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lucygraysboy · 3 days ago

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“looked like seven when you woke up, too,” he agrees with a chuckle but then begins to pout, clutching his side and rubbing the very spot she just poked. he would be lying if he said that he didn’t like it, though, engaging in this familiar, playful banter with his childhood sweetheart. it’s like coming home after a long day. she’s his safe haven, his favorite person. “no proof ‘cause you disposed of all evidence. smart,” he laughs, but deep down wonders if she’d had more before the show, if it’s a habit now — they play and then she gets drunk and goes home with strangers. he’s not one to judge, but he’s concerned about her safety. “you look so beautiful, that’s why they’re lookin’ at you. they’re tryin’ to figure out what this disney princess is doin’ in nashville,” he whispers, leaning closer to her ear with a smile. their fingers remain laced as he refuses to let go. “alright, i’ll only ride it occasionally.” seeing how worried she is about him, he feels all warm and fluttery inside because it must mean that she still cares very deeply for him. he doesn’t know how easy changing his lifestyle will be, but he’ll do his best to choose other forms of transportation, especially once she’s living with him. “horses are beautiful, but they can be dangerous, too. then again, i could be walkin’ down the street, slip on a puddle and break my neck. accidents happen.” traffic in new york city is so bad that having a motorcycle can be life-saving. “i know, lucy gray. you’re the sweetest person in the world.” she’s proven time and time again that money doesn’t matter. he could own nothing but the shirt on his back, heat up a TV dinner and she’d still be grateful. she deserves a lot more, though. and now that he finally can, he wants to give her the world. “ladies first,” he muses sweetly, letting lucy gray step off the elevator first, his finger still clinging onto hers for dear life. maybe it’s childish, but he likes the little reminder that it’s all happening for real, that there’s still room for reconciliation.

“whoa, it really is.” his eyes flickering to the floor-to-ceiling windows, mesmerized by the world outside. still, his gaze quickly falls back to lucy gray, more interested in taking in her reaction than anything else. she’s way more beautiful than any city, and her childlike wonderment is so infectious, so heart-melting. “we have to stay for dessert ‘cause imagine how breathtakingly beautiful all the city lights must look from up here.” the size of the restaurant is impressive, the air filled with mouthwatering scents that make billy’s stomach growl in anticipation. “good evening, we have a reservation. william h. bonney. a table for two.” the host smiles politely at them, notes something down and leads them to their table, wishing them a lovely time. billy catches a glimpse of the high ceiling, lined with gold and ornately painted. there’s a large, modern bar off the side. they get seated near one of the windows facing the west side, which gives them the perfect view of the leisurely setting sun. billy thanks the host and pulls out a chair for lucy gray to sit on. “secret hang outs are our kind of thing, right?”

“my bad, it felt like seven when i first woke up.” grumpily retorting, deciding to jab him in his side with her pointer finger as they mosey on through the lobby, “no proof anyway.” on how many she downed. catching a few of the heavy stares weighing down on them, the songstress stares back and gives strangers a big friendly smile. something they probably didn’t expect. but like her mama always said, don’t meet people with weird stares back— surprise ‘em and you might just make their day smiling back. something most people in this world have forgotten to do. “that’s interestin’. my mama’s a chatterbox too, so maybe they’ll become friends from that.” a soft laugh sounds from her, pinky still clinging to his. “alright, i’ll show you some more pictures later.” when they wrap up their dinner… that’s currently making her empty belly growl even hungrier now that her mind thinks about all the food she’s getting ready to be able to choose from. “well, you can’t always be in control of that no matter how good you are at it, billy. it’s just— those things are more dangerous than bein’ on a horse, in a car, in a plane. maybe don’t ride it very often.” she still worries, hating the idea of it— feeling scared something bad could happen to him when she’s seen too many motorcycle fatalities. “alrighty, then. i don’t mind waffle house or even a gas station— but i’m excited to try out a fancy meal with you. thanks for comin’ up with this idea and invitin’ me to it.” a happy grin has her face coming alive like a ball of sun, feeling grateful she is getting to be cordial with him again. thinking of how the scenario could be different, he could still be that person who doesn’t talk to her. it just annoys herself because she begins to wonder if there’s ulterior motives — like him just being lonely because him and his girlfriend isn’t working out. before she can sour her own mood with her worries, she counts down the floor numbers instead of dwelling. eyes occasionally flickering up on his rosy cheeks, then back on the numbers, stifling a laugh at why in the world he’s shying up. finally a ding! the doors open up and she steps out first… eager to see this place from way up high like he said. the windows are everywhere so immediately she sees parts of the city before they’ve even reached the host and guest check in. “wow, look at all that… that’s an amazin’ sight to see,” doe eyes lighting up, in awe and completely wowed, “and it’s all like a hidden gem. a secret hang out.”

#billysgirllol

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sweettea-and-honeybutter · 2 days ago

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Take You There III

Song that inspired this chapter...

A/N: Soooo sorry for the wait, life was lifting y'all. Thank you for your patience and for enjoying this story enough to seek more 💕 thanks for coming back to read!! Also please lemme know how you're liking the soundtrack if you're listening to the music while you read 👀 an excerpt from chapter 4 will be at the end of this one!!!

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reign Adisa (black female OC)

Warning: we gettin a lil spicy, but just a little! Rated-minors fuck off.

Word count: 3,270

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Chapter 3

The military was where Terry first felt the sting of disillusionment. He had entered service with a youthful sense of purpose, convinced he was part of something honorable, and prideful that his martial arts expertise qualified him to guide his peers. But stories from fellow soldiers—men and women who came back changed, scarred by the reality of their missions—shattered that idealism, and showed him how spared he was to be kept stateside. The final blow came with his cousin’s death, a casualty not of war but of a system that prioritized power over people. His cousin’s laugh, once bright and infectious, had been silenced by negligence that no amount of money or apologies could ever mend.

Terry carried that betrayal deep in his chest. It made him wary, made him question the intentions behind every offer, every outstretched hand, every good thing. Trusting had cost him too much, and he vowed never to let that happen again. This skepticism seeped into every part of his life; even joy felt like a prelude to loss.

When he met Reign, with her warm eyes and calm energy, it was as if he’d been thrown a lifeline. But she felt too good, too gentle, like something that might be taken from him the moment he allowed himself to believe in it.

The trauma of his cousin's death made it hard for him to believe that good things could be real and lasting. The fear of another betrayal, of life snatching something precious away again, gnawed at him. With Reign, this fear was magnified—she was the first person since that living hell who’d melted his defense with her warm brown eyes, and made him want to trust in something beyond the battle-ready vigilance he had carried for so long.

The thought of Reign being "too good to be true" wasn’t just about her; it was about him grappling with whether he could accept something untainted after years of disillusionment. The fear of losing her, or of her seeing the fractured parts of him and walking away, mirrored the dread he felt watching life slip away from those he’d once admired and loved. But in her, he found something that challenged his narrative: maybe this time, he was allowed to hold on without the ground being pulled out from under him.

His therapist was impressed. Terry was making immense progress towards healing from ptsd, and he was pleasantly surprised at Reign’s influence over his client, how she managed to infect him with hope and optimism so quickly. But still, Terry’s hesitancy was heartbreaking, and Mr. Shaw hoped he’d get through to Terry before the next time he saw Reign.

“Let me ask you this: what would it mean if you allowed yourself to trust this? To believe that Reign’s presence isn’t a trick or something that’s about to be taken away?”

Terry’s brow furrowed for a moment, and Mr. Shaw could see a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes even through the computer screen. “It’d mean… it’d mean believing that I deserve to be happy. That maybe I’ve paid my dues, that life will take it easy on me for a second. But that’s a scary thought to have Doc.”

Mr. Shaw leaned closer to his webcam with a soft, encouraging smile. “Healing isn’t linear, Terry. It’s okay to feel scared. But what I’m hearing is that you want this. And maybe, that’s a start. Maybe, it’s worth giving yourself permission to try,” He paused to let Terry ponder over that, and then continued “maybe it's okay to do things scared.”

~~~~~~~

Reign didn’t want Terry to feel like she saw right through him, but she did, because she’d been there before. When she was learning to trust again, learning to live again, she needed patience and grace. She’d needed compassionate lovers that didn’t rush her as she found herself again, and rediscovered her footing in this ever changing world. It was really a hit or miss with her romantic life, but she took the time she needed and was all the better for it.

She found it endearing, and intoxicating, that Terry wanted to try with her, and was so genuine about his intentions. She respected that he wanted her to take the lead, it forced her to be honest with herself, about how deeply she wanted to experience all of him. They took turns texting each other since she last saw him, and she’d even managed to get a few voice notes from him that she saved to her phone to listen to repeatedly like some crushing school girl.

After 2 days of being sweet with each other and skirting around it, she sent him the coordinates to meet her at, her fingers lingering a bit on her screen before pressing send. There was something thrilling about bringing him to a place she knew he’d enjoy, a space where they could both be in their element. She could already imagine him, standing out against the backdrop of the trees, his easy grin and the way his skin would gleam in the light… She sighed, shaking her head. Her thoughts had really been getting away from her lately.

She was starting to think he was a solo Sunday kind of guy when he texted her back saying he could meet her there in 2 hours. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and smiled, that’s just enough time to get all their goodies and meet him at the nature preserve.

~~~~~~~

As Terry pulled into the nature park’s parking lot, he turned off the engine and sat in silence for a moment, taking in the sights around him. Towering trees lined the trailheads, their leaves rustling in the warm Texas breeze. He rolled down his window, letting the fresh, earthy smell settle into his senses, grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in ages. There was something indescribably soothing about this place—the kind of quiet that spoke to his soul without saying a word. It was the type of peace he’d been craving, like a balm on the unspoken worries that still tugged at his spirit.

And Reign had brought him here. She’d chosen a place that would calm his mind and allow him to just… be. The thought stirred something deep inside him, filling him with a sense of gratitude he couldn’t quite put into words. She was learning him so quickly, understanding his needs before he even voiced them, and that alone humbled him. He hadn’t met anyone who listened to him like this, not with her level of intention, of depth. It made him feel more seen than he had in years. He wanted to dedicate his time to learning her just as intuitively, and he would if she let him.

He checked his phone and saw her text again, the cheekiness of it making him chuckle.

"And don’t use the gps to find me, soldier. There are maps outside the welcome center 🫡."

This girl. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she threw him another curveball. And he was learning not to have any expectations for her—she’d surprise him every time, and he loved it. It was refreshing, the thrill of never knowing what she’d do next.

He grabbed one of the trail maps from the welcome center and studied it with growing excitement, tracing the coordinates she’d sent him to a meadow on the far side of the park. Of course, she’d be out in the open, somewhere wild and free. It suited her. And the idea of tracking her down, following the hints she left like breadcrumbs, sparked something almost primal in him. She’d soon learn he loved a good hunt, especially one that led to her.

With a grin, he folded the map and tucked it securely into his heavy backpack before setting off, his steps settling into an easy jog. The landscape opened up around him, sunlight filtering through the trees, and he could already feel that magnetic pull in his chest, that need to be near her. It was undeniable, the way she drew him in, like some force of nature itself. His heartbeat picked up as he neared her coordinates, anticipation mixing with the calmness that only she seemed to bring.

Today, he was more than ready to follow wherever she led him.

~~~~~~~

Terry found her.

She looked like she belonged here, part of the landscape itself—reclining on a blanket she’d spread out for them, nestled between a wall of wildflowers on one side and tall trees on the other. The sun kissed her face whenever a breeze stirred the branches above. Terry held his breath, instinctively raising his phone to capture her just like this: eyes closed, relaxed, her white-painted toes wiggling contentedly in the grass. She was the perfect depiction of serenity. The breeze carried her jasmine scent, mingling with the wildflowers, and he felt his mouth water as a hunger grew within him.

As he edged closer, he took in the way her dark cropped shirt and matching biker shorts hugged her curves. His gaze lingered on her exposed, soft thighs, and he bit his lip, longing to leave a trail of kisses along that smooth skin. He was enraptured, his body pulling him forward of its own accord. Just then, his foot came down on a stick, and it cracked beneath him, snapping her out of her trance.

She sat up quickly, squinting, clearly struggling to make sense of the fuzzy figure approaching. Terry smiled, crouching down beside her, picking up her glasses from the blanket.

“You really need to be more aware of your surroundings, pretty girl,” he murmured, slipping the frames gently onto the bridge of her nose. His fingers found her braids, smoothing them away from her face as he held her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

Reign’s lips curved into a soft, easy smile, her hands finding their way to his sturdy thighs, grounding herself in the warmth of him. A spark danced in her eyes, the playful challenge he’d come to love. She leaned up towards him, her breath a soft whisper against his lips. “You found me,” she teased, voice low, “good boy.”

He blinked, stunned for a moment and dick hardening in response, but then her quick, sticky-sweet kiss left him reeling, wanting more, just as she fell back against the blanket with a mischievous laugh. Terry exhaled, staring down at her, his own laughter echoing hers as he wondered what he’d done to have this beautiful, maddening woman in his life. Shaking his head, he shrugged off his backpack, settling in beside her, his heart feeling lighter the more time he spent with her.

“You didn’t make it hard for me to find you, Reign.” His deep voice wrapped around her name, and she felt a delicious shiver run through her. Trying to disguise her reaction, she rolled onto her side to face him. He’d mimicked her earlier pose, lying on his back with his hands behind his head, biceps flexing, looking effortlessly relaxed. She watched his broad chest rise and fall with each slow inhale, his long lashes fluttering as he watched the drifting clouds. He looked exactly like he did in her secret fantasies.

“I’ll make it harder next time, then,” she teased, before spotting the picnic basket she’d brought. “Oh!” She grinned. “I almost forgot—I brought goodies for us!” Terry’s gaze didn’t waver as he watched her shift positions.

In a bold move, Reign swung herself over him, straddling his hips, settling her weight comfortably against him. Terry tensed beneath her, his eyes darkening. She tried to appear casual, squeezing his hips with her thighs as she busied herself pulling out sandwiches and snacks, chattering about where she got them and how much she hoped he’d like them.

Terry didn’t hear a single word really. She felt so warm on top of him, just like she had on her balcony. And she looked so pretty from this angle, glasses cutely sliding down her nose, braids messily falling in her face. He could imagine how sexily she’d bounce on him, her melodic voice moaning his name, making such a mess with her wet-

“Terry?” her voice and the feeling of her hand softly rubbing up and down his chest snapped his attention back to her. His breathing was stuttered, his eyes cloudy with lust, his hardness pressing right into her clothed center. She tilted her head to the side, almost innocently, and raised a brow with a sweet smile.

“You hungry?” Reign could tell by the dark hue of his eyes that she was playing a dangerous game. Terry moved his hands from behind his head to firmly grip her thighs and hold her steady. She gasped as he rolled his hips up into her, pressing his bulge exactly where she needed him the most.

“Yes.” His voice was rough, almost a growl, and the single word was packed with layers of meaning. Reign felt her body flush and her shyness return to the surface. She quickly climbed off of him with a nervous laugh and Terry took a deep, calming breath.

“Great!” Reign’s voice came out squeaky in that way it always does when he left her flustered, “Dig in!”.

~~~~~~~

They ate slowly, savoring both the food and each other’s company. Terry found himself talking more than he had with her before, letting himself be pulled along by Reign’s quiet encouragement, her smile and laughter drawing him further out of his shell. He shared stories from his time in the military, but carefully chose the lighter ones, filled with camaraderie and the kind of loyalty he hadn’t realized he missed so much.

