#i don't think he would have minded staring at the walls with her all that much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fic-girlie · 21 days ago

Note

Hey! Love your fics with dad!Pedro. Can't help but think about Joel and reader having a baby too. Would you write something about that? Maybe how he would be during birth and how he'd react when he holds his babygirl for the first time (yep, he's meant to be a girldad, it's canon, I don't make the rules). Maybe their first day back at their house in Jackson with the baby? 🥺🥺

Another chance

Pairing: dad!Joel Miller x wife!reader Summary: Joel becomes a father again—and this time, he gets to keep it all. Warnings: established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy reveal, sof Joel, giving birth, protective Joel, becoming a family

The world was quiet in the way it only ever seemed to be in Jackson during winter. The wind held its breath, the snow drifting down in a slow, unhurried hush outside the window. You stood barefoot on the cold wooden floor, wrapped in one of Joel’s old flannel shirts that still smelled like cedar and soap, your fingers curling tightly around the porcelain sink as you stared at the small test strip on the edge.

Two lines.

Not faint. Not maybe. Not up for debate.

Two bright, clear, undeniable pink lines.

Your breath fogged the mirror above the sink as you exhaled, shaky and slow. Everything in the room felt suddenly still. As if the house itself were holding its breath with you. Like even the walls understood how much this moment meant.

Pregnant.

The word didn’t sound real yet. It echoed somewhere at the edge of your mind, like it had been whispered from another room, part of a dream you hadn't quite woken from. You looked down again, just to be sure you hadn’t imagined it. That you weren’t just projecting hope onto nothing. But there it was.

You sank slowly to the closed lid of the toilet, the test still clutched in your hand, your heart beating steady and deep in your chest like a drum.

You didn’t cry. Not yet. The emotion wasn’t sharp enough for tears. It was something rounder, warmer—an ache right beneath your ribs. A fullness you didn’t know how to name.

Joel would be home soon. He’d taken a patrol shift, not because he had to, but because he liked to stay busy. He liked to keep his hands working. You’d teased him about it before. Told him retirement didn’t suit him. He always grumbled that someone had to do it if the kids weren’t gonna, and by kids he meant Ellie and Jesse and anyone under thirty. But you knew better. He liked the structure. The routine. It kept his mind steady. Gave him purpose.

You weren’t sure how to tell him. Not because you didn’t think he’d want this—deep down, in your heart, you knew he would. But because Joel carried love like it weighed something. Like every ounce of it had to be earned, carried, and protected. He wasn’t careless with it. He didn’t say things unless he meant them. And you’d seen what loss did to him.

You’d held him through nightmares, through those rare, quiet nights when he let his guard down and told you about Sarah in broken pieces. You’d seen the way his mouth tightened whenever he looked at a child too long, the way he always turned away before it got to be too much.

He’d loved his daughter more than the world. And the world had taken her from him.

That kind of grief leaves a permanent mark.

Still... Joel had let himself love again. He’d let himself love you. He’d let the cracks in his armour show and hadn’t run from what bloomed between you. When he held you, it felt like he was holding something sacred, like he wasn’t just afraid of losing you—he was afraid of failing you.

You looked down at the test again.

How would he react?

Would he be scared? Would it stir up ghosts? Would he think he couldn’t do it again?

Or—your heart ached at the thought—would he think he didn’t deserve it?

A soft breeze crept through the cracked bathroom window, stirring a loose lock of hair against your cheek. You stood slowly, cradling the test in both hands now, and set it gently in the drawer beneath the sink. Not to hide it. Just to keep it safe until you could find the words.

——

You hear the front door before you see him—hinges groaning against the cold, boots thudding against the wood floor, the soft scrape of snow being kicked off on the mat. You don’t stand to meet him like you usually do. Your hands are tucked in your lap, thumb grazing over the hem of your sleeve, and your heart is thumping with a rhythm too loud to ignore.

He’s home.

“Hey, darlin’,” Joel calls from the entryway, voice gravel-warm and familiar. There’s the sound of fabric rustling—he’s peeling off his coat, hanging it up by the door—and then those slow, steady footsteps cross the floorboards, inching closer. He smells like woodsmoke and winter, windblown and wild and so distinctly him it nearly undoes you.

“Everything okay?” he asks, a little softer now, sensing something.

You glance up, and the moment your eyes meet, his brow furrows. Concern settles into the lines of his face like it belongs there. His boots creak as he walks over and crouches in front of you, resting one big hand on your knee.

“You sick? You hurtin’? You’ve got that look like you’re about to cry, and—”

“I’m okay,” you interrupt gently, your voice thinner than you intend. “I’m not sick.”

His eyes stay locked on yours, scanning your face like he’s reading something only he can see.

“But there’s somethin’.”

You nod.

Joel doesn’t push. Never has. He waits, thumb brushing along your leg like a quiet reassurance, patient and steady. You love him for that. For all the ways he lets you speak on your own time, without pressure or fear. Even now, when your stomach’s twisting and your throat feels like it's closing.

You reach for his hand and guide it up, gently laying it over your belly. His brows twitch, just a little. But he doesn't pull away.

“I took a test this morning,” you begin, and the way his hand stills against you says he already knows what you’re about to say.

You swallow. “I’m pregnant, Joel.”

It’s quiet. Quiet in a way that makes the air feel like glass—too fragile, too still.

His mouth parts slightly, like he might say something. But nothing comes out. You see the pulse in his neck flutter. His eyes drift from yours down to where his palm rests against your lower stomach, as if he’s hoping to feel something move, even though he knows better.

You let the moment breathe, let him catch up to it. Because this isn’t small. This is life-altering. And for Joel Miller, who’s already lost so much... this is sacred territory.

“You’re sure?” he finally asks, voice rough and uneven. “You’re... really sure?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. I checked twice.”

He draws in a breath that shudders at the edges.

You watch him carefully—watch as his lashes lower, as his thumb shifts just barely across your abdomen, as the realization begins to bloom in his eyes like dawn breaking slow and golden. You expect questions. Maybe even panic. He’s older now. The world is different. Safer in Jackson, sure, but still full of ghosts. You wouldn’t blame him for hesitating.

But when he lifts his eyes back to yours, there’s no fear.

Only awe.

And something heartbreakingly soft.

“You’re havin’ my baby,” he says it like a fact, not a question. His voice cracks on the word my.

You feel a tear spill, warm and fast down your cheek. He sees it and lifts one hand to catch it with his thumb, cradling your face now like you might vanish if he lets go.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever get this again,” he murmurs. “This kind of chance.”

You lean into his touch. “I didn’t either.”

He shifts up onto the couch, easing beside you, arms pulling you into his chest so gently it makes you ache. His chin rests against the top of your head, and you feel his heartbeat through his shirt—fast and full, alive with something between disbelief and joy.

“I keep thinkin’... it’s gonna be a girl,” he says suddenly, voice muffled against your hair. “Don’t know why. Just feels like... she’s already there, y’know?”

You smile through your tears. “A girl, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, kissing your temple. “One who’ll wrap me around her little finger, just like you do.”

You laugh, the sound catching in your throat.

His arms tighten around you, his hand drifting back down to your belly, fingers spreading wide like he’s already protecting both of you from the world.

“God, I can’t believe it,” he breathes. “You’re gonna be a mom.”

“You’re gonna be a dad,” you whisper back.

He stills again. You feel him swallow hard. His next words are almost too soft to hear.

“I never thought I’d get to be that again.”

You lean back enough to meet his gaze. “You never stopped being one.”

His eyes flash with something deep—pain, maybe, but also something healing. Something warmer.

You take his hand in both of yours. “This baby... she’s not a replacement. You know that, right? She’s just... a new chapter. A new kind of love.”

“I know,” he says. “I know, baby.”

He kisses you then, slow and full, and it feels like the start of something entirely new.

A promise.

A quiet, aching joy.

He keeps his hand on your belly all night long, even after you’ve both gone to bed. And at some point, while you drift in and out of sleep, you hear him whisper something to the bump beneath your shirt:

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this again, little one... but I swear to you, I’m gonna try. With everything I got.”

And you believe him.

Because you know the way Joel loves—fierce and quiet, loyal to the bone.

And this baby girl?

She’s already his whole heart.

——

It starts slow. A backache that doesn’t fade. A pressure that builds like a distant thunderhead. And then, in the soft hours before dawn, it crests—a sharp pull in your lower belly that makes you clutch the side of the bed and hiss through your teeth.

Joel jolts awake beside you like he’s been struck.

“What? What is it? Are you okay?”

You nod, breath stuttering. “I think... I think it’s time.”

He stares at you for a second, and you see every emotion ripple across his face—fear, wonder, pure adrenaline. But the next moment, he’s on his feet, helping you sit up, steadying your back with that big, warm hand, already dressed and tugging on his boots with the kind of frantic precision only Joel Miller could manage.

“You’re okay,” he keeps saying, more to himself than to you. “We’re gonna be okay.”

The walk to the makeshift clinic is slow. Snow crunches beneath your boots. Joel holds you with both hands, guiding you like you’re made of porcelain and lightning. Every few steps, you stop so you can breathe through another contraction, your forehead pressed against his chest, his palm supporting the small of your back.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he murmurs each time, like a litany. “So damn good, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Inside, the warmth wraps around you like a blanket. Maria’s already called the town’s midwife. It’s not the hospital Joel probably wishes for, but it’s clean, quiet, safe. There’s a birthing room at the back—candles glowing, water boiled, blankets ready. And Joel never leaves your side.

Time loses shape. The pain crests and crashes like waves, and Joel is your anchor in the storm.

He doesn’t let go of your hand once.

He doesn’t even sit down.

You see it on him—the helpless ache in his eyes, the way his jaw flexes every time your body seizes with another contraction. He presses cool cloths to your forehead, whispers steady things to you even when you’re too far into the pain to answer.

“You’re almost there, baby. I swear. You’re the strongest person I ever met.”

You cry out when the pressure becomes unbearable. Tears spill down your face, raw and exhausted. You clutch Joel like a lifeline, and he leans in close, forehead against yours, voice cracking.

“I know it hurts, darlin’. I know. But she’s almost here. Just a little more. You’ve got this. I promise you, you’ve got this.”

And then the world tilts.

A final push. A cry that splits the air—new and raw and impossibly alive.

You barely hear the words at first.

It’s a girl. You did it. She’s perfect.

You slump back against the pillows, half-broken and whole at the same time, sobbing without meaning to. And then Joel lets go of your hand.

For the first time in hours.

Because he’s reaching for her.

The midwife cleans her gently, wraps her in a soft, handwoven blanket. And Joel—Joel looks terrified to take her. He hesitates, hands trembling.

“You want to hold her?” the midwife asks gently.

His voice is just a whisper. “I do. I do... I just—” He swallows hard. “I don’t wanna mess this up.”

But he does it. He takes her.

And the world shifts again.

She’s so small in his arms. So impossibly tiny, her face wrinkled and pink, her fists balled up by her cheeks. Joel looks at her like he’s staring into the sun. Like he can’t believe she’s real. He doesn’t even try to hide the tears this time—they stream down his cheeks, rough and silent.

“Hi, baby girl,” he whispers, voice catching. “Hey there.”

You’ve never seen him like this. Not even with you. He’s undone. He’s wide open.

She shifts in his arms, makes a soft sound, and Joel lets out the softest laugh, half-broken with awe.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes. “You’re perfect.”

He turns to you, eyes wet, throat raw.

“She looks like you,” he says, like it’s a miracle.

You reach for her, and he eases down beside you, helping you cradle her against your chest. His arms wrap around both of you, and you feel him exhale for the first time in what feels like hours.

“I don’t know how to do this again,” he says quietly. “But I’m gonna learn. For her. For you.”

You kiss his cheek, his jaw, his shoulder. You hold your daughter to your chest, feel her heartbeat like the softest thrum against your skin.

Joel tucks his head against yours. “I swear to you,” he murmurs, “she’s gonna have everything. Everything I never gave before. Every piece of me.”

And you believe him.

Because when Joel loves—he loves like it's the only thing keeping the world from falling apart.

——

You walk home from the clinic with your daughter wrapped to your chest, the snow falling soft and slow like it’s afraid to disturb the moment.

Joel’s beside you the whole way. One hand under your elbow, the other ready to catch you if your knees so much as think about wobbling. The birth took so much out of you, and you can still feel the ache of it in your hips, your back, the weight of your body trying to remember how to just be again. But your little girl is tucked in close under your coat, snug in the bundle Ellie knitted—mauve yarn and mismatched buttons—and somehow you feel stronger because of it.

Because she’s here.

Because you did it.

The walk is only a few blocks—stone path lined with fences, Jackson hushed by winter. Smoke winds up from chimneys in the distance, and every window flickers warm with lamplight. It’s all familiar, and yet it’s like seeing it for the first time. You’ve never walked this path as a mother before.

Joel’s not speaking, not really. Just little murmurs.

“Watch your step here, baby.”

“You alright?”

“Need to rest a minute?”

You shake your head each time, squeezing his fingers in return. You can feel how tightly he’s wound. He hasn’t slept more than a few hours since labor started. Hasn’t taken a full breath, either, from the looks of it. Now he keeps one eye on you and the other on the tiny rise and fall of your daughter’s chest as she breathes under the layers.

He’s a little bit in awe. A little bit terrified. And absolutely, completely in love.

When your house finally comes into view—your shared place tucked between two quiet cabins—it hits you fully. That this is your home. That this child in your arms belongs here. That this man at your side, already pale with worry and flushed with love, is yours.

Joel opens the door for you with one hand, the other ghosting at the small of your back. “Let’s get you two inside, yeah?”

The moment the door shuts behind you, the silence deepens. It’s warm, dim, the fireplace lit from when Joel came back earlier to prepare the space. There’s a folded blanket on the couch. A kettle on the stove. The bassinet waiting in the corner of your bedroom like a held breath.

You pause in the centre of the living room, suddenly unsure. Everything feels different.

Joel doesn’t say a word. He gently eases your coat off your shoulders, then unbuttons the wrap to peer down at the baby’s face. His breath hitches.

“She’s sleepin’,” he whispers, like the sound might be too much.

You nod. “You wanna hold her?”

His eyes snap to yours—almost like he’s afraid to say yes too fast, afraid he’ll break something by wanting it too badly.

“Please,” he breathes.

You carefully unwrap her, your hands trembling—not from pain, not from nerves, but just the sheer tenderness of it all. Joel steps in close and scoops her from your arms like she’s the most fragile thing he’s ever touched. Which, maybe she is.

He’s done this before. But not like this.

This is his baby girl. Yours.

