webgott #joe liebgott #david webster

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echoingbirdsofprey · 2 days ago

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Back Forty View (On Our Piece Of Ground)

7 - You're What My World Spins Around

Pairings: Tyler Owens x OFC Georgia Tennley-Owens, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: EXPLICIT (MDNI!)

Warnings: Birth of a child, Mentions of death, swearing as every other chapter I don't even put it anymore hahah

A/N: I feel like this chapter is kinda crap? Idk, but anyway we are finally here, it's time for baby Jaycen to be born! Total disclaimer, I tried to do my research but I don't know shit about pregnancy or babies or any of that so I did my best with details. No, I did not go into full details of the labor and all that just kind of glanced over it. I just felt this this was a huge plot point that's been looming for so long that I need to just get it down. As always comments, reblogs, likes, and feedback is always appreciate 100%. Thank y'all for continuing reading! Pics from pinterests! Gifs by @kaizsche I hope you enjoy this one.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @dizzybee03 @coloraturadiva @kmc1989

Tyler and Jake were born in the very early morning and gave their mother hell. Well, Jake did more so than Tyler, but altogether her labor had been nearly forty hours. Tyler came into the word silent as the night and Jake came screeching like a fighter jet, his attempt to break the sound barrier at the first try. The joke became, as the boys got older that Tyler snuck into the world and Jake came in like he'd been left behind by Tyler, and that he was pissed about it. Their father, Randall Owens, was the proudest man on earth, and the most supportive too. He took as much time off as he could when Jeanie had the boys. He spent as much time as her, if not more sometimes, with the boys, getting to know their individual personalities and their quirks. In most ways the boys were the same, but in some they were totally opposite.

For a long time after Randall died, Jeanie was devastated. She didn’t know how to go on without him, but she figured it out. She raised up two wild little boys who were always getting in trouble, and always just like their father in the one way that carried them through life. Both of Jeanie Owens' boys had compassion for others.

Both of her boys were lovers and fighters. She’d taught them to always give people a chance, but to be adamant when they wanted something and to not settle. She taught them to go after their dreams. That’s why Tyler worked his ass off becoming the best bull rider he could. That’s why Jake got top of his class at the Naval Academy and got into the Top Gun program. That’s why both boys were both book smart and street smart. That’s why both of Jeanie’s boys, when they wanted something, they went after it and didn’t give up until they got it.

Nothing was handed to Tyler and Jake. Jeanie didn’t bend when it came to rules. She made them do chores from a young age to learn responsibility. She made them care for all the horses. They were driving before they were supposed to be. And when Jeanie met Kenneth Seresin, those boys gave him hell. The boys were respectful of course, but that didn’t mean they didn’t challenge Kenny. What they remembered of Randall was how he had been with Jeanie. Always gentle with her, always supportive, and even though at their young ages they didn’t quite understand all of it, they remembered it later in life. There had been so much love in the little ranch in Dardanelle, Arkansas and until Kenny showed them the same level of reverence for their mother, those boys gave him a run for his money.

Kenny did everything with Tyler and Jake that he could. It was as if he was trying to make up for lost time and the loss of their father. He tried to be the best replacement to Randall that he could. He took them to roping events and the high school rodeos to compete. He took them up in military helicopters and on base before he was honorably discharged due to an injury, He helped them fix old beat up trucks that the boys had bought with their own savings. He taught them that no matter when you meet a person, you can love them as if you’ve always loved them their entire life. Tyler and Jake knew he wasn't their father by blood, but because of how he was with them, they treated him all the same in the end. And Kenny was damn proud to call those boys his sons.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

Tyler and Dustin took turns caring for Ducati, but not without Georgia right there, on the outside of the pen. By Tyler’s rules, until Jaycen was born, she wasn’t allowed in the pen with the horse, just in case he spooked or charged at her. However, the mustang was proving more trustworthy each day. Each time Dustin went in, whether it was to scrub his waters and refill them, pick out his poop, give him hay, or throw him grain, Ducati followed him just like the puppies. When Tyler went in to do the same chores, Ducati only wanted Tyler to love on him. Tyler would rub the mustang’s forehead, and then his neck, and he’d even offer his belly and his back for scratches. After a week, Tyler was able to touch the horse all over. After two, he was able to pick up each of his feet, without a halter, and after three...well Georgia wanted Tyler to try and throw a saddle pad over his back.

“Gee, I don’t know. Seems kinda fast.” Tyler said, as Ducati pushed his neck toward Tyler, begging to be scratched. Tyler obliged readily and then he glanced at Georgia, who had thrown the saddle pad over the top bar of the panels.

“He trusts you. I trust you. Just give it a try.” Georgia said softly, reaching out to rub Ducati’s nose. Tyler slowly took the saddle pad from the top bar and held it out for the gelding to sniff. He was uninterested and just pushed his neck toward Tyler again. Tyler raised a brow and then touched the gelding with it. Again, uninterested. Tyler tilted his head and then gingerly placed the pad on Ducati’s back. The gelding glanced at him and licked his lips.

“She said he’d had a saddle on.” Georgia said, sneaking a piece of carrot from her pocket to the gelding’s awaiting mouth. He churches happily on it and then turned his nose toward Tyler.

“Got nothin’ bud, sorry. Just a silly saddle pad.” Tyler chuckled as Ducati poked his nose toward Georgia’s belly. She smiled and Tyler spoke again. “He’s smart that’s for sure. I figured since she said he had been buckin’, he wouldn’t be too keen on the saddle pad at all.”

“I think he doesn’t care much about the equipment. She didn’t give us the full story. I’d put money on him spookin’ at somethin’ while she was ridin’ and he bucked, bolted, and got her off. She was too scared to get back on so he’s probably squirrelly under saddle, not on the ground. I think he was how he was at her place because she never got rid of any of that anxiety. She just left it in there. Here, he didn’t feel like he needed any anxiety because we were gentle and calm from the start. And you’re not afraid of anythin’ so.” Georgia explained, as Tyler’s gaze settled on Ducati. The gelding swished his tail and cocked a hip.

“Can you get Jake?” He asked and Georgia nodded, going back into the barn. Jake had been helping to muck out the stalls and Georgia had put Sam in charge of brushing horses. Georgia was determined at some point to get Sam on one of their horses and see if she remembered how to ride.

“Hey Jake, Tyler needs you.” Georgia said, just as Jake was pushing the wheelbarrow out of the stall he had been cleaning. He closed the door behind him and pushed the wheelbarrow out the front so that he could dump it after. Tyler, being ever ingenuitive, had come up with a dump trailer and manure spreader to use for the back fields, effectively fertilizing them so that when the summer came around, the horses would have beautiful grass to go out on.

“Can you grab my saddle?” Tyler asked as Jake stepped out of the barn. He immediately doubled back and Georgia inhaled a sharp breath.

“Okay, now who’s pushing it?” She asked, as she hung her arms over the rail. Ducati once again, placed his nose gently at her belly. Jaycen kicked hard then and Georgia closed her eyes and groaned softly.

“Did he just talk back for me ?” Tyler smirked, as he placed his hand on her belly.

“I think so. That hurt a bit.” She said and Tyler chuckled as Jake reappeared, Tyler’s huge roping saddle easily slung over one arm.

“Seems like Jaycen wants his horse ready for when he comes out.” Tyler joked and Jake threw the saddle over the panel so Tyler could pull it down. Georgia kept her eyes on Ducati the whole time and the mustang barely moved. In fact, he looked bored.

“Okay buddy, let’s try somethin’ huh?” Tyler said, stepping over to Ducati with the saddle. He gave an out loud count of one, two, three and then swung the saddle up and onto the horse’s back. Ducati flinched a little at the weight, but his expression stayed the same and he licked his lips again. Tyler reached under to grab the cinch and secure it, then the back cinch. He pulled the breastplate around and buckled that before stepping back. Ducati simply followed Tyler, seeming to not even notice the saddle that had been put on him.

“Do I dare?” Tyler asked, glancing at Georgia, then Jake.

“If you’re gettin’ on, I’m takin’ a video for Tiktok, you dumb sonofabitch.” Jake laughed and held up his phone. “Dumb ways to die!” He sung, which made Tyler laugh, but not Georgia. She glared at him.

“ Don’t be stupid, Tyler. ” She said. Tyler patted Ducati and then turned to Georgia with a small smile.

“Oh let me have a little fun, darlin’.” He mused as he reached over the gate to grab the rope halter they had been using for the gelding. It was old and tattered, but still solid. Ducati walked over, placing his nose through the halter and letting Tyler secure it. He rubbed the horse’s neck and then brought him to the middle of the pen. “Any advice before I ruin this horse, Peach?”

“If you get on and he bucks you off...well...you’re fixin’ it later, Arkansas .” Her tone was well on the way to annoyed. Tyler placed his foot in the stirrup, bouncing a few times and paying attention to the horse’s ears. They flicked back and forth and he blinked a few times, but stood remarkably still. Tyler jumped up and laid across the saddle, then hopped back down. He repeated this step a few times before finally swinging his leg over the other side. He felt Ducati go round and suck up his belly underneath the saddle. Tyler grabbed the horn and the back of his saddle, ready for whatever was about to happen. Everyone held their breath, except Tyler. He took a deep breath and as if he was back in the chute, he blew the breath out at the same time as Ducati exploded into the air.

He vaguely heard Georgia yell at him, he heard Jake whoop and shout and he saw Sam and Dustin run out of the barn from the corner of his eye. Tyler pulled himself tight to the saddle and as Ducati quite literally bronced underneath him, Tyler fought the urge to move his legs in a spurring motion like he used to do when he rode bulls. Even though it had been years, it was hard to quell something that had been so ingrained in his brain as a habit.

They made it about two times around the round pen before Ducati lost his balance and hit Tyler’s leg on the panel, scaring himself and making Tyler yelp. Georgia turned away, the nauseous dread creeping up from the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t watch. Jake was still filming and both Sam and Dustin’s mouths were ajar in awe as Tyler too lost his balance, lost his grip on the cheyenne roll on the back of the saddle, and scared Ducati even more as he tumbled from the mustang’s back onto the dirt. He landed with a loud thud, on his ass and Ducati immediately froze.