At one point, he caught himself pausing, unsure if he should say what was on his mind. But something about the way Reign looked at him—completely open, with no judgment, just a quiet patience—made him feel like he could keep going.

“You’ve got this aura about you, you know?” His deep voice came out almost shyly, and his piercing eyes took in all of her features. Her laughter bubbled up, soft and genuine, and it settled something deep within him.

“Oh?” she asked, leaning in from where she sat next to him, gently bumping his shoulder encouraging him to continue, her eyes alight with curiosity. “What kind of aura do I have?”

He paused, weighing his words. “It’s like… you quiet all the noise in my head.” He was taken aback by his own honesty. “I haven’t felt that way with anyone else.”

She gave him a smile, taking in every word without interrupting. And the more he spoke, the more he realized how much he wanted her to know—how desperately he wanted her to understand this unspoken connection that he hadn’t been able to put into words.

They fell into easy conversation after that, intimately feeding each other food here and there, and he realized he wanted to know her in ways he hadn’t been interested in knowing anyone else ever—her past, her dreams, the quietest parts of her mind. And he shared just as much with her as she did with him, her questions gentle but curious, drawing out memories and stories he hadn’t thought of in years. He watched her as he spoke, the way her expressions shifted with each story, each reaction giving him a little more permission to let his guard down.

A thought crossed his mind as he looked at her, laughing softly at something he’d just said. He wondered if she realized how rare it was for him to feel this… safe. To feel so seen without the need to shield himself. She was only just beginning to know him, but there was an honesty and ease between them that he was finding harder and harder to resist.

They found themselves lying side by side again as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting everything in a golden shine. This time, Terry was propped up on his side, taking in the way her skin seemed to glow in the fading light. Reign stretched out languidly, like a contented cat, her arms reaching above her head, shifting her body just a little closer to his warmth without even realizing it. His eyes traveled over the curve of her torso, drawn to the delicate lotus etched on her ribs. With a gentleness that disguised his hunger for her, he lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles softly over the inked petals, tracing them as if they held a secret meant only for him.

“I have a confession to make, Reign,” Terry’s voice was a low rumble as his knuckles brushed over her belly button. She squirmed at the tickling sensation, cracking one eye open to give him a suspicious, playful look.

“Well, go on then, Terry. I’m about to explode from the suspense of it all,” she teased, her voice dripping with mock impatience. He clenched his jaw to keep from laughing at her bratty tone—she was such a smart ass.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he flipped his hand, letting his palm settle warmly against her lower tummy, just above the high waistband of her shorts. Reign’s breath caught, and she felt her pulse quicken as both her eyes opened, now fully alert and fixed on him.

“I haven’t been a good boy, actually,” he murmured, his gaze darkening, “not with the thoughts I’ve been having about you.”

The quiet intensity in his voice washed over her, and the heat of his hand was almost burning. Reign’s body responded instantly, a flush of desire spreading like wildfire, making her shift beneath him. “Yeah?” Her voice came out a little breathless, but she didn’t try to hide it, letting the weight of her want show.

Terry nodded with solemn honesty, his gaze unwavering, serious in a way that made her heart thud harder. When it came to her, he wouldn’t lie—not about anything. Reign hummed thoughtfully, her gaze lingering over him as she brought one hand to wrap her fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand down with unhurried purpose. She stopped just as his fingertips brushed under the band of her shorts and panties.

“Feel me.” Reign’s tone left no room for argument, not that Terry even wanted to protest in the first place. His long fingers eased their way lower, feeling the smooth skin and small tuft of soft hair, his watchful eyes locked on hers the entire time. He let out a low groan when he felt how hot and slick she was, his fingers easily slipping around her hard nub causing her lashes to flutter before she focused her gaze on him again.

“I’ve been having those same thoughts Terry.” Her sweet voice was deeper now, and Terry felt himself pulse under the layers of constricting clothes he had on. Reign’s breath hitched as she felt his thick fingertips make another circle around her clit, drawing more wetness from her.

“We should stop thinking so hard then, pretty girl.” Terry gently pulled his hand out from the tempting oasis between her thighs, and she watched awestruck as he sucked her sweetness clean off of his fingers, a pleasure filled rumble leaving his chest. “We can finish this at my place-” Reign was already sitting up before he could finish, haphazardly throwing shit in the picnic basket causing Terry to let out a hearty laugh at her eagerness.

***

An excerpt from chapter 4...

“I’ve been wanting to be here…” his voice husky from his visceral need for her, and Reign's moans increased in volume at how she could somehow feel his voice in the depth of her being, right where his tip repeatedly kissed her cervix.

“…in this moment with you, for too long Reign.” He could hardly speak, the feeling of her warm pussy squeezing around him in response to his words, it was too much. Reign moaned louder, eyes shut tightly at his increased thrusting, getting lost in all he was giving her.