And when she stirs in his arms, lets out a little sigh and frowns like she might cry, he shushes her instantly, bouncing just a little, his hand cupping the back of her tiny head.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Shh, I got you. Daddy’s got you now.”

Daddy.

The word tears right through you.

Joel rocks side to side, humming low under his breath. A song you don’t know but feel like you’ve always known. He keeps her close to his chest, cheek brushing her forehead, and you see the tears pooling in his eyes before he even feels them fall.

“She’s so perfect,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I can’t believe she’s ours.”

You lean against the wall, arms wrapped around your aching torso, watching him fall apart in the most beautiful way. He holds her like something sacred. Like something he thought he'd never get to have again.

When you finally coax him to sit down, he doesn’t even think of letting her go. He sits with her against his chest on the couch, feet propped on the rug, rocking gently back and forth. You settle beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I keep thinkin’ she’s gonna wake up and realize I ain’t good enough,” he admits, voice low. “That maybe I don’t deserve this.”

You press your lips to his shoulder. “Joel. She’s yours. You are so good. She’s already in love with you.”

He nods slowly, unable to answer for a long moment. He just keeps holding her, watching every twitch of her tiny mouth, every breath like it's a miracle.

When she finally wakes and starts to fuss—just a little—you reach for her, but Joel stops you with a hand on your arm.

“I got her,” he says, already standing.

He walks her around the living room like it’s instinct. The fire crackles gently behind him as he soothes her, patting her back with practiced care. You listen to him talk to her, quietly, like the world might fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

“I’m right here, baby girl. Nothin’ to cry about, you hear me? You’re home now. You’re safe. Daddy’s got you.”

Eventually, the crying fades. Her breaths deepen. She falls asleep again in his arms.

Joel lays her gently in the bassinet by your bed, moving with exaggerated care. You stay behind, standing in the open bedroom doorway just to watch.

He leans over the little mattress, one big hand tucked around her tiny foot, just resting there like he’s afraid to let go.

And then—so softly you almost don’t hear it—he starts to cry again. Silent tears, falling as he stares down at the little girl you made together.

“I’m gonna protect you,” he whispers. “I swear, baby girl. With everything I got. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you. Not ever.”

He bends down and kisses her forehead. Then he looks at you.

There’s something in his face—shaky and soft and shining—that you’ll never forget as long as you live.

“I don’t know how to be anything but hers now,” he says, hoarse. “Or yours.”

You walk over and take his hand.

“We’re already everything she needs.”

And that night, the three of you fall asleep in the same room, Joel’s arm wrapped around your waist, your baby sleeping just a few feet away.

For the first time in a long, long while, the world feels right.

#pedropascal #pedro pascal #joelmiller #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #jackson!joel #pedro pascal fandom

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 month ago

Text

i've got you

part 2

masterlist

summary: after getting a terrifying message from you manipulative ex, you lock yourself in the Camerons’ guest bathroom, spiraling into panic as everything starts to fall apart. what you don't expect is Rafe walking in and completely losing it when he realizes what’s going on.

word count: 2k

warnings: SA (non-consensual recording and sex while being drunk), blackmailing, panic attack, protective Rafe

The guest bathroom in the Cameron’s house felt like the safest place at the moment, and the second you closed the door, you collapsed on the floor, constantly buzzing with your phone still in your hand.

It’s been like that for the last hour—endless messages from your ex, Ethan, who hasn’t wanted to leave you alone since you two broke up a few weeks ago. But when you were sitting with Sarah in the kitchen while she was cooking something on the stove and your phone lit up with a message, a video of you from him, your heart dropped to your stomach.

Your hands started shaking violently, tears blurred your vision, as you couldn’t believe what you saw. It was just a preview, just a few seconds, but it was enough to understand. It was you on the bed, the dress from a few months ago when you went out with Ethan and some friends was gathered around your waist. You remember being drunk, barely conscious when he took you home, and then the next morning with pain all over your body.

You didn’t remember having sex.

Sarah was oblivious to your breakdown, and you quickly managed to slip away from the kitchen, mumbling to her that you needed to use the restroom.

You sat on the floor, back against the wall, staring at your phone screen with your heart thudding so hard it echoed in your ears. A consuming panic washed over you when messages kept coming from him.

Ethan (1:08 PM):

You really think I won’t do it? You think I won’t show them what you let me record? And i have more

Ethan (1:09 PM):

You looked so sweet in that video. Moaning for me like a slut. I bet Sarah’s brother would LOVE to see it.

Your blood turned to ice.

You don’t remember agreeing to anything. You would never have let that happen. He must’ve taken the pictures and videos without you knowing. You’d trusted him, loved him, been so fucking stupid—

It must be a nightmare. It should be, right? Ethan was bothering you, trying to convince you to go back to him, but straight up blackmailing you? You curled into yourself tighter, digging your nails into your thighs, as hiccups and cries shook your whole body. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t stop your mind from racing because there was nothing you could do. No one who could help. And if those images were released? If they were sent to Rafe? You would be done for.

The door cracked open before you could even register it, and the person whom you wanted to see the least in that state stood in the doorway.

“Yo,” Rafe said casually. “Sarah said you were—“ Your head whipped up in panic at his voice, eyes growing wide, before you started desperately wiping at your face to hide the flow of your tears. But he froze when he saw you on the floor, looking so small and helpless.

“The fuck—“ He muttered, stepping inside slowly, cautiously. “Hey, what the fuck’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing.” You croak, voice raspy. “I’m fine. Just— just leave, Rafe.”

“You’re crying. You don’t look fine.”

“I said I’m—” You started to snap, but your voice cracked halfway through, and then you choked back a sob, curling in again.

“Fuck.” He muttered again under his breath, kneeling in front of you. “What happened?”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, as if it would make the situation not real. But you couldn’t hide the way your face scrunched as if you were in pain or hide the bubbling feeling of pure panic, and Rafe saw that. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Who hurt you, hm? You can talk to me, I promise.” His voice was smooth and soft as never before. When he raised his hand to softly brush the side of your face, it was slow and cautious to not scare you even more. You open your mouth to lie, to say that it was just stress, or your parents, or your period, but your phone, lying face up on the tiles, lit up with another message, and your whole body went rigid.

Rafe’s eyes flicked down, instantly seeing the name, then looked back at you with curiosity and a hint of defensiveness. He knew the story between you and your ex. He saw how he treated you, saw you struggling to keep it all together, and he was the first one to congratulate you when you finally announced your breakup.

So seeing you react like that told him everything he needed to know.

“Let me see.” It was not an order, but his words were firm as he took hold of your wrist. You shook your head violently, wanting to hide your phone and downplay everything.

“No— Rafe, don’t look!”

He snatched your phone away before you could even process it, fingers moving quickly to unlock it.

The heavy silence filled the room when his eyes scanned your screen, seeing the message you didn’t even read yourself. “What. The. Fuck.” He looked up at you, jaw clenched, eyes wide with barely contained rage. “Is this real?”

He suddenly stood up, his actions almost frantic and panicked, and you jump up from the floor right after him as if automatically. You wanted to rip your phone away, but there was no point anymore—he saw everything, and you were way too tired and exhausted to fight anyway.

The silence that hung in the bathroom was suffocating, crushing, pulsing with the weight of everything that had just been revealed. Rafe stood there like a statue, gripping your phone so tightly his knuckles turned bone white, and his chest rose and fell with each sharp, shaky inhale, like he was barely containing an explosion. His jaw was clenched so hard you thought he might grind his teeth to dust. You could see the way his whole body was vibrating with fury, and when his eyes lifted from the phone to meet yours, they weren’t just angry. They were wild. Dark. Protective in a way that made your throat close up.

“What the fuck is this?” He spat, low and dangerous, his voice barely more than a growl. “What the actual fuck am I looking at right now?”

You couldn’t answer. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. You weren’t even crying anymore, you were just frozen. Humiliated. All you could do was curl your arms around your body tighter as the shame flooded you, soaked into your skin, and made you want to disappear. Rafe’s eyes dropped back to the screen, and you followed his gaze as he was staring at the first image. It was you, lying on Ethan’s bed. Your head turned to the side, half-lidded eyes, a soft expression that you now recognized as tipsy, barely coherent. The straps of your tank top were pushed down around your upper arms. No bra. The thin sheet pulled across your body did nothing to hide your exposed chest. One of the other photos was taken from behind with you on your stomach, bare, the lower half of your body completely visible, the shape of your thighs and your ass captured without any shame.

“I didn’t know.” You whispered, your voice cracking and dry, and it felt like you couldn’t even breathe properly. “I swear to God, Rafe… I didn’t know he took them.” You didn’t look up, feeling shame and embarrassment washing over you. “H-he sent me a video.” You whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure if you said it aloud at first, your eyes zeroing on the floor as your whole doby went numb. But Rafe heard you. He tensed instantly, hands stiffening around your phone still in his hand.

“A video?” He repeated, slowly. Carefully. His voice was like the calm before a hurricane. “What video?”

You nodded, trembling. “Of us. Of me, mostly. I—I was drunk, and he filmed everything. I don’t even remember it, but h-he sent it to me today.”

You broke again then, sliding down on the floor, helpless, sobbing so hard your body curled in on itself, your hands covering your face, unable to bear the thought of Rafe picturing you like that—not just naked, but used. Taken advantage of.

For a long moment, Rafe didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stood there, chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths, phone still gripped in his hand like he was about to smash it against the wall. Then, slowly, he lowered it on the countertop, and something in him cracked. Your cries, how desperate and sad they sounded, made him lose his mind, made him want to destroy everything and everyone who hurt you.

His hands ran through his hair roughly as he looked away, trying to keep it together, despite fuming from the inside. But it wasn’t working. His entire body was tense, like a live wire ready to snap. He pounded his fist into the bathroom wall so hard that you heard a crack, and you jumped from the loud sound. The last thing you wanted was for him to hate you or to see you in a different light after those pictures.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He said immediately, his voice breaking. He dropped to his knees in front of you, fingers twitching like he didn’t know how to touch you to not scare you even more. “I’m not mad at you. I swear I’m not. I’m just—I’m losing my fucking mind here, baby.” That word slipped out like it was natural for him, and your breath hitched. Rafe’s hands cupped your cheeks, his blue, wild eyes looking for yours, while he tried to wipe your tears.

“That motherfucker is dead.” He hissed, voice rough with emotion. “I’m not even fucking joking. I will kill him. He touched you when you were barely conscious? He fucking recorded you? Sent that shit to you as a threat? Threatened to show me?”

“He knows what you mean to me. He wants you to see me that way so I wouldn’t have any choice but to go back to him.” You whisper. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. I just—fuck, Rafe, I feel so ashamed. I feel disgusting. I didn’t want you to see this version of me, not through his eyes.”

“You think I give a single fuck about how you look in those videos or photos? About what you did with him?”

You looked down again, shaking, unable to meet his eyes.

“I do care.” He said, softer, lifting your face up again. “But not because you were naked. I care because it wasn’t your choice. That wasn’t you, baby. That was him taking advantage of you. And that makes me want to destroy every bone in his fucking body.”

You finally met his gaze again. His jaw was clenched so tight you could hear it grind, and his eyes were glistening with the kind of rage that came from caring too much.

Rafe leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His hands were on your thighs now, still shaking slightly. “You’re mine. Even if we’re not together yet. ” He said, barely above a whisper, like it was a truth he hadn’t even realized until that moment. “I wanted you for too long, let that scumbag treat you the way you didn’t deserve. But you’re fucking mine, and I swear to God, I’m not letting anyone hurt you like that again.” You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“I’m gonna take care of this.” He muttered, so close you could feel his breath. “You don’t have to do a thing. You don’t even have to see that piece of shit again. I’m gonna make sure he never gets near you, never gets the chance to make you feel this way. Nobody will ever see that stuff, you hear me?”

“Rafe…” Your voice cracked again, barely holding together, tugging him closer by the shirt, seeking more comfort.

“Shh.” He whispered, brushing your tear-streaked cheek with his thumb. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’ve fucking got you.”

part 2

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe fluff #rafe fanfiction #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n

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writersdrug · 9 months ago

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Price getting reader a step stool cause she keeps asking Bartender!Ghost to reach stuff for her. Simon obviously brakes it when no ones looking. 👀🤭

LOL

"Is this your way of insulting me?" You ask, holding the colorful, children's stepstool in your hands. You're grimacing at it, a look that has Price chuckling as he folds up the bag from the store.

"I figured you could use it - now ya don't have to wait for Simon to grab anything for you." He says, patting you on the shoulder.

"I don't mind the wait..." You mumble under your breath. The stool feels as decorative as a clowns nose as you tuck it under your arm and head towards the stairs. "I'm keeping it upstairs, I don't need customers laughing at me when I pull this out. Might take it home and spray paint it."

"Suit yourself." Price calls as you bound up the stairs. He heads over to the bar, where Simon is currently polishing the glasses you convinced him to order for the Halloween drink.

"Got a problem with me helpin' 'er?" Simon says, thick fingers rubbing the glass with a rag. He doesn't mean to sound defensive... but he can't help the bite in his tone.

Price smirks, picking up on the jealousy laced into Simon's words. "Thought you might like it. Makes your life easier, and 'ers." He pops open the register and starts filtering through the bills, replacing the larger value ones with smaller ones.

"You don't think I'm capable of runnin' a bar and helping you waitress at the same time?"

"No, but I think you'd be better off if you didn't have to run so much. She's brought in so much business as it is, your workload's gotten heavier."

Simon huffs. "Ya just want to separate us, hm? Want 'er all to yourself." He jokes, grabbing another glass and buffing it.

Price shrugs. "And if I am?" He says, giving him a side glance.

Ghost slows his ministrations, turning his head to his captain. They both stare at each other for a moment, Simon with his slightly angry, slightly questioning glare, and Price with his unwavering eyes. Simon wants to tell him to back down, that you're his - but he can't say that, because you aren't his. He wants you to be. But he doesn't know how to make it happen without letting his walls down.

Price chuckles, turning back to the register to continue swapping bills. "Y'know, if you want to say somethin' you'd best say it." He comments, snapping the drawer shut. "Missed opportunities often come from miscommunication."

He leaves Simon at the bar, heading towards the stairs with his money folder. You jog down the steps and nearly crash into him - he quickly grabs your shoulders and spins you out of the way before you can collide with him. You throw a "sorry!" over your shoulder as you carry an armful of various fruits, leaving Price chuckling as he ascends the stairs to the office.

"The oranges up there aren't looking too great." You chirp, dumping the fruit onto his workspace. A few lemons and limes roll onto the floor, and you bend down to chase them. Simon watches you, a bit miffed at how unaware you were of the situation. What do you think of Price? Do you like him? Would you flirt with him as much as you do with Simon?