“TYLER!” Georgia nearly screamed, knowing he’d fallen. The wind had been knocked out of him, but when she heard him laughing, she sighed heavily, relieved. “You fuckin’ idiot! I say it out of love and because you scared me, but you’re a dumb ass!”

“Ah, I never thought I’d be so turned on havin’ my pregnant wife reprimand me.” He chuckled and coughed, then shot her a flirty glance as he stood stiffly and rubbed his ass. If looks could kill, Tyler would be a dead man walking up to kiss his wife. She brushed the dust off of him and glanced around him. Ducati had walked up behind him, apologetically. Tyler rubbed the gelding’s nose. “Bud, not your fault. I pushed ya. I also fell off. Bad ridin’ on my part.”

“Well, now you have to do it again.” Georgia said, tugging at his shirt. He leaned down and kissed her again and then smirked. Jake was doubled over, laughing his ass off, and Sam smacked him gently. Jake stood and took a deep breath before leaning back on the panels.

“Yes ma’am. Anythin’ I could do different?” Tyler asked, as he was ready to mount up again. He was a little shaky and his hips were stiff, but he knew if he didn’t get back on it would be bad for both of them. Tyler had dissociated during the bucking fit, trying to block out any sort of fear or anxiety he had, although it didn’t feel the same as it did with the bulls. He felt like he could trust Ducati. He knew he couldn’t trust the bulls. And, he lost his balance and fell because he started thinking. He figured if he stayed on this time, Ducati might quit bucking on his own, knowing that his rider could stick it out and not be afraid.

“Just don’t fall off again. You’re gonna be sore as hell tomorrow.” Georgia said softly, placing her head on her hands on the panel rail. She blew out a long breath as Tyler climbed aboard again.

“That the first time you been bucked off since your accident?” Jake asked and Tyler nodded.

“Wasn’t that bad, He’s not trying to get me off, he’s just scared shitless. If I can stick it, he’ll quit.” Tyler said, looking to Georgia for guidance. He picked up the rope and not feeling Ducati ball up this time, he asked him to turn left. Ducati obliged, moving off softly. Tyler asked for a little more speed, clicking his tongue to get the horse to trot. He wiggled his legs a little as well, unsure of how much education the horse had. Ducati scooted forward and when Tyler didn’t tense up, the horse took a breath and let it out.

Tyler asked for a little more again, urging the horse to canter. As soon as he stepped into it, Ducati became overwhelmed with worry and went to bucking again. He folded in two and Tyler quickly grabbed for the saddle. The bucking fit was shorter this time and Tyler stayed on successfully, letting Ducati come down to a trot again. He asked for canter, got a few crow hops, then Ducati slowed down. The little horse had a comfortable trot and an even canter that Tyler asked for once more. There was no broncing this time and as Ducati cantered around a little, Tyler realized what he had just done. He let Ducati come to a full halt, right by Georgia.

“How’d I do?” He asked, rubbing the horse all over, just making sure he was okay with everything that was going on. Georgia nodded.

“Not bad, Arkansas. You might get good at this if you keep at it.’ Georgia teased and Tyler leaned over the panels to kiss her. He dismounted and immediately removed the tack and handed it all to Jake to take back in the barn. Georgia turned and began to walk back into the barn, satisfied with her husband’s stupidity that actually worked out in the end. She threw a lascivious grin his way and waved as she spoke. “You might even get a surprise later on.”

Tyler’s eyes widened and he smiled. He glanced at Dustin, who pursed his lips and motioned for him to go follow Georgia. Jake and Sam had headed back into the barn to finish up what they had been doing. Tyler knew he'd be sore for a few days but it was worth it if he helped Ducati feel a little better, and made less work for Georgia once she could get back on and put some more time into him.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

Jake had taken to doing extra sessions with the puppies and he even helped Tyler with their dogs. Ryker had imparted upon Jake that it was imperative to be consistent with the dogs, so while down in Oklahoma, Jake spent at least two hours each day with each dog. One in the morning and one at night if he could, going through every aspect of training that he had learned so far. Sam spent about an hour with each dog as well, usually taking them as a group for a walk. They wanted the dogs well rounded in a pack and as individuals so doing this would only help and it made the bond between the three dogs stronger too. Jake had even taught Sam everything in the short amount of time that they’d been there.

Ballast exceeded every expectation that Ryker had for the pup. Jake never had any, so Ballast surprised him at every turn. At just over eight months old, the dog was essentially a lanky, mini version of what he would be as an adult. The bite work was where Ballast really shined. Jake already had a competition ready focus heel available at any moment. Jake could out Ballast from any bite with just his voice command. And Ballast would take down anyone for Jake. A true protection dog in the making. Jake noticed something else though and that was that Ballast was also fiercely loyal to Samantha. That was ultimately what Jake wanted, so that when he wasn’t around, Samantha wouldn't have to worry about a thing. He knew Rocco would give his life for Sam, but Ballast would back him up and avenge that death if he had to, tenfold.

Muster on the other hand, was not what they expected. She excelled in all the obedience and protection work. Her bite work was great and she was a powerful little fur missile in her own right, but Muster wanted much more than anything to cuddle and hang out with Sam. Muster was absolutely Sam’s dog and while she liked Jake, she found solace in Samantha’s company. Muster also knew that Georgia was pregnant and if the cattle dogs and Ballast got too rambunctious around her, Muster would break it up. The female dog knew the importance of rest and recuperation for everyone. She wasn’t exactly a party pooper, but she did like her peace and quiet. She was a calming presence for the other dogs and that was an excellent thing to have with such a high drive, high energy pack.

Jake had even taken to teaching Rocco some of the obedience training. Rocco actually took to it pretty well too, considering his breed. Dachshunds tended to be stubborn and difficult to work with if you didn’t know how to motivate them. Jake figured out that Rocco’s motivation was simply pleasing Samantha so any time he worked with Rocco, he made sure that Sam was there and she was ready to praise him. Jake had never thought he’d grow to love the little dog as much as he did, but there was a special spot in his heart for Rocco. One that he thought would be empty from Dixie forever, but he was certain that the little red dog might be able to fill that hole with his big, courageous personality.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

Georgia firmly believed that just like the calves and foals that her father used to raise, it wasn't up to mom when the baby came. It was all up to when that baby wanted out. And at exactly nine months to the day, Jaycen Alexander Owens decided he was ready to see the world for the first time.

Georgia had been laying down for the majority of the day, not feeling particularly well. She’d been somewhat nauseous all day. She picked at the lunch that Tyler had made and when she decided she couldn’t lay down any longer, she elected to take a walk outside, ending up in the barn, which she had come to expect. She’d felt some pressure in her pelvis just after lunch. She mentioned it to Tyler and he’d been concerned, checking in on her every hour or so after that. She’d also felt like when she went back out around dinner time, that she was waddling like a penguin. Her steps felt particularly heavy the longer she stayed out there and she was nearly done feeding the horses. She just had to drop grain but she had an overwhelming feeling that something wasn’t right.

Tyler had been working on his truck, had gone in for a shower because he had oil and soot everywhere, and had come back out to help Georgia finish feeding the horses dinner. He’d assumed that was where she was when he didn’t find her in their bedroom or on the couch. Jake hadn’t noticed her step out either. When he walked into the barn, Georgia was standing frozen, looking down at the barn floor. Her water had broken and it was time.

“Gee? You okay?” Tyler placed a hand on her back, feeling her shaking.

“Tyler...we have to go to the hospital. Like now.” She said, glancing at him and he could see fear in her eyes, wide as she tried to breathe evenly.

“Wait why...oh..oh shit...baby's comin?” Tyler's eyes widened too and he took her hand and began to lead her to the front of the barn.

“Very much yes!” She exclaimed as they crossed the threshold of the barn.

“Got it hold on! I'll be back in a sec!” He said, letting her lean on the door frame. He called the dogs and swung the front door open, yelling to his brother.

“Jake! Start my truck! Gotta get to the hospital. Dogs! Inside!” Tyler yelled as he burst through the door, all six dogs bounding through the open space, nearly knocking him over in the process.

“Baby time?” Jake asked excitedly, leaping from the couch and grabbing his boots. Sam, who had been sitting next to him, got the dogs settled, and then grabbed her shoes as well.

“Baby time!” Tyler exclaimed, turning on his heels to go help Georgia the rest of the way to the truck.

“Woohoo! I'm aboutta be an uncle! And you’re gonna be an aunt!” Jake hugged Sam, then kissed her hard, making her giggle as they headed out the door. Once they were all settled in the truck, they were off.

Tyler made the drive short, nearly getting pulled over, but the cop recognized them and knowing that Georgia was pregnant, realized why Tyler Owens, the Tornado Wrangler, was speeding down Interstate 177. They took Georgia to a room immediately and got her prepped. Tyler helped her change into a hospital gown, his hands gentle as they then guided her into the open space of the room. Dr. Ginnie Halstead was going to be helping deliver, and she was the one they'd been seeing throughout all of their appointments, so they were comfortable with her. Then the waiting began.

Jake had made sure that the bag in the back of Tyler’s truck with everything that Georgia needed, including some extra clothes for them both, some of the onesies they’d gotten for Christmas, extra toiletries, and some snacks among other things, had made its way into the room. He and Sam were going to stay until Georgia was actively giving birth, then they would step out and let her and Tyler be with each other.

“Tyler, this is too early.” Georgia said, as she paced back and forth. Her contractions were getting closer together, slowly but surely.

“Doc said it’s fine. Everything’s been good so far. Sometimes they come a little early. We wanted this.” He said, finally sitting down after having followed her back and forth for the past thirty minutes.

“I know but it feels too early .” She said softly, glancing over at Jake and Sam. They were curled on the small couch that was situated in the corner of the room. The room itself was nice, a little larger than a normal single bed, plenty of space to move around, a spot for the baby and a full bathroom with a shower. The lighting was softer than a normal hospital suite and it put Georgia at ease, slightly.

“It feels too early because we were both freaking out about this like a month ago and now we're here. It’s actually happening.” Tyler said, reaching for her, stopping her.

“Why are you so calm right now?” Georgia asked, pausing her pacing.