“Don’t hold back shit from me, baby girl. Give me everything.”

~~~~~~~

Let me know what you think 🤭

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#rebel ridge #terry richmond #terry richmond x reader #aaron pierre #terry richmond fic #terry richmond smut #rebel ridge fanfiction #terry richmond x black oc #take you there #my writing #my oc #Spotify

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loveesiren · 2 days ago

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Doing It All For Us (Pt. 10)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe is safe for now, and their crazy kinks come out once again

Warnings: Language, fighting, smut, blood kink, pregnancy

Word Count: 4.4k+

And just like that, your world came crashing down around you.

You swallow hard, trying to comprehend what Rafe has just said to you. He's staring at you, waiting for you to say something but the words just wouldn't come.

Rafe tried to hold back tears. This was it. You were going to leave him. He was going to prison and he would lose you and his baby and everything that brought him any ounce of happiness in his life.

"Y-you...shot..."You muttered. "I-is she dead?"

"I don't know," His voice was barely above a whisper.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. "What happened, exactly, Rafe?" You finally managed.

"She was going to arrest my dad. S-she had the gun pointed at him. I-I had to save him, Y/N." He was crying again.

"What? Why was she arresting your dad?"

"John B said Ward killed his dad."

"What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself as you lean back against the frame of Rafe's bed, leaning your head in your hands.

You knew something had happened when Ward took John B fishing. He had come back with a gaff hook wound on his arm claiming John B attacked him. You really didn't stick around to listen to what happened. You were trying to keep your stress levels down but that obviously wasn't happening anymore.

"Where's your dad?"

"He was still at the tarmac. He told me to bring Sarah home. She saw everything..."

"Shit."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I fucked up. I panicked, I didn't want my dad to get hurt and I-"

"Shh, baby. I know." You tell him, pulling his face to yours. "I know."

"A-are gonna leave me?" His voice was so pitiful, cracking as he spoke. The sound broke your heart.

"No. I told you, Rafe. Forever. You and me against the world." You told him before pressing your lips to his.

He brought his hands up, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulled you deeper into the kiss. He couldn't believe it. The fact that you were still here. Still here after he just made the biggest mistake of his life. One that could land him in a jail cell forever.

"Listen to me," You told him as you pulled away. You were way more calm than you should have been, but seeing Rafe freak out somehow helped you to keep your head on straight. "We need to talk to Ward. Find out what happened after you left the tarmac."

Rafe nods between your hands. "Okay."

"We'll figure something out, okay?"

"I-I can't lose you and our baby."

"You won't. I promise you you won't."

You and Rafe sat silently in Ward's office as you waited for him to return home. Rafe looked over old photos and awards hung up on the walls, smiling as he ran his fingers over a photo of him and his father.

You watch him sadly. The hold Ward had over him. Rafe just wanted to be accepted and the lack of love Ward had given him has now landed him in the worst possible situation.

Rafe sat down beside you with the picture.

"You look so handsome," You tell him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He smiles at you. He always blushed when you called him handsome.

Ward walks in the room and your stomach drops. He stares at you both for a moment before sighing and closing the door. You're trying your best to remain calm but your head was flooded with anxiety. Flooded with thoughts of all the worst possible outcomes.

"Is...she alive?" Rafe asks.

Ward shakes his head.

"No?"

"No."

You clench your jaw and take in a deep breath.

"Okay," Rafe said, trying to calm himself as he could feel the anxiety return to his body. "Okay."

You place a hand on Rafe's bicep, rubbing his skin lightly to try and calm him down.

"What did you tell the cops? Are they coming here?" Rafe asks.

Ward walks to his desk, pouring himself a glass of whiskey before responding. "I told them John B did it."

"Told 'em John B did it..." Rafe repeated his father's words, pondering the idea. "That's good. Yes, that could work!"

You bit your lip as you watched Rafe start to get manic.

"Rafe. I need you to go to your room. Take a shower okay? Get cleaned up. If anyone asks, you were here all day okay? You were doing maintenance on The Druthers." Ward says, glancing to you. You nod your head in agreement.

"No. No, Rose knows I wasn't here." Rafe argued.

"I will talk to Rose."

"What-what about Sarah?" Rafe asks, standing up now.

"What about Sarah?" Ward asks.

"Sarah, listen, Sarah has a big mouth okay?"

"You're sister isn't going to do anything to hurt us."

"No, no, no you didn't see her in the car okay? She was freaking out!" Rafe argues back. You could hear the stress in his voice. "I have a suggestion-"

"Rafe! Stop it! I don't need your help. I didn't need it then and I don't need it now. I just need to think! So please, go clean up!" Ward was yelling now. You could see the pain on Rafe's face.

"You understand, right? Rafe said sadly. "You understand?"

"Understand what, Rafe?"

"Why I did it."

You sat silently, biting back tears. Ward turned to look at Rafe once again.

"You were in trouble and I was protecting you. Okay? Me, dad. Rafe. Not Sarah, okay? It was me!"

You couldn't help but cry now as you watched tears spill from his eyes. This wasn't his fault. You couldn't blame him for what he did. He was so broken.

Rafe backed away as Ward walked towards him. "Sorry," Rafe said softly, nervous of what his dad was going to do next.

Ward slowly pulled Rafe to him. "I know, come here. Come on, come on, bud."

You watched Rafe's face. He was shocked at the fact that his dad was hugging him. But he hugged him back tightly.

"Come on, bud, I'm sorry. I love you. I love you, Rafe. So much."

Rafe smiled at his dad's words. You couldn't help but watch them with sorrow in your eyes. The way his father's approval made him glow. How could Ward not see how special his son was?

"Listen, everything is going to be okay. We will figure it out." Ward promises.

You stand up and grab Rafe's hand. He wraps his arms around you tightly.

"Y/N-" Ward begins.

"Maintenance on The Druthers." You nod. "I'm all in."

Ward offers a sad smile. He's obviously upset that the three of you were now involved in this mess. But he was going to protect his son at all costs and make sure he gets the chance to be a father himself.

You and Rafe move in silence. The events of the day heavy on your mind. He pulls you into the shower with him and the two of you just stand there holding each other as you let the warm water wash away your worries.

The feeling of his skin on yours had you crying silently. You don't know what you'd do without him. He trailed the tips of his fingers over your spine and you drag your acrylics up and down his back.

Rafe moved a hand to your stomach, brushing over it softly. You didn't need to speak. Neither of you did. You could feel how much Rafe loved you and your unborn child. You clung to him tightly, reminding him you were still there. That you and Wolf were still there.

Rafe turned the shower off and wrapped you up in a towel, drying you off before he grabbed your favorite lotion and made sure he rubbed it over every inch of your body. You melted under his touch. The way his fingers traced the contours of your skin. The way he worshipped every part of your body, placing kisses all along your limbs.

He scooped you up and carried you to his bed. He went to his dresser and pulled out a shirt for you to wear. You slid it on, clutching the fabric tightly because it smelled like him.

He pulled on some boxers and climbed into bed beside you before grabbing his remote and flipping through the horror movie section.

He decided on Sinister, knowing it was one of your favorites. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. You snaked your legs between his and clung to him like a Boa Constrictor.

He ran his fingers through your wet hair as you concentrated on your movie. He never cared for horror, but he loved watching you get so focused. He worked on detangling each knot in your hair, silently praying that everything would turn out okay. He'd just murdered someone today. A cop. The Sheriff. And somehow, you were still here in his arms.

"You're with a murderer." Rafe whispered against your forehead. The guilt was starting to set in.

"I'm with Rafe Cameron." You responded. "A man that protects what he loves at all costs."

You could feel his tears fall on your face as he hugged your closer.

"Me and Wolf will always be safe with you." You reassured him. And it was true. Rafe loves with his whole heart. If he could get past your flaws you could get past his. He killed someone, yes, but to protect his father. You know he'd kill for you and his baby too.

You felt 100% safe wrapped up in Rafe's arms. Nothing would take you from him.

You woke up early. A lot earlier than Rafe. You crawled out of bed and pulled on your jeans. You placed a kiss on Rafe's forehead before sneaking out of his room, desperate for some food. The baby was hungry to say the least.

You could hear Ward and Sarah talking down the hall. You stood outside Sarah's room and listened.

"He shot her!"

"You have to pick between John B or your family!" Ward responded. "Nothing is going to happen to Rafe."

Ward walked out of her room, closing the door and locking it. He spotted you, giving you a look of concern.

"Let me out!" You could hear Sarah pound on the door.

"Why are you locking her in there?" Wheezie asked as she rounded the corner.

"Listen, there was an accident and your sister is very upset so we need to give her some time to calm down." Ward told her.

"Did something happen to the baby?" Wheezie asked, turning to you.

"No!" You told her. "The baby, is just fine, Wheeze." You smile at her. "Let's go have breakfast, yeah?" You ask her, leading her downstairs. You glance back at Ward with a warning look. Telling him he needs to get Sarah under control.

You and Wheezie sit at the kitchen table, nibbling on bacon and talking about the boys in her class.

Rafe rushes into the kitchen. He'd managed to put on sweats but no shirt. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you.

"Baby, where'd you go?"

"I'm having breakfast with Wheezie," You say, pulling him in for a kiss. "Baby was hungry."

He sits beside you, wrapping an arm around your stomach and the other around your neck. You offer him a piece of bacon and he takes it in one bite.

"Ew, do I have to be like you guys when I start dating?" Wheezie scoffs.

"You're not dating anyone, Wheeze." Rafe snaps.

You chuckle. "No. Never let a boy do something you're uncomfortable with."

Rafe was nuzzling into your neck now, placing wet kisses along your skin.

"Yuck," Wheezie scoffs. "I hope guys aren't like this."

"They are!" Rafe shouts as Wheezie gets up and walks away. "No boys!"

"You know, being all over me like this is gonna have her thinking all guys are like this." You scold.

"They are."

"Maybe at our age, but not at hers."

"No boys."

You roll your eyes as Rafe lays his head in your lap and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your belly.

"Rafe, this is the kitchen," Rose scolds as she walks in the room.

Rafe groans and leans up. You laugh and go back to eating your breakfast, feeding Rafe some as well as he still keeps his hands on your stomach.

"They're looking for John B." Ward states as he walks in the kitchen. You and Rafe both look up. "There's a reward out for him. $25,000."

You smile. The island was buying it. John B killed Peterkin. Rafe was safe.

Rose knew. She knew Rafe had done it. But she'd never do anything to rat out this family. Especially since Rafe was going to be a father.

You and Rose had actually gotten quite close. She had a miscarriage at a young age. It was hard. But she was more than happy that you were pregnant and she was dead set on making sure you were eating good and taking care of yourself.

She loved her step children like her own. But Rafe was crazy, Sarah wanted to be a Pogue, and Wheezie spent a lot of time on TikTok. But you always gave Rose the time of day. You liked helping her water her flowers and discussing baby stuff and preparing dinner.

John B was almost caught the night prior when you, Rafe, and Kelce tried to smoke out the bell tower. But Topper chose to pick his undying love for Sarah and let John B and Sarah get away.

You had found Rafe outside in the morning, starting up his bike and talking to himself.

"Baby, what's going on?" You asked him, forcing him to calm down and look at you.

"Stay here, Y/N!" Rafe snapped at you before hopping on his bike and riding off.

Oh fuck no.

You ran inside and grabbed the keys to his truck. You hopped in, backing out of the driveway quickly. It wasn't long before you spotted Rafe. You slowed down, trailing behind a bit so he wouldn't notice you. You watched as he pulled into Barry's house.

"Goddammit." You muttered to yourself. You were not wanting to see Barry after what happened a month and a half ago. You were in your second trimester now. Pulling into this house gave you anxiety.

You park the truck and sigh. Finally pulling yourself out of the vehicle and heading inside.

"I'm 100% fucked man!" You heard Rafe yell.

"What the fuck is happening?" You ask as you swing open the screen door.

"Y/N," Rafe said. "Why the fuck are you here?!"

"Don't fucking snap at me, Rafe!"

Rafe shut his mouth. You scoffed and went and sat on Barry's couch.

"Look, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find John B?" Barry asked. "And when they find him, he's gonna start snitchin'."

"You know it was John B that stole that 25k from you right?"

"Exactly my point, Country Club. The hammer's comin' down on them Pogues."

"Let's go get your fuckin' money then." You say, standing up from the couch.

"Y/N-" Rafe starts.

"Rafe, I swear to God, I will knock your ass out." Your hormones were making themselves known.

"I don't got time for you two to argue. Let's go!" Barry yells.

Rafe glances at you and you give him a stern look back before following him outside. He gives you his helmet as you climb on the back of his bike and wrap your arms tightly around him.

After riding around for a bit you stopped at an intersection as you watched a ton of cop cars drive by. "Shit, they're looking for him." You mutter.

"Yo, is that Kie?" Rafe asks as you see a familiar SUV drive past.

"There goes that lil bitch ass now!" Barry said and you all kicked off and followed Kie's car.

You all hopped off the bikes as you pulled up to an old garage. "Alright you two go around that way and I'll take 'em from over there." Barry says, directing you where to go. You nod and follow Rafe.

"Hey, there. What's goin' on? How you guys doing?" Rafe says as he enters the garage and walks towards Kiara. You stand off to the side and cross your arms, eyeing their movements as Barry holds a gun up to JJ.

God you wished you could fucking fight.

Barry took JJ down easily and you watched Rafe drag Kiara away. "It's not you we want, Kie, okay? Where's John B?"

"I don't know!" She screamed as she slapped him hard across the face.

You started forward, it took everything in you not to attack her.

"I know what you did! You murdered Peterkin!" Kiara yelled at him.

Shit. She knew. John B must have told her. You were too distracted by Kiara and Rafe to notice Pope sneak up behind you and hit you in the back of the knee with a tire iron.

You let out a loud cry as you feel to the floor, catching yourself just before your stomach made contact with the cement.

"Y/N!" Rafe yelled, but before he could get to you, Pope was hitting him.

JJ had tripped Barry, causing him to drop his gun and Kiara was quick to grab it, pointing it at you as you looked up at her from the ground.

You clenched your jaw angrily as you held your hands up in surrender.

"Don't touch her!" You could hear Rafe yell, trying to fight off Pope. "She's fucking pregnant, please! Please don't hurt her!"

Kiara's eyes went wide as she lowered the gun. "Pope, Pope! He's had enough dude!" JJ was yelling, trying to get Pope to release his grip on the cord wrapped around Rafe's neck.

"Rafe!" You cried, trying to get to your feet but the searing pain in your leg was preventing you from doing so.

"Pope, look at me!" Kiara screamed, finally getting Pope's attention as he let go of his hold on your boyfriend. "Come on, we gotta get out of here!"

You were crying now, crawling over to where Rafe was laying covered in blood. "Rafe, baby, are you okay?" You asked, holding his face in your hands.

He was breathing heavily and coughing, pulling you close to him. He clung to you, trying to catch his breath, placing a protective hand over your belly.

"I'm okay, Rafe. I promise." You tell him, cradling his head. "I'm okay."

After a few minutes, Rafe's finally able to sit up. "Where'd he hit you?" He asked.

"In the back of the leg. He didn't hit the baby. I promise." You reassure him.

"He's fucking dead."

"We'll get them, Rafe. Right now we gotta make a plan." You glance over to where Barry was picking himself up off the ground. "You good, Barry?"

"Yup!" Barry groans as he stands up and walks over to help Rafe up.

Rafe helped you up and wrapping his arm around your waist as you limped beside him, leading you out to the bikes. Rafe sat down and you wedged yourself between his legs as you looked over his injuries.

"Sheriff Peterkin, huh?" Barry laughed. "You're better than I thought, Country Club!"

You shoot daggers at Barry and he shuts up. You could tell he wanted to say some dumb shit but he bit it back.

"Look, we're gonna get John B, aight? I'll be in touch." Barry says before walking off towards his bike.

"Hey, baby, look at me." You say, taking Rafe's face between your hands and forcing him to make eye contact. You could tell he was on the verge of a break down.

"I let you get hurt. I put you in danger. I put our baby in danger." He said as he bit back tears.

"No you didn't Rafe. I'm the one who wanted to come. I was the one not paying attention."

"I'm supposed to protect you." He leans his head on your shoulder, pulling you closer by your belt loops.

"Rafey, you do. Shit happens sometimes."

He shakes his head.

"Hey, look at me!" You say again, forcing his head up. You bit your lip as you looked at him. The blood coating his skin did things to you. You wrapped your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck and pulled his head back. You ran your tongue up his neck to his chin, licking off the fresh blood that dripped from his wound.

You heard him groan at the sensation, tightening his grips on your hips as his shorts tightened.

You pressed your lips to his, letting your tongue slip into his mouth as you enjoyed the metallic taste that lingered there.

"Take me home, Rafe." You whispers against his lips.

Rafe pulled into your driveway and helped you off the bike. You'd been staying at the Cameron's for so long you were happy to be home.

You also didn't want to walk into Tannyhill bloody and limping, knowing there would be a plethora of questions about what happened.

You limped to your front door and fiddled with your keys.

"Baby, let me help you." Rafe says, taking your keys from you and helping you stand up.

Once you were inside Rafe picked you up and carried you to the couch. You both groaned in pain as you sat down.

"Do you feel okay?" Rafe asks.

"Yeah, baby. Are you okay?" You run your hand over the bruising on his face. He nods. "Take your shirt off."

He does as he's told and you examine the bruises forming on his back from where Pope had hit him with the tire iron. He winced in pain as you lightly pressed his skin.

"Sorry baby..." You said.

"It's okay," He mumbles. You bite your lip as your eyes scan his body. The bruising, the blood. You hated seeing him hurt but it fucking turned you on. "What?" He asks with a smirk.

You suddenly felt shy. You felt your cheeks blush as you smile up at your boyfriend. "Tell me what you need, princess," His voice was low as he smiled and moved on top of you, placing soft kisses on your neck.

Your breath hitched at the sensation. "You want my blood, huh, pretty girl?"

"Mhmm," You moan.