You return with the escaped fruit. "I can run to Sevvy's store and grab some for tonight, if you want? The ones upstairs are looking a bit pruney."

"Are you actually gonna use that thing?"

"Huh?" You look at him with confusion written on your face. "What thing?"

"The stool." He looks down at you, his expression unreadable. "'S a bit demeaning, don'tcha think?"

You paused, watching him move the fruit to the side and grab a plastic cutting board. "I mean... he bought it, and I wouldn't have to bug you so much. If I spray paint it black or something, it won't look that ridiculous."

He nods. "Hm."

"I used it to grab the fruit."

"That's interestin'." He mumbles, slicing through an orange. You were right, they have seen better days.

He turns to pop open the register and hands you some bills. "Go get a few oranges, no more than ten. Order should be comin' in tomorrow."

You smile and take the money, stuffing it in your back pocket. With a few hours remaining before the restaurant opens, you go through the kitchen, grab your jacket, and head out the back.

Simon's back to chopping fruit and dumping it into a small bin, bitterly thinking over what Price had said. It's a stool. Price got it to help you and himself. It was a thoughtful purchase. But it's not just that. However unserious this is to Price, he's trying to rile Simon up. He's treating you like the last slice of cake in the tin - Price would like to have it, but he knows Simon's groveling for it. He's forcing Simon to ask for what he wants, and the bartender doesn't like that one bit. Normally, it wouldn't be something that irks him so easily - but this is you we're talking about. Not just anything. You. He wants to grab Price by the collar and throw him into next week with how he's trying to wedge between you and Simon - but he doesn't like having a weakness. He'll keep his cool for now. He'll make a move... eventually.

For now, the only aggressive side he'll present is passive.

Price leaves late that night, somewhere between two and three in the morning. He's beat, spending most of the night between helping you run food and drinks, and fifo-ing the pantry and overflow rooms. He's planning for a day off - of course, after he goes to the bank and comes back here to pay everyone. He's jealous of Simon, who's already upstairs for the night - he wishes he only had a short trip to the third floor before he could crash into his bed. Rather, he has to trek a hefty number of blocks home through the dark streets. He's more worried about going to bed at a decent hour than walking around at night with a bag full of money - people usually steer clear of him when they see his stature.

He locks the back door behind him, puffing out a foggy breath into the frigid air. It's only getting colder - he'll have to break out his gloves and scarf soon. The beanie won't be enough. He shoves one hand into his pocket, the other holding a small bag of trash from the office. He mentally ticks off what he needs to do this week as he grabs the garbage bins, dragging them behind him and towards the street for the trucks to empty in the morning. He pushes them against the store front, taking the lid off and dropping the light trash bag inside.

The loud thunk makes him do a double take. Did he throw away something important? He lifts the bag once again, and a disappointed expression falls upon his face. The colorful kiddie stool he bought for you is there, pieces snapped apart and shoved deep into the bin. Simon didn't even try to hide it underneath the other bags. It's almost like he left it there for Price to catch.

He sighs, dropping the bag and placing the lid back. He trudged down the sidewalk towards his home - he's not too upset by it. He had a feeling Ghost was sinking his teeth into you, and frankly, it's gotten to the point where Price is afraid of what the man might do if someone else tries to take you away. But damn, if his ex-lieutenant's going to make a move, he'd better make a fucking move. For your sake, if not his own.

He pulls his phone from his pocked and shoots Simon a quick, blunt message.

You're paying me back for that.

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty

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beloveds-embrace · 6 months ago

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What if in og dukedom Kiong was also a Duke but from another kingdom, perhaps the "monsterous northern duke" webcomics like to do lol.

You meet him at a gala in his kingdom (maybe Price had to attend for some political reason?) and make polite conversation, not bothered by this massive intimidating man (you live with Simon after all)

And he feels so at ease with you. This kind and warm woman who is unafraid of him, doesn't shy away from him when he moves a little closer. Perhaps you don't know about the rumors around him being a monster.

But you did know, you mentioned as you watched noblewomen gossip behind their fans. They were just nasty words spoken by bored nasty people. And you smiled so warmly up at him, him of all people.

It made his chest tighten watching you leave to return to your husband's side. He can't help but start looking into you after the gala, wondering what your life is like back home.

And it breaks his heart hearing what people say about you. Calling you a barren woman who's destined for divorce, how you're doomed to become a fallen noble because of it. You were the sweetest woman he's ever met, there's no way fate would have take the chance of motherhood from you. Obviously this was your husband's fault.

And he was more than happy to take you from him and give you all the children you were meant to have.

Wait omg yes i love this 😫 always the cliche northern duke tho hehehe will never get bored of that trope LOL

Dukedom au masterlist

I’m just thinking of him unable to stop thinking about you, even when months passed. In just one night, one gala, you had thawed the ice around him and now, you are all his thoughts circle back to you, you, you.

The flickering firelight danced across the dark stone walls of König’s private study. The room was quiet save for the occasional crackle of the hearth and the faint rustling of paper as he read through the letters his informants had gathered. With each word he read, a knot of anger tightened further and further within his chest, his calloused fingers gripping the parchment.

“Barren,” the word stood out on the page like a cruel slash across delicate skin. “A failure of a wife. Her inability to bear children has become the subject of much speculation among the Southern court. Whispers grow louder of Duke Price seeking annulment or taking a mistress. Some say he might already have.”

König’s sharp, pale eyes lingered on the word. His jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack. How dare they? How dare anyone reduce you to such indignity? The woman they were speaking of- the woman he could not get out of his thoughts no matter how much he tried- was kind, intelligent, poised beyond anything the shallow nobles of the Southern Kingdom could comprehend.

You spoke to him with no fear, no judgment. Not a single noble was worth half the delicate shoes you wore.

And this was what said nobles spoke of behind their gilded walls?

He exhaled through his nose, a harsh, controlled sound as he set the letter down. His hands, broad and powerful, trembled faintly as he dragged them over his face, trying to compose himself. His mind betrayed him, conjuring an image of you at the gala months ago, your warmth and grace so at odds with the venomous words on the page.

König stood abruptly, his imposing height casting long shadows across the room. The parchment fluttered to the desk, discarded, as he began pacing. Long strides carried him to the window, where snow fell silently beyond the frosted glass. He stared out, his breath fogging the pane, though his eyes saw nothing but the specter of his anger.

Unbelievable.

This wasn’t just idle gossip. He knew better. Rumors of this kind didn’t grow legs this much unless someone was feeding them. And who else but your own husband could have allowed such things to fester?

“Price.” König spat out the name like a curse.

The thought of the Duke filled him with a cold fury. John Price, who stood beside you at that gala with the possessive air of a man who knew what he had but didn’t deserve it. Price, who allowed these baseless, cruel rumors to circulate unchecked while you stood tall and weathered them alone, a lighthouse in the dark, deep oceans of nobility.

König’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms. What kind of man allowed his wife- his Duchess- to suffer such indignity? A real husband would have silenced those rumors before they even began. A real husband would have cherished you, ensured the world saw you as König did: radiant, strong, untouchable. A goddess in your own right.

But Price… Price was blind. Or perhaps worse- he simply didn’t care.

Unbelievable.

“It’s his fault,” König growled to himself, taking a deep breath to calm the anger rolling through him.

Still, idea burned like a brand in his mind. If Price had been the husband you deserved, these rumors wouldn’t exist. If he had protected you, König wouldn’t be reading about your supposed “failings” in a cold Northern study lacking your warmth. The hearth was just a pale imitation of you.

His gaze returned to the letter on his desk. He reached for it, smoothing the crumpled edges with surprising gentleness for a man of his size. He scanned the hateful words again, and instead of despair, something else stirred within him- resolve.

If John Price wouldn’t shield you from this venom, then König would. He didn’t care what it cost him. You deserved better, and he would ensure you knew it. The Northern nobility bowed to him; no rumors against you would be allowed once he got you with him.

König pulled out another parchment, clean and smooth, and he wrote a letter. He needed to know what you’d like in general to have around, to make this space more comfortable for you.

How could a man be so blind to the treasure he had? König truly couldn’t fathom it. You deserved love, adoration, and everything the world had to offer. If John Price couldn’t see that, König would ensure that you knew your worth.

He dreamed of sweeping you away to his estate, where the snow-capped mountains would shield you from the cruelty of society even if by the time he had you, all their tongues would be culled. He imagined you holding his children, your laughter filling the halls of his once-empty home.

Yes, he decided. You were meant to be his.

Months later, so much information gathered, another diplomatic meeting brought you back to the Northern Kingdom. This time, König ensured he was present, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing you again.

When you arrived, carefully stepping out of the carriage with John’s help, he couldn’t help but crack a smile; you looked so lovely, bundled against the cold in a fur-lined cloak and mittens, the deep and pale blues of your clothes making you look like a snowflake. He approached immediately, pale blue eyes bright.

“Duchess Price,” he said, bowing slightly. “Welcome back to the North.”

Your smile warmed him more than the roaring fireplaces in his castle ever could.

“Duke König,” you replied, offering your hand for him to kiss. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

He took your hand gently, his calloused fingers brushing against your gloved ones. “The pleasure is mine, my lady. Shall I show you the gardens? They’re especially beautiful this time of year.”

John watched from a distance, forced away as the servants began showing them to their room, though his sharp eyes narrowing as König led you away. Simon, standing beside him, crossed his arms with a grunt.

They… didn’t like this.

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moon-fics · 7 days ago

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So I dont know if this is your style but I figured I lose nothing by asking!

I have been really wanting to see a Bob Floyd x reader, baby announcement using B.O.B (since hangman calls him Baby on Board) like reader wear a shirt with BOB right on the stomach as a hint to either the dagger squad or Bob himself and it takes way to long for people to get it 🤣 just a thought!

Your fic's have been a saving grace for my Lewis Pullman hyper fixation!

I love this idea! It's so cute and I KNOW the dagger squad would be so excited.

You cannot believe you let Jake and Nat convince you of this. Is the idea cute? Yes. Will this put a smile on Bob's face? Also, yes. So, in theory, this is a good idea. It's witty and adorable, which Bob loves.

Except you've been standing next to him the entire night, and he hasn't mentioned it. It's gotten to a point where Nat pointed at your shirt a complimented it in hopes Bob realizes. He, instead, complimented it as well.

It's comedic and torturous. You want so badly for him to figure it out on his own, but you aren't sure he will. It's not because he's stupid; he's far from that. He's just a little oblivious to the hint you're dropping. In other words, he's not picking up what you're putting down.

You haven't had a lick of alcohol either, of course, for the baby's sake. However, that can't even be seen as a hint, either, because you don't get drunk on the regular. So, you're stuck hoping something will click in his brain.

"Hey, you're looking a little different," Jake says. Your eyes snap to him with a glare that could kill him where he stands. Jake's eyes are darting between you and Bob with an expression that can only say 'come on, man'. You quickly realize he's trying to aid the process. "Have you been doing anything new?" He says with a smirk.

"A lot more cardio," You say through gritted teeth. Bob's attention has already been grabbed by the conversation. His eyes were bouncing back and forth. "I thought this shirt really showed that off." You cannot be anymore clearer.

"You do look amazing," Bob agrees with a sparkle in his eyes. "You've been glowing recently," He adds with a smile.

"Yeah, I just find it weird she's wearing a shirt with your call sign on it," Natasha finally joins in. She plants the butt of her pool stick on the ground as her investment in the topic grows. "Y'know, it reminds me of those stickers people put on their cars. What's it stand for again?" She taps her chin.

"Oh, baby on board," Bob answers with a nod. You want to slam your head into a wall. He is right on the money, and yet, he is somehow using it as printer paper. "I always thought those were cute," He chuckles. Natasha and Jake are left staring at him with amusement.

Bob turns towards you and glances at your shirt for the thirty-first time tonight. His smile drops after a few seconds, and his eyes widen. They flicker to lock with yours, and there's a question on his tongue he can't quite get out.

"Is that what it means?" He asks loudly. He already knows the answer, but he just needs to hear you say it.

"Yeah, it is." You can't stop the grin from growing on your face as his eyes light up. The moment he knows the answer, he's lifting you off the ground. His arms are tight around your torso, and you can hear his laughter.

"I'm going to be a father!" He cheers while placing you back down. Bob's enthusiasm gathers the attention of the rest of the dagger squad. Everyone besides Jake and Natasha is surprised. They all let out a few congratulations while clinking their drinks together.

"Fucking finally. I was starting to think I'd have to just straight up tell him," Jake jokes with a slight nudge to your arm.

"I would have snapped his arm for ruining the surprise," Natasha steps up next to him. Before she can say anything else, Bob is pulling you away. He's already heading out of the bar with a mission in mind.

"Honey, where are we going?" You ask in a sing-song voice.

"I just found out my wife is pregnant. I'm spending the rest of my life pampering you," He says while pulling out the car keys. He says that as if he doesn't already do that. However, you won't say anything to argue against him. You know it's pointless.

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fluff #top gun x reader #top gun #top gun fandom #top gun maverick #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x you #lewis pullman x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month ago

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soft bob becuase bob is soft and deserves soft. e

Yelena didn't need to be an expert to know why Bob was standing in the doorway, watching you as you read a book, completely unaware of the awkwardly pinning man with the dark locks that glowed golden in the light.

It was innocent kind of love that Bob had for you, nothing within his eyes other then pure adoration and fondess for the person with unwavering paitience, the glue and heart of the group as many have called you and for good reson. Yelena sees how Bob fiddles with the sleeves of his baggy sweater, or how he shifts from one foot to another, he wanted to talk to you but couldn't find it within him to interput your moment of peace from your chaotic teammates and their exploits.

'They don't bite you know.' Yelena smiles upon seeing Bob jolt and look at her with wide eyes, embarresed that he had been caught lingering in the doorway of the makeshift library of the Watchtower, something you had demanded to have before moving in and it offered plently of benifits for not only yourself but Bob too; it acted as a safe haven for him when things became too much, or when he just needed to be where you've been when you were away on missions with the group.

'i wasn't- i was just-' Bob tried to explain himself poorly, much to Yelena's amusement.

'staring at (name) longinly like a puppydog?' She asks with a smile gorwing across her face, finally having some normality in having someone to tease for their innocent crush, especially when that crush of Bob's happened to be you because if there was any two people who'd belonged together it's you and Bob. 'It's cute really but i'm sure (name) wouldn't mind you joining them, if anything i'd think they would be happy to have you join them.' She encourages Bob who only smiles as he looks down at his hands, a nervous habbit he would do when he felt too exposed for his liking.