“Well one of us has to be and it sure as shit ain’t you. Respectfully darlin’, you’re supposed to be a little scared.” Tyler’s eyes were soft as he watched her from his seat on the bed. His hand lingered at her side and as soon as the next contraction came, she was off again, walking back and forth. She breathed in and out, slowly and carefully. They subsided and her eyes met his.

“You’re not scared?” She asked. Tyler stood, walking toward her slowly. He pulled her into his arms, his hands careful around her waist.

“I’m terrified but I’m holding it together for you.” He admitted readily. This stirred Jake’s attention, just as Georgia began walking again. Even though Jake knew how to be with Sam, he was still taking notes from his brother.

Several hours later, and lots of pacing, Georgia’s legs were starting to shake. She had been walking and pausing endlessly. She feared for when she needed to be still and that time was coming rapidly. Dr. Halstead had come in a few times to check on her and see how her pain was. They’d decided she was going to have an epidural as close as possible to when she needed to push, as sometimes the epidural could slow down the process.

Tyler had pulled her onto the bed, putting a halt to her pacing that was becoming slightly frantic. He situated her between his legs and began to massage her shoulders.

“Just breathe, mama. You got this.” He whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. She leaned back against him and grinned. He'd removed his boots so that he could be on the bed with her, so for the past hour or so he'd been sliding around in his socks.

“At least your feet don't stink.” She murmured, taking a deep breath as another contraction steamrolled over her. He felt her shudder as she grabbed for his legs and leaned forward. His lips turned up as they met the back of her neck.

“No, darlin’ they don't.” He chuckled softly as the doctor came in to let them know that the anesthesiologist would be along shortly to administer her epidural, so Tyler would have to scoot out from behind her, but he took up until the last second that he could to stay there. He had taken to massaging down her back and her sides until he had to get up. He took a hold of one of her hands and gently pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Gettin’ about that time. You ready?” He asked. She nodded and squeezed his hand as she felt pressure at her back where the doctor positioned the needle and administered the medication. It only took about twenty minutes for Georgia to feel some relief.

Sam and Jake elected to leave the room then. Jake shook his brother's hand, hugged him, and kissed Georgia gently on the top of her head. Sam hugged Tyler and she rubbed her hand up and down Georgia's arm a few times.

“Good luck!” Jake said as he and Sam marched out of the room and headed to the waiting area. The doctor and another nurse came in and prepared everything for the next stage. Georgia grabbed for Tyler then, nearly crushing his hand.

“Tyler. Don't go anywhere. Please.” She said, her eyes darting to his. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. He knew she was scared shitless right now.

“No need to worry. I'm gonna be right here the whole time. No matter what.” He said softly. He stood to the side of the bed, as close as he could to her, his arm around her shoulders. Their doctor smiled as her and the nurse readied everything they needed in the event of complications. They had discussed what could go wrong and what they would do if something did happen, but they were hoping for an easy birth.

“If it will help and you're comfortable with it, Tyler can sit behind you like he was earlier. I find especially with first time mothers, the more encouraging their birth partner is, the smoother it goes.” The doctor explained and without hesitation, Georgia scooted forward so that he could climb in behind her again. He locked her in with his legs on either side of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He kissed her cheek, then rested the side of his head against hers. Georgia shifted uncomfortably, and Dr. Halstead reassured her that everything looked good so far.

“Okay, Georgia, you're gonna push on my count, ready? One, two, three, push!” Dr. Halstead's voice was calm but somehow excited. Georgia bared down, and as she did her grip on Tyler's thighs tightened. He'd probably have bruises there, but it would all be worth it in the end.

At 3:01 AM, on February 28th, Jaycen Alexander Owens was born quietly, giving his parents the single most terrifying reason to hold their breaths...and a million reasons to finally let them out in relief.

Jaycen didn't cry at first. Just like his father, the boy was reserved from the moment his eyes opened and took his first breath. Georgia feared for the worst, but in hearing her son's little whine, she was overcome with emotion. She was exhausted, panting, sweating bullets but she was so relieved and tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched the nurse take him and clean him up.

Tyler was also crying. He wiped his tears on her shoulder as he waited for the nurse to bring their son to them. Now, it was all real. His dream had come true. After the nurse had dried him off, she wrapped Jaycen loosely in the blanket they brought, a sky blue one that was extra soft, and handed the little bundle to Georgia. She held him gently to her chest, the first skin to skin contact sending a wave of happiness through her. He was slightly cooler than she'd anticipated, but Dr. Halstead reminded her that she just went through labor with nothing more than the epidural. Her body temperature and heart rate was up like she’d run a marathon from the incredible feat she’d accomplished.

Tyler stayed seated behind her and peered over her shoulder at the seven pounds, three ounces with sparse sandy brown hair atop his head. He looked tiny in Georgia's arms and Tyler was sure he'd look even smaller in his own. He reached around and ran a single finger over the soft hair on Jaycen's head.

“That's our son, Gee. I'm so fuckin' proud of you, Peach.” He whispered, making her smile. She let out a sigh of relief as everyone else cleared the room. Dr. Halstead was going to let Jake and Sam know that Jaycen had arrived, but that Georgia needed to rest for a bit before they could go in and see her and the baby. The doctor gave Georgia a crash course on breastfeeding and helped her with the first time. When Jaycen took to it no problem, Dr. Halstead sighed.

“If only they could all be this easy!” She said and Tyler smirked.

“He’s an Owens. He’ll give us plenty of trouble later on.” He said and Dr. Halstead nodded. In order to make everything easiest for Georgia, they let her stay in the room she’d been in. As long as Jaycen remained healthy, they could take him home in the next couple of days, but for now, Tyler and Georgia would be staying there.

After resting for a bit, Tyler asked Jake and Sam to enter the room. Jaycen was sleeping comfortably in Georgia’s arms so they were quiet. Jake actually cried. They were, of course, happy tears, congratulating his brother with a bear hug. Georgia offered for him to hold Jaycen and he readily accepted. Jake was so careful taking his nephew. Tyler, trying to not immediately be a helicopter parent in any sense of the word, left Jake to hold Jaycen, knowing his brother was more than responsible enough to hold a baby. Especially his own nephew. Sam was careful as she brushed her fingertips over Jaycen's little hairy head. She smiled wide and glanced up at Jake.

“You look pretty good with a baby in your arms.” She mused and Jake chuckled.

“This is gonna be all I can think about, Sam.” He said softly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Over those couple of days, there had been an influx of people. Tyler and Jake’s parents were the first to show up, excited to meet their grandson with two legs. Then came all the Wranglers. Boone and Lily couldn’t wait to see the little bundle of joy. Javi came bearing gifts, some more clothes for Jaycen and he snuck away before Kate and Scott appeared. Kate was ecstatic, hugging Georgia and giving Tyler a punch on the arm. Scott was quiet and he simply congratulated them, but when Kate asked to hold Jaycen, it stirred something in Scott. Seeing the girl he’d developed feelings for with a baby in her arms, sent his mind to a far off place and he had no idea how to get his life there, or how to even begin the conversation he wanted to have with her. He wondered if it was even in his future. But that was all for another time. Dexter and Dani had popped in last, bringing some snacks for Tyler and Georgia and a little stuffed pony for Jaycen.

Tyler and Georgia couldn’t wait to bring Jaycen home to meet the dogs and the horses. God knows especially Ducati would be waiting for him.

#glen powell #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #tyler owens #jake seresin x oc #tyler owens x oc #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #twisters fanfic #twisters 2024

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staticscreenwriting · 7 hours ago

Text

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times II Joel Miller

Summary: Joel doesn't think he's deserving of love after all he did and all he went trough. Or maybe he's just scared. Either way he can't let himself fall for (Y/N). Now if only she'd stop sending him those damn postcards.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (I always try not to describe the reader physically, if I missed something please let me know so I can change it and make this "applicable" to every reader. Thank you!)

A/N: This is my entry for the dear-uary challenge by @jolapeno . My prompt was "Character A keeps finding X and traces them back to Character B, who might be leaving them intentionally—or not." And I chose Postcards as my form of epistolary.

TW: This is mostly angsty fluff. There is some talk of self doubt and loss of a child but I think that should be it.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

It all starts with a simple postcard tucked into the side pocket of his bag. Joel almost doesn’t realize it’s there, folded twice into a tiny square. It’s only when he’s looking for the list Maria gave him of all the things to look for on this run, that he grabs a hold of the card.

His gloves make it hard to unfold the small paper but it’s way too cold to take them off. Joel was never big on winter and snow, even before everything went to shit. He doesn’t like the way it lingers, the way it consumes you from the inside out. Now, an unforgiving cold is all he feels as a thick blanket of snow has settled upon Wyoming.

Bold bright letters scream out to him from the wrinkled paper “ Greetings from Tampa Florida. Wish you were here!”.

It’s one of those campy vintage ones where the letters are filled with drawings of landmarks and beaches. He remembers sending one just like this to his High School girlfriend when Dad took him and Tommy on a trip to Nashville when Joel was 16 maybe 17. It was a good trip, the last one they ever took together. Sometimes Joel wonders how his dad would deal with all of this. This new reality. This fucked up world. He always seemed so strong, so fearless. That man was unstoppable force and immovable object all at once. Every vulnerability Joel finds in himself, he’s sure was absent in his father. Maybe if he was a little more like his own dad he could’ve saved Sarah, could’ve spared Ellie the pain of living in this limbo of knowing and not knowing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Joel moves closer to the fire, his only light source other than the stars. There’s writing on the back, blue ink on off-white paper. It’s not a handwriting he knows and for a second he wonders if the card has been there ever since he found the bag years ago, back in Boston. But he would know that, right? Would've found it by now. This must be new. This must be meant for him.

“ I know you hate the cold. I know it makes you sad and gloomy, well gloomier than usual. So let me tell you about the hottest day I ever experienced. I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8 and my mom took me to Florida. Not Tampa (it was the only postcard I could find at the library), but Orlando. We went to fucking Disney World!! We didn’t have a lot of money back then so mom must’ve saved a long time for this. Anyway, Joel, it was so hot. Unbearably hot. My clothes stuck to my skin and my hair got all frizzy. Maybe July wasn’t the best time to go. The air was so thick and heavy, so moist (ew). It felt like breathing in honey, syrup maybe. I still had the best time. I know it doesn’t take away the cold but I hope I can take you away to that hot and humid Florida summer for one small moment. If not, there’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag. Made it myself. You never told me what your favorite color is. I hope you like blue. xx

P.S.: I wonder what happened to Disney World.”