Rafe grabs your jaw, forcing your mouth open. You stick out your tongue as he lets his bloody saliva slip from his lips to yours. "Swallow." He demands and you happily oblige. You could feel the warmth at your core. "Good girl."

Rafe tugs at your shirt, pulling it off over your head, leaving you exposed to him. He brings his lips to your collar bone and sucks at your skin, surely leaving bruises.

"Fuck, Rafe..." You breathe.

He brings his hands to your breasts and massages roughly, flicking your nipple between his fingers and you could feel your need for him growing between your legs.

He left a trail of blood and bruises as he sucked and bit his way down your body. He stops at your stomach, placing a gentle kiss on the small bump starting to form. "You're so amazing," He whispers against your skin. "Carrying our baby."

You smile down at him lovingly, running your fingers through his shaggy hair. You watch as he unbuttons your shorts and slides them down your legs along with your panties. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, mama." He whispers, trailing bloody kisses up and down your thighs.

You gasp as he runs his tongue up the length of your core. He gets to work, circling your clit with his tongue. He pushes two fingers inside you and curls, hitting you in just the right spot as he pumps them in and out of you.

"Oh my - Rafe, fuck!" You cry, reaching your hands back to grip the top of the couch as you tried to steady yourself. Wrapping your legs around his head, you're sure he's suffocating but he just seems hungrier.

You could feel the knot form in the pit of your stomach as he flicked his tongue over your clit just right. He looked up and smiled as he watched you come undone. "Cum for me, baby girl."

The vibration of his words against your most sensitive area sent you over the edge. You couldn't control the way your legs shook as squirted in Rafe's mouth. He didn't stop, swallowing everything you offered him and licking you clean, sending you into overstimulation.

You laid speechless, trying to catch your breath. Rafe looked up at you with a shit eating grin, proud of himself for making you feel so good. Knowing he's the only one that's ever made you feel that good.

He crawled back on top of you, picking you up by they hips and laying you down on the couch beneath him. He sat up, quickly undoing his belt and shorts. You watched him, still trying to catch your breath from the intense orgasm you just experienced.

"You're my girl, you know that?" He asked you, grabbing your legs and pulling you towards him. He leaned over, lips hovering above yours as he lined himself up at your entrance. "My girl. Carrying my baby. Yeah?"

He was being possessive. Dominant. His eyes were crazy and you melted under his spell. "Yours." You promised.

He wrapped his fingers in your hair, cradling your head as he pressed his forehead to you. "My family..." He whispered, pushing into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. "Mine."

You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Rafe. I'll always belong to you."

He groans into your neck as he pulls out and thrusts into you again. "Say it again,"

"I belong to you, Rafe Cameron."

He looks into your eyes as he thrusts into you harder. Small whimpers escape your lips as you stare back at him. The feeling of him inside you made you want to cry. Not in a way that it hurt, no. In the way that this was the closest you could possibly be and it still wasn't enough. The way he made your entire body tingle. The way the two of you fit together like a puzzle. It was the fact that you both knew you would absolutely die without each other. Like the world would simply stop turning if you were apart. And it was the way the love you had for one another created something new. The life growing inside you, belonged to you and Rafe and it was sacred. Something you would protect at all costs.

You didn't realize you actually were crying until Rafe's tears fell on your face. You were both crying silently as he continued to make love to you. The feeling of him sliding against your inner walls was pure ecstasy and you could feel yourself reaching your high once again.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him into you. You felt his cock twitch as he spilled inside of you, your walls pulsating around him as you came too.

You both sat silently, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. Rafe cupped your cheek and placed a kiss gently on your lips before pulling out of you and rolling to your side, pulling you tightly against his chest. You were both overwhelmed with emotion. You laced your fingers between his and brought his hand to your lips, kissing his skin softly.

"I love you forever," You whisper before drifting off to sleep.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

#rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe cameron obx #obx fanfiction #obx #obx fic #outer banks #euphoria aesthetic #euphoria #drew starkey #alexa demie #maddy perez

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verstappenf1lecccc · 19 hours ago

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Now that you are gone

please note that once again this is a very important topic this is the last part of this series. if you are not familiar with this series please check the warnings.

Dearest husband or should I say ex husband now that I am gone or will be gone by the time that you would have found this letter. I couldn’t do it anymore lando I saw the way you and charlotte were being burdened by my presence and just knew I had to leave.

You were never a bad husband just simply disappeared from our marriage.

Each day I crumbled infront of you and yet you stayed oblivious, it’s been over 3 months since we last shared a bed and I know you are disgusted by the thought of being with me now that I’ve let myself go, all I wanted was love but I guess it was too much to ask for.

Please don’t try and save me now that you’ve read this, I’ve been gone for far too long for you to simply try now. I know we promised forever to each-other but sometimes maybe it’s for the best that it ends early. Be there for charlotte don’t leave her alone you are the only thing she has left I doubt that she would even notice I’m gone.

I know you hated being told what to do but please make sure charlotte never finds out how I left it’s the only thing I will ask from you. I still love you I promise I just don’t love myself enough to say. The voices are getting too hard to block out.

Goodbye Lando Norris

When lando came home from the club he didn’t expect to be treated to the shrill cries of his daughter, he knew you’d be there to take care of her and had called out your name to make sure you were with her so that he could go lay down the amount of drinks he had plus the cries of his daughter made him want to throw up due to the intense headache.

little did he know everything was simply going to get worse for him.

After yelling your name for several minutes with no response he knew he had to deal with charlotte, muttering under his breath about how deaf you were being. He stomped up the hallway into little charlottes room and based of the little girls cries it seemed like she knew that she had just lost her mother. Nothing lando could do was able to console the destraught little girl. It took him an hour to get her down.

An hour which could have been used to save you.

Lando was blissfully unaware of the heartache that was going to be unleashed into his heart. He searched the house trying to find you and give you a piece of his mind.

When you were nowhere to be found he had the bright idea to check the cameras, and that lead him to his discovery. A rather shocking one that he wouldn’t even wish on his worst enemy.

In the middle of the bathroom deep within the bathtub laid his wife, his one anchor in life through everything the women he called everything laid there in tranquility. The water still and unmoving your body laid there lips blue and cold to the touch yet to lando you still looked like the prettiest women in the world. His mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening it wasn’t until it finally hit that you were not moving, this wasn’t some sick prank or a nightmare that he could wake up from this was his reality his wife was dead lying there cold and dead. The women he called his angel now was an actual angel. He had lost her he lost his love and he knew it was all his fault. He felt shame creeping up his neck knowing he was trying to find you to yell at you. His head shaked with the intensity of the situation.

It was the day after your funeral when lando had found the letter you had left for him and charlotte.

It broke lando to a different level, in his wife’s handwriting his sins were written, he and killed her he had killed you and each day he would pay for his sins.

You were always there, no matter where lando went there was a bit of you everywhere.

He couldn’t get rid of you, not that he wanted to either

The only words he could have muttered at your funeral were “it should have been me, I did it it shoukd have been me she wasn’t supposed to go so soon”.

16 years later

Little Charlotte Norris was not so little anymore, she was now a grown 17 year old girl with questions about her mothers sudden death.

Her entire life she had been shielded from the gruesome reality of how her mother died.

Her father whom she adored more than anything in the world hid the truth from her. Her mother didn’t simply die of a heart attack at 24 she died due to depression, and when Charlotte Norris unfortunately found out the bitter truth due to Lando’s negligence her world shattered.

Her father’s irresponsible behaviour killed her mother.

Landos midnight saddens had resulted in him forgetting to hide away the letters you had left for him and charlotte another careless mistake on his part which would result in him losing his daughter as well.

Charlotte was in tears when Lando returned and he just knew she had found out about everything he could simply feel it.

He tried to justify his actions and decisions blaming it on him being too young and not knowing what PPD was, unfortunately for him his little angel would hear none of it.

She had left lando just like you had.

Charlotte now went by your last name still blaming her father for the years of hurt you went through and how she had to grow up without a maternal figure, she didn’t know why but she always missed you and your soft face.

Your daughter had started up a foundation to help new mothers and fathers with postpartum depression and the anxiety new mothers face. This was the best tribute she would have ever come up with.

tagged -:

@yunnifer

#f1 imagine #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #formula one #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando x y/n #lando x you #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando #lando norris x reader #lando norris #angsty #sad fic #formual one #f1 fandom #angst #lando norris angst

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lettre-romantiques · 7 hours ago

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7#-> 💌: a letter has arrived from satoru gojo.

dear y/n,

pretty abrupt.. if this gets through, if you're not bawling your pretty little eyes out then i am dead. i know it's a little sudden to start this letter off but.. i don't wanna sugarcoat it because i know it’s going to hurt you more than i can even imagine. i didn’t want it to end like this, not like this, but here we are. and honestly, after everything, i think i’m okay with it.

i don’t want you to feel anger right now. i don’t want you to feel regret. this isn’t your fault. if there’s anyone to blame, it’s me. it’s always been me. i knew the risks, i knew what i was up against, but i kept pushing forward. i know this isn’t how you’d want to hear it. i know you’re going to hate me for leaving you with nothing but these words. this letter is all i have left to give you. i know it won’t make up for anything. but i’m trying, in the only way i know how. if there’s any justice in this world, you’ll get it. for me, for us. and maybe, just maybe, it’ll be enough to make things right again.

i think about what could’ve been. what we could’ve had. you and me. together. free from all of this. i’d take you away, y/n, if i could. to somewhere safe, somewhere quiet. no more curses, no more fighting, no more deaths. just us, finally living a life without the weight of the world on our shoulders. but it’s not going to happen, is it? the way things are, the way the world works, it was always a dream. too big. too much. something even i wasn’t able to achieve.

but.. y/n, it’s strange. the moment i saw my own blood, the moment i knew this was it, i realized something. for all the years i’ve spent knowing to be invincible, the one thing i never considered was the idea of you. of you being the one who’d have to pick up the pieces. of you carrying the weight of everything i couldn’t save. and i need you to know this isn’t your burden to bear.

i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i really am, you were the most wonderful partner i could ever be with.

if i could have stayed, i would’ve. you know that. but that’s not how it ended. i want you to live. i want you to find a way to be happy again. i don’t care how long it takes, or how hard it is. i want you to find that peace, even if i’m not there to see it.

you deserve justice for everything. for the pain, for the loss, for the rage you’ll feel when you read these words and realize you won’t ever get another chance to hold me again. i don’t know if this world will ever be just. i don’t know if they’ll ever pay for what they did to us. but i trust you to do what needs to be done. you always were the better one, even if you didn’t know it. just don’t lose yourself. that’s all i ask of you.

this letter is all i have left to give you. and i know it won’t make up for anything. i wish i could say more. i wish i could say goodbye in a way that wouldn’t leave you crying. i wish i could be there to hold you, to kiss you, to tell you that i love you one more time. but this is all i have left. these words. and maybe, just maybe, they’ll be enough to make sure you know how much i loved you, though i understand that’ll be unlikely. but i hope that, one day, you’ll read this and know that i loved you. that i will always love you.

listen, i know you’re going to fight. i know that rage is going to take over you— the same rage that’s been inside me during this time. but please, please don’t let it consume you. don’t let it make you lose yourself. i don’t want you to become someone else because of me. i don’t want you to walk down the same path that i did, believing that the only way to get justice is through bloodshed. you’re better than that. you always were.

this is it. there’s a part of me that wishes i could have done more, that wishes i could have fought harder, that wishes i could have come up with some plan, some way to get us both out of this hellhole of a world. but i’m done pretending. i’m done trying to outsmart fate.

i know what’s coming, y/n. and i’ve made peace with it. maybe it’s because i’ve been facing the inevitable for so long that it’s not as terrifying as it should be. but that doesn’t mean i’m not afraid. i’m afraid of leaving you behind. i’m afraid of not being able to make things right. i’m afraid of knowing that you’ll have to live without me.

i’m sorry. i’m sorry i couldn’t be there for you. i’m sorry that this world took me from you. but i want you to keep going. for me. for us. please, y/n. keep living. for me. for us. find a way to heal. find a way to move forward. i won’t be there to help you. i won’t be there to hold your hand, but i’ll always be with you in the pieces of your heart. i’ll always be there, just like i promised.

i know how this sounds. i know how it feels to read words on a page that won’t ever bring me back, and that’s the hardest thing about this. i’m writing this to you, and it’s just a letter. it’s all i have. but i need you to understand that you have so much more than this. you have everything you need to keep going.

i’m so fucking sorry. forgive me, please. forgive me for leaving you like this, for doing this to you. i never wanted to hurt you. i never wanted to put you through any of this. but here we are. and now, this is the reality we’re facing. i know it’s not fair. nothing about this is.

i wish i could’ve seen your smile once more. it’s imprinted in my brain, like a photo i can’t shake, but no matter how hard i try, it’s never enough. every time i close my eyes, i can still picture it— that soft, cute smile that always makes everything feel okay. you have no idea how much it means to me, y/n. that smile, that light, it was the one thing i could hold onto when everything around me seemed dark. i’ve spent so much of my life chasing after something, trying to make a difference. but in the end, it was you. your smile. your warmth. that was the real answer, the thing that kept me grounded. and now, knowing i’ll never see it again, it’s like a part of me is missing. i’ll carry it with me, but it's not the same. i want to hold onto that memory forever, but i can’t shake the feeling that it’s slipping away. and that hurts more than i can put into words.

goodness, i’m tearing up, how silly. ironic.

there’s so much i love about you. it’s impossible to list it all, but if i could, i would tell you about the way your eyes light up when you laugh, how it’s like the whole world falls away and nothing else matters. i love the way you’re always thinking of others, even when you’re carrying your own weight. you never asked for the world to be this way, and yet, you still choose to fight. i love how you challenge me, how you make me want to be better, even when i thought i was already everything i could be. but more than that, i love how you loved me. even when i was too reckless, too wild, too lost. when i couldn’t even love myself fully, you made me believe that i was worth something.

you made me feel like i was home. i don’t think i’ve ever truly felt like i belonged after suguru, somewhere until i met you. with you, i could finally breathe. i could finally let my guard down. there’s something about the way you hold me, like everything’s going to be okay, even when it’s not. i’ll carry that feeling with me, y/n, even as i’m fading away. it’s the only thing that gives me peace right now.

but damn, it hurts knowing i’ll never get to hold you like that again, to hear your voice call my name, to feel your hand in mine. the world’s going to keep turning, and i won’t be there for you when you need me most. and that breaks me more than anything. but if you can, if you can find a way to move on, just know that i’ll always be in your heart. always. even if it feels like i’m gone, know that a part of me will always be with you. it’s just the part of me that loves you most.

i’m sorry for not being there. when i wasn’t there for the quiet moments, the ones that mattered most. and now, all i have is this— these words, these apologies, and a lifetime of regret i won’t get to undo. i’m sorry for the pain i caused you, for all the times i didn’t

show up when i promised i would. i’m sorry i made you feel alone in the one thing that should’ve brought us together. at least our last conversation we had wasn’t a big fight. i’m glad for that. but i’m also sad that will be our last.

but hey, i'm gonna die with a smile. not because it's easy, obviously, but because i'm okay with it, because for a second, just for a second, i had something real. something worth fighting for. we had our good moments, right? those little pieces of time where everything felt right, when it was just you and me against the world. i wouldn't trade that for anything. so yeah, i’m smiling, even now, because i got to love you. even if it’s only for a moment, it’s more than some people ever get. and that’s enough for me.

goodbye, my sweetheart. don’t forget me.

i love you.

from, satoru gojo.

p.s. i love you. more than i’ll ever be able to put into words. and in the end, that’s all i really have to give you. my love. always and forever.

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liquidorcard · 1 day ago

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Tw: Heavy topic discussion ahead.

So I have suffered with suicidal ideation for the majority of my life. As long as I can remember-- even when I was a child to some extent.

Despite current awareness of mental health issues, honestly, I don't think we have as a society really resolved yet how to earnestly address the issue. I don't blame people for not knowing what to say to suicidal people or just defaulting to the whole "oh I'm sorry, you're not alone, blah blah blah" song and dance. I get they don't know what to say, but.