'I'm not so sure.' Bob trails off as he glances up at you, sitting on a comfy chair that faced the wall to floor glass windows, allowing the light to bath you in an ethreal glow or maybe that's just how he always saw you from the moment he had met you, but there was always this warmth that followed afterwards and filling him with a sense of calm. 'I don't wan't to ruin their alone time, i mean they've come here for a reason and i don't want to be a-

Yelena gives him a ponted look when he was about to put himself down, especially when it came to wanting to spend time with you, but not wanting to in fear that you didn't want him to and how you wouldn't feel the same warmth he felt when just looking at you. Yelena knows that this was false becuase she had noticed how you would always want Bob to sit next to you for just about anything, whether it was movie night or dinner, you always saved a seat for Bob next to you without fail and it was enough for her to know for certain that you reciprocated his feelings.

'Don't. Don't put yourself down becuase i know they would be happy, estatic even to have sit by them even if it's just to read a book, or to watch a moive, Bob they want you to be near them all the time.' Yelena reassured as she held Bob by his shoulders, hoping that her words would sink in and allow himself to be happy and get to share that happiness with you like she wants you both too. 'So just go in there and sit next to them and you'll see what i mean.' she adds as she gives Bob an encouraging shove towards the door.

Bob looks back at her with those wide eyes of his, seeing her give him a thumbs up, before looking straightforward and seeing you still sat on the comfy chair bathed in a golden light just like the last time he had looked at you. He takes a deep breath and forces his nerves into becoming still and steady, just enough to let himself braving the first step across the doorway and into the library, just as the coldness of the hallway seemingly vanished and was replaced by a calming warmth; something he had associated with you almost as though you were welcoming him without having looked at him from your book.

Yet one stray floorboard seemed to give him away as it creeked under his weight, making him freeze and you look up from your book for thr first time since you got there, smiling immeditely upon seeing Bob who looked as though a deer in headlights. You set aside your book after bookmarking your palace in order to give Bob your undevided attention, happy to see him where you felt most at ease and calm. 'Hi Bob, can i help you?' You asked.

'no- i mean i just-' Bob stops himself to compose his thoughts, to let himself breath out his anxiety, and tries again as he sees you smiling at him as though he hung the stars in the sky himelf. 'i wanted to ask if you've got room for one more?' He asks, hunchung his shoulders and trying to make himself as small as he possibly could in hopes of not intimidating you into agreeing, yet it seemed as though none of that was necessary as you were quick to pat the comfy chair next to you.

'for you? there's always room for one more.' You told him and Bob felt a weight leave his chest as he smiles and hurries to take his seat next to you, almost tripping over his own two feet in the midst of his excitment, something that made your smile wider as he makes himself comfortable unaware that his thigh was presssed against yours deliciously as though it was meant to be as you two were. Bob reciprocated your smiles and graciously take the throw blanket that you seemingly produced out of nowhere and drapped it across his lap and fiddles with it between his fingers.

You two made light conversation as you talked about the books you have read so far, not notcing that Yelena was watching you both as you smiled, laughed ans sheepishly looked away when caught staring at one another for a second longer then to be taken as platonic. You both deserved this and Yelena was certain to make sure no one ruins it for the both of you, as your biggest supporter she had been waiting for the day you'll say something towards one another, but she was paitient and is willing to suffer seeing more adorable shared moments until you both see that you belonged together and confess.

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rcmclachlan · 2 months ago

Text

The Least Vulnerable Spot 8x16 spec fic

In which I ask the ultimate questions: under what circumstances would Tommy not attend the memorial procession for Bobby? Also, how silly can I make this?

Buck has never considered himself to be that guy, but when a man hands you the viral antidote he stole for you, kisses you on a rooftop backlit by the sunset while a couple of Sikorsky UH-60s hover threateningly, and whispers "Here's looking at you, kid" before ushering you through the rooftop door so you can save your family while a bunch of stone-faced Army guys advance, you tend to have an expectation or two. Like, that he'll pick up his fucking phone when you call.

He's left so many voicemails and sent so many texts to Tommy's phone over the last four days that he's pretty sure Verizon has his account flagged, but he thinks Petrea, his account rep, would understand if he explained that his ex-but-maybe-not-ex-boyfriend flew in like a superhero and then ghosted him when Buck needed him the most. She might even dig up a Jilted Before Your Father Figure's Funeral discount for his troubles.

It's been a week since they held the procession for Bobby, and not even Buck showing up at Tommy's house the night before and pounding on the door for an hour while shouting that he was yellow-bellied (partly true), a traitor to the 118 name (mostly true), and a lousy lay (bold-faced lie) could make the little coward show his face.

So he's done. He is finished with Tommy Kinard and his massive amounts of baggage that would make even Briggs & Riley close up shop, and he's proving it by leaving one final voicemail that isn't influenced by his sadness over Bobby's death, the stress of the last couple of weeks, or by how much Tommy's abandonment has hurt him. He's going to be a rational adult about this. He's going to be the bigger person.

".... This is all to say that I hope you have an amazing life, Tommy," he says into his phone speaker. "I hope it's filled with love and support, and it's meaningful and fulfills your soul. And I hope you fall in love with a beautiful, kind man who treats you right, and I hope you get married and stay together for fifty blissful years, and then I hope you wake up from the coma to realize it was all a dream and you're all alone, because apparently that's what you really want! And I know you were quoting a movie on the rooftop, and you know what? I'm not going to even look up which movie it was! Look at me, kid, or whatever it was you said!"

Buck misses the days when he could snap his phone shut to hang up, because stabbing end call twenty times until his finger actually taps the button just doesn't give him the same kind of satisfaction.

Panting for a moment, he pushes all his anger and pain into a little lockbox in the back of his mind, shuts the lid, and takes a breath. Then he pockets his phone and looks up to find everyone in the station frozen, staring at him like he just performed a magic trick or saw a bug on the wall and didn't identify it out loud.

"What?!" he snaps at all of their slack-jawed faces. "Never seen a rational adult before?"

Out of nowhere, a hand lands on his shoulder like a jump scare, and he startles back so hard he almost throws an elbow into Acting Captain Henrietta Wilson's wrinkled nose.

"Hey, Buckaroo," Hen coos. The expression on her face would be more at home on someone who's been tasked with single handedly cleaning up a nuclear meltdown. "Maybe we should put our phones in our lockers so we're not distracted by our very confusing situationships. At least until lunch time when I can escape to Rosetti's to get a break from it."

Buck doesn't whine and he definitely doesn't stamp his feet. "Yeah, but what if he calls?"

"You know, he probably would just to tell you the quote is actually Here's looking at you, kid," Hen admits.

"I don't get it. Who's looking at me?" Buck mutters, giving his phone the stink eye before looking up. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were doing paperwork."

Hen shrugs with her entire face. "Well, I was, but when you started wailing I thought another raccoon got caught in the vent fan again, so."

For someone who got the job under the worst set of circumstances imaginable, she looks completely at home in the role, the way she always does. Buck's trying like hell to be happy for her, and he is, deep deep deep down, but he'll be the first to admit he hasn't been handling it well. Yesterday she'd brought in a tiny potted succulent and put it in the upper left corner of what was now her desk where a framed photo of Athena, May, and Harry once sat, and Buck accidentally knocked it onto the floor. And accidentally stepped on it. Twice. Accidentally.

She'd stared at him until he started to sweat, then said flatly, "You're buying me two more."

"Yep," he'd agreed. There's now a bigger succulent on the desk and a bushy lemon lime maranta on the windowsill.

Whatever she sees on his face makes her roll her eyes, but she puts her hand on his shoulder again and says, "Okay. You get thirty seconds. Lay it on me."

Buck blinks. "Really?"

"Twenty-nine now," Hen says.

Damn, that's generous. Eddie only gave him ten before he tapped out.

Squaring his shoulders, Buck lets it all come tumbling out: "I thought this meant something! He threw in with us again and kissed me on the roof and said whatever he said and it was supposed to mean something! You don't just bail after that! He was supposed to be here! He was supposed to support me at the funeral! He was supposed to be there for me at the procession and then fuck the sadness out of me afterward! I had a plug in and everything!"

"Time's up," Hen breaks in, a look of abject horror on her face.

Buck throws his hands up. "That had to only be twenty seconds at most."

Hen's eyes dart down to his hips, then back up to his face. Her glasses magnify them, so they look bigger and wider than usual. She looks like one of those Precious Moments figurines his mom used to collect. "You had a—Buck, that procession went for a full mile."

"Believe me," Buck grumbles, shifting to try and escape the chafed ache that refuses to go away. "I'm well aware. Serves me right for going with the biggest one I own, but, like, I thought Tommy was gonna—"

"Aaaand we're done." Hen executes a perfect about-face and marches in the direction of the admin offices.

Buck calls after her, "Bobby would've heard me out!"

"Bobby would've jammed pencils in his ears!" Hen shouts over her shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm about to do!"

This is exactly what he means when he tells Dr. Copeland that no one ever listens to him.

He's about to go see if he can corner Chimney somewhere with limited escape routes when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. His heart gets caught up in a dizzying storm of excitement, dread, and grim satisfaction, because he knew Tommy wouldn't be able to deal with the idea of Buck not looking the quote up.

But when he takes his phone out of his pocket, the incoming call isn't from Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️, but Lucy Donato.

Sighing, he takes the call. "Uh, h-hey Lucy—"

She cuts him off immediately with a curt, "Look, don't think I'm not grateful or anything. We all are. Not being forced to listen to sad James Ingram songs day in and day out has been wonderful, but it's been two weeks already and we need our lead pilot back."

"I—what? Lucy, I hate to tell you, but—"

"Tell me precisely zero details about how dick drunk you are, Buckley," Lucy says flatly. "Just tell me when you're letting him go. Cap's getting antsy and Baxter's been on call for so long that his wife is ready to kill him and turn his body into mulch."

Buck stares at Engine 2 until it blurs. "You... are talking about Tommy, right?"

"No, I'm talking about the other dipshit I work with who committed domestic terrorism because your asshole is a Disneyland attraction." Buck makes a face but doesn't correct her. Tommy once likened sex with Buck to riding Big Thunder Mountain for the first time. "He's missed like four shifts. Any more and Cap is gonna have to, like, make some calls. Where the fuck's our pilot, Buckley?"

"He hasn't been in at all?" He echoes faintly, a sinkhole opening in his gut.

Lucy makes a sound of disgust. "Frankly, I can't believe they dropped your charges. You're way too dangerous to be allowed among the general populace."

The Army colonel who swanned into Chim's hospital room like he expected them to scatter like roaches had taken one look at all of them and scoffed. "Every fiber of my being hates what I'm about to say, but I can't handle another phone call from Sergeant Grant, so: on behalf of the United States government, we're dropping all federal charges for everyone in this room. If I see any of you ever again, I will throw you into a hole so deep it'll make the Kola Borehole look like something a kid dug at the beach."

Except not everyone was in the hospital room that day.

Buck squeezes his eyes shut. "Hey, so I need to call you back."

"Wait, Dana wants to talk to you."

With a yelp of pure terror, Buck stabs his phone until the call ends, then immediately calls Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️. It goes right to voicemail, like it's been doing, and now Buck is pretty sure he knows why.

"Heeeeeeeey," he says through a grimace. "So, uh, I need you to ignore all the other voicemails and texts I sent you. Um, it's entirely possible the reason you haven't been picking up my calls might be, uh, sort of my fault, but just think: someday when we've been married for fifty years, we'll probably still be laughing about this whole thing."

Inbox full, the automated voice cheerfully tells him.

Cringing, he calls Athena.

Buck has never actually seen a federal prison—Jamestown was a regular prison, and he didn't have enough time to stop and take it all in—so he's not sure what to expect, but when they fly over Victorville Medium-Security Federal Correctional Institute, he's surprised to see it looks more like an army base than anything.

The pilot who picked him, Athena, and LAFD union lawyer Bernadette Kaine up from Harbor One—and that had sucked, because the entire Harbor crew was standing on the tarmac giving him the evil eye as he boarded, and while Dana didn't physically drag her thumb across her throat he could see the same sentiment in her blank expression—didn't actually introduce himself, but his name was embroidered on the arm of his flight suit.

"Your last name is 'Goodenough'?" Buck had asked, grinning. "'Pilot Goodenough'? Hopefully your flying is a lot better than your name suggests!"

Pilot Goodenough stared stone-faced out the windshield and said, "We might hit turbulence during the flight."

And they did, but oddly only whenever Buck unbuckled his belt. The last time Buck went to get up, Athena threatened to shoot him.

When they land, Colonel Whatshisname is there to greet them, and he looks both exhausted and furious to see him and Athena again.

"Sergeant Grant," the colonel acknowledges through gritted teeth, ignoring Buck entirely. "It's such a pleasure to see you again."

Athena simply crosses her arms and stares him down, which is impressive to watch, considering the guy's like 6'7". He's shriveling under her scrutiny before Buck's very eyes.

"Colonel, it appears you forgot something," Athena says, lightly and terrifyingly.

"Someone," Buck interjects, with nowhere near the same impact.

Colonel Whatshisname sighs, looks heavenward at the departing helicopter as though he'd like nothing more than to flag Pilot Goodenough back down to take him away, then beckons them all inside.

When they get to whoever's office the colonel commandeered, Buck is almost completely distracted from why they're there by the sheer amount of rubber ducks that clutter up every flat surface in the room. No two are the same. There's even a little viking duck, complete with a mace.

"Can I—" Buck starts slowly, inching his hand toward a duck that looks like a firefighter.

Colonel Whatshisname sits down at the desk, hard. "No."

"That's fair."

"Colonel Spade," Bernadette begins, opening her worryingly bulging briefcase. "I'd like to begin by thanking you for your ti—"

"Colonel, you know why we're here," Athena cuts in, taking the seat on the other side of the colonel's desk. She has to clear a path through all the ducks lined up at the edge so she can rest her clasped hands there. "When the charges were dropped for the members of the 118 involved in the incident, LAFD pilot Thomas Kinard's charges should have been included."

At that, Buck moves to stand menacingly at her shoulder like an attack dog, although the colonel doesn't look all that impressed at the display. If anything, he gets a look on his face like he'd just swallowed an assassin bug. Specifically a North American wheel bug.

"Normally, I would agree with you, but Thomas Kinard abused his military rank and previous clearance to gain access to a secure government building, steal proprietary assets from a lab that could have caused great harm to the population of Los Angeles, and physically assaulted personnel on his way out," Colonel Spade snaps at her. "There was no way we were letting any of that go."

"Assaulted?" Athena lifts a brow.

"That's awful," Buck rasps, pressing his thighs together. "Like, how many people and what did he do to them? Like, were there concussions? Broken bones? You can go into detail, I'm not squeamish."