A chuckle falls from Joel’s lips and forms a cloud against the sharp winter air. He's never been to Disney World. The Millers just weren’t a Disney World kind of family. They were more of a local fair kind of family. All corn dogs and funnel cakes and first kisses behind the bumper cars. Sarah would’ve loved Disney World though. Ellie too. Ellie who doesn’t even know what the hell Disney is. 14 years and the girl has no idea who Mickey Mouse is. What a surreal thought. What a strange world. More than 20 years and it still feels strange. Joel wonders if life will ever let him settle in this new reality. If one day this feels like home and not a bad dream. Not a cosmic punishment. A bad joke that no one’s laughing at anymore.

His eyes travel back towards the blue swirly writing. It’s not Ellie’s bad chicken scratch, he could pick that out of a line-up any day. This looks much neater, more deliberate, and thoughtful.

“There’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag.”

Quiet, as not to wake up the others sleeping just a few steps away, Joel opens the zipper on his bag and rummages through it with a gloved hand. There’s a bunch of stuff in there, food rations, ammunition, a second pair of gloves. Going on supply runs is not something Joel enjoys but it is a way for him to give back. To Tommy and Maria and the entire community. Jackson and its people have taken him and Ellie in as one of their own without much hesitation. They provided them with food, with shelter, with trust. He has so little to give in return. Going on a supply run to look for medicine and other necessities, that’s the least he can do.

Something soft and squishy meets his hand and he pulls out a dark blue woolen scarf. There are so many holes and even in the dim light of the campfire, Joel can tell those holes are not there on purpose. Maybe it was Ellie after all, but then she never showed any interest in knitting, and the idea of her doing just that is far too ridiculous. No matter how imperfect it is though, Joel has to admit the scarf does make him feel warmer as he wraps it around his neck.

“Hey,” Adam, one of the other guys on the run, speaks up from beside Joel, “you can catch some sleep if you want. I can take over the watch.”

It’s a strange thing, how sometimes you don’t notice just how tired you are or how hungry you are until someone points it out to you. Until they offer to take it from you. Then it hits you like a brick to the face. A wave pulling you under.

Joel feels his eyelids grow heavy and nods at the younger man. "Thanks".

This mystery, it can wait until tomorrow. Until then he will bury his face in the warm soft wool of the scarf and think of that Florida sun. And though it most definitely is just his imagination, Joel could almost swear the night feels a little less cold.

His boots leave deep imprints in the white icy blanket as he makes his way past the Tipsy Bison and the community hall further towards his house. His home.

No place has really felt like home in years. Not since all of this started. Everything was temporary. 4 walls and a roof. He wonders if this place will ever start feeling like home? Will he ever get to a point where he doesn’t wait for the second shoe to drop? It all feels like he’s Charlie Brown and life is Lucy pulling the football away at the last second. And it always ends with him falling. He’s so tired of falling. So tired of getting back up.

Joel almost expects the house to be silent as he steps inside. Ellie is slowly making friends with the other teens living in the settlement and is spending more time at their houses than she is at home. He can’t blame her. If he was more like his father he’d find it in himself to start conversations with people, get to know them, forge connections, make friends. Of the Miller boys, Tommy is the one who inherited their dad’s social gene though, Joel only got the snarl and the crippling inability to talk about his feelings.

Laughter echoes through the house as Joel rounds the corner connecting the entryway to the living room. Ellie’s laughter, loud and bright and light. As if for a moment all the horrors and the pain and the trauma have been taken from her.

When he steps into the kitchen, Joel understands.

(Y/N) is standing by the counter, a smile on her face so soft and radiant it might just rival the sun. That joy she brings out in Ellie, it’s familiar to Joel because he feels it too whenever (Y/N) is around. Not always but sometimes. It’s a spark of warmth that starts in his chest and crawls up his spine. It settles in his lungs, his heart, his brain. Like a parasite. Like a virus. Like a wonderful dream. He doesn’t allow himself to feel it all the time but sometimes, sometimes he can’t deny himself this little bit of warmth.

Joel can’t even remember when exactly (Y/N) became a part of their life. It’s like one day she was there and refused to leave. And really that’s kind of how it went. She works at the library and the school, lives across the street from him and Ellie and for some reason, she’s taken pity on them. Joel isn’t sure if it's him or Ellie she pities. Maybe a mix of both. Either way, she brought over some soup one day and that’s the beginning and end of it all. She’s wormed her way into Ellie’s heart and by extension his too. Whether he likes to admit it or not. Doesn't hurt that she's so damn beautiful too.

“Joel, you’re back!”

Ellie pulls him in a tight hug. It’s something Joel still has to get used to. Ellie isn’t a particularly affectionate person. She’s definitely not a hugger. And neither is Joel — not anymore at least. So when they do hug, it’s still a little strange. Not bad strange just unfamiliar.

“Yeah, I’m back.

“How did it go?” (Y/N) asks and meets his eyes over Ellie’s head. A silent conversation happening between her and Joel. It’s that thing she does where she doesn’t need to say a single word but Joel can tell exactly what she’s thinking just by the look in her eyes. He sometimes wonders if this is a them thing.

“Did someone die” her eyes are saying. “Did someone get hurt?”

“Did you get hurt?”

He quickly shakes his head answering her unspoken questions. Not this time.

“Good. It went good.”

Maybe the relieved sigh he sees her let out is just his imagination. But Joel doesn’t think so. Joel thinks it's very real.

“Did you bring us something? “

He can’t help but smile at that. It feels good to smile. In a world that gives you grief and sorrow, you start to count the moments when it gives you a reason to smile. They are few and far between but the number has surely increased since Ellie stepped into his life — and since (Y/N) did.

“I brought food and medicine. Isn’t that enough? “

A determined “no” falls from both their lips in a chaotic harmony.

“Geez, you guys are demanding.”

“Well — did you bring us something?”

Joel just rolls his eyes and rummages through his bag for the goods.

“For you— “ he says and throws the old wrinkled comic book towards Ellie who regards it with that endless sense of wonder she does possess. It’s the kind of spark that flickers and dies once you grow old. Or maybe just his did. Maybe grief leaves no room for wonder.

Placing his bag on the ground, Joel moves into the kitchen and holds out his loot to (Y/N). Green background. White goats. Yellow bubble letters.

“Oooooh, you did get me something. Pet Sounds, nice!”

There’s a spark in her too. Dulled and dusted from time but it is there and it flickers and grows every time Joel brings her a vinyl record from his trips outside of the settlement. In a world with so little joy, music seems to be one of the few things that hasn’t changed. In the face of immeasurable pain, humans turn to music. They have done so for a long time and judging by the world as is, they always will.

“I hope it works still. Didn’t really have a record player to try it out.”

“I’ll try it out as soon as I get to the library. Feel free to come by and listen with me.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Joel. I hope you didn’t have to do anything stupid to get this.”

He didn’t. Not this time. He would’ve though. It scares him how willing he is to put himself in danger just to get her something that will put that radiant smile on her face. He’d walk to the end of the earth if he knew there was a record there she wanted. That thought scares the shit out of him. It’s bad enough he cares so deeply about Ellie, about Tommy. The more people you care about, the more you open yourself up to hurt. Losing either of them would tear him apart. Joel is not sure he can handle opening his heart to yet another person no matter how much his heart wants just that.

“ Nah. No issues.”

“Good.”

She just looks at him for a moment. All soft eyes and gentle smile. There must be something she sees in him, Joel thinks, something he doesn’t see. A version of himself that he isn’t, that he will never be. A version he once was, maybe. A version he so desperately wishes he could be. For her.

“Well,” (Y/N) says and snaps him out of her enchantment “Ellie and I made some stew. I know you must’ve been freezing outside, some good warm stew might help warm you up a little.”

“It smells great.”

“You have impeccable timing because we just got done. So, dig in. And uh — I guess I’ll see you guys at the movie screening?”

He doesn’t want her to leave. The devil and the angel on his shoulders are both screaming at him to ask her to stay. And if he was any stronger a man, any more like his own father and more deserving of good things, he would ask her. To stay for dinner. To stay forever.

But he isn’t. And he doesn’t ask. Just watches as she wraps a scarf around her neck and slips into the thick jacket that's a few sizes too big on her.

“I left the recipe by the fridge. Just in case you ever want to cook it yourself.”

“Thanks.”

And he really is grateful. For her. For everything.

“Oh Joel,” she says and stops in the doorway. “I like that scarf. Blue looks really good on you.”

And then she’s gone, swallowed by the cold winter air.

Joel hasn’t thought about his favorite color in forever. It’s something you stop thinking about once you start growing hair on your chest and fantasizing about girls in a way you haven’t before. Kids talk about their favorite colors all the time. Sarah did. It’s just once you grow old you lose that sense of self, define yourself through different things.

Looking at the scarf now, all holes and imperfections, there is no doubt in his mind that his favorite color is blue.

“Have you ever been to Paris?”

The lights are dimmed in the big community hall, the movie playing on screen providing the only source of light as the people of Jackson have gathered for another movie night.

A glimpse into a world that was but no longer is and never will be again. And for some of them, like Ellie, a world that never was to begin with.

Ellie is sitting in the front with some of the other teens, her friends, Joel supposes. She has friends now.

“Joel, have you?”

A soft hand rests on his arm, shaking him from his gloomy thoughts. (Y/N) sits next to him, eyes focused on the pictures dancing across the screen. Ilsa and Rick, falling in love over and over again in Paris. The beginning of a love story doomed from the start.

“I uh — no. Never.”

“Me neither. I would’ve loved to go though. It looks beautiful.”

He doesn’t know why or how it happens but the words just flow from his mouth like a waterfall. For the first time in a while, he finds himself wanting to talk more. About the past. About Sarah.

“My daughter, Sarah, went to Paris once. Some school exchange program. They don’t usually do it until later but her French class was above average and I guess they won some contest. I don’t know it was a long time ago.”

“Sounds like she was a smart cookie.”