The issue with being always suicidal is that it's kinda a bitch to figure out how to just live with? You don't want to worry people, or emotionally burden them, you dont want them walking on eggshells around you forever because they think at any moment they could accidentally push you over the edge. Because the conversation around suicidal ideation is so focused on NOT being suicidal anymore, it functionally silences people in a well-meaning, but still harmful way.

Like, let ol' uncle Eldritch affirm for anyone reading this right now: it's OKAY to be suicidal. Not okay as in, indulge the urge. But suicidal ideation is a mental health concern like any other. It's not your fault, and stressing yourself out that you feel this way will do you no good. Accepting a feeling is not the same as acting on it.

For most people the feeling is temporary, but the reality is for some of us it's not. The feeling might be more intense sometimes than others, but it's okay if they're always there. Strange thing to say, I know, but you don't owe anyone happiness. You don't owe anyone self-contentment. Yes, we all want those things, but getting upset with yourself that you haven't achieved that beyond healthy degrees is a vicious cycle that will only make you more miserable.

There's a difference between treating negative emotions as an undesirable outcome, and treating them as if they're a mistake. As if they're not often enough a logical outcome to many of life's challenges, especially these days.

Counterintuitive, I know, but accepting that someday I might lose the battle with my own suicidal ideation probably saved my life at several low points. Something I've had to reaffirm within myself several times over my life. And something it's been very hard to get other people to understand.

The problem may be bad, but it's almost always the stigma that makes it dire.

I'm not going to pretend there isn't some degree of a grain of truth to the idea that some people use suicidal intent to get attention, but that's a gross and misleading oversimplification of the issue. Some people have no suicidal intent, but use it as a means of manipulating others. I'd say those types of people are rarer than you might imagine, but yes, they exist. I'd say the majority of people, especially the ones who express the thought over and over again, just don't know what to do with their feelings. They're looking for an outlet, an explanation, validation, solidarity-- something. They're looking to not feel so isolated anymore, having feelings they know they "shouldn't be having." As stated above, our society still doesn't accept the feelings as acceptable even if we've moved the dial on the topic, and they're feeling shame and frustration that they just can't quite move past that.

I don't want to speak for everyone but I do believe I'm very much not alone on this when I say the phrase "I want to die"/"I'm suicidal" with the same type of intent I say, "I want to sleep," or "I'm hungry." I'd rather be awake and full, but, I'm currently feeling compelled to satisfy the urge to go to bed or eat. I'd rather be alive, however, dying feels like a very tempting offer. Inconveniently, of course, that craving happens to have permanent results. Can't go back to living if/when I have enough spoons to keep going, boo.

That's a very confusing sensation to grapple with-- understanding your life is a finite resource you aren't going to be able to get back, but also, being fucking sick of it. It's hard to know what to do about that-- especially because, again, you aren't ALLOWED to feel that way apparently.

If that feeling can be fixed it should, but some of us don't have that luxury. Some of us are broken in a way you can patch up, but we can never be fully restored to a mint-like condition. We still have value, we still are useful and can be fully realized people, if there was only room for us to be taken as we are and not how people want us.

Outrageously irresponsible and fucked Lily had the balls to give advice on this, if that even has to be said. Rest assured, she's on my "To Haunt" list if I do end up offing myself (in Minecraft.)

#lily orchard #lily orchard critical #anti lily orchard #lily peet #lily orchard stuff #lorch posting #youtube #liquid orcard #eldritch lily

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rippleclan · 2 days ago

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RippleClan: Moon 73, Part 2

Downstar and Weedfoot are ambushed by… something.

[Image ID: Downstar overlooks a crowd that includes Oilstripe, Lavendertwist, Rabbitjoy, and Paleseed on the left, James, Carnationspeckle, Waspdawn, and Puddlewhisper on the right. Under all but Downstar, it reads + CONDITION: GRIEVING. Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 3.]

Weedfoot woke up with a sudden, violent gasp. Her memory flashed, blood spasming to catch up to the present. Phantom pain pressed her into the moist grass. Breathe, breathe, breathe. No, not just that, move. Where was Downstar? She had been right next to Weedfoot, the two on their first patrol alone in ages, a flash to the earliest days of RippleClan… where had she gone? What had happened?

The creature. Weedfoot remembered it now. It had come out of nowhere. It was no dog, no wolf or bear or human. Something… thin, hollow, and hungry. Weedfoot grit her teeth so tight she thought her fangs would pierce into her brain. She forced herself up, the memories of claw and tooth sharp against her pelt.

Weedfoot wanted to be sick. All she saw was blood on the grass, vibrant green turned dull purple in the late evening glow. It splattered along the tall pine trunks and pooled under Weedfoot. The stench of innards and exposed muscle twisted her stomach. But the worst part of it all was Downstar, laying with her back against an oak tree, battle wounds covering her bicolored pelt and a large chunk of flesh missing from her stomach.

“Downstar!” Weedfoot whined, scrambling to her friend and leader. Downstar’s chest shivered slightly. Her paws twitched. Her half-open amber eyes stared hazily at the horrific scene around her. Weedfoot skidded in front of Downstar, keeping her eyes away from her awful wound. Had she already lost a life? If she hadn’t, she was close. But she had five to spare, Weedfoot could get her to the clerics. She would be fine. Yet could she move Downstar with a wound of that severity?

“I’m here, Downstar,” Weedfoot moaned, setting her paw against Downstar’s bloodied shoulder.

Her paw phased through Downstar’s body.

“She’s already lost one life. It’ll take another before we can heal her, and she’ll still be in danger.” That voice. Weedfoot squeezed her eyes tight, trying to fight back the wave of misery and hopelessness that flooded her face. Weedfoot heard that voice whenever her daughter shot out a clever remark or insightful comment. She heard it in her memories, both good and bad.

Puddlespeckle and Applepelt’s spirits stood beside Downstar’s dying form, pelts sparkling and shining onto her bloodstained fur. Weedfoot wasn’t sure she had ever seen her father look so young. She named Puddlewhisper right; she looked just like her grandfather. It had been so long, Weedfoot had almost forgotten the resemblance.

“Not now,” Weedfoot moaned, her whole body shaking in a decisive no. “Please, not yet, Father. Lightningkit and Cobaltkit are still in the nursery. Waspdawn just lost Littlekit, he’s been so strong, he can’t lose me too.”

“Weedfoot,” Applepelt warned, “as someone who cares about you, I’m telling you now, do not look at your body. You don’t deserve to remember yourself like that.” They walked around Weedfoot, pushing her head forward as it instinctually looked back. Weedfoot only caught a glimpse of her own bloody paw, claws splayed out in the heat of battle.

“Applepelt is here to take you to StarClan,” Puddlespeckle explained. “I… wanted to come with for this.” For a moment that disgusted Weedfoot as soon as it passed, excitement sparked through her chest. She would see Ripplefern again. Fennelspot and Burdockstream, Lavenderleaf, Wasppaw, Paleshade… but she would leave so many behind. The dozen different emotions battling for control in her chest fused together into a single clear thought.

Downstar needed help.

“I’ll go,” Weedfoot choked out, backing up, “but not before I save my friend!” She shut her eyes as she spun around Applepelt and ran in the direction of camp. She knew if she saw herself, she would lack the strength to do what needed to be done. She was still RippleClan’s deputy, and she would do her job!

“Let her go, Puddlespeckle,” she heard Applepelt snap behind her. “This will be better.”

As Weedfoot ran home, she noticed a strength in her muscles that had, day by day, left her in recent moons. She felt like she could run across all five Clans without so much as a single pant. Even her fur, translucent as she now saw it to be, looked brighter than it had since Scaleripple’s birth. The world, settling down into a cool summer night, was more alive than ever before. And all Weedfoot had to do to see that was die.

“Oilstripe!” she yowled, voice catching against the trees. “Oilstripe!” She had always wondered what it was like for her former apprentice to see the spirits of StarClan as they roamed their old home. How she hated to be one of them that day.

Weedfoot could see the shipwreck now. The decaying wood looked golden in the setting sun, with huge shadows of spruces, elders, and rowans dappling the rocky walls of camp. Puddlespeckle and Applepelt had somehow beaten Weedfoot to camp, but they sat on the Resting Place, watching quietly. Leathermask sat guard outside of camp, unflinching to Weedfoot’s call. Weedfoot slowed at the crest of the trees when Oilstripe hurried out of camp, wild eyes meeting Weedfoot’s. Weedfoot’s soul broke just a bit more; how often did Oilstripe have to learn of a Clanmate’s death in such a way? If there had been any better option, Weedfoot would have spared her dear friend the pain. But instead she squared her shoulders as Oilstripe bolted at her.

“No no no,” Oilstripe cried as she reached her old mentor, legs weakening with every frantic step.

“Stop,” Weedfoot barked. Oilstripe gasped, paws digging into the sand and dirt. “Oilstripe, I’m sorry, but you need to listen to me right now. You can’t save me, but you can save Downstar.”

“How—” Oilstripe whined. She panted so hard, she could barely speak.

“Just listen, please,” Weedfoot begged. “I need you to find Spikecrash, Rapidleaf, and Honeybuzz. It has to be Honeybuzz, not Troutpool, do you understand? I know your daughter, she won’t be able to focus on Downstar. Get those three cats and have them bring a long pelt and whatever medicine Honeybuzz needs to treat a gaping wound. Only bring those three, nod if you understand.” Oilstripe swallowed hard, but nodded. “Do not let anyone else come with you, especially not my family. Have the patrol follow you, and I’ll lead you to Downstar. Oilstripe, when I tell you to stop, you stop. Don’t go any further, just send the patrol forward and tell them to cover my body. Don’t look at me, I am begging you, Oilstripe, do not look. Do you understand?” Oilstripe nodded once more, paws twitching, ready to run. “Now go!” Oilstripe was off like lightning, scrambling back into camp with a yowl. Leathermask jumped as she soared past him. He followed the heartbroken molly back into camp.

Applepelt and Puddlespeckle were silent witnesses as Weedfoot led her Clan to Downstar’s rescue. She could see them, sitting, watching, waiting for Weedfoot to acknowledge them once more as she made sure Honeybuzz could save Downstar’s remaining lives. Weedfoot ignored her father as Oilstripe begged Weedfoot for answers that she could not provide. She stayed silent as Rapidleaf and Honeybuzz hurried Downstar to camp. She watched over RippleClan’s camp as one by one, everyone she cared for crumbled under the news.

As midnight crept closer, Weedfoot found herself tucked into the shadows of the medicine den, staring at Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw as they sat around Downstar. Bandages wrapped around Downstar’s belly, clean moss stuffed into the healing wound. Cobwebs concealed Downstar’s smaller scars, turning her calico. Weedfoot stared into her dear friend’s tired eyes and prayed once more that she could offer some comfort. Firelight dapped the den floor.

“If you don’t rest, you’ll lose three lives rather than two,” Honeybuzz muttered, testing the tightness of Downstar’s bandages.

“Regardless, I need to gather the Clan,” Downstar sighed. “They need to hear from me before midnight.”

“That won’t be hard,” Weevilpaw gulped, glancing out of the den. “I don’t think anyone’s asleep tonight.”

“I promise, Downstar,” Troutpool said, touching her leader’s nose, “we’ll try a few rituals to figure out what attacked you. As soon as the half-moon comes around again, we’ll petition StarClan for more information.”

“Help me to the edge of the den,” Downstar said softly. “Weevilpaw… call the Clan for me.” Weevilpaw stiffened, nodding solemnly. Honeybuzz and Troutpool got on either side of Downstar, trying to scoop her nest with her. With Downstar providing what strength she still possessed, the three inched the tortoiseshell leader close to the entrance of the medicine den.

“Downstar’s calling a Clan meeting,” Weevilpaw called hesitantly into the camp clearing. “Over here.” All of RippleClan sat before the shipwreck, sharing tongues and caterwauls. There was no body to sit vigil for; the look in Spikecrash’s eyes when she insisted on immediate burial silenced even the most curious of cats. Weedfoot’s family all sat together, piled on one another in shared misery. James was almost hidden under his sons and daughters. Even Scaleripple joined in, hiding his head in Waspdawn’s pelt. Lightningkit, Cobaltkit, and Waspdawn’s litter snuggled in where they could, their youth providing no hiding place for their grief. Stormkit, Yellowkit, and Sandkit seemed so… hollow. Oh why did Weedfoot have to be the one to bring such despair to their eyes? When did her family get so, so big?

All of RippleClan slowly made their way around the medicine den. Weedfoot sat beside Downstar, midnight cold sinking through her ghostly fur with every stare that passed through her. Oilstripe could not look away from her, gathered tightly beside Carnationspeckle, Rattlepelt, Tallowpaw, and Slushpaw. It was all Weedfoot could do to nod at her old beloved apprentice.

“What happened, Downstar?” James asked. Weedfoot had never heard such monotone from her mate before.

“I wish I could explain it,” Downstar sighed, groaning as she shifted to look over her Clan. “My memory is foggy. I barely saw it coming. Whatever attacked us did so with brutal efficiency.”

“Was it another Clan?” Paleseed whined. “Downstar, what did they do to my mother?” Downstar flinched at Paleseed’s cry. Darkkick crept from the back of the crowd, and Paleseed pressed her head into the older molly’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to scare you,” Downstar said. “However… from what I remember, I don’t believe what attacked us was any living creature.”

“A Spirit of Shadow,” Trumpetspore yowled from somewhere in the back of the crowd. “It was a Spirit of Shadow! Not again! Not again!” Trumpetspore’s panic swept through the crowd. Estherfern’s kits seemed half their age as they pressed into their mother, whimpering. Currentpaw wailed as Elmsprout wrapped her tail over him. Rattlepelt slunk behind Carnationspeckle.

“Please, everyone, we can’t panic,” Downstar called. She groaned as her stomach twitched, strained from the effort of yowling. “There’s a lot we don’t know about what happened, or why. We’ll take every precaution when leaving camp until we have this situation sorted. I will not abandon you. StarClan will not abandon us. We will figure out what happened, drive out this threat, and recover, as we always do.” The cooler heads in the crowd groomed the fur of their terrified kin. The Clan’s voices died down as Downstar took a few slow breaths.

“This Clan would not exist without Weedfoot,” Downstar sighed. “She and Paleshade were the spark that gave us life. When we formed RippleClan, we all wanted her to be our leader. She would have led us well. But she asked me to take my nine lives instead so she could grieve for her first mate and find her footing once again. I regret all the times my mind turned my heart against her, and I will always see her as my sister. It will be many moons before another deputy can match her in skill and wisdom.” Had Downstar always thought that of Weedfoot? Some moons it felt like the pair were always disagreeing on how to run the Clan. But that wasn’t the truth of their relationship, was it? “Despite that, we need a new deputy.”

“We’ve never had to do this before,” Carnationspeckle muttered. “We don’t have to follow the traditions of the other Clans. We can pick a new deputy in the morning, Downstar. It… it might be better.”

“I don’t want to wait long,” Downstar said, glancing at her wound. “I’ll be recovering for the rest of the moon, and the Gathering is in two nights. We need a deputy. And I know who I want at my side.” Downstar cleared her throat. “I say these words before StarClan, so that Weedfoot’s spirit may hear my words and approve my choice. The next deputy of RippleClan will be Oilstripe.” Weedfoot rose, the weight in her heart relaxing ever so slightly. Oilstripe stayed sitting, blinking rapidly.

“But…” Oilstripe gulped. “You don’t like me. You never have.”

“There’s a lot that we disagree on,” Downstar admitted, bowing her head. “Yet your intelligence and compassion have won you many friends. You are a major part of this Clan, and I trust you to lead it when I’m gone.” Oilstripe stared at Weedfoot, mouth half open in utter surprise.

“She’s right,” Weedfoot purred. She stood in front of Oilstripe, the soft glow of her transparent body shining against Oilstripe’s ginger fur. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to follow in my pawsteps.” Sparkling light danced behind Oilstripe. Puddlespeckle and Applepelt waited at the edge of camp, sitting patiently. Weedfoot blinked and found herself standing beside the pair just as the Clan began to chant Oilstripe’s name.

“Let’s make this official,” Applepelt chirped. She touched her nose to Weedfoot’s. Warmth flooded Weedfoot. Her pelt exploded in white light. Stardust sprinkled her body in vibrant patterns. Her blue eyes burned bright. Suddenly, she knew. She knew what happened to her. She knew what attacked her, where it came from, and what lurked over RippleClan’s head.

“We have to tell them,” Weedfoot said, turning back to her family.

“You can’t,” Puddlespeckle said softly. Just as quickly as the future unraveled before her, so too did Puddlespeckle’s meaning. She couldn’t. She literally, physically, could not tell them.

“Will they be alright?” Weedfoot gulped, forcing herself to look away.

“Life goes on,” Puddlespeckle promised. He gently nosed Weedfoot’s forehead. “You were a good daughter to have, Weedfoot. Now come along. It’s time to go.”

(Weedfoot: 122, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Downstar: 132, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Puddlespeckle: 156, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)

(Applepelt: 31, she/they, historian, rebellious, lore keeper)

(Oilstripe: 77, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(James: 149, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Paleseed: 39, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

(Trumpetspore: 34, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Downstar speak with Weevilpaw, Anchovypaw, and Wolfpaw. Honeybuzz says "We call it the Rule of Three. When times of intense peril approach the Clans, it is said the All-Seeing pulls water from the river of space and time and blesses three kits. It explains everything.”]

---

“Anchovy! Anchovypaw, wake up.” Anchovypaw opened his eye half-way. Weevilpaw stared at him, nose inches from his face. He smacked her muzzle back with a groan.

“I’m tired, Weevilpaw,” he groaned, rolling over. “Can we do this later?”

“Downstar wants to talk to us,” Weevilpaw whispered. “She’s with Honeybuzz. Come on, it’s important!” Anchovypaw dragged his head up. Wolfpaw was already awake, fidgeting outside the apprentice’s den. The crest of the sun peeked over the sea, turning the sky purple. The sleeping forms of the other apprentices rose and fell with the soft pattern of the waves. Anchovypaw groaned as he got out of his cozy nest, warm from his body heat, and snuck around Billowpaw and Ravenpaw. Weevilpaw jumped over Silverpaw and followed her friend out.