The thought of Tommy fighting his way to get to Buck is so disgustingly hot that he might pop a woody in front of Athena, their lawyer lady, a visibly upset military man, and three thousand ducks. Still not the worst place he's ever been turned on.

"Without Kinard, we never would've gotten the antidote in time to save all those people," Athena says, and yanks her chair forward a little, away from Buck. "The people you deemed collateral damage in the fallout of the release of the CCHF virus."

"No one could have predicted Dr. Blake would go rogue," Colonel Spade says easily, with hate in his eyes. "This is hardly the fault of the—"

Suddenly, Bernadette sits up, and it feels like someone's put a spotlight on her. Buck kind of expects her to break into song or something, but what happens is actually so much better.

"The day Dr. Blake stole the virus, her employment was terminated, effective immediately, and yet security didn't walk her out of the building, which goes against all federal mandated safety protocols," Bernadette says, all smiles, practically glowing. "The lab—property of the U.S. government, if I remember correctly—was entirely unsupervised, which gave Dr. Blake the unfettered opportunity to tamper with the virus, speeding up its incubation period without authorization. Or, perhaps she did have authorization and the government failed to disclose this. Tell me, what else is going on under our noses that the government isn't telling us?"

"Try to disappear the brave people who risk their lives to do the right thing, apparently," Athena answers pointedly.

"I thought you were a union lawyer," Colonel Spade says through a visibly clenched jaw. "What do you know about federal pharmaceutical law?"

Bernadette's smile goes sharp. "I dabble."

Colonel Spade looks, for lack of a better word, murderous. He's probably one smarmy comment from grabbing the nearest rubber duck and bludgeoning Bernadette to death with it.

But Buck has never been able to help himself. "Is this a bad time to mention my ex-girlfriend is an investigative reporter?"

Athena drops her head into her hand. "Buck."

"I'm just saying!" He crosses his arms, trying to puff himself up the way some animals do when they're faced with a predator. "It sure would be a shame if an anonymous tip about all this landed in her lap."

Colonel Spade squints at him. "Are you threatening me, Firefighter Buckley?"

"You're trying to bury Tommy to save your own ass," Buck growls. "Yes, I'm threatening you."

Wordlessly, Bernadette reaches into her briefcase, which looks like it's seriously ready to bust open at the seams, and slides over a packet of paper to Colonel Spade. The colonel snatches it up and starts reading, and the longer he does, the paler he gets.

Finally, he lowers the packet and stabs Bernadette with his eyes. "Where did you get this?"

"I play mahjong with your ex-wife every Sunday," Bernadette says, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "She sends her regards. Well, she actually sent the tip of her blackmail iceberg. How is your new wife, by the way? She graduate from college yet?"

Eyes wide, Buck looks at the colonel, who's got the swallowing wheel bugs look on his face again.

After the most awkward ten seconds that Buck's had to endure since Eddie crashed his and Tommy's pizza date, the colonel folds like a bad row of mahjong tiles.

"Fine," he says with a sigh, then glares at Bernadette. "And no, she's a junior."

Buck picks up a rubber duck with sharp teeth like a vampire. "Gross."

The colonel washes his hands of them by pushing them onto two enormous guards named Weekes and Kluger, who are basically human trees.

When Kluger gets his orders to take them to cell 58, he droops like a wilting plant. "Hey, you're not here to, like, take Kinard to Gitmo, right? It's just—he's really cool. He's got the wildest stories."

"Dude figured out what was wrong with my car just from listening to a video on my phone." Weekes grins, then leans in to whisper conspiratorially to Buck, "it was the alternator."

"I offered to introduce him to my sister," Kluger says as they board the elevator, and he's either oblivious to Buck's glare searing a hole in his head or is just flat-out ignoring it, because he continues blithely, "but he said he doesn't like girls. Which is cool. I'm down with the rainbow, you know? So I told him about my cousin, Martin."

Buck makes a politely interested noise, but it mostly sounds like he's biting straight through his tongue. Athena elbows him hard enough to bruise his spleen.

"And what did he have to say about Martin?" Buck asks. Meanwhile, every bone in his body is vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear.

Kluger doesn't seem to be aware that the head is going to burst into flames any second now. "He said he was flattered and that Martin was hot, but he's already got his heart pinned on someone on the outside."

Buck relaxes with a pleased smile.

"Yeah, except whoever it is left him in here to rot," Weekes adds.

"T-That's unnecessary and completely untrue," Buck lies, trying to sink into the floor so he won't drown in shame right in front of them.

Thankfully, the elevator comes to a stop at the 5th floor, and Buck pushes his way out to gulp some fresh air.

He's not sure if being on the 5th floor is a good or bad thing. Tommy was charged with domestic terrorism; what if this is the domestic terrorism floor? What if he's neighbors with neo-nazis? What if he'd been jumped by a faction in the shower and took a beating and has spent the last few days pissing blood and breathing through broken ribs and cursing the day he ever picked up Chimney's call about needing a pilot for an unauthorized rescue?

What if he regrets ever meeting Buck?

But before Buck can ask Kluger for a bucket to throw up in, they come to a stop in front of a cell marked with the number 58, and Buck forces himself to look inside.

Apparently the question Buck should've been asking was what if Tommy's lying on his bed playing paddle ball while he mouths along to whatever 80s hip-hop song is playing on a little radio? Because that's exactly what Tommy's doing.

"I gave him the radio," Weekes says proudly, reaching out to knock on the glass door. Tommy looks up without pausing his game. The ball keeps thwacking against the wood.

"He's so good at that," Kluger says, starry-eyed. "He beat Officer Amino last week and that guy's won tournaments."

"Is it Girl Scout cookie season already?" Tommy asks cheerfully, then effortlessly twists the paddle so the cord wraps around it. He tucks the ball in. "Sorry, I don't have my wallet on me."

Buck shoves Kluger aside to practically press his nose to the glass. "We take IOUs."

As soon as he sees Buck, Tommy brightens, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, stretching with a groan, and then walks over to the door. Even in the bland blue jumpsuit, he's stupid hot. Helplessly, Buck puts his palm against the glass.

"Nice of you to stop by," Tommy says with a teasing lilt, pressing his own palm to Buck's, and Buck swears he can feel the heat of it through the pane.

"I was in the neighborhood," Buck teases back. "Figured I'd pop in."

"I won't lie, I've been dreaming about you showing up for a conjugal visit." Tommy looks away from Buck's face to squint at everyone else. "Although you guys weren't there."

At that, Athena cracks a smile and says in an odd voice, almost twangy, "You stupid mullet head, he beat you with nothin'."

Tommy perks up and doesn't miss a bit, drawling, "Yeah, well, sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand."

Before Buck can ask what the hell they're talking about, someone shoves him aside with surprising strength. He's a little surprised to see it's Bernadette, who he kind of forgot about, but she's clearly the only one who remembers why they're here because she raps on the glass and says, "Mr. Kinard, my name is Bernadette Kaine and I'm here to take you home."

"We're here to take you home," Buck amends.

Tommy looks at Bernadette for a long moment, head tilting like a puppy hearing a noise for the first time and gaze narrowed, and then snaps his fingers. "Hey, I know you! I sent my paperwork to you the last time I stole a helicopter."

Sighing, Bernadette nods. "If you do it a third time, I get a free sundae."

"What do I get?" Tommy asks.

"Permanent incarceration and possibly the death penalty."

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Tommy mulls that one over, then gives a decisive nod. "Sounds about right."

The helicopter ride home is spent mostly with Buck plastered to Tommy's side while he fills him in on everything he missed. Tommy's devastated to hear about Bobby. He offers Athena his condolences over the open mic, then curls his hand around his headset speaker to murmur apologies into Buck's ear.

"I wish I'd been there for you," Tommy says, and the words ease some kinked cable inside Buck he hadn't known was there. "I'm sorry I wasn't."

"I'm sorry I forgot there were consequences to your actions and left you to the mercy of the Army," Buck says, pressing his forehead to the jut of Tommy's jaw. "I just assumed everything was taken care of, and I… kind of thought you were ghosting me."

At that, Tommy snorts, wrapping an arm around Buck to hold him impossibly closer. "Evan, come on. You don't kiss a man like that and quote Humphrey Bogart and then ghost him. I'm an asshole and a coward, but I'm not a monster."

Buck winces. "Uh, yeah, when you have a second, can I see your phone?"

"What for?"

"It's better if you don't know," Buck says. "Completely unrelated, but you don't have a code for your voicemail, do you, and if so, can I have it?"

Tommy snickers and presses a kiss to Buck's temple. "How bad did it get?"

"Well, I taught Chim the word 'motherfuckface', so you tell me," Buck admits, cracking a grin when Tommy laughs out loud, but he has a hell of a time trying to keep it up. Finally, he gives up the ghost and tucks his face against Tommy's, eyes prickling hot with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I should've known. I should've known. Never in a million years would you have bailed on the funeral. It should've been my first clue that something was wrong."

Tommy snugs him in close and says quietly, barely audible over the rotors, "To quote an incredible man who drives me up the wall: 'it seems there's a lot we don't know about each other.' I'm glad you know I wouldn't have left you in the lurch like that, but there's a lot more… there's a lot more about me that you should know. That I… well, not exactly want you to know, but that I will tell you. Willingly. Well, not exactly willingly, but—"

"Y-Yeah?" Sniffling a little, Buck pulls away just enough to be able to look up at him. "What are you doing Saturday?"

It wins him a smile. "Vivisecting myself for you, apparently. And maybe burgers afterwards?"

Grinning, Buck snuggles shamelessly back in. "Actually, I wanted to make Bobby's famous lasagna for you. I think I've finally nailed it down. Then you can nail me down."

But before Tommy can respond, Athena breaks in over the line and takes a baseball bat to the moment. "Change the subject. Now."

Swallowing hard, Buck nods and pastes on a smile that doesn't scream 'I'm chubbed up a little in my jeans and I'm trying not to make it everyone's problem.' He coughs a little. "So, uh, who's Humphrey Bogart? Does he have a podcast or something?"

Tommy turns to Athena. "Actually, thanks, but no thanks. Take me back to prison."

#bucktommy #911 spec fic #911 8x16 #911 spoilers #4400 words of unseriousness #once again written entirely in the tumblr text editor #if you read this and think it's completely unedited and makes little sense.... you're right

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sketchtastrophee · 4 months ago

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more old art!! featuring theo and my human harley fan design!! RUN THEODORE RUN (he's cooked)

im gonna talk about chapter 4 under here so only click if ur ok with spoilers! also its a huge yapfest. like HUUGE. i just want to voice my opinions about prototype because i've seen ppl sort of miss the point of what happened at the end of the chapter

I LOVED CHAPTER 4! IT WAS SO COOL!! i was sooo worried but im glad it turned out good. rip pianosaurus tho..

tldr (for the bunch of paragraphs where I talk abt prototype)

prototype being ollie is deranged because it means he was terrorizing the toys of safe haven on purpose for the fun of it when he could have killed them at any time. he also created an extremely close emotional bond with poppy for OVER A DECADE just to tear it all away from her at the end and tell her it was meaningless (he then proceeds to taunt her over the phone abt it). bro is LITERALLY TROLLING

you cant tell me that final scene w the "ive got something special in mind. i prepared it just for you, and this time you'll never want to leave." isnt some tom and jerry shit

ABT PROTOTYPE REVEALING HIMSELF AS OLLIE... (the long explanation)

we ALL knew he was ollie, but i don't think people are seeing the point of this reveal. it wasn't about revealing himself to us the player, it's about the implications that arise from it. he had been playing both sides for 10+ YEARS. that's deranged enough but not even CLOSE to the end of it

as ollie he had emotionally supported poppy in her lowest moments (as heard in the ollie and poppy tape). this tape also insinuates that (at least around the time it was recorded) the two of them called frequently, possibly every night. he wasn't just pretending to be everyone's ally, he was PRETENDING TO BE THEIR CLOSEST FRIEND THAT THEY COULD VENT TO 😭 he heard this poor girl sob into the phone and tell him about how she felt her humanity being taken from her, AND HE KEPT UP THE CHARADE AND COMFORTED HER, KNOWING THIS PATH HAD BAD INTENTIONS

what's worse than all of that, though, is that him being ollie means that at any time in the last 10 years he could have used the persona to force his way into safe haven. AT ANY TIME HE COULD HAVE KILLED THEM ALL. HE COULD SIMPLY USE THE OLLIE VOICE AND ASK THEM TO OPEN THE DOOR. why is this worse, you ask? because HE WAS LITERALLY TERRORIZING THEM ON PURPOSE.

think about the note in the cart/cave area. a toy from safe haven writes that prototype was right outside the door the night before, he'd gotten past the traps and was just tapping on the wall and staring. they said after he was gone they still felt they could hear it. HE IS LITERALLY BEING SCARY ON PURPOSE???? LEGIT TRAUMATIZING THEM AND FOR NO REASON. HE COULD GET IN THERE, HE'S SIMPLY CHOOSING TO MAKE THEIR LIVES HELL

so thats crazy.. BUT ALSO THE ENDING? in the poppy and ollie tape he says "im right here, poppy. for you. i'll always be here." AND AT THE END OF THE GAME, WHEN POPPY ASKS WHAT HE DID WITH OLLIE, HE SAYS THAT. you know what that means? that means he said that shit to her ALL THE TIME. clearly only the two of them would be familiar with the phrase which is why after he said it, she immediately knew he was ollie the whole time

i feel bad for poppy. she ran off but she was valid for that. all her friends from safe haven are dead, the only ones left are the player, kissy and ollie, but she soon realizes that ollie is WORSE than dead. he is LITERALLY HER ENEMY. the thousands of conversations they had, probably hundreds of times she vented and told him her plans and discussed her life with him? ALL FOR NOTHING. any time she thought she was winning the past 10 years was a lie, she was ALWAYS LOSING because he was GETTING ALL THE INFO FROM THEM. she genuinely never had a chance and i think she realized that

in her dialogue you can tell she's grieving ollie (obviously he IS prototype, but i think she's grieving the thought of him). saying "you lied to me" to the prototype of all people is absurd (considering he's done far worse than lie) but when you think about how she feels, it makes sense.

also the part where she said "this isn't right". again, a weird thing to say to him of all people, but if you put yourself in her shoes she's grieving the friend she thought she had, and she's struggling to grapple with the fact that it all meant nothing. somewhere in her mind she believes "ollie" as a personality is there somewhere, because how could someone be that close with you and mean none of it? she thinks that voicing this pain he's inflicted will change his mind, but it won't. and that's why it's genuinely really sad. that's why she asks if there was ever an ollie. i don't think she meant it literally, and i don't think his answer was literal either. she didn't mean "were you a mf named ollie once" she meant it like "was our friendship ever genuine?" which makes his response both heartbreaking and interesting.

so not only is her world shattered now, most of her friends are dead and the one who wasn't turned out to be her opp, but now he's TAUNTING HER OVER THE PHONE AND THREATENING HER. nice one... (loved the quip after she ran off btw. that shit was hilarious. like bro u made her crash out and went "some friend, huh?" YOU CANT SAY THAT BRO)

anyway think of it from her perspective: everyone you knew is gone, and soon the only 2 people that remain will be too. you can't run, or hide, or do anything. he WILL find you, and when he does he'll lock you away FOREVER where NOBODY WILL BE LEFT TO SAVE YOU. I WOULD RUN TOO.............. plus her running off probably led him away so.. she saved us sorta.