"Oh, she was. Too smart for me, that’s for sure. Was hard letting her leave and fly to a whole different continent though. I was scared out of my mind until she was back home. Drove Tommy crazy for a whole damn week.”

(Y/N) turns her face away from the screen and regards him with that infinite sense of something more. Soft and endearing. If he was a different man he would call it love. He would see the way she looks at him and he would kiss her stupid and life would be all sweet dreams and gentle touches.

But he is the man he is. Not worthy of whatever she is willing to give.

“What’re looking at me like that for?”

“It’s just sweet how much you care. About everyone. I think you don’t even know you’re doing it half the time.”

“Do what?”

“Care for others. For Ellie and me and all of us. You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I just wish you’d let someone take care of you for a change.”

He doesn’t need to be taken care of. He can do it all on his own. And anyway, he is not as good of a man as she thinks he is. Good men don’t have the blood of their loved ones stuck to their hands. Good men don’t let their daughters die in their arms. Good men don’t kill. Good men don’t do all the things he did.

Joel doesn’t want to be a good man. He just wishes he was good enough a man to allow himself to be with (Y/N).

“I ain’t a good man. And I don’t need someone to take care of me.”

“You wore that scarf, did you not? You allowed me to take care of you then.”

That damn scarf. He had a hunch it was her. The handwriting on the postcard matched the one of the recipe stuck to his fridge an awful lot. But it’s something else entirely to hear her say it outright.

“That was you, huh? Had an awful lot of holes that thing.”

“Hey, I never said I was good at knitting. You wore it anyway.”

Joel turns back towards the screen as Rick and Ilsa share a loving kiss.

“Yeah, I wore it anyway.”

And to the sound of bombs and tanks, (Y/N) rests her head on his shoulder.

That’s what you do for the people you love. Even if you don’t allow yourself to love them.

You wear the scarf anyway.

The mailbox flag is up. Bright red against the sharp white of the winter's day.

It’s never been up. People around here don’t get mail. It’s but an ancient relic of a life they used to live. Remnants of a society long gone.

But Joel is nothing if not curious. So he stomps up to the mailbox, leaving deep imprints in the freshly fallen snow.

It’s another postcard. Only this time it doesn’t come with a mystery. This time it comes with that silly little feeling that makes his heart beat just a little faster. That makes his head swirl with stupid thoughts of stupid dreams.

“From Paris with love,” it says on the front. Fucking Paris, of course.

Sometimes the way he feels about her is infuriating, confusing, scary.

And sometimes, like right now, it feels like a ball of warmth settles in his ribcage and warms him from the inside out.

“Dear Joel,

We’ll never have Paris. Not in this life at least. And while I would’ve loved to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle with you and make you eat a croissant (which you would’ve pretended to hate but I think you would’ve enjoyed it secretly), I am glad to get this life with you at least. Or alongside you. Whatever it is we are, I am glad this life gave me that in between all the pain. Despite what you like to tell yourself, Joel Miller, you are a spark of fire, a light in the dark. You are more than the sum of your failures, you are more than your pain. All the good that is in you, that counts. That’s all that matters in the end. And there is so much good in you.

I wish you’d let yourself see it.

We will never have Paris. But we’ll always have Jackson and that is enough for me. I hope it’s enough for you.

Here’s looking at you kid! ;) “

There’s a tragedy in knowing someone else sees all your good parts and none of the bad. A tragedy in knowing how much they like those good parts and being awfully aware that seeing all the bad parts would destroy them.

A tragedy in still wanting to show them all of you, even the ugly soul-destroying parts.

But if she thinks he’s a good man, then Joel needs to be just that. A good man who keeps those ugly parts hidden and away from her. Even if that means denying himself the one thing he wants.

“What’s that?” Ellie speaks up from beside him, a curious look on her face.

“Postcard.”

“Like what people would send from vacations and stuff?”

“Yeah, how do you know about that?”

She rolls his eyes at him and it’s one of those moments where he feels like a dad again. Those little moments that mean the world to him because he gets to feel like the old him. The Joel he thought was long dead and buried beside the bones of his own child.

“I watch movies? I talk to people? I read books? Take your pick.”

“Wow, when did you become such a smartass, huh?”

She shrugs his shoulders at him “Was born that way. Nothing I can do about it.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Hey, you’ve grown to love me! You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

And she isn’t wrong. Ellie, with all her curiosity and her bravery and her lust for life, whatever that life may look like, is exactly what he needed. Which makes him wonder if saving her from the fireflies was ultimately more of a selfish act than that of a heroic savior.

“Who’s it from?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, so (Y/N).”

His eyes flick up and he is met with that satisfied, mischievous grin that is so uniquely Ellie.

“What makes you think that?”

“You always change the subject when I bring her up. And that way you just jumped when I mentioned her? Yeah, you’re not slick, old man.”

“Hey! Who are you calling an old man?”

“You! Old and scared!”

“I’m not scared!”

Like hell he is. Terrified even. But there ain’t no way in hell he’ll admit that to Ellie. She’ll never let him hear the end of it.

“Then go talk to her! She likes you, you like her. Why do you have to make it so complicated?”

If only she knew all the ghosts swirling around inside of him threatening to break free. Things could be so easy. Only nothing ever is.

“Mind your own business, kid! Anyway, don't you have someplace to be? Think Dina came by earlier asking for you. You two are getting along well, huh?”

“Aaaand on that note. See you for dinner, old man!”

She’s gone before he can even hurl a reply at her. It pulls his lips into a smile. There’s no better way to get a teen to shut up than to bring up their crush. Nice to see that some things never change.

Another run. Another record.

Joel feels silly, standing here in front of her door with his heart beating fast and heavy as he clutches the vinyl record in his hand.

If Ellie saw him now, she’d surely make fun of him. Tommy too. Sarah even.

What happened, Joel? You used to be so brave. What makes you so afraid now?

Life, he thinks. Life has made him scared and bitter and sad.

“Did you wanna knock or — ?”

Joel turns around as the voice calls out to him. There it is again, that softness, that smile.

“Uh, yes.”

“Okay, good. Did you come to see me? Sorry, I was helping Maria at the farm.”

“Yeah no uh — don’t worry about it. I just came to drop this off”

Her eyes grow wide as she catches sight of which record it is he’s holding up.

“No way! The stranger! You found it.”

“ I did.”

He had to clear an old dilapidated bar full of clickers to get that record. Almost lost his damn arm in the process. But her smile, that god-damn, life-ruining, world-shattering, heart-beat-faster, smile of hers makes it all worth it. He would give both arms, all of him. He would give it all to see her smile.

“Do you wanna come in and listen to it with me? Got my player fixed so I don’t have to use the one at the library anymore.”

Say no. Just say no and go home. Be a good man! Be a better man!

But he’s not. For this one moment, he can’t be that man. He’s just as weak as the rest of them.

“Sure.”

This feels so — normal. So before everything. Different and twisted and warped. But normal.

It’s scary and comforting all at once. Like a tipsy dream when you know you’ll wake up with a headache for sure.

(Y/N) is twirling around her living room, a beer in hand and a smile on her face. Joel leans against the door connecting her living room and her kitchen and all he can do is stare. At this woman who means so much to him. Too much for him to ever put into words. If he even knew how to. He’s never been a poet.

“I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right”

“I love this song. Can you imagine someone loving you enough to write something like this about you?”

Yes, he thinks. If only he WAS a poet. He would write a hundred songs. A thousand. And all of them would talk of her smile and her eyes and the way there is no single thing about her he would change.

But words fail him. They always do.

So he just nods.

“Joel,” she says and moves closer. The bottle of beer now placed on her couch table, her hands find his chest. So warm. So soft. And all he does is stare.

“I know you got my postcards. I know you know how I feel. And sometimes I think you feel the same. I see the way you look at me. I know the dangers you put yourself in to get me those records. I just — you never say anything. So am I making a fool of myself here? Please tell me if I — “

“You’re not.”

Wow, so eloquent.

“I’m not?”

Her voice sounds so small. So unsure. He hates that he’s the one who put the uncertainty there. Be a better man, Joel! Be a good man for once!

But all he does is stare. Words fail him. Again. again. again.

“Then can I — can I do this?”

(Y/N)’s gaze falls to his lips then back up to his eyes. She is so close. He can feel her warm breath on his skin. Can smell the scent of her shampoo. Notices the tremble of her fingers as her hands rest on his chest.

And he wants to kiss her. Every version of him that ever was and ever will be wants to kiss her. But all he does is stare.

All he does is stare and pull away.

And it breaks his heart to see hers break in that moment.

“I uh — oh I’m sorry Joel.”

Tears gather in her eyes, fill them with sorrow, fill his heart with rage. He can’t do anything right, can he? Everyone he’s ever loved, he’s disappointed. But how can he let himself love her, how can he let her love him, when he is so broken? When all he does is break things? Taint them with this infinite sadness that lives and grows inside his bones?

“It’s not you.”

“Oh please, Joel. I made a fool of myself already. Don’t make it worse.”

“I ain’t trying to. It just ain’t you. It’s all me. It’s always been me”

His palms are sweaty and he feels like someone has reached into his ribcage, cracked every rib on the way to his heart, and ripped it out with bare hands. Snapping veins and arteries and all.

“I want you. I want this but I can’t have it. You think I’m a good man but the truth is, I am not. I do bad things all the time, over and over again and time and life have made me so numb to it. But you, you are so good. You deserve someone better. Someone whole.”

It’s like once he’s started it all comes flowing out like a fucking waterfall. All his fears and insecurities and pain. It’s all there for her to be disgusted by. Because god knows there is no way she won’t be. He is. All the time.

“I have not been the same since this all started. Since Sarah — since she died. I live with this immense grief. It surrounds me. It IS me. All of me. And I so desperately want to claw my way out of it. Rip it apart and leave it behind. But at the same time, I want to bury myself in it. Because what if I do leave it behind and I start to forget? Her and all that she was? How is it fair that I have to remember her far longer than I got to know her? So if I get better, if I become the man I need to be to be worthy of your love, am I still gonna be the man she knew? Can I still remember? Because that is all I have. And that is not a burden I can put on you. Not you and not Ellie.”

Joel takes a breath then another but it does little to calm him down.