It was the morning after the Gathering, and everyone was exhausted. Halibutdusk limped back to the warrior’s den, finally relieved from guard duty as Oilstripe guided Clammask and Drumtooth out on patrol. The purple light of the early dawn unnerved Anchovypaw that morning, even though he had seen that sunrise a hundred times. Weevilpaw led him and Wolfpaw across camp to the leader’s den. Anchovypaw could see Downstar’s eyes gleaming from inside her sheltered nest. Honeybuzz sat beside her, fiddling with a cicada wing under his paw. While the bandages around Downstar’s torso were no longer so blood-stained, black ichor still stained them like a hole in the world. Anchovypaw focused on his leader’s face instead.

“What’s wrong?” Wolfpaw asked.

“I spoke with the other clerics last night,” Honeybuzz explained, waving the trio closer. “I may have an explanation for your abilities.”

“Finally,” Weevilpaw groaned, kneading the leather-lined floor. “I knew we weren’t the first. I just knew it. Why else would there be so many stories of powerful cats?”

“There’s a reason those cats come in threes,” Honeybuzz sighed. Anchovypaw moved closer, almost forgetting to breathe. “We call it the Rule of Three. When times of intense peril approach the Clans, it is said the All-Seeing pulls water from the river of space and time and blesses three kits. It explains everything.”

“Intense peril?” Anchovypaw said, no longer able to keep his gaze from Downstar’s wound. “Like now?”

“We’ve come across two Spirits of Shadow in the span of three moons,” Downstar sighed. “Think about your powers. They are designed in just such a way to prove effective against spirits and their powers. You see their influence. You predict their moves. You can even trap them in place.” Downstar pulled a paw over her muzzle.

“I don’t like using apprentices in this way, but I need all three of you on alert and ready to help. You may be all that stands between our safety and another of our kin leaving us, just like Weedfoot did.”

(Weevilpaw: 8, female, cleric apprentive, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Anchovypaw: 8, male, warrior apprentice, playful, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfpaw: 8, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Honeybuzz: 21, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith)

(Downstar: 132, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

#clangen #warrior cats #rippleclan #warriors #rippleclan story #weedfoot #oilstripe #downstar #puddlespeckle #applepelt #james #honeybuzz #trumpetspore #paleseed #weevilpaw #wolfpaw #anchovypaw #tw gore

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anotherfcknschlattsimp · 3 days ago

Note

baby brother!Charlie getting wood late at night and coming to wake you up for help because hes just so horny for you its pathetic and he doesnt know what else to do with himself

oh how i love you brother!Charlie

im french kissing your brain pookie <3

hey, ignore that it's mid-november, here's a halloween post

genderfucked reader, im indecisive

cw: somno, incest (WAHOO), dubcon but everyone's fine with everything, of course one of my first works back is part of the sibcon charlie au (as far as i know, created by @moistcl1tikal-ao3 )

he couldnt stop looking at you all night, your cute little whore-for-halloween costume hugging you just perfectly. but he had to save those thoughts and memories for later!

except later did not happen, he crashed as soon as he laid down on his bed after the parties and events you dragged him to so you could show off your cute, nerdy lil bro

so, naturally, he woke up about 2 hours later with the hardest boner of his life the month. all because he kept dreaming of getting to touch you under your booty shorts

poor boy was still too tired to wanna deal with it though! so he tried to go back to sleep, deal with it in the morning, but he couldnt get comfy or stop thinking about your head between his legs

plan a failed, time for plan b: choke the chicken

he tried so hard, looked up all his favorite pornos, his favorite pictures of you, a pair of stolen panties, he pulled out all the stops :/ and it just made him ache and throb more for you

so final plan, the riskiest plan, wake you up and beg on his goddamn knees that you aren't too grumpy

he knew you werent the nicest person ever when you got woken up, especially when somewhat hungover, so he tread with caution

even got a towel, pillow, snack, and bottle of water for you :(

busts out every petname in the book when he tries to shake you awake

"sissy.. sis? brother?? dearest sibling??? bubba???? 🤨 you alive motherfucker???" the shaking picked up speed and intensity, no longer worried about you being mad, just half convinced you passed away in your sleep

"geddafuqouddaherecharlee" you mutter, smacking him away but still rolling over for him to join you, thinking he had a nightmare or something

charlie slid into bed behind you, careful to not make any sudden moves, worried he'd say or do the wrong thing and ruin his chances of getting some tonight

he talked to you sweetly, gently, with purpose, he was making amazing points

"i dunno if i'm allowed to ask or if only you get to initiate but i'll do all your chores for a month if you help me out here..."

he waited

nothing happened

you were out COLD

so time for his impromptu new final plan: beg for forgiveness not permission. he tries to rationalize it! you've never rejected his advances before, you're insatiable, this is probably something your into! maybe just being in your bed and surrounded by the smell of you can help him get there

so he stole some lube from your bedside table

it was so absurdly cold that he of course made a very manly sound (screamed like a mouse would) and jumped a bit, enough to wake you up again

so you turn to charlie, terrified because what the fuck was your little brother possibly experiencing to shatter everyone's eardrums at 2:33am

and you catch him, cock in one hand, other hand covering his mouth to avoid making more noise, but you already caught him slick-handed. and if you weren't so exhausted you would absolutely jump his bones in an instant, but the hangover was already kicking in so while seeing your younger brother trying to jerk off to you in your own bed would usually light a bonfire in your gut, this was more like a backyard fire pit sized one

so, being the amazing older sibling you are, you chuckle and coo at him, inching your hand towards the one on his cock

"awww my poor baby brother cant get off without me?" you fake a pout as your hand finds its way to cupping his balls, massaging gently

"pleasepleaseplease, need you so bad, needed you-needed you all night" he begs and involuntarily bucks his hips into your hand, eyes glued shut and hands fisted in your sheets, overcome with pleasure

he doesn't see or i guess hear or feel you shifting to be closer to his dick, or he just doesn't acknowledge it

but he sure notices when you grab the base and flick your tongue over the tip

"you're too cute" is the last thing he hears before being overrun by pure ecstasy as he finally cums when you take him fully down your throat, thank yous pouring out of his pink, bitten lips

his hands fly to hold your head in place, you let him until you start gagging

he lets go and starts profusely apologizing and thanking you

"you can make it up to me if you want.." you say seductively as you lay on your back and spread your knees just enough to get the point across

@th3-circus @xoxoave @jschladderall @manticore-fangs

im not dead which is shocking to everyone im pretty sure.. anyway here ya go <3

#slimecicle x reader #slmccl x reader #slimecicle headcanons #slmccl headcanons #slimecicle hcs #slmccl hcs #charlie slimecicle smut #charlie slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle hcs #mine mine mine #Slimecicle smut #slmccl smut #!nc3st

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wakacreations · 22 hours ago

Text

Raphael: One Drunken Night

Author's Note:

I write more angst than fluff pieces. I thought I should remedy that a bit. As much as i love writing some drama sometimes it is nice to enjoy some fluff once in awhile. Well write a more lighter piece compared to how I usually write. Anyways enjoy!

Word Count: 3866

Summary:

What is there to fill the air when silence stretches far longer than you wish? A promise is kept. Expectations are high. A reunion made between two fools. What is the harm in a meeting between a devil and his former client? Reconciliation is never easy but drinking down a bottle makes the truth easier to swallow at least for the devil.

“Are you going to run off, little mouse?” The devil polished off his whiskey. “Frankly, I should. There are better ways I could be spending my time.” You rose from the table. Raphael sneered forgoing his glass to drink directly from the bottle. “Take some consideration of my humble offer. Haven't I've been nothing but generous since our time together many moons ago. Didn't we spend a wonderful time together hmm,” his voice grew rich and warm inviting you to reconsider. With a snap of his fingers the tavern went silent. The patrons paid no mind to you. Drinking merrily and laughing about continuing on as if you two were far removed from their reality.

“Better to serve a greater purpose with that freedom than to waste away your precious talents,” his gaze darkened. Korrilla, I am sorry but I can’t stand babysitting him not now. “Yet I have heard nothing from you and you have the gull to tell me to save you from whatever shit you've dug yourself into. Find your own way home,” you stormed your way out from the tavern. “We are not finished with our discussion!” His voice died in the wind. The rush of the cool night’s air greeting you as the Elfsong drew further away.

Screw him and whatever else he decided to play savior of. “Mouse,” he growled. The crunching of dried dirt under a boot echoed as you walked. “Fuck off! Go harass the others with your contracts. You did a damn good job at doing just that for those other clients of yours!” The jiggle of bells grew louder. “You think that will scare me, Raphael!? I am done!” You ran towards the doors of your home, rattling the hinges of the door when you furiously shut it behind you. The sound of bells all gone silent. “Fuck him. Why did I think- Why am I stupid? Why am I so stupid,” throwing off your clothes as you made your way into the bathroom. He thinks he can just throw petty insults at me when he was the one who failed to keep hold of that stupid crown. The steamy mist enveloped you.

We are equals, you and I. What are we but champions of our own fate?

The scalding water's droplets batted against your aching back.

I like you in my own ways. Come little mouse, don’t fret I will always be here till your very end. I will come back to you my dear, what am I but a devil of his word.

He was the one who made me think, made me believe that. How could he just simply vanish out of my life?

Why did I believe there was anything more?

Stepping out, you made your way to the mirror. Forget it. Forget him. Wiping off the foggy glass. Tonight was supposed to be a simple evening to catch up on the time that had passed. Korrilla had snuck letters keeping up with the whereabouts and happenings of her patron. Apparently Raphael was mentally spiraling when Mephistopheles reclaimed the crown once again. How could he have failed?

Much has changed in only half a decade as you peered at yourself in the glass, tracing your fingers on the tired lines of the time that had gone. Did our time together mean nothing?

I will come back to you, little mouse. When I do, we'll dine.

You made your way into the bedroom and slipped into an old white tunic.

It's not often that a devil offers a favor for a former client but for you, anything.

You've kept your promise to meet, Raphael. Settling in for the night you reached into your nightstand feeling for the cool glass bottle. I am just a fool to wish for this night to turn out differently. At least I will get some rest pulling the cork of the Angelic Slumber. You raised the glass to your lips. Maybe I am the only one who wants that to.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound emanates from your bedroom door. Your hand moved towards your nightstand grabbing the dagger you tucked away. Gripping the blade tight you quietly patted your way to the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Mouse…? Tav? May I come in?” His voice was all gruff. The door shook slightly but there was no movement on the door handle. “You know I've missed you, that is for certain.” You heard an audible clink of glass. “We never did talk about you in our earlier discussion.” There was a tiredness to how he spoke. Was it even worth seeing him now? “How are you, my dear mouse?” You remained silent. “I know you're there, Mouse. You left a clear trail to follow.” Would he force his way in?

Knock. Knock.

Would I care if he broke the door?

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

I'm going back to bed.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hello little mouse.” There stood the disheveled devil. “Get out,” you held the door ajar. Anyone would have mistaken him for another penniless noble. His once fine doublet torn and mangled hung open, undershirt covered in stains haphazardly buttoned up, hair all tussled from its usual neat arrangement, face unshaven cheeks reddened as he holds a whiskey bottle in hand. This was how you found him in the tavern. “My my you always held a temper,” taking a drink from his bottle. “Leave,” you moved to shut the door. “Wait,” his hand blocked you. You pushed more of your weight into the door. “I can't,” he growled. “Bullshit, snap your fingers and fuck off.” He forced the door open, throwing you back. Your head bounced on the floor. “Fuck!” Tears welled up as you felt the pounding radiating in your skull.

You groaned as you clutched your head. “Must you be so vulgar?” Towering over you his silhouette stretched against the walls, a flicker of gold diminished when he gazed down at you, his body swaying. “Wasn't this to be a happy reunion?” He bends down on one knee. “Are you hurt?” His hand clumsily reaches out to you. “Don't touch me,” swatting his hand. “Let me, mouse,” Raphael pleaded as he continued once more. You trembled as his hand grew closer.

“Okay."

Gently he places his hand to the back of your head, cool soft waves eased away the throbbing in your skull. A satisfied smile graced his lips. His eyes traced the worn walls of your bedroom. “This place hadn't changed at all since I was last here all those years ago.” He held his hand out to you. Your gazed hardened as he made no movement to stand blocking you from rising without his assistance. “A truce for now save for the morning,” he nodded. Sighing, you took his hand once more. This was always the game you two had played.

With a tug he brought you to his chest. “I would take more than a mere dagger to end me,” he spoke into your ear, body leaning against yours for support. "You need concentration to teleport between planes as you can see I am inebriated,” he mumbled, you froze when his arms came around to hold you. Well that is.. unexpected… “I can send for Korrilla,” you swallowed. Resting his chin atop your head he took a deep inhale. “Don't bother with her,” he exhaled, body going lax against you. “I'll be fine when the morning comes.” What am I to do with you? Tentatively your hands moved to encircle his waist. Would this be alright? You leaned into his chest.

“Would you prefer I take you to the Devil's Den?” This was going to be a long night. “Trying to be rid of me, Mouse? I don’t blame you. No, I much prefer your dwellings as I have done before.” He gave you a tight squeeze. The smell of his musk filled your nostrils. “I missed you, Tav.” The heady mix of cherries, whiskey and his perspiration, your heart stirred recalling what used to be. What used to feel like home. You sighed into him. “You're too cruel, Raphael.” A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. “You call me cruel and yet, you are the one that declined my offer to have a place for you in my Hells.”

What is there left for you in Faerun my dear little mouse? Won't you humbly accept my offer? What fun you would have here playing the hero once more. His final offer to you as you handed him the crown.

“I wouldn't have been free,” you whispered. He stiffened at your truth. “No, no you wouldn't be my dear… but what I offered you is the power of freedom. Whatever be your sole desires,” he purred. “The freedom to choose. The illusion of my own free will. Free to wander about only if you allow it,” moving your head back to look at him. “I know your games, devil.” The slight flicker of Hellfire danced alight in his warm brown eyes. A smirk spread across his face, approval. “You were always a clever little thing,” his hand came to hold your chin. Gaze wandering to study your features like a delicate work of art.

“You were always one of my favorite clients. Especially for that tongue of yours,” moving his head in closer to recall your face to memory. “I have always indulged in you, little mouse. I have to admit.” His body swayed against yours. The warmth of his breath brushed your lips. “I did confess my truth to you and yet you have not given your own admission…” Your breathing hitched as his thumb traced your bottom lip. “Don't you miss me,” tilting his head with a knowing smile. Shaking your head free from his hold, “it’s late you can have the bed.” Letting go of his waist to push him away.

“Such a gracious host. A host is always one to accommodate.” he grinned. “You see I’ll be needing your assistance to the bed,” draping his arms over your shoulders. “I hope you don't mind,” leaning his full weight onto you. “Raphael,” you gritted between your teeth as you steadied yourself. “What is that, little mouse? You must speak up. Has no one told you it is impolite to mumble your words,” pushing more of his weight onto you. The two of you stumbled back towards the bed. “Asshole,” you breathed as he smothered you.

“That is no way for you to treat a guest in your own home but thank you for your generosity,” bracing his arms beside your face. You took in shallow breaths as the uncomfortable weight of him pressed on your chest. “Raphael get off,” you groaned. “Usually there is more foreplay before we get to that part my dear,” taking in your glare from beneath him. "Don't you miss this? Our little games?" Dropping his head to whisper those silken words into your ear. You turned your head away from him. “You are not going to fight, little mouse?” There was no point in struggling while he had you pinned. “Why is that,” he tsked. You laid there silently, closing your eyes. His soft breath against your skin.

He’ll grow bored. Just breathe. You felt his hardened stare watching the blood rise to the surface. “Silence won’t grant you peace.” You took an unlabored breath in. “We both agreed to a truce. Dawn is not upon us just yet,” hearing him gulp down the last of his bottle. Still you didn’t respond, steading your heart. “Not in the mood for our usual games? That is a bit disappointing but to be expected. Anything but would be foolish.” The bed creaked beside you. The click of glass settled down on a hard surface. “I suppose we both have trouble sleeping, given you have this potion open,” he chuckled dryly. The jiggle of bells moved through the room, the accompanying whine of the wardrobe opening and shutting.

“Take the bed, Mouse. It is rude for a guest to sleep on the bed the host slumbers upon.” The slight wind of soft wool settles onto your limbs. “If you are to chastise me for that statement. I do not view you as just a mere guest in my home.” The rustle of fabrics and the padding of pillows filled the air. The rattling of the window and the batting of winds amplified the quietness that hung between you. Cautiously you opened your eyes. The devil’s back was towards you laying on his side in a bedding of furs on the floor. You slowly sat up from your bed.

“You were right, you know, for not following me back into the Hells.” He fluffed the pillow in his hands. “There were many dangers present there that would derive no greater pleasure than to take that coin buried in your chest,” he sighed. “I would never let anything befall you, Tav. You are mine, you know…” His back muscles tensed underneath his undershirt. “I knew about your correspondence with Korrilla. There is nothing she could keep from me if I need but ask. You could have called to me, Mouse if you were so curious.” He laid still, holding the pillow close.

“You think I enjoyed half a decade of silence from you,” his voice gone rough. How could he say such a thing when...?

“You did just the same,” settling into your bed. How many times did you spend awake thinking is he alright? The silent cool nights alone second guessing of what could have been? For a deal that was never fair to begin with.