ALL THAT TO SAY THAT I REALLY LIKE THE OLLIE REVEAL FOR REASONS FAR BEYOND A SIMPLE TWIST. him being ollie for over a decade raises many many questions, and suggests very dark things.

hes crazy and the fact he did a monologue means he knows he won. he wouldn't have spilled the beans otherwise...

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hyuny-bunny · 1 year ago

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｡⋆˚under the stars ｡⋆˚｡⋆. LK + HH

pairing: hyunho x fem!reader, hyunjin x reader, lee know x reader,

synopsis: camping with 9 people, 4 tents leaves you stuck with sharing a tent and bed with minho + hyunjin who fight for your attention

MNDI 18+: somnophilia, implied consent, thigh riding, kissing, groping, masturbation, fem!reader

part ii

---

you can't recall to anyone raising questions at the wise idea it was to plan a trip with nine people without any consideration for the sleeping arrangements. of course there was gonna be some sacrifices made considering their couldn't possibly be 9 tents available for you each to have your own space and yet you were still shocked to find only 4 tents.

minho had the made the suggestion to organize a camping trip now that you all had an upcoming week of a completely free schedule. it wasn't often you had this so who were any of you to object ? it would start as early as 4am, rounding everyone into the rental van, an ungodly amount of luggage, and 8 unruly passengers who would be bouncing off the walls once 6am rolled around. the first few hours were quite, chan was driving and minho as the designated passenger princess offering directions and company as the only other person awake at 4am.

i'm the rows of seats behind were jisung who had already found the perfect angle to his pillow pressed against the window with drool slipping past his lips. felix also laid against changbins shoulder in a similar manner, opting to use his bicep as a make shift pillow. seungmin had his head tilted back against the seat and every so often waking up like a puppy fighting sleep. jeongin stayed leaned against the window watching the passing trees and rain droplets shower the window, once he was woken up he found it hard to sleep.

then there was you, directly behind the drivers seat with your own princess sleeping on your lap. hyunjin complained that if he slept on your shoulder, it'd cramp his neck too badly to sleep. so he spread himself out across 3 seats (yours included. it was only a matter of minutes it took for him to fall asleep aided by your hands running through his hair.

minho would glance back at every so often before giving you his cat-like grin then gesturing you hit hyunjin awake, forcing you to stifle a laugh. finally arriving to the camp grounds, you were fortunate enough to find minho had found a camp ground with luxury style tenting. all the tents had been set up perfectly, cutting out the labor of setting it up yourself. along with the tents were a plethora of chairs, a man made pit for fire, along with any other necessary camping amenities for cooking and survival. it was tucked away from the roads and next to a gorgeous lake with a breath taking view.

as everyone is unloading the bags from the car, it becomes apparent that the next standing conflict is the sleeping situation. you all stand in the center, surrounded by the 4 tents while everyone argues about who has first dibs and who has to sleep with who. eventually chan is directing seungmin and jeongin to one tent, felix and changbin to another, then the dilemma. the five you stand there staring at one another.

".... i think maybe we should give her own tent?" chan is the first to speak.

"hyung you want us to dog pile in one tent with 4 of us on one bed?" jisung turns to him with his arms crossed.

"i really don't mind sharing it's just-" you begin to say but end up cut off by two voices.

"i'll do it" "i'll do it"

your turn to find hyunjin and minho staring each other down, both surprised to hear the other offer to bunk with you.

"i think she can decide for herself who she wants to sleep with- i mean ! not sleep with but share SHARE i mean share." chan speaks up flustered as jisung laughs with a shaking head.

you feel your face growing warm with the way minho and hyunjin stare down at you, ironic given how the cold wind nips at your face.

"i uh... let me see how big the room is first." you say making a bee line for the tent furthest from. you can hear hyunjin and minho muttering something to each other when you brush past them.

you take a peak inside noting the bed size, the makeshift air mattress couch. you could sleep on that right ? they can have the bed and you could have the couch. you put your bag down on the outside portion, adjusting your scarf as you approach them. jisung had already taken his bag to the other tent, deciding his input was no longer needed by whatever decision you made.

"there's a blow up couch inside, i can sleep on that and they can take the bed so..."

"you're not sleeping on the couch? minho can sleep on the couch." hyunjin slaps minho's shoulder as he says while the person in question shoots him a death glare.

"are you sure you want those two in your tent? i'm sure one of them wouldn't mind sleeping in the tent with ji and me-"

"i'll sleep on the couch! really it's no problem." you interrupt chan's objection.

you couldn't say refuse either minho or hyunjin sharing the tent. part of you wanted to bunk with both of them, another part of you took comfort in not sleeping alone. you waived chan off saying it would be okay and watched hyunjin grab his bag bolting for the tent. chan reassured that if you wanted to kick one of them out, he'd gladly help.

minho looked at you asking you if you were really sure but you reassured him that it would be alright.

"you're still not sleeping on that couch, i'll drag hyunjin out by his hair if i have to make you sleep on the bed."

"i really don't think that'll be necessary."

"i beg to differ."

the two of you walked towards the tent to find hyunjin splayed out across the bed in a starfish position staring back gleefully. he leans off the bed to grab your wrist when you approach the night stand to plug in a charger.

"you'll keep me warm tonight?" hyunjin ask's in a flirty tone but is only met with a pillow minho has swatted at him.

the lake was too cold to swim in but you and felix rolled up the ankles of your pants to dip just your feet in the water. the two of you collected pretty rocks before venturing off to find some twigs and branches to help start the fire for later tonight. minho being the vetted camper, had assembled and prepped everything for the barbecue. hyunjin sat perched on a rock enjoying the view of the lake and mountains surrounding. he had brought a retro camera, capturing some pictures and videos of you and felix sword fighting with twigs before seungmin killed the fun deciding to chase you with a muddy stick.

as night time approached, felix and you felt it would be best to step away from the lake, bundle up as the wind blew colder then before. for as isolated as the camp grounds was, this truly was more luxurious then most hotels. after a quick and very cold shower out door, you headed back to the tent to retrieve any and all heat that had left your body. layered in clothes sitting on the couch trying to warm up just the slightest before making the 10 ft journey to sit by the fire. minho came in taking in your shivering appearance.

"just a little cold?" he half laughs while looking in concern, you were already wearing sweats, a tank top, a long sleeve thermal, thick fluffy socks, a beanie, and the warmest/thickest sherpa jacket you owned.

"why does it look like it?" you ask through shivers. he's rummaging through a bag, he stops and pulls out a black knit sweater, extending his arm out to you.

"here, put this on." he says waiting for you to take it.

"i'm fine, ill warm up in a bit."

"please, just put it on. you're making me cold just by watching you shiver."

"but what about you? aren't you gonna be cold-" you're cut off by him walking over to you and kneeling in front. without missing a beat he pushes your jacket off the shoulders and is already bringing the open down on your head. he helps you put your arms through before pulling your hair out from the opening to readjust it.

your flustered at the gesture and truly speechless. minho had always been caring and really shows it in his actions so why should this be any less of surprise? he'd given you his jackets before when you were cold but this gesture felt more personal, romantic even. whatever it was, it made your heart swoon and your cheeks pink with blush. even as he fixes the loose hairs flying your face all you can focus on his the feel of his finger tips brushing against your face.

"better?" he asks, his eyes bore into yours before flickering down to your lips.

"yes. a lot better, thank you." you don't miss the way his ears are turning red, you can feel his breath fanning against you. fighting the urge to lean in and kiss him on the lips just for being so sweet. his hair falls over his eyes bit, you push a strand back with a feather touch that his him leaning into your hand. your hand stops momentarily on his cheek.

"what is taking so long ? i'm hungr-" the sound of hyunjin's voice cause you both to jump back a bit.

minho scrambling to his feet to grab his other jacket and head towards the entrance hyunjin stands at. you head feels dizzy at what happened, thinking about how you should've just kissed him. it's when hyunjin walks into your line of vision pull you both literally and metaphorically out of your thoughts.

"jagi sit with me! jeongin won't let me hug him so you're going to."

you don't have time to object before hyunjin has already pulled you down with him into the rocking chair loveseat. to anyone who didn't know you're friendship with hyunjin, you would've looked like a couple with the way his arm is thrown around you and pulling your legs to rest on top of his giving the ability to rock you both back and forth under the blanket. for as long as you had known hyunjin, he'd always been like this. he loved to hug, cuddle, and hold you but i guess there was no alarm bells to be rung when you noticed he didn't hold any of his other friends that were girls like this. it was clearly platonic and he felt comfortable, right?

minho and chan were grilling, you basked in the warmth of sitting next to hyunjin in the blanket. every once in a while you were reminded by the the fact that you were wearing minho's sweater since his cologne seemed to seep into the threads of the sweater. it smelled heavenly, his cologne was vanilla mixed with sweet tobacco but mixed with his own musk had your chest feeling like butterflies swarming where your heart should be. hyunjin so close to you didn't help either since he always smelled of florals and now the breeze of pine wrapped you in comfort, a state of melancholy. your nose twitched at the smell of the bbq, hyunjin clocked it giggling saying you looked like a bunny.

he retrieves a plate for you to both share and demands you feed him. his arms wrapped around your waist under the blanket, you take notice of the way minho stares down hyunjin with every bite you feed the drama queen, he only offers a smug smirk to minho. you spend some time around the fire talking, laughing, that is until seungmin decides now is the best time to start telling scary stories. unfortunately, as tough as you are about scary stories, you can't help the growing paranoia at every branch snap or twig snap. you're so engulfed in seungmins story you don't notice jisung has disappeared and is now currently crouched behind the love seat waiting to scare you.

you scream louder then you could've possibly anticipated when jisung grabs your shoulders from behind growling. hyunjin screams too pulling you closer, everyone else folds over in laughter. it only takes a moment for you to move out of hyunjins grip to chase jisung around the fire with a shoe in hand. you're only stopped by minho lifting you off your feet to keep you from further charging at jisung.

as the fire burns lowly, everyone begins to make their way to the beds for the night. hyunjin and minho stand outside the tent to give you privacy while you change your clothes to sleep. you shed the layers keeping a tank top, minhos sweater and boxer briefs on. no matter how cold it was you could never sleep in pants or too many layers. they both make their way back into the tent noticing you attempted to make a bed out of the couch.

"....at least let hyunjin take the couch." minho says as you turn to find them both standing in shorts and t shirts.

"i promise ill be fine to sleep on the couch."

"just sleep in the bed with us?" hyunjin says, you both turn to him. he has a look on his face that says 'isn't this the obvious option?'.

"w-wouldn't it just be uncomfortable for you two ?" you ask. the thought crossed your mind but didn't want to be too forward, you had slept next to hyunjin like this before but it would be a new thing to sleep like this with minho let alone with the both of them.

"ahh its fine. besides minho can sleep in the middle." this earns hyunjin another death glare. so it was settled. no one was sleeping on the couch and you'd be sleeping between them ? it's fine it was only gonna be for a few nights. what could possibly happen?

you slept on your side, back towards hyunjin and facing minho who laid face up. it was a bit of stirring before you felt yourself drift. hyunjin had threw his arm around your waist and minho eventually turned to his side, you were too deep in sleep to have even noticed how close you had all been squished to gather. you hadn't even noticed that minhos thigh had pushed up against you between your legs and your own between his.

the room was peacefully quite with the only sound coming from the nearby lake and crickets tucked away in the grass. minho was a light sleeper so when he heard soft whimpers coming from you, he barely peeked his eyes open. your face was a bit scrunched but nothing to worry. he took a moment to take in how beautiful you looked with moon light barely peaking in, he could just make out the features of face in the darkness. he did notice hyunjins hand on you waist had made its way under your (his) sweater just laid atop over the curve your waist on top of the tank top.

as minho begins to reach over to remove hyunjin's hand, you stir a bit letting a louder whimper fall past your lips. he's afraid he's woken you up in his attempt to pry the hands of the other off you but when he feels movement below, he realizes that your legs are interlocked. minho is about to shift when he feels your hips moving around again but this time he feels it on his thigh.

minho looks down to find that you're practicing straddling his thigh at this point. he knows if he wakes you up, you'd just feel embarrassed. he should stop you but how can he when all he can do is focus on the way your hips are subtly shifting for friction against his thigh. the same thighs he caught you drooling over on far too many occasions for him not have fantasized what dirty things must've run through your head, surely enough this very moment of you grinding your cunt against his thigh was one of them.

your whimpers are becoming more erratic with every move, he feels himself growing harder with every brush of your own thigh pressing up against his strained cock. he tried to close his eyes like he was sleeping convinced this had to be a dream. his eyes shoot open when he hears a grunt that clearly isn't yours. he finds hyunjin now pressed closer to you then before and his hand have moved from the curve of your waist to groping your tit.

hyunjin was not the heaviest sleeper so enough movement could wake him up. he tried not to lay so closely to your back as the way you slept made it nearly impossible for his own hard on to stay at bay. as he fell into a wonderful sleep, he dreamt of you. of laying closely pressed to your backside and rutting himself against while you cried out his name. when he woke to hear your actual whimpers, it turned out that his dream state began to seep into reality as he had been grinding himself into you from behind with his hand groping your covered chest. this was wrong he should stop while he still can but clearly his dreamlike state hadn't left him just yet as he kept grinding his hard cock into your bottom pulling himself closer to be flush against you.

your boob felt so soft and warm under his hand even on top of the knit sweater. hyunjin's eyes shot open when he heard your gasp. he couldn't see it but your eyes were shot open wide at the realization you had been grinding against minho's thigh, he was already staring back at you with a pained expression. your hand was clutching the fabric of minhos shirt as your movements had stopped but there was no denying the reality of the situation. the fact that you had been grinding so hard against minho's thigh, his shorts had risen up and your owner brief shorts did nothing to hide the seeping wet spot.