“You two mean everything to me and I am sorry I am bad at showing it. That I can’t say it. I need you to know, it’s all me that’s the problem. It was never you. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t wait for her to say anything. He doesn’t think he has the heart to hear a reply anyway. It’s like he just ripped himself open and spilled all his guts, his heart, his lungs, and all his inside out on her living room floor.

If he was any better of a man he’d pick them up and try to rearrange them.

But he is not a good man. Maybe he never was.

“There was something for you in the mailbox” Ellie exclaims and slumps down on the couch next to him. “I was this close to opening it but I didn’t want to make you even more grumpy than you already are.”

“I’m not grumpy”

He has to admit, the tone in which he said those words does not do much to counter her point. Ellie knows too, judging by the way she raises her eyebrow “Sure, you’re not.”

She drops a sunflower yellow envelope on his lap. ‘Joel’, it says in that swirly handwriting he’s become so familiar with.

It’s been a few weeks since he’s seen (Y/N). Since he spilled all his sorrows and worries to her and then ran. And, surprisingly, Jackson makes it very easy for someone to avoid another person if you only try hard enough.

Maybe Ellie has a point, maybe he has been exceptionally grumpy lately. No correlation to any recent events though. Absolutely zero.

“Sooo are you gonna open it?”

Ellie looks at him with curiosity and that little spark of mischief as if she knows something he doesn’t.

“Not with you watching over my shoulder, I ain’t.”

“Why?”

“Cause it’s none of your business.”

“Excuse me? I have to live with your grumpy ass because you guys can’t get your shit straight. I think it very much is my business.”

“Jesus, Ellie. Language!"

“Sorry,” she says and gives him that pseudo-sheepish look he’s grown familiar with. “You guys need to get your stuff straight.”

He used to scold her for it but really, he isn’t one to talk.

“Anywayyyyy, I’ll go stay at Dina’s tonight … just in case you decide to go over and apologize for whatever it is you did and you guys finally sort it out and need some privacy later.”

“Why do you think I did something?”

And there it is again that sassy eyebrow raise. The same one he’s seen on Sarah so many times before. It truly is a woman’s world and he’s but a fool living in it. And they let no opportunity pass to remind him of just that.

They are also absolutely right.

“My lawyer advised me not to answer that question. Anyway, be nice. Have fun. Byyyye”

Her voice trails off as she grabs her bag and rushes outside leaving Joel alone in this big empty house with nothing but his demons and this mysterious envelope.

Carefully he opens the seal and shakes out the contents. A postcard, a photo, and a — cassette tape?

His eyes find the photo first. It’s a polaroid of him and Ellie and (Y/N). All 3 of them smiling, yes even him. He remembers that day back last summer. It was one of those warm but not yet hot days. (Y/N) was wearing that agonizingly beautiful red sundress. The one that made his heart beat twice as fast. She brought over a whole basket full of cherries from the tree in her garden. A pie too. And that damn Polaroid camera.

Of course, Ellie was enamored by it, wasted almost the whole damn film.

“Come on Joel, let's take a picture together,” she had called out to him and pulled him to sit down next to her and (Y/N) on the blanket they had placed on the lawn.

“I’m not a picture guy,” he had grumbled, “ ain’t nobody want to see my old mug.”

“Oh shut up. Joel, you are so handsome, don’t even pretend like you don’t know that.”

It was the first time (Y/N) had ever called him handsome. It was hard for him to believe it then, hell it still is. But she has done it a lot more since then. Calls him handsome and gorgeous and pretty all the time. At first, he thought she was just humoring him but slowly but surely it dawned on him that she meant it. Means it still.

“We don’t know how many good sunny days we have left. Ain’t no shame in trying to remember this one, right?”

Her eyes held so much honesty then. Vulnerability too. And gratefulness for all they had then after all they had lost. It made him smile then and it makes him smile now.

The Postcard is next, big bold letters spell out TEXAS and in the corner, there’s a drawing of the Texas State Capitol in Austin.

When he turns the Postcard over, there it is again, that swirly writing he’s grown to love so much.

“Joel, the ‘Postcards from around the world’ book I got from the library didn’t have an Austin one but it did have a Texas one so that’ll have to do. I’m not even sure if you're going to read this. I hope you do because you didn't give me a chance to say my part when you stormed off & I think I deserve that.

You're not the man you were in Austin, you lived through the worst thing imaginable and it changed you. But you are not just your pain. It is part of you but it doesn't define you. I know you see all the bad but none of the good but believe me I see it! Ellie does! You are your pain but you are also the smile on Ellie's face when you bring her a new comic or teach her a song. You're the guitar chords echoing through the air on a warm spring afternoon. You are those fluttery feelings in my heart whenever you look at me.

Joel Miller, I understand if you don't want to be with me but if it's only because you don't think you're good enough then I think that's a choice I get to make. Taking that from me is a dick move.

You said you're bad at showing love but you're not. You showed me through all those records. Through all those songs. Now let me love you back.”

Joel can’t quite name the feeling spreading through him. It’s both foreign and familiar at the same time. Like an old friend. A hazy memory. Pictures blurred and dulled by time and age.

Maybe he was wrong, and he hates admitting that. Maybe he ain’t a good man but maybe that is hers to decide. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

He takes the cassette tape in his hand and squints his eyes at the tiny writing on the label. God, he really is getting old. Those eyes ain’t what they used to be.

God only knows - The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

You’re my best friend - Queen - A Night at the Opera

Just Like Heaven - The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (you should!)

In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel - So

Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper - She’s so unusual

Your Song - Elton John - Elton John

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis - Blue Hawaii

Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton - Slowhand

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs (!!!! LOVE SONGS!!!)

Just The Way You Are - Billy Joel - The Stranger

"You gave me all these records with all these songs and all these words to tell me you love me and I’m not sure you even knew.”

And she’s right. He got her those records because he knew they’d make her smile. Because that smile means everything to him whether he wants to admit it or not. He got those records to show her that even when he’s gone on a run, she’s always on his mind. He believed it to be a curse, a ghost haunting him for all his past mistakes and taunting him with what he shall never have.

But maybe it’s not a curse.

Maybe it’s a blessing. A sweet song to remind him that someone back home is waiting. A gentle reminder that life can and will go on and good things can come from immense tragedy. And moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, in fact, it means remembering. Remembering the bad and believing that there can and will be good and that it’s worth it to go on. Even if you are a different you. Not worse or better, just changed. And that you deserve love. And kindness. And warmth.

Joel drops the envelope and its contents on the table and grabs his thick winter jacket as he rushes outside. The cold feels only half as bad as it nips at his skin, he barely notices. There is a fire inside him now, burning away all the doubts and hesitation.

He’s back at her door, only this time he doesn’t wait to knock. He’s spent so much time denying himself the one thing he wants that he can’t lose just one second more. The rapping of his knuckles against her door echoes through the winter day. Oh, how he can’t wait for the spring and the summer and her in that gorgeous dress.

“Joel?”

Back before — everything, Joel remembers a movie night with Sarah. She got to choose and despite being an avid fan of trashy action and horror movies, that time she chose a romantic comedy. All things considered, Joel can admit that when Harry met Sally wasn’t the worst choice but he still would’ve preferred Star Wars or Terminator.

He does remember the ending though, the grand finale. He remembers Sarah trying to wipe away tears without him noticing. And he remembers Billy Crystal’s words “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Back then he thought it was some silly, cheesy movie speak. No one feels that way, right? It’s grandiose and kitschy for the sake of movie magic.

But no, he’s sure now, that one is true. Because it’s how he feels.

“I love you!”

That confession should come with ribbons and flowers and fireworks but it doesn’t. It comes with honesty and that is all that matters. It comes from the heart.

“Huh?”

“I got your postcard. The photo too and the tape. And I love you.”

“I know. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“I’m sorry. I — I still believe that I am not a good man and that you deserve better. But it would be selfish to punish you for my own insecurities. I love you and I want to let you love me. If you still want to, that is.”

“Joel Miller?”

“Yeah?”

“Please just fucking kiss me.”

Joel remembers a lot of kisses in his lifetime. Some rushed, some clumsy. Quick kisses in secret. Long drawn-out smooches in smokey bars. Loving, fast, aggressive, and soft.

This one is different, as cheesy as it sounds.

This kiss makes him feel like all he’s ever been and all he ever will be can live in peace with one another. This kiss makes him feel like none of it matters as long as he has her.

She tastes like peppermint and sunshine and he’s sure he’ll never get enough of her. The feeling of her skin against his as he gently cradles her face in his hand. The soft movements on her chest as she breathes. The twitch of her lips as she smiles into the kiss.

For the first time in his life, Joel is sure that a kiss is more than a kiss. It’s a healing hand on a shattered heart. It’s a new path to a new future. It’s sunshine melting the ice from his bones.

It’s a promise to try every day and to be better and to be enough. ---

#jolapenosdearuary #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller imagines #joel miller x fem!reader #the last of us fanfiction

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epickiya722 · 17 hours ago

Note

As a bkdk artist who's been in the fandom since 2018, one thing that always annoyed me about antis is when I (and other bkdks) posted bkdk art back then, I'd see ATLEAST one comment saying "your artsyle is cute, but bakudeku is a terrible ship" or "I don't like bkdk but your art is so good. Maybe you could try drawing krbk next?" Or even "how could you even like this ship. Hori himself said that izch is canon."

The "your art is good but this ship sucks, draw something else" comments sounded like backhanded compliments. Like I'm passionate about the ship so I'll draw what I want? Thank you very much?!

It was so cool to hate on bkdk back then, they really acted like it was some illegal ship. I also had people say stuff like I didn't understand how bullied people feel or abuse victims like seriously what 😑

I feel your annoyance to the point. My sentiments exactly.

Going to sound mean when I say this, but antis have gotten so infuriating that I honestly stopped caring. Like anything they do just to hate on the ship is ridiculously stupid.

I refuse to believe they do all of that because "Oh, I mean no harm, I just want to express how I feel". No, they have been doing it for far too long and they do it on purpose.

They mask wanting to bother shippers but "sharing their opinions".

That's not how they really feel, that's not their opinion, so they can cut the fuckery. They just want to be an asshole.