“That. That I did but no one enjoys a devil to come knocking on their door. I have done this line of work far longer than your family line's existence.”

No, you’re wrong Raphael. Wait. Does he really? Is that true?

“I went over your family records,” he said simply. “Oh,” you shifted uncomfortably. How am I supposed to respond to that? “It is my standard procedure when I deal with potential clients. All to better secure a contract with them if they are to seek some infernal guidance.” You stared into his back.

“That is not something to fault me for, little mouse. I am doing what is within my nature. You behave just the same,” he sighed. “I waited for your call but you never did. No matter how much you pried into my life in the Hells. You did not stay away from me. What am I left to think?” He turned over to face you. Your cheeks reddened at his smoldering gaze.

“Haven’t you sent Korrilla to watch me, Raphael?” Though the warlock was especially easy to appear when summoned or to receive a timely letter from. “No, not particularly. No. But if she were to be passing close by on route while running my tasks, there is no harm on her part in checking on a former client.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “That is hard to believe. You haven't meddled in some way.” The devil raised a brow, “would that truly be hard to believe that others would enjoy your company?” You flushed, pulling the covers higher over yourself. “No, that's not hard to believe,” you mumbled. “Hmm…” You peeked over to look at the devil. His eyes were closed.

“If there is anything you wish to know, speak your mind.” You blinked at him unsure on where to begin. "Are you tired, Raphael?” Maybe it’s about time to- “Depends on what manner do you refer to,” interrupting your train of thought. “Physically no, not at all. In the manner concerning my mental outlook potentially… but all is not lost.” That is a more thorough answer than you expected. “Oh, alright.” You two laid in silence.

The idle sounds of the wind howling outside the window. The syncopated breaths you two inhaled. The drumming of your heart beating within your ears. Who could rest like this? Your hand reaches for your potion but would this be the last you would see of him. “Raphael?” Curiosity killed the cat but not the mouse. “Yes, little mouse?” Better now than later. “How did you lose the crown?” My last parting gift to you and you lose it. The devil flinched, frozen in thought for a moment. “You always were one to wield your curiosity like a dagger,” clicking his tongue. “How did you lose the crown,” rolling the words on his tongue in contemplation of your request. “I will sate that dangerous curiosity of yours as this is the night of truths. As the one who handed me the crown… in fairness you have the right to know.”

Taking a bated breath in, “I held few allies,” he said sharply. Tilting your head. Was that really just it? That’s… underwhelming. “Power, control and fear are all necessary to rule in the Hells. Being ruthlessly ambitious will spur you further on in a long bloodied campaign but when you are left surrounded who could you rely on should plans falter.” His nose scrunched up at the unpleasant thought. “So, this was what you must of felt when you came close for your world to end.” Raphael reopened his eyes. “How welcoming must have been for you, to have a savior waiting in your final moments. When I came for you.” There was a small stir in his eyes when he met yours, quickly shutting them.

“Foolishly I imagine if you were with me in the Hells would the outcome be more favorable,” throat gone dry. Was that the only reason why Raphael? Was that the whole truth? “What happened next?” You lowered the covers. “Haarlep presented the crown to him. I was sent to hang on his hooks exposed to the cold of Cania. He found the whole act amusing,” gritting his teeth. “Nevertheless Korrilla returned to me and provided the means for my escape. I am left to start at the beginning once more.” Why? “Why didn't you send for me? You knew you were in peril? Why hadn't-” Your voice wavered, eyes gone misty.

“Korrilla’s orders were not to disturb you less she loses her pact for any interactions that would require you to be in the Hells,” he growled. “Why?” He couldn’t be serious.. Your knuckles turned pale as you clenched your blanket. “You wished to be free from the Hells. Why should I concern you in any manner outside of our past deals, mouse,” he scoffed, turning away.

“Then why did you offer me another contract?”

“Why did you attend tonight?”

Tension was alive and well in the air.

“You are to answer first, Tav.” What could I even say? “I kept our promise to see each other,” turning your back to the devil. “Why a contract, Raphael,” peeking at him over your shoulder. “I needed your guaranteed cooperation. What is more powerful than a contract?” He shrugged. What else could he have expected? “Trust. Simply trust. Contracts can be broken and the original can never be repaired.” You stared up at the ceiling. Are we meant to be just that? An obligation beholden to each other? The devil remained silent contemplating your words. “I could have thrown you out of my home. You know.” Rustling came from the floor. “I knew that you wouldn’t, little mouse. You don’t have the heart to." Shaking your head, “how could you be so sure? People change. It’s been five years since the last we’ve spoken.” How much had time gone?

The devil cleared his throat. “You came.” You raised a brow. “I was the one under the obligation to attend. You could walk freely away and not accept.” Did he really believe… “You expected me to not show,” sitting up. “You did not take my last contract... Whatever else could I be made to believe," his words hung in the air. There was a tightness in your chest. You took a shaky breathed in, allowing your face to fall into your palms.

“You need but ask, Raphael,” looking down at where he laid. “You declined me again and again, Tav,” pulling up his blanket against a cold chill. “Ask again.” You swung your legs off the bed. “What,” a tilt of uncertainty edged his tone. “Ask again,” you insisted. “Of what?” The air grew still. “To help you.” The devil stilled for a moment but continued on, “My offer still stands, Mouse,” he gritted out. “No, not that,” you huffed. “Then be out with it! Be forth-” Turning over to see you. “coming,” he swallowed as you laid beside him. What am I even doing?

“What manner of place is this? What trouble has the cat all worn and the fox is in need of a mouse?” What am I even saying? “Am I an old friend potentially, a fool conceivably but a savior once more that is yet to be certain,” your confidence falters. “I… have an offer. A gift for old time's sake.” Your hand trembled as you reached out to hold his reddened face. His pupils grew wide at your touch. “What is a new beginning but an opportunity to start anew?” His eyes search wildly within your gaze for your intentions. “What are we but champions of our own fate,” stroking his cheek. “What is one last performance to a mouse but I have one request.” You feel the pull of his smile in your hand.

“What is it, little mouse?” His hand moves a lock of hair to behind your ear. “Let's be equals for our final act together,” you smiled. The warmth of his hand moves to the back of your head. His eyes closed as he brought you in close to pressed a soft tender kiss to your forehead, “that's a deal.” Your eyes reflected his own. He extends a wide open arm for you. “Is this not enough invitation?” You pressed yourself into the devil you know. His arms pull you in for your bodies to mold into each other.

“You still have a couple of questions to answer for, mouse,” bunting his head against yours. “What is there for me to answer?” You drumming fingers against his jaw. “Why did you never seek for me?” He slowly blinked at you. “Was I not just a means to an end?” Wasn’t that what we were? Your lower lip quivered. “That is the fate of mortals and devils.” You wanted to look away. You wanted to squirm away from his hold and yet.. his presence was a familiar comfort that you longed for. “I am no mere devil and you no mere mortal,” he chuckled. How could he look so at ease? “Did you fear what we could become, Tav?” The movement of your hand stilled. “For a time, yes.” Who wouldn't fear a devil. “What of now?” You shivered from the chilling air. “I don't know. There is just much to think about.” Maybe fear but not only just that. He pulled up a blanket to cover you both. “Sleep now, little mouse. The morning will come,” shutting his eyes.

“Raphael?” You felt your eyelids grow heavy. “Yes, mouse,” he yawned. “Will you be gone by the morning?” When was the last time this place felt so warm? “Do you wish for the devil to be gone,” he gave you a squeeze. “No. Not at all,” you confessed. “Then I'll be here when you wake. Goodnight my little mouse,” he breathed. The howling of winds have subsided. Moonlight streamed through the window casting overhead. The steady snores that rumbled from the devilish bastard. You couldn’t help but quietly chuckle to yourself.

“I'll answer that last question of yours devil,” reaching out to brush back a hair into place. What are we but a mortal and a devil. Two beings that indulge in each other's desires but not their own. “I missed you, Raphael.” Trapped in our own personal Hells. What we are is a foolish pair. “Goodnight my precious devil." Your eyes come to rest. Tomorrow we'll weather through the Hells together. When the morning comes we won't be alone.

#bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #wakacreations writes

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aplaceinme · 14 hours ago

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What is your theory for 8x8? I don´t think there are any more big plas for Buck so I will cling to the fact that 8x8 was supposed to be called "sob stories". since the show decided that people can talk about Tommy again since he is no longer present (*rolls eyes so hard atm*) I choose to believe that Buck will either get a snippet of Tommy backstory, maybe about who broke his heart before, or we get Buck having a meltdown- he should really get angry and sobbing. It would heal me

I´m sure the show will proof me wrong but this is still 5 to 7 days of uniterrupted delulu for me.

Hi, nonnie!

Well, first, I will start with saying that I’m on the “I would rather have no hope and then be pleasantly surprised if things turn out ok” boat. This is 911, this is Tim, we know he changes things at the last minute, we know he can be extremely petty, we know he does what he wants even if it doesn’t make sense storyline wise. So, yes, I’m going to keep expecting nothing, just in case.

If I go into my more pessimistic side, I will say that given the interviews (and we already know that the interviews are basically bs but still) we are supposed to see Buck “exploring” his bisexuality and trying to move on. We haven’t seen that yet in the show, so we might see that in episode 8. Perhaps he will be ready to put the phone away, and start fooling around. Perhaps we will have a small mention of Tommy when Buck talks about getting tired of waiting and deciding to follow madney’s advice of getting back into the pond, which we will then see in S8B. Therefore, the door to the relationship will be closed (still leaving the possibility of Tommy returning next season though -after all, we know Tim loves to bait the fans).

If I go into my more positive side, I have to admit that they did kind of handled the post break-up better than I was expecting. And by that, I mean, that we did get to see Buck longing and pining for Tommy. We got to see him not wanting to move on yet and him hoping for Tommy to return. Besides from Abby, we hadn't seen that before. Ali, Taylor, and Natalia’s break-ups were a done deal and that was it (we didn’t even see Natalia and Buck breaking up), Buck just carried on with his life with no problem. We are once again seeing a huge difference between Tommy and all of Buck’s other love interests.

Besides that, I also have to admit that the choice of showing Tommy also wanting to reach out to Buck but then not doing it, it’s interesting as well. Why do that? They could have just showed Buck struggling with the break-up but nothing from Tommy. So, is that just the way of them leaving the door open for something to happen because they still don’t know what to do? Is that just baiting? Did they want to see how people will react so they wrote little hints of Tommy possibly returning just in case? Is this just that part of the romcom when the couple break-up? Maybe!

And finally, if I allow myself to put on a tin foil hat… there could be many possibilities:

Buck saying “what if he’s in trouble and he needs my help?” could be foreshadowing of something to come. According to Tim (and again, lets take everything he says with a grain of salt), “Nobody’s hanging off a cliff at the end of the episode except for possibly one character.” Could that be Tommy? Maybe Tommy will be rescuing someone, and while on the harness and hanging from the helicopter, something happens and he needs rescuing. The 118 gets called, Buck realizes its Tommy, he gets desperate, he saves Tommy, they talk in the hospital, they get back together.

I think both Oliver and Tim have also said that maybe Buck will see Tommy on a call. So, what if next episode that happens? They both have to rescue someone and while doing that they talk/discussed the break-up, they clear the air after everything is said and done, and again they get back together (or is implied that they will be in the future).

The call and the person hanging from a cliffhanger has nothing to do with Tommy BUT it reminds Buck of the lighting strike. He realizes that life is short, that he got another chance in life and he doesn’t want to go on living without Tommy by his side. So, after the rescue, we finally have Buck going to Tommy and talk and try to get back together. “You don’t find it, son. You make it.” Or we just have a cliffhanger of Buck going to a house, knocking, and Tommy opening the door, scene ends. We will have to wait and see what happens.

Buck decides to move on. At the end of the episode, he goes to a bar intending to find someone, but once he gets there, he sees Tommy. They make eye contact and they both timidly smile. They show Buck walking up to him and sitting down to talk, but we can hear what they say. Or, it just ends like that, with both of them smiling. Find out in March what happens.

Ignoring everyone’s advice, Buck arrives at his loft after the shift and immediately calls Tommy who picks up. We hear Buck saying nervously: “Can we meet up?” Then he smiles, and says, “Great, I will see you there.” He hangs up still with a smile on his face but also still nervous, and the episode ends.

I could still go on, honestly… But that’s probably enough.

I don’t know what will happen, nonnie! As I said, I will rather have no hope.

They have probably not written S8B yet, but they probably do have possible storylines of what will happen with every character. They have more than enough time to change them, though.

Maybe we will see Tommy in S8B, maybe we will see him in S9. Or maybe, this has truly been the end. We will just have to wait and see!

I do hope that they get better at writing and that they stop with the biphobic rhetoric because, my god, that’s just too bad and fuck them for that! They need to do better!

Whatever happens, the important thing is to try to find joy. If putting on your clown make up, bring you joy, then do that! If moving on from the show until you know what happens, brings you joy, then do that!

Sorry, this got way too long! Hope I made sense nonnie!

#asks #bucktommy #911 speculation

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rom-e-o · 2 days ago

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Proposal to work Emmerich and Belisma into the modern Scroogeverses:

The Twins and Emmerich went to university together and were roommates. While they were in business and finance, he was in mortuary sciences, but they all got on quite well together. (Side detail: Twins also worked for Fezziwig through uni.)

Fast forward a few decades, they all meet up again at a class reunion, each bringing their prospective wifeys. The Twins are successful, billionaire businessmen, Emmerich is a well-known professor of mortuary science at a prestigious school. (He also has a side-hobby of studying the prospect of the supernatural: ghosts, spirits, etc.). Cue them all seated at a table, all the girls chatting animatedly, getting on famously, and all these distinguished silver-foxes just... exchange besotted and fascinated looks. Imagine: all three of them finding love later in life with equally lovely, wonderful, and vibrant women. (Probably all foreign? For some reason, I imagine Belisma probably wouldn't be English?) Apparently, good things really do come to those who wait. (And endure traumatic spiritual time travel to save their souls.😅)

OH MY GOSH. 🥹

This is so cute and honestly incredibly perfect for them! And it lines up with timelines, and the details in their backstories, perfectly.

Emmrich is canonically in his early fifties (51-55) so he and the twins would all be in college around the same time, especially for their more advanced degrees.

All of them were also poor growing up (Emmrich before AND after was orphaned when parents died in a building collapse) so I can see them bonding from that as well, surrounded by all these trust-fund kids in their prestigious classes. They share drinks and complain about it.

Life pulls them apart, and time passes.

Him being a professor is perfect, but with a heavy side-hustle studying spirits and ghosts. (Oh, he would LOVE to hear about the Twins experience - he’d actually believe them without any hesitation or judgement! Many intrigued questions await.)

They meet up again decades later, and I imagine they’re all pleasantly surprised that each of them has found love. The only past paramour Emmrich will reveal in-game is a woman who left him because (it’s heavily implied) that she didn’t want to commit. And we know what happened to the Twins too. 🥲

So when they all show up with ladies on their arm? Fascinating, indeed!

“My goodness, you two have changed. Smiles, and pleasant company on your arms? I thought I’d seen it all.”

“You’re looking pretty chipper yourself, professor.”

Belisma would not be English, you’re correct, haha. It’s funny you should mention nationality, haha.

She and Emmrich are technically both from the in-game country of Nevarra, but BioWare/EA could never decide on a canon accent, so everyone sounds completely different, lmao. In the Character Creator, Belisma uses the upper-pitch “American Female” (Erika Ishii) voice option.

Belisma was also orphaned as a baby (the game gave her that backstory, I promise I’m not making all my OCs orphans on purpose lmaooo) so she was found in Nevarra, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that’s where she’s from.

In the modernverse, I’d say she’s actually from the U.S. (LA) since that’s the accent her voice has. Connie and Orin have New Yorkers as voice claims, after all, lmao.

So, another Yankee. These poor men, lmao. 😂

Belisma would get along with the girls splendidly! They can reminisce about life back home. She is a bookish woman, and definitely introverted. She’s not a social butterfly and comes across as a little over-eager and awkward with a morbid sense of humor sometimes, but she genuinely warms up easily when she sees Connie and Bess are kind and supportive. Also, they all have (ahem) similar tastes in men~

“Do you ladies like thrifting by any chance?”

“You know, um … My other friends made such a fuss about the 20-year gap between Emmrich and I. They’re supportive, but I can tell they don’t fully understand it. It’s nice to be with people who do and aren’t judgmental.”

“Oh my gosh, those blooms are gorgeous! Bess, would you ever consider offering gardening lessons? My husband adores flowers, but everything I touch just seems to die. I know I’m doing something wrong.”

“So, Connie, your family is into philanthropy too, yes? For unhoused children and families? That’s … nice to hear. I’m glad more resources are being created.”

“So, both your husbands are the CEOs of S&C? I’m dreadful with numbers and business sense, so I have no clue if this is helpful, but I’m working with the university to create more internship options for students who want to learn mortuary sciences, physics, chemistry and biology. I’m sure we could provide some financial aid if you have any programs in the works.”

#oh we’re in deep now #oc belisma ingvellar #Veilguard headcanons #Scroogeverse

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armpirate · 2 days ago

Text