"minho, i-"

now wasn't the time for explainations or apologies as minho quickly decided that would be a conversation for later, stopping your sentence to kiss you. his lips were soft against yours but his kiss was anything but. unlike you, hyunjin hadn't stopped his own movements. he continued to grind against you, moving his hands under the sweater, warm soft skin against his hand as he made his way back up to your chest and pressing his forehead against your shoulder. minho held your hips in place while scooting himself closer without breaking the kiss. your hand stayed clutching the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his thigh firm against your drenched cunt and ruined panties. he slipped his tongue past your lips rewarding himself with your moans and soft cries.

as you pull back from the kiss momentarily, the reality that hyunjin had been egging this moment on hits you as you realize his hand his fondling your chest. the moment you pull back from your kiss with minho, you take in how red his lips look even in the darkness, eyes twinkling with need. its only split second before you feel hyunjin's hand pushing you back into him and his own face coming into view, lips crashing down against yours. he's quick to pinch your nipple that has you gasping, he takes the opportunity to slip his own tongue against yours and drinking in your whimpers. minho is locked into the feeling of your continued movements down below, he almost doesn't notice your hand traveling down his abdomen to his crotch. his cock is straining hard against his shorts, helping you he guides your hand to lay just on top of the fabric outlined cock where you take no time to begin stroking him over the fabric.

hyunjin pulls back from the kiss, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips still, his attaches his lips to your neck sucking a hickey right below your ear as he feels desperate to for relief. he's picking up his pace rutting against your ass while minho goes back to guiding your hips. your cries are becoming louder as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach, your orgasm feels like wave about to crash down. you reach behind to hyunjin who his more than happy to slide your hand into his shorts guiding you to stroke him. you return the favor to minho sliding your hands down the front of his shorts earning a groan from the two of them.

blissed out on the feeling of your hand wrapped around their lengths, stroking them to their own orgasm. it only take a few strokes before their both spilling into the their shorts and painting your hands white with their cum. they both work quick to pushing you onto your back. hyunjin pulling your thighs apart and minho pushing your sweater up and over your chest. hyunjin makes good use of his fingers skidding them into the briefs gathering your slick on his fingers giving your clit a few circles before plunging one into your hole. your so warm and tight, it's everything he has ever dreamed of. his fingers are long, perfectly reaching the wet spongey spot inside that has your toes curling and crying out for more. minho on the other hand has one of your tits firmly in his grasps, massaging the warm flesh in his hand while his mouth latches on the other. he's not satisfied until your nipple has pebbled in his mouth before moving onto the next. once satisfied with their state he blows air onto them making you shiver and arch back in pleasure. he leaves a few hickeys across the top's of your breasts as to leave his mark behind, of course hyunjin shouldn't be the only one allowed to leave his mark. your orgasm is quickly approaching as hyunjin moves the heel of his palm against your clit and thrusting his finger even faster against your g spot. minho moves quick to kiss you again, capturing all your cries and moans against him as to save the rest of you from being caught by the others. your orgasm hits your hard as your legs stretch and toes curl against the mattress, body twitching as you cum down from the feeling and hyunjin's fingers ride you out through the orgasm almost leaving you too sensitive to touch.

so there the three of you laid out tired, wet, and messy. your briefs are ruined with your wetness, the other's shorts spoiled by their own cum. no one loves just laying in the silence, soft panting and small groans. minho looks over at you to find you've already drifted off to sleep, hyunjin picks up his head from the other side of you. he makes sure minho watches him bring his fingers up to his mouth before sucking and dragging them out with a quite sucking noise.

minho taking the high ground decides to ignore it to the best of his abilities getting up to change his soiled shorts, hyunjin follows suit to do the same. right as their slipping back into the bed with you centered. minho swiftly scoops the blanket and you to lay against him once more before shooting hyunjin a cocky grin.

this would only be the first mark of a very long weekend sharing a tent and bed with these two...

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part ii

#skz smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz hard thoughts #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #hyunybunnywrites #hyunjin x reader #lee know x reader #hyunjin smut #lee know smut #hyunjin imagines #lee know imagines #hyunjin oneshot #lee know oneshot #skz x reader smut

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icupblog · 2 months ago

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Where did the party go? (batfam x neglected reader) This is part 2!! part 1

Your hands shake as you bring the water to your parched lips. The cold embrace of the liquid makes you sigh in satisfaction. The outfit you were wearing suddenly felt too tight and your makeup felt like a second face on top of your own.

This was the biggest moment of your life... so far. Compared to your siblings it wasn't that big but to you, it was everything. You can't think of them now though. Even the mental image of any of your so-called family made you feel bile climb up your throat.

You don't need them, or their validation. After everything that has happened you need to forget their harsh words and unforgiving cruelty.

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2 years earlier

The cold hallways recognised your presence as you walked through them. You feel like a zombie, knowing who you were but pulling your body away from your brain, your mind slowing down as every-time you take another step a part of your image dies.

Maybe you were dramatic, maybe you were immature, maybe if they actually cared you wouldn't be. Your hands shake as you grip a bannister. Where were you going again. You didn't even know. Eventually you came to the familiar scene of the kitchen.

The sink was filled with dishes, had they eaten dinner already? what time was it? You hadn't even realised. All you could think of was that mask, his mask. Your supposed brother. The empty eyes that he would stare at you with when he slowly cut your skin open.

You were about to leave, the thought of food in your body made you feel sick. When you saw him. He never showed you his face but you could recognise him anywhere. He could never hide from you. You could spot him out from a mile away, seek him out in a crowd easily.

His body was fire, and yours was gasoline and paper. He would ebb away at you until all that was left was ash. His pupils widened in recognition at you. "name...hi" You couldn't move, he would attack you, throw you against the wall. As he slowly reached towards your shoulder you winced.

Was this some kind of cruel joke?, did the universe hate you that much? "listen, I-I'm sorry, I wasn't in my right mind and-" your breath became shallow. "I guess I took it out on you" tears filled your eyes, this is it, he came back to kill you. "besides me and Bruce are trying to work things out so-" he took his hand off your shoulder and put it behind his head. He wasn't touching you, could you escape? "maybe we could be a real family-" You bolted, you couldn't stay still anymore, you ducked under his arm and ran past him. Back to your room back to safety.

Turns out Jason's presence was not in fact a joke. He became part of the family, Or maybe he always was. He would make inside jokes with Damian, learn sign language for cass (something you had done when you first met her, not that she noticed). He would even hang out with Tim and Stephanie two people who could not physically stand to be around you for more than five minutes. Maybe in some way you wanted his attention because maybe if you had his you could be part of that family.

It got worse the more Dick came round, his cheery aura meant the family would constantly be around each other. And you were not part of that family. They would have movie nights (without you), hang out at arcades (without you) and even spend Christmas together (they would always forget to buy you presents). Even Bruce went along with them for gods sake, were you really worth so little? Just because you weren't in spandex? You were so insignificant that Alfred just referred to you as 'miss' almost as if he had forgotten your name.

In these moments you would think back to times when your mother held you in her arms as you opened your presents, it was never anything expensive but you would cherish every one, no matter how much it cost. When she smiled her eyes would crinkle, you always wanted that, a life full of smiles and laughter. Yet for some reason you only got sadness.

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Present day

When you asked a Wayne child what they wanted to be when they were older they normally answered with something artistic and niche like when Damian said he wanted to be an artist. Except you knew he would be even more insufferable if he was one so you thought he was better staying in the tights. Or Cass wanting to do ballet, not Cass you mentally scold Cassandra, when has she ever asked you to call her Cass.

You on the other hand wanted to make an impact, a small irreversible dent on the world (not literally). So now that you are 18 you study law. Is it difficult? yes, but weirdly rewarding. Getting out of Gotham made you realise how shitty that place really is. The air felt like it was choking you and the overall atmosphere felt heavy. Moving to Metropolis was like getting a weight lifted off your shoulders.

You were able to get a scholarship with a college you had great friends. You loved how bright it was all the time, and you weren't being kidnapped every other month, you were feeling amazing.

You had made a life for yourself, a somewhat stable, broke, happy life. What you didn't expect was for the family to remember you or even worse miss you...

yippee I made another one!!

there might only be one more chapter for this series because I'm on exam leave and I'm sick but thank you for all the support!! <3

#batfam x neglected reader #jason todd x reader #batfam x reader #batman #free palestine #dick grayson x reader #cassandra cain x reader #damian wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #stephanie brown x reader #bruce wayne x reader #barbara gordon #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #jujutsu kaisen #stephanie brown #cassandra cain

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cloudzoro · 9 months ago

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Kink Discovery 3 | One Piece ♡

This is part three, part one is here and part two is here

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

individual reaction/headcanon scenarios on kink discovery with op characters!

one piece masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: mihawk, perona, reiju, shanks, smoker

cw: fem!reader, unprotected sex, all other warning are kinks which are outlined in the post already

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mihawk - Cockwarming

It was your idea. A stupid idea. You didn't think Mihawk would take you seriously when you issued him a challenge. You had asked him to a competition of resolve. You're sat on his cock, and whoever gives in first loses. You may have underestimated your husband's competitiveness and self-restraint.

Your husband takes the opportunity to admire you perched on his lap, completely undressed. He's more than aware of the way your pussy is pulsing around his cock, you're desperate for him to move, but he won't. He won't give in; he's having far too much fun observing your reactions. You're practically shaking above him, your lip caught between your teeth as you try your best to stop your face from expressing your true feelings.

“You can't hide from me, Darling,” he says, reaching up to pull your lip from your teeth before you bite it off. His stare is intense, as always, as he gazes into your eyes. “I quite like this game you've come up with. I get to watch your beautiful eyes fill with desperation.”

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Perona - Bondage

Perona has always been a little bit of a freak and has always encouraged you to explore your kinks with her.

When you hand her a rope and a book on shibari and other types of bondage, she's not sure what to think. When she next gets you alone, she delicately ties your wrists to your ankles and turns you over onto our back. She holds a vibrator to your clit as she kisses up and down your legs, outlining the rope with lipstick. Your restraints block every twitch of pleasure, and there's nothing to hold onto as the vibrations get more intense.

Perona watches, intrigued and impossibly wet, as you're forced to feel the full intensity of the pleasure without anything to ground you. Your arms twitch and move, your moans fill the castle walls, and your legs attempt to clamp shut around her hand. She is mesmerised by your body. She never expected to enjoy seeing you helpless like this, but there's something about the way you writhe in pleasure that has her feeling like a monster leaning in to catch its prey.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Reiju - Face Sitting

Reiju loves eating pussy; it's her favourite meal of the day. She's always wanted to try face-sitting, but you've been too nervous. You're always fretting about hurting her or just not making her feel good. Though she's been very clear that eating out is not a selfless act on her part, she derives almost as much pleasure from it as you do.

It takes a lot of sweet talk and irresistible touches, but she finally reassures you that it's going to be fine, and you agree. As soon as your pussy makes contact with her face and she gets a taste of you on her tongue, it's over for her. She is addicted, and she doesn't want to give oral any other way. Her firm grip makes it so you don't even have the option to hover. She's not satisfied until she has the steady weight of your body on top of her.

Her tongue laps at your walls as your clit bumps her nose. adding to the stimulation. You couldn't get any closer to her if you tried. She can't get enough of your taste. She is more than happy to let your thighs squish her as she gets her fill.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Shanks - Breeding

Shanks already had a kid before dating you. He never really thought much about having another one. It had never crossed his mind that he could have one with you. Your relationship was perfect as it was. He never thought about any possible changes.

That is until one day when you bring up the idea of a mini-you running around. It's like a switch flips in his brain, and it's all he can focus on. He pushes your legs up to your chest, holding you in place as he bullies his cock into you. He's dead set on filling you up as much as possible. You already have one fat load inside you and dribbling from your hole.

“You can take another load, can't you, baby?” he says, adjusting himself above you so he can hit a better angle. “gotta make sure it sticks”, He growls, burying his head in your neck as he cums for a second time. He whispers absolute filth in your ear as he empties himself inside you.

Shanks leaves zero possibility that his cum hasn't taken. He can practically smell that it's going to work and it makes him feel feral. He needs to fuck you raw as much as possible until you get a positive result from a doctor.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Smoker - Marking

You're such a pretty girl. Smoker insists that every guy who so much as glances at you is thinking about railing you six ways to Sunday, and it disgusts him. His irrational jealousy is calling, screaming, for him to do something that lets all these low lives know you're taken. Let them know he's wrapped around your finger and there's no room for anyone else.

After a long, hard day at work, Smoker likes to unwind by fucking your brains out. He pins you down, kisses every inch of skin he can possibly kiss while he stretches you out on his cock. His scent is all over you; trails of saliva glisten on your skin, but it's not enough. He needs something that won't wash away in the shower, something more permanent. That's when he feels the urge clawing at his teeth.

He leans forward, clamping his teeth over your shoulder. His cock twitches at the way you moan for him. He sucks your skin into his mouth, leaving a mark on your skin as a warning to anyone who may see it. He continues, leaving hickies and indents of his teeth in a pattern that makes it clear you are seen to. Seeing you bearing his marks makes him cum embarrassingly fast. Though when he's done, he stays sheathed inside you so he can admire his work before he shows it off to the rest of the world.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

i hope you enjoyed reading! so sorry for my inactivity recently :(

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn

#one piece smut #one piece x reader #fem!reader #shanks x reader smut #shanks x reader #shanks smut #mihawk x reader #mihawk smut #reiju x reader #reiju smut #perona x reader #perona smut #op x reader #op smut #smoker x reader #smoker smut

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knoxic · 10 months ago

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Cycle of Greed

Azriel x Reader | p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p5 - p6

summary: Azriel suspects Elain is his mate, reader is ignored, Rhysand and Cass are protective of reader

wc: 2,3k

warnings: Azriel... self hatred, insecurities

a/n: reader's nickname is Ace but there's no physical descriptions

It started subtly, coming home and not noticing her boyfriend's absence, too tired to notice, waking up to a cold and empty bed, brushing past it thinking Az must have been busy, even though he never mentioned anything. The first time you noticed he wasn't, it hit you like a slap to the face.

A family dinner was scheduled tonight, even though you had dinner with your family all the time, tonight was the only night of the month no one was allowed to miss. Rhysand made sure all of you would be free.

You had woken up early today, before the sun had risen, Azriel not being in bed with you didn't seem weird at all, Az often left the bed before the sun was up, he had trouble sleeping and once he woke it was hard to go back to sleep. After spending some time reading in bed you decided to make breakfast, after washing up you went downstairs, expecting to see containers of food left in the sink but there was none, so either Azriel hadn't eaten when he got home or he didn't come home at all. But again, she brushed it off, he probably had a good reason for it.