Those same people who constantly bash on BakuDeku barely bat a lash at other ships that are worse if they gonna throw the "Bakugou is a bully card".

You're right and you should say it. When they say "art style is cute but..." it's a backhanded compliment.

Honestly, I wouldn't even call it a compliment because a compliment is meant to be genuine. If antis are being genuine about an art style being cool to them, they wouldn't follow up with some insult.

Now antis want to pull the "It makes no sense to ship them" card. Who cares about it making sense? You know what doesn't make sense to me?

If antis, those that ship Izuku and Ochako, want to scream about them being "canon" (I say more implied than canon honestly) then why talk about BakuDeku at all? Do you secretly ship BakuDeku and just want to deny it, resist it like "oh, no I mustn't! I shall not"?

Do you have just want to follow the crowd of haters? "I want to hate, too, yay!"

Do you just have a thing for "following rules" and try to apply it to anything? Because then why only single out BakuDeku? Why not other ships?

I don't know about them, but when I hate a ship I don't talk about it.

Antis be screaming "I see BakuDeku everywhere I can't escape it", but I had a totally different experience because when I first got into MHA and as the anime and manga went on, I didn't see BakuDeku content like that because I wasn't exposing myself to it. When I did cross the ship, my reaction wasn't to harass the shipper. Just shrugged and moved on.

So antis have no excuse at all for their shit actions. If you hate the ship, hate it.

Is like they want a cookie or something... "I'm a BakuDeku hater, I want a sticker!" That's what they look like to me.

Also, Anon, I thank you for being a part of the community. For anybody who reblogs your art with comments like that I'm a proud hater of them since they want to be proud haters.

#i feel this way about anybody who does shit like this in general but I'm sticking to bkdk haters here #kiya answers #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakudeku

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nariism · 2 days ago

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Hi all,

After some thought I've decided to officially archive this account. This means that all my writing will stay up, but I will no longer be using this blog to interact, reblog on or post to.

Ultimately, this is due to a combination of me being too busy nowadays to write anything substantial and not being a part of fandom culture/keeping up with content anymore. There were some things I intended to wrap up (like the neglected last few fics from my event ijbol...), but I'm out of practice and not motivated enough to do them justice, so I apologize.

A big warm thank you to those of you who supported me, helped me, and, to some of you, became some of my best friends. I truly can't express how much my mutuals and those who read my silly little stories mean to me T_T

When I started actually using and posting to Tumblr for the first time, I was so nervous. I had no idea how the app or site worked, how to format things, or even if my writing would be taken well. I picked up writing as a hobby for the first time in years because I had just moved to a new city away from all my friends and family. Writing helped me open up online and make friends with some of the best people in the entire world, and I'm so grateful for that.

To my mutuals who I don't keep in touch with outside of Tumblr, let me know if you want to talk on Discord or anything like that ^.^ and to those of you who interacted with me, kept me company, and (frankly) kept me sane over the last 2 years, thank you.

Happy lunar new year! Thanks for everything 🩷

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canon-in-too-deep · 2 days ago

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Typesetuary Day #31 [THE END]

It is January 31st.

31 typesets in 31 days.

And now comes the end of Typesetuary...

But. Also. The start of Binderary! If you're participating in Renegade Bindery's Binderary event and want to use one of my typesets, please feel free to do so and tag me! Completing my run of daily typesets, I now have 86 different books available for FREE! (Personal use only) This has been fun to do. I really enjoy typesetting, and getting to 'gamify' it for myself with daily/monthly goal scratched that achievement loving side of my brain.

Anyway, for the very last Typesetuary typeset, I thought I'd go back to the author of the very first pd typeset I ever shared here! Presenting: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen (sized for half letter/letter folio).

You can find it for free in the usual place with all the rest. If you spot any of those dastardly typos, let me know and I'll be happy to get them fixed! Thank you to everyone who left a like/reblog, or followed this blog. I very much appreciated it <3

#Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen #northanger abbey #jane austen #typesets #typesetting #book design #bookbinding #book #free to use #typesetuary #personal milestones

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cosmic-ships · 2 days ago

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I don't see enough love for us poly people who take their ships seriously so I'm making my own post.

(Okay to reblog, If you're monogamous you can rb but don't clown or derail or make us feel less. Thank you!)

☆☆☆☆☆☆

✨ Shoutout to poly-ficto self-shippers who love and cherish all their f/o's/partners deeply! ✨

❤️ Your love is real. Your relationships are real. Whether you have two, three, or ten F/Os/partners, your feelings are just as valid as anyone else's.

💜 You are not "greedy" or "indecisive" your heart simply has the capacity to love more than one person, and that is beautiful.

🌙 Your ships deserve to be taken seriously. The bonds you've built with your F/Os/partners hold just as much meaning as monogamous ships, and they are just as important. Nobody is held in higher regard.

⭐ To those who fear being judged for having multiple F/Os/partners you are not alone. You deserve spaces where your love is respected and celebrated.

💫 Whether your F/Os/partners know and love each other or exist in separate universes, your experiences are uniquely yours, and that is something to be proud of.

Keep loving fearlessly! You and your ships deserve all the happiness in the world. 💖

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Pro/com/dark/neutral dni ± doubles dni

#self ship positivity #self ship #self shipping #selfship #selfshipping #selfship positivity

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writingdevil · 3 days ago

Note

Hello! In honor of cheabroken being canon in Tongues and Teeth, I wanted to request their first kiss! Did it come naturally after being comfortable with each other for so long? Was it an awkward attempt after Stubborn interrupted them last time? Or maybe Contrarian was right and they really are worse than Smitten haha (considering how passionate they both are about their feelings, I can totally see it)

Either way, I wanted to thank you! I love how you write all the voices and the dynamics between them (even if I have very clear favorites), and I always get excited when you post a new story. I hope you have a great day and a wonderful life :)

(OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH A SWEET ASK!Thank you and I hope that YOU have an amazing day and an even more amazing life!Thank you for your sweet words, I love hearing that people get excited whenever I post stuff.It's mad to think that two months ago, I was just reblogging stuff and not interacting THAT much with any fandom, and now I'm making you all happy with my writing!Anyways-Cheabroken!Yes!I love them and I'm so happy to write more of them!Enjoy!)

Cheated has never been more stressed in his fucking life.

The entire week, he's been wracked with anxiety and stress so bad, that he finally understood and sympathized with Paranoid.

Cheated worked nonstop just for this day-he went over everything that he would say, he made sure all the preparations were in order, and he did everything he could to make sure that nothing went wrong for him.It almost felt like he was asking for something bad to happen.

The reason why he was so stressed, was because today was the day that Cheated was going to ask Broken out.

He's known about his feelings for Broken for awhile. Ever since they were gifted their own bodies and they had that argument with Smitten and Skeptic all those months ago, Cheated had found himself getting more and more drawn to Broken.At first, it had just been the obligation to give Broken room to air his thoughts, without others either putting pressure on him or putting him down.

Cheated believed that they were all a part of the Long Quiet for a reason, and that every voice meant something to Him, so thinking that one voice was lesser than the others was an insane thought to Cheated.They were all shards of the same mirror.They had all been important to Him, once upon a time.

That kindness obviously extended to Broken as well, who had been so devastated and terrified at realising that his princess was no longer with him, leaving him feeling lost and worthless. It had been scarily easily for Smitten and Skeptic to pick him up, and practically whisk him away for their goal. Cheated had been too confused at the time to really understand what was going on, but he got there in the end.

At the start, Cheated believed that he needed to be the person that stuck up and talked for Broken, because otherwise Broken would just let everyone walk all over him. When they were arguing with Smitten and Skeptic, Cheated was surprised at how Broken actually stood up for himself pretty well, and then he was even more surprised at the screaming match he had with Stubborn, but he was surprised in such a positive way.

Broken was slowly but surely picking himself up and making himself move forward, even if he had very little belief in himself or his abilities-but Cheated couldn't help but admire everything about Broken.To be someone so lost in sorrow, but refusing to back down-that was exactly the type of strength and resolve that Cheated wished he had.

Cheated didn't need to defend Broken as much as he thought he did, but he still found himself being drawn in by his quiet brilliance and his kind and empathetic heart, and over the course of a few months, was spending all his free time with Broken.

He wasn't sure when he realised that he was falling in love with Broken. All he knew was that he was beginning to come to terms with how much he just stared at Broken, at his hypnotic eyes and his small, fluffy feathers that were finally growing back in. He would sit and stare and not even register what someone was saying because he was too busy thinking about how fucking pretty Broken was. Seriously, why wasn't Broken the one being worshipped?Cheated would've happily become a devoted follower.

Then it was thoughts like that-that made him think that maybe his feelings weren't quite platonic.

After that, it quickly dawned on him how flustered and nervous he got around Broken, or how his thoughts would be pulled back to thinking about Broken and what he was doing, or admiring how he smiled or laughed sometimes,or even daydreaming about what Broken would say to him in certain situations.

He believed that these thoughts were normal, until Stubborn managed to clock him in the face one day, all because he apparently looked 'worse than Smitten when talking about his darling.'

That was the smack in the face he needed.Literally.

He was in love with Broken.

With that realisation, came feelings of both horror and nerves, because Cheated wasn't sure if it was fair to Broken to pour his heart out to him, after how his last 'relationship' went.Would a relationship be something that Broken even wanted anymore?If Cheated asked and Broken said yes, would he only be saying that in the name of self preservation, to keep Cheated happy and himself safe?

Cheated hated the thought of doing that to Broken, of making him revert back to his old ways, and a part of him wanted to just keep these feelings to himself forever, for Broken's sake.

But then that other louder, and angrier side of him, smacked him upside the head, because assuming those things about Broken was ignoring all the growth and progress he had made in the last few months, and it was just making Cheated look like a dickhead.

Broken wasn't some sad and scared little creature that couldn't think for himself.He's proved Cheated wrong on that front many times, and each time made Cheated admire Broken more and more.Sure, he had moments where he didn't feel like getting out of bed and doing anything, or thoughts that made him believe that he didn't deserve to be here, but he had a whole flock to lean on.