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 41

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 11 minutes

San's eyes fluttered open to a world painted in stark whites and soft blues, the scent of antiseptics filling the air. His head felt heavy, his body oddly light, and the faint, persistent ache in his side quickly reminded him of what had happened.

Blinking to clear his vision, he saw Y/n sitting beside him, her fingers gently weaving through his hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. Her eyes were focused on him, full of worry and warmth, a soft but strained smile appearing as she noticed he was awake.

—Hey —she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur, as though she was afraid any louder might hurt him.

Her smile was cautious, trying to mask how scared she was since he first closed his eyes. Feeling a wave of relief washing over her when his eyes shined as soon as he saw her. San tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in his side made him wince. Y/n's hand immediately moved to his shoulder, urging him to stay down.

—Easy —she said softly—. The doctor said you need to rest, don't force your body.

He let out a shaky breath, resting back against the pillow, his gaze fixed on her face. There were faint traces of exhaustion in her eyes, like she hadn't slept at all. Her other hand held onto his tightly, as if she was afraid he'd vanish if she let go.

—How long have I...? —he managed to ask, his voice hoarse.

—A few days —she brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, her thumb lingering in his skin—. They had to take you into surgery right after the... Well, right after everything. Thank god you were already in the hospital when it happened, otherwise...

Her voice lost power just at the memory of the doctor's words, forcing a smile again so he wouldn't notice how much it affected her.

—They managed to stabilize you, and the surgery went well —she assured him.

San felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sound of her voice, grounding him even as the memories of the incident flashed in his mind.

—Are you okay? —he asked, his eyes searching hers— What happened with her?

—I'm okay —Y/n gave a small nod, but he could see the heaviness she was carrying—. Wooyoung and Jongho managed to reduce her and keep her here the minute the cops took to come. It's finally over —she smiled.

Her thumb moved over his cheekbone, getting him to instantly close his eyes by feeling the tenderness of her touch.

—You saved my life, San —her voice broke slightly.

San tried to smile, reaching up with his free hand to cover hers as she moved her hand a bit upper to run her fingers through his hair.

—I'd do it again in a heartbeat. You know that —he sighed—. It was about time I was what you deserved.

Y/n's hand trembled slightly beneath his. She looked down, biting her lip as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

—You've always been what I deserved —her voice cracked again, and she let out a shaky laugh, brushing away a tear that slipped down her cheek—. You're not allowed to scare me like that again. You can't leave me, in any way.

—I'm not going anywhere —San felt his heart twist, and he tightened the grip on her hand—. Never. I want to be with you forever, Y/n.

For a moment, the only sound was the soft beeping of the machines around them. Y/n leaned down, pressing her forehead gently against his, closing her eyes as though she needed the closeness as much as he did.

—That's great, because I don't know what I'd do without you —she whispered, her voice full of vulnerability.

He could feel the weight of her words, and he knew -he knew how much they'd been through, how hard things had been. But looking up at her now, he felt a renewed determination, a certainty that he would never let anything come between them again.

San moved his hand weakly to her neck, making sure she wouldn't move when he moved his head up to link their lips together. Softly, she pushed him back to the bed, being the one bending over so he wouldn't make any effort while she kissed him slowly and carefully.

—Are we interrupting something? —Mingi asked from the door.

They both smiled against each other's lips when they heard the sound coming from his group of friends, forced to move away from each other just so they could face the teasing they all had prepared for San.

—Tell me when you aren't interrupting something —San rolled his eyes.

—Yeah, that'd actually be a better question —Yeosang patted his back, moving past him to head to the bed—. How are you?

—I was fine, but now I'm seeing the headache coming.

Shortly after, his bed was surrounded by the people he appreciated the most, trying to play around, making an effort to cheer him up. Until a short silence started breaking through their conversation, with the welcome of some shut down laughs.

—By the way —Mingi continued—, I want to apologize. To you two. If I hadn't let Jen get into my life that way...

—Mingi, don't do this —San cut him off.

—It wasn't your fault —Y/n seconded—. She played everyone, she used you. You're a victim as well, not the one to blame.

—It's just... when I met her at that car event, she seemed into me when I approached her —he shrugged—. I'd have never thought she wasn't into me.

—Well, you're missing two things, and three other things to spare —Yunho commented.

—What happened with her? —Hongjoong curiously asked.

—She was arrested for stalking, threats, breaking and entering, and attempted murder —her fingers played with the white sheet that covered San—. And now that I think about it, it all makes sense. She was the one who kept sending in those bouquets, even when they got blocked by security if they came from external services, and the cops confirmed the bouquet she brought me was from the same shop she sent all those notes from. She had access to my apartment keys, because I left my bag here unsupervised when she was in her place. She knew about my illness because she had access to my schedule... I trusted her to that extent, and I didn't think she'd ever use all that trust against me. Out of all the people... —San's grip on her hand became tighter.

—Good thing is that it's over —Seonghwa said.

And both of them agreed with that. It was about time they both could go on with their day without worrying about a text that could or could not come, or thinking about the fact of being targeted constantly without knowing the reason or the person pointing at them. It was a dark chapter, indeed, but it was finally over.

San adjusted his jacket as he stepped out of the car, eyes taking in the warm glow spilling from Y/n's windows. A sense of calm settled over him -something he hadn't felt in months. The hospital stay was finally behind him, and though he'd insisted he didn't need a special welcome, part of him was undeniably curious about the way Y/n had been unusually secretive all day.

She helped him get out, not needing to hear the first grunt coming out of his lips to go to his rescue by surrounding the car.

They both walked together toward the door of the parking lot, with San finding an excuse to pull her closer in a hug when they stepped in the elevator.

—Be careful —she giggled, caressing his side.

—I'm fine —he assured her, kissing her cheeks first—. I'll be able to handle it.

Another giggle escaped her lips when his lips dug through her hair, kissing her jaw to get her to squirm in his arms. Although any advance was stopped with a soft whine, one of his hands leaving her body to hold onto the stitched wound.

—I told you to take it easy —she reproached him.

—I can't help it —he mumbled—. I've been dying to be alone with you.

As much as he appreciated the visits he kept receiving, there wasn't a single time he was able to enjoy Y/n's company by himself. Whenever they were enjoying the peaceful and quiet time, someone broke into his room with a box of chocolates or a huge bouquet of flowers that gave him more than one nightmare. And if it wasn't a visit, it was the doctor or the nurse showing up out of nowhere.

—You'll be alone with me enough time to get sick of me —she assured him—, so let's go step by step.

He stepped through the front door, greeted by the delicate scent of herbs and spices. To his surprise, her bed was moved to the middle of the living room, right where the wide coach was placed.

—Welcome home —she murmured, giving him a soft kiss on his cheek, before she helped him make his way down the two steps in the entrance.

He looked around the place, feeling the familiar warmth of its embrace, feeling confused by how it looked even more welcoming than he remembered.

—You really went all out —he whispered, his voice tinged with awe as he looked over her shoulder.

The dining table was set with neatly folded napkins, a few candles waiting to be lit to cast a gentle glow, and an assortment of his favorite dishes laid out in serving platters. She prepared everything before he went to pick him up, hopeful that his welcome would feel like the warmest embrace.

—Why's the bed there?

—Coming up and down from my room, while you're still in this state, isn't the best of ideas. I called to get the bed moved down and, once you recover, I'll call again to get it back in my room. And about the food... —Y/n pulled back, brushing a hand down his arm—. Our parents will come tonight —she said, a slight smile playing on her lips—. After everything... I thought maybe we could have a chance to start fresh.

Just then, the doorbell rang, startling him. Y/n's expression shifted into an almost mischievous grin, and before he could ask who else was coming, she was at the door, pulling it open.

His parents were standing there, dressed in their best, with soft smiles and warm eyes that hadn't yet shaken their worry from his recent stay in the hospital. Behind them were Y/n's parents, looking equally surprised but visibly touched by the invitation.

His eyes shifted back to Y/n, who shrugged, her smile gentle.

—I thought we could introduce everyone, officially —she said, lacing her fingers through his.

San's chest swelled with a happiness so complete he felt lightheaded. He squeezed her hand, nodding.

—It's more than okay —he replied, guiding her back into his arms for a moment, feeling the soft hum of laughter from their families as they stepped inside.

The dinner unfolded beautifully, with shared stories and light banter, the kind that only family could bring. His mother and Y/n's mother laughed over childhood tales, each adding details to paint fuller, more vivid memories. Their fathers exchanged knowing glances, each sensing their children had found something special, something worth holding on to.

Toward the end of the meal, as plates were cleared and glasses clinked in cheers, Y/n took his hand under the table, her gaze catching his with a smile that held a quiet promise, a deep-rooted happiness.

—Thank you so much —he whispered to her, and she nodded, her fingers tracing gentle circles on the back of his hand.

When the night wrapped up and they were finally alone, Y/n looked up at him, her face soft with the glow of candlelight. San kissed her slowly, taking every chance to taste her as if it had been years since he last got the chance to live that privilege.

San leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

As they stood together in the quiet of the empty dining room, surrounded by the remnants of the night's laughter and love, they both felt it -the peace of a new beginning, shared together.

Y/n moved her arms up high again, around his shoulders, standing on her tip toes to kiss him again. It was slow, passionate, it was intimate, it revealed all of the secret feelings they didn't know the existence of and those they didn't communicate out loud. They pecked each other's lips one last time before they went back to pick everything up.

After the last of the dishes were washed and the lights dimmed, Y/n and San found themselves alone in the warm silence of her living room -temporarily turned into their new bedroom.

They settled onto the bed, leaning into each other, content in the quietness that now felt like a well-deserved gift. Y/n closed her eyes, her head resting against his shoulder, a small smile tugging at her lips.

San's fingers traced gentle circles on her hand, grounding them both in this fleeting but perfect moment.

—Every time I think of how all of this started, I realize how surrealistic it was.

Y/n looked up at him, her gaze soft but steady.

—Who would've told us it'd end this way —she giggled, rubbing her cheeks against his shoulder—. Thank god it happened though. These months have been the happiest of my life.

He took her words in, savoring them as he leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead, a simple promise wrapped in that gentle touch.

As they sat there in the cocoon of the dimly lit room, Y/n took a breath, finally feeling the weight of the past lift from her shoulders. There, in the safety of his arms, was something more than healing -it was the continuity of their relationship, one they'd forged through trust, forgiveness, and resilience, one they fought to stay as it was.

They stayed that way until sleep began to claim them, wrapped in each other's warmth. With the first falling out of the two of them being San, finally being hit with the exhaustion he had been dragging since he was first hospitalized. And she smiled at that, ever feeling so grateful for him that she thought she was dreaming still, convinced that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they were ready to face them, together.

Taglist: @brown88

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celestialmantdonna · 1 day ago

Text

Mantis didn't think that her willingness to help, to make Vossler confess after what happened, was a big deal. She wanted to help others, and if she could do so in any way, she would.

She wasn't sure how to respond, so she simply nodded and quietly thanked Basch when he said her actions were admirable before she left with Gamora. She couldn't blame Vossler's actions on all of Dalmasca, and everyone else seemed to condemn his actions at the moment.

Quill waited for Basch and Ashelia to leave the room before he did, and after slamming the door shut, a manifestation of the lingering anger he felt after the assassination attempt on his teammate, the Star-Lord left as well to return to the Benatar and talk to Rocket.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Mantis smiled at Munoh again after they told Soryn that Basch had approved of her help. She was lucky to have the being's support, and she would happily work with Munoh to get all the information they could extract from the traitor.

Gamora crossed her arms when Vossler demanded both she and Mantis stayed away from him. They didn't want to see him either, but Mantis wanted to get him to tell the truth, and... it wasn't like Vossler would confess spontaneously.

Gamora was a little surprised when Munoh revealed themself to her, but since both Mantis and Quill had seen them, and they had helped Mantis, she wasn't as shocked as she could have been by the glowing, floating presence of the being.

As Mantis offered to remove her influence over him, his suspicion was more than evident, and for a moment, she didn't think that her attempt to lure him in would work. However, it did, and the empath couldn't help but think that he was not that clever for someone so boastful.

He warned her? Now? To warn someone was to tell them about a possible danger beforehand, and Vossler had already tried to take her out. Had she been anyone else, Mantis would've digged her nails into the skin of his face before telling him that she had saved his life twice; first time by telling the Guardians not to kill him, second time by not commanding him to drop dead in that moment. But unlike Vossler, she didn't act out of ego. So instead, her palm was gently placed on Vossler's cheek as she gave a simple order in her mind. Something that to many would be far scarier than a heated fight.

Tell us everything you are trying to keep secret.

She had made the guards tell Raminas that Vossler would confess because he would. Mantis wanted to see him again before his trial to make sure he would do so, and if anyone accused her of lying, of making things up or forcing Vossler to say things that weren't real... Munoh would take care of that.

At least Vossler would stop wailing now. He would be too busy pointing out his own treachery.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Drax walked with Groot for a while, admiring the Royal Palace of Rabanastre and its beautiful surroundings.

He was visibly protective of the young Guardian, especially after what happened with Mantis. He knew the guards were keeping an eye on them, but he wouldn't attack them. If the guards were wise, they would realize that the Guardians had not landed there to pose a threat.

The threat had come from within the palace's walls.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

"No!"

"Man, c'mon!"

"No! Fuck that!" Rocket insisted.

Arguments weren't uncommon in the Benatar, especially between Rocket and Quill. After reaching the ship, Quill had told Reks that he needed to talk to Rocket in private, although he knew what Rocket would say: no, we are not going to fight for Dalmasca, fuck no, personally I do not fight for those who try to kill my friends, call me crazy, I'd rather fix the ship and get outta here, thank you very much, we will not return.

"Dude, you think I wanna do it?" Quill retorted. "I don't! But we need to! Don't you remember what I said when you asked me why I'd want to save the galaxy?"

"Do I look like I give a fuck?!"

"That's not what I said to you!"

"If we stay here any longer those assholes will try to kill Mantis again!" Rocket snarled. "What do ya want me to say, huh? Oh, yes, we will go to war for you! Sure, use us as your doormat while you're at it, anythin' you need, let us turn around so you can shove your mighty swords up our–"

"Okay, enough! We're not doing this. This is the kind of decision we should make together." Quill sighed and crossed his arms. "I think Mantis should have the last word." As much as he wanted to use his authority as leader and Captain of the Guardians, he knew that the assassination attempt had been on Mantis.

Rocket glared at him and then he kept working on the small, shiny green object.

Another Time, Another Place (A Hollow Universe In Space) || closed with tarnishedxknight

@tarnishedxknight continued from here

The Guardians stood there, letting Captain Basch formally introduce them to King Raminas. They all then bowed respectfully except for Rocket, who only did so because Gamora pushed his head down. They trusted Basch for the most part, as he assured them no one would hurt them after telling them to leave their weapons at the ship. Quill and Gamora were the first ones to leave theirs; Drax didn't want to leave his knives, but did so after Mantis looked at him, while Rocket pulled a comical amount of retractable weapons from his pockets.

As they followed Basch, Mantis had stayed behind for a moment to approach Vossler. She felt much better after Munoh sent her some calm energy, and she smirked at the man. Suddenly, her hand was on his cheek, her antennae aglow. "Whenever you open your mouth to say something unkind, you will wail like a baby. Honestly, it might be more coherent than anything else you have said," she whispered. She patted his cheek twice as if to seal her whimsical behest, and hurried to follow the Guardians as Basch guided them through the palace of Rabanastre.

Quill straightened and cleared his throat to speak to the King. Mantis took his hand; Quill was a little confused, but he allowed it since he knew she wasn't feeling great.

"Your Majesty," he said, once again lowering his voice in an attempt to mirror Basch's formal tone and presence, hoping it would make the King like him more. "We come in peace. We thank you for your time, and we apologize for occupying one of your docks. I think I have–" He stopped talking rather suddenly, and swallowed. "Uh... I think... I have..."

What was happening was that Mantis was frantically reading his thoughts as he spoke, using her powers to interrupt him because he was going to say he had the perfect stuff to make up for it, wanting to show the King some Terran music with the Zune. While Terran music was excellent, Mantis knew not everyone would like it, nor find it an acceptable form of apology.

"I have no excuse," Quill said instead. "And I have to... shut up... now."

#tarnishedxknight #guest muse: peter quill #guest muse: gamora #guest muse: drax #guest muse: groot #guest muse: rocket #[ v: another time another place a hollow universe in space ]

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