Of course Cheated was there, and he was happy to take Broken on walks to help him clear his head and go outside more, and everyone else cared about him as well. Paranoid fretted over his wellbeing and if he was eating enough, Hero helped get his wings back to a much more healthy state, and even Smitten was doing his best to help, teaching him about gardening and caring for plants, and it all looked like it was helping Broken tremendously.

Broken was getting better, and Cheated would make sure to treat Broken with nothing less than pure love and respect, and he would make sure that Broken knew that every step of their relationship.

If he said yes.

That was the fear that had been clinging to Cheated all week-that Broken would say no, because getting fucked over at a time like this seemed to be exactly the type of thing to happen to Cheated.

Which was why he was so stressed, because he was doing everything in his power for this night to not go wrong, which-given who Cheated was, seemed like an impossible task.But he was nothing if not a fighter for what he believed in.

He had planned to take Broken out into a peaceful and secluded part of the woods, have a nice dinner, and at the end, Cheated would confess his feelings, and hope his heart didn't get crushed into a million pieces.

He had thought of and planned for everything that could potentially go wrong tonight.He asked Hunted to help him find the perfect spot to take Broken, trusting the other's judgement. He also needed to make sure nobody interrupted them or swooped Broken away at the last minute, so he pleaded to Oppy and Paranoid to make sure that nobody bothered them, and although they laughed at his desperation, they agreed.

Finally, the food.As much as Cheated wanted to make it, he knew that he would either somehow poison it or burn it to a crisp, so he enlisted someone else to do it.

He was extremely hesitant to ask Smitten, their resident chef, because once Smitten got a whiff of romance in the air, there would be no stopping his delusions and over the top ideas for the quiet date Cheated wanted, so he was pleasantly surprised to find that Hero could cook, and he happily agreed to do it for him, merely wishing him luck and that they find happiness together.

That did bring a tear to Cheated's eye, not that he'd ever admit it.

The one and only thing that Cheated couldn't account for was the weather.So he spent hours last night kneeling and praying to the Long Quiet or the Shifting Mound, or anyone that took pity on him, that a storm wouldn't be dropped on Cheated's head tomorrow.

He woke up to clear skies.

Cheated no longer cared if he lived with the worst luck imaginable for the rest of his life, so long as today went perfectly.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a secret."

Cheated giggled as he kept his hands placed firmly over Broken's eyes, carefully guiding them to their private area. Broken had been confused, but very curious, as Cheated asked to take him somewhere.

He could feel Broken's feathers tensing underneath his palms, and he leaned closer so that he could whisper,"It's okay, you're gonna like this."

Despite his words, he felt Broken freeze and tense up beneath him, feathers fluffing up and tickling his hands.Thankfully, he didn't have to dwell on it for long, as he said,"Here we are."

He stopped, and let his arms fall, hearing Broken gasp as he took in the display.

They were in the middle of an area that consisted of soft, tame grass, as if from a field, with no jagged rocks or twisting weeds in sight, surrounded by a protective wall of imposing trees.In the middle of the grass, was a tree stump, which Cheated had chopped down himself, with many splinters to show for it. He had then chopped the tree further, making logs to use as seats on either side of their tree stump table.

The scent of food wafted over to them, and Cheated's mouth salivated at the smell of the vegetables and cooked meat Hero had prepared for them.

Broken spun back around to face him, eyes wide in shock and wonder, but Cheated just grinned in anticipation, gently turning him back around by the shoulders to the table, pointing up at the sky as he said,"Wait for it."

Broken obeyed, silently looking up-just in time for a cloud to float past, and letting the light of the moon spill down directly onto the table, illuminating the whole area in moonlight.

Broken gasped, and Cheated leaned over to look at his face.He seemed shocked, but happy, and happy was what Cheated was going for right now.

"Do you like it?"Cheated asked, and once those awestruck eyes were on him, he was suddenly hit with a wave of embarrassment and anxiety.His face heated up and he started to stumble over his words."I-I really hope you like it.I-um-did this for you-to give you a good time.Is-is it okay?"

Broken stared at him for a few seconds, before looking back out at all that Cheated had prepared. He raised a hesitant hand towards his chest and said,"You did all this-for me?"

"Yeah, of course!"Cheated wrapped an arm around Broken and started to walk him over to the table."I wanted to do something nice for you."

"You didn't have to,"Broken muttered, looking down at the ground.

Cheated rolled his eyes."I didn't have to, but I wanted to."

Broken still seemed unsure as they sat down, but Cheated allowed him a few minutes to get comfortable, until he eventually saw the tension and apprehension leave his body.Broken casted a wary glance out in the distance, and Cheated casually waved a hand in the air and said,"Oh, don't worry, we're not in any danger."

That wary look was then directed at Cheated, who couldn't help but think it looked cute."How do you know?"

"I had Hunted scout this place out for me.There's not a monster in sight, and I've got Hunted guarding the perimeter tonight, just in case."

"Really?"Broken gave him a surprised look, then glanced around them, pinning his eyes on a random spot of the dark trees, and Cheated chuckled as Broken lifted a hand and waved into the distance, seemingly saying hello to Hunted. Cheated had no idea where Hunted was right, only that he hadn't needed much convincing to guard them tonight, and Cheated weirdly felt way more safe and secure with Hunted around, because that was one less thing that could go wrong.

"You've-"Broken said,a suspicious tone in his voice as he took in all of Cheated's work,"put a lot of thought into this.Why?"

Cheated gave him a soft smile, reaching over and placing a hand atop of his, his thumb brushing knuckles.Broken froze, and stared down at their hands, feathers shooting up in surprise.Cheated's voice was surprisingly calm as he said,"I just wanted to make sure you had a good time tonight."

Broken let a breath out, and Cheated hoped he hadn't done anything wrong yet, but the feeling of Broken's full attention on him was beginning to make the butterflies in his stomach turn into a raging stampede, so he quickly took his hand back, missing the disappointment on Broken's face, and motioned down at his food."Let's dig in, yeah?"

Dinner was great.

But spending a whole evening with Broken was even better.

The longer the night went on, the more fond and utterly in love Cheated was becoming with Broken. He loved the light yet strong tone he held in his voice, and the way his eyes shone and gave away everything he was feeling.He loved catching the moments where Broken would subconsciously trace invisible doodles with his finger along the tree stump table, and Cheated just longed to see what they could be like.

But eventually, their food had been eaten, the conversation was beginning to dim from energy, and Cheated knew that his moment had come.

He took a shaky breath in, briefly wondering if Paranoid's chant would work for him right now, and stared down as he softly took Broken's hands within his, prompting Broken to slowly stop what he was saying.

Cheated glanced up at him, his cheeks feeling on fire, as he took in Broken's soft confusion."Broken," Cheated began, desperately trying to keep his voice steady and calm and to not fuck this up.

"I really hope I made you happy tonight,"he said, and Broken stiffly nodded."Yeah, of course you did. I'm always happy when I'm with you."The words sent an addicting warmth through his bones, and he had to use all his control to stop his smile from spreading to one of those stupid and lovey dovey ones that Smitten was known to wear.

"That's such a relief to hear,"he said, squeezing their hands once for reassurance,"because there's something I've really wanted to tell you for awhile."

"What?"Broken quietly said, and Cheated found it easier to speak when he was just staring down at their hands, reminding him of the reason he was doing all this.

"Broken, I think you're one of the most beautiful and inspiring people I know.You're so empathetic and strong, whether you realise it or not.You've been through so much, but you're still here, fighting and proving your demons wrong-that you are worthy of love and happiness, and I'm so fucking honored to be a part of your life and to watch you slowly believe that, because I've always thought that way about you.I've always-cared about you, but for awhile, my feelings for you have grown stronger."

He gulped."Broken-I'm in love with you, and I wanted to show you that I can treat you the way you deserve to be treated-with nothing less than love and respect and complete care.So, I just wanted to tell you all this, because I'll go crazy if I don't tell you how you make me feel just by being around your beautiful self-and if you feel the same way, maybe we can-"

But Cheated never got the chance to finish his confession, as Broken gripped his face and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

He was stunned, but quickly melted into the kiss, not willing to turn down a golden opportunity like this.

God, even kissing Broken felt warm. But not in an intense, mind spinning way. No, this warmth felt safe, it felt like nothing but the two of them mattered in this moment, and all Cheated had to focus on was Broken.It felt happy.It felt right.

Home.The kiss felt like home.

Then suddenly, Broken pulled them apart, panting with a worried and frantic look on his face.Cheated could do nothing but stare in amazement as Broken began to ramble,"Sorry!Sorry!I-I didn't mean to ruin your moment!"Broken started to absent-mindedly grip his hands for comfort, whether he was aware of it or not, but Cheated still squeezed them to calm the other down.

Broken was looking everywhere that wasn't Cheated."I just-I just-I heard what you were saying, and with what you did tonight, I had a feeling that you were going to-and-and-"

"Broken,"Cheated calmly said, stopping the other in his panic.Broken looked up in surprise, and Cheated felt his hands bring gripped tightly, as he watched Broken take a deep and slow breath in. Cheated smiled at the now more relaxed state Broken was in.

Broken continued, much more calm this time,"I knew what you were going to say-and I felt like I needed to be the one to bridge that gap.I-I can't explain it, I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay,"Cheated said, tugging on their hands to get Broken's attention."I honestly didn't mind it-it was actually really nice."Broken giggled, and Cheated grinned wider at the sound."But that just means that I'm still waiting."

Broken looked up at him in confusion."Waiting?For what?"Cheated gave him a playful grin."For you to ask me out."Broken was surprised for a second, his wings flapping once in shock, before he smiled bashfully and asked,"Cheated, I'm in love with you. Do you want to be my partner?"

Cheated smiled so hard that it hurt, but he didn't care.He was the luckiest bastard in this shitty world."I would love to be your partner, Broken.I love you."

Then they both leaned in for another kiss, and Cheated's life was now perfect.

#slay the princess #stories #my writing #writing prompt #tongues and teeth #stp voices #stp #stp broken #stp cheated #voice of the broken #voice of the cheated #cheabroken #Hunted then emerges from the trees holding a bouquet of roses he stole from Smitten's garden and gives it to them as a congratulations gift #They happily take it #It was incredibly important to me that Broken be the one to initiate the first kiss and take control of their relationship #To be the one to push for this new relationship that they both want

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