After eating breakfast, you went to change into your training clothes, just because it was an off day didn't mean you should skip training. Normally, you used a punching bag to literally beat your stress away but today you weren't even stressed, there wasn't even someone to keep you entertained, so training ended up being just boring.

Again, you came back to an empty home, no signs of your boyfriend. After a few minutes of staring at the walls you decided that perhaps a few hours in Velaris would be exciting, maybe you would visit Feyre's gallery. Walking through the streets is definitely a nice thing, the people passing by know who you are and what you do but still gave you friendly smiles. Watching the children play freely and unbothered made you wonder if, someday, your own children would be doing the same, little Illyrians terrorizing the streets of Velaris.

"Hey! Wasn't expecting you here today." Feyre's voice snapped you out of your daydream.

"Well, I'd rather spend hours looking at your paintings than the blank walls at home." You laughed.

"If that's the case then come with me, I just finished a new one." She slipped her arm through yours and pulled you further into the gallery. Fortunately for your boredom, Feyre had kept you busy the whole day, showing you her new artworks and even making you paint with her.

Hours later you were finally coming home, your feet screamed at you to sit down but you refused to winnow, not wanting to miss out on any new place that might have opened. You were so tired that your mind wasn't anywhere near Azriel, fully focused on resting as soon as you reached home. You only realized you had fallen asleep when the front door banged closed, your boyfriend's scent filling your nose.

"Az?" You sat up rubbing your tense neck, the couch, as comfortable as it was, was not meant for sleeping.

"Yeah, didn't know you were here." He seemed confused and... angry?

"Are you okay?" You slowly made your way towards him but he stepped back, turning towards the stairs.

"Fine, I'll go wash up for dinner, don't follow me." And with that he ran up. You took his anger as the result of his work, figuring that something had probably stressed him out.

Your eyes that were still foggy from sleep had finally cleared, allowing you to notice how dark the living room was, it was already night and you had probably slept for a couple hours. When you went up to bathe, you heard a loud bang from your bedroom. Azriel often isolated himself as to not take his anger out on anyone close to him, so you continued walking towards the guest bedroom, washing up in the adjoined bathroom. Only when you were finished did you make your way to your bedroom, the door was fully closed so you opened it carefully, the bathroom door was left open so Azriel was probably downstairs. You dressed up unhurried, taking the time to choose your clothes, fixing your hair and choosing shoes. When you went down, Azriel was nowhere to be seen, you called out to him but received no response, perhaps Rhys had called him?

'Rhys, is Azriel with you?' You asked, praying he would hear you.

'Yes, he said he thought you wouldn't come." Rhys answered, his voice oddly quiet, without its usual confidence. 'Are you two okay?'

'I– Yes? Well, I think so? Did he say anything?' Not once had it crossed your mind that your relationship was the cause of Azriel's stress, were you stressing him? If so, why didn't he say anything?

'Never mind. Are you coming?' Suddenly you weren't sure if you should, maybe Az had gone alone because he didn't want you there. 'Please come...'

Rhys pleaded, scaring you even more. Rhysand never pleaded.

'I don't know,' you were still standing in the middle of the living room, you could just winnow, but would your boyfriend want that? 'Maybe I should stay home tonight–'

'No. It's family dinner, fuck Azriel's dramatic ass, I don't know what's wrong with him but it's not your fault. You're coming, even if I have to go pick you up myself.'

𓂃

"My office, now." Rhysand's growl seemed to vibrate through his bones.

"Rhys–"

"No! Azriel." He walked out of the room, leaving Azriel to stare at his back, Elain kept gazing at him wide eyed. 'Come with me or I'll come to your girl, your choice.' His mind talons not bothering to make a gentle appearance.

Azriel left without looking back, still feeling Elain's gentle gaze following him. His heartbeat ringed in his ear, time seemed to pass by slowly as he walked the corridors to Rhys' office, darkness consuming the corners of every wall. The doors were left open showing his brother's back facing him, as soon as he entered they banged closed, before he said anything, Cassian winnowed beside him.

"What's wrong?" Cassian looked at them both, his hurried voice echoing through the silent room.

"Azriel was kissing Elain." Rhys turned to look at them both, giving Cassian a nod towards Az, his arms crossed against his chest while he leaned against the desk.

"I didn't–"

"You were going to!" Rhysand spat, making Azriel shut his mouth, he couldn't deny it.

"Wait–" Cassian stepped forward, watching as Az lowered his head, gasping when he realized it was true, "No fucking way! Did Ace break up with you?" Azriel's only response was a deep sigh.

"No, she didn't." Rhys answered for him.

"Brother..." Cassian's hand met Az' shoulder, "Why?" He was pissed but needed to know why Azriel was acting like that.

"I think–"

"Huh, you're not even sure." Rhys scoffed, shaking his head.

"I think Elain is my mate."

"What? Az, that's really serious..." Cass spoke softly, almost unsure. "Are you sure?"

"I– No, but it just makes sense!"

"How, Azriel?" Rhysand yelled, stepping closer to him. "How does it make sense? You've known Ace for centuries, been dating her for 80 years, you live with her! I swear I thought you were going to propose to her soon!" His hand met Azriel's sholder, shaking him. Rhys sighed, dropping his head and shoving Az away before turning back to sit on his chair.

"Az," Cassian started, "Does Ace know?"

"No, I don't know how to tell her." Az muttered the last part.

"You'll have to find a way. I don't know why you think Elain is your mate and not her but she deserves to know. Having a mate doesn't necessarily mean you two should be romantically involved, nor should you be anything at all, but it is clear that you're attracted to Elain and that's just... unacceptable."

"Why?" Azriel said exasperated, "Three brothers for three sisters, it just makes sense!" He yelled,banging his hands on Rhysand's desk.

"Are you insane?" Rhys yelled back, standing up from his chair. "You are in a relationship, Azriel! It doesn't matter if it makes sense, be responsible, she's not just a fling you had, you can't push her aside just because your cock gets hard around a pretty female. Ace is your girlfriend, has been for almost a century, the possibility of another female being your mate should not interfere in your relationship with her, it didn't have to. Elain could end up being just a great friend, or even better, Ace could be your mate..."

"If she was my mate, don't you think it would've snapped by now?" Azriel's question didn't really sound like a question.

"Is that all you heard from everything Rhys said?" Cassian looked incredulous.

"Azriel..." Rhysand's patient was slipping away. "I do not know what to say to make you understand–"

"There's nothing to understand, Elain is my mate and I want to be with her."

"Then fucking break up with Ace first!" Darkness crawling their way around them.

"What the fuck, brother?" Cassian yelled, for the first time that morning. "Didn't you learn anything from Mor leading you on all those centuries? You want to be with Elain? Fine, but break up with your girlfriend first. Just know that there's a lot in line here..." Silence enveloped the three of them, tension sitting heavy on their shoulders.

"Leave, go talk to Ace and fix this shit," Rhysand rubbed his temples, "Don't do to her what has been done to you."

𓂃

Azriel spent a few hours flying above Velaris, trying to forget about what had happened, he didn't know what he did wrong or why Rhysand was so upset. He decided to come back and talk with Elain first, then he'd talk with you, but Rhysand's talons scratched his mind walls as soon as he saw her, telling him to stay away from her until he broke up with you. When he got home he was so upset that you were the only thing keeping him from his possible mate, that when he saw you, he would definitely take his anger out on you. You were so relaxed and he was completely the opposite of that, your eyes puffy from sleep while his were bloodshot from the lack of it.

He couldn't stop the sudden hatred that consumed him at hearing your voice, he wasn't sure if it was directed at you or him, he spend the whole day resenting you while you were here worried about him. He couldn't stand the sound of your comforting voice, not while comparing it to Elain's, your eyes searching for his with so much love and he wondered when was the last time he really stared into them.

So he ignored you, he wasn't sure what he had answered you, his whole body aching with stress that he just wanted some form of release. Release that never came, he thought that by the time he finished bathing he'd feel better, but he didn't. Nothing seemed to work, the warm water did nothing to help soothe his muscles, and no matter how much he scratched, he still felt dirty.

Stepping out of the bathroom only angered him further, your scent still lingered even after hours of leaving the bed. Azriel didn't know what he'd do if you talked to him again, didn't know what he'd tell you, if he lied you would know, and if he didn't... you would be hurt.

𓂃

As soon as your eyes focused on the house, you wanted to winnow back home, but Rhys didn't give you a chance to do so. The front door being yanked open made you tear your eyes from the window, where you could see silhouette with wings, the smile your High Lord greeted you with was comforting. He was loyal to his brothers, if you had done something to upset Azriel, he wouldn't be smiling at you like that.

"You came!" He waved his hand, calling you inside.

"Someone threatened me." He laughed at your attempted joke, no humor filling your voice. As you walked closer to him, he pulled you into a hug, it didn't really seem like it was for you, his chin rested on your shoulder like you weren't almost half his size, it was comforting nonetheless. An exaggerated gasp pulled you away from each other's embrace.

"That's like the worse form of betrayal!" Cassian cried out, his hand that was resting on his chest reached out to push Rhysand away. "We could've had a family hug but you were selfish." His strong arms engulfing you into an embrace, lifting you off the ground, he let out a dramatic groan as if it had taken him so much effort to do so.

"Stop it, you're going to squeeze her." Rhys laughed, tapping his brothers shoulder.

"Jealous." Cassian whispered in your ear, making you giggle.

By the time Cassian set you back down, you had forgotten you were worried, if that was Rhysand's intention when he came to greet you at the door, it had worked. You were pulled inside by the hand, Cass gushing about all the things there were for dinner, his groovy voice muffling out a female giggle. The table was set only a few minutes after Cassian had sat her down, his conversation topics never ending. The first time she saw Azriel, he was coming out of the kitchen, right after Elain.

"She needed help with the dessert." Nesta muttered, her voice filled with something she couldn't exactly place. She couldn't dwell on it further, Azriel was looking at her now, his feet glued to the ground. It was clear he really wasn't expecting her to come.

#azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel x you #⛓️࿐𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝

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pellucid-constellations · 1 year ago

Text

Of Oblivious Minds

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Pining, yearning, idiots in love?? (an angsty moment as well)

a/n: What am I doing!! I don't know!! This is part one and there will be one or two more parts :) Thank you for reading ily ♡

Part 2

You were having an epiphany—of that you were certain.

Sitting in the main room of the townhouse, a glass of wine spinning in your hand, many things were beginning to make sense to you. It was ridiculous that you hadn’t come to this realization before. All of the hints were right in front of you.

You leaned back in the armchair, a scrutinizing gaze pointed toward the corner of the room. You took a sip of your wine—a contemplative sip—and then ran through the facts in your head. Yes, it made perfect sense.

You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing before.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard.” Cassian’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. You blinked up at him as he took a seat on the arm of your chair. “Want to share why you’re staring a hole into the wall?”

“I was just… noticing something,” you murmured over the rim of your glass, voice low.

“And what’s that?”

You paused, pursing your lips. It would sound silly if you were wrong. But Cassian looked at you expectantly, so you simply whispered, “I think Az is in love with Elain.”

The sudden, rumbling laugh bouncing off the walls set your cheeks ablaze. The entire room halted their conversations to look at Cassian as he doubled over, holding his stomach with no signs of letting up. You stared up at him, mortified, and smacked his arm as his laughs lowered into senseless chuckles.

“Cassian, quit it. It’s not that funny—stop it or I’ll hit you again.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry, that was just… that was a good one, y/n.”

“What’d she say?” Rhys asked, perking up from the other side of the fireplace.

“Nothing to warrant that reaction,” you grumbled, sinking lower into your seat.

Fighting back the vibrations in his chest, Cassian took a deep breath. “Inside joke, Rhys. You wouldn’t get it.”

Rhys huffed out an offended breath, quirking a brow at his antics. He looked to Mor and Feyre to garner some support, but they only giggled back at him.

“Maybe we would.”

Azriel’s gravelly tone only made you collapse further into the armchair. If you’d known there would be consequences to sharing your epiphany with Cassian, you would have kept your mouth shut. Cassian was usually wonderful at keeping secrets.

“Oh, brother, you’d find it funny as well, surely,” Cassian shared, heaving up from the chair. “But, alas, I have to go. No inside jokes for the room.”

“Well that’s not fair. You don’t get to cause a riot and then leave,” Mor whined, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy. Clearly, she had been having her own drinks throughout the night.

“Lovely. Now you want to know? Where was that attitude while you were giggling with my mate?” Rhys accused.

Feyre jumped in this time, pinching the high lord’s cheek and cooing, “Oh, you big Illyrian baby.”

The focus was no longer on you and your apparently laughable realization. Cassian’s reaction did little to deter you from the thought, however, and you were still quite resolute in your observations. Looking over at the couple in question only solidified that.

They were huddled close, Elain’s knees pressed against Azriel’s thigh as they spoke in low tones. Azriel would occasionally take a glance around the room, lingering on you as he went, but that was natural for the shadowsinger. His shadows were gone, where they went you had no idea, and his wings were held tightly behind his back.

And he stared at her—intently—as she nodded her head and answered whatever it was he had asked.

He had to be in love with her.

You were usually quite good at reading these types of things.

“I’m taking you home now,” Cassian spoke, holding out his hand. “We’ll walk.”

“What if I don’t want to go home?” you asked, taking his hand and following him despite your words.

“After all that nonsense, I think it’s clear you need a good night’s rest. Plus, you and I are in the ring bright and early tomorrow morning.”

You groaned, knocking your head back at the reminder of your obligations. It always sounded like such a good idea over breakfast. Cassian had clearly learned that you would only say yes to early morning trainings when you were half-asleep.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.”

You let him yank you to the door, your feet dragging behind you, when a warmth encased your shoulders. You recognized the material of your coat instantly and turned to see Azriel smoothing it down over your arms.

“For your walk,” Azriel quietly explained. “You left it on the back of my chair.”

“Oh!” you chirped, feeling the early licks of embarrassment barrage your chest. It’s not like he heard you talking about him, right? “Thanks, Az. I almost forgot.”

He offered you one of his soft, rare smiles. “I know. I remembered.”

He nodded over your head to Cassian after that, and you heard Cassian’s low, I got her, Az, only because you strained your ears.

You ended up being extremely grateful for Azriel’s forethought to grab your jacket. It was freezing outside. You could have winnowed home instead, but Cassian hadn’t really given you the option and no one ever let you winnow after you’d had something to drink.

You landed in Summer Court one time and suddenly everyone treated you like a hazard.

Your shoes scuffed against dark cobblestone as you walked. It was really dark, now that you looked at it. Maybe it had rained? Or a merchant had dumped their excess water?

Or maybe it was nighttime and you were a little drunk.

It was then that you noticed the silence. When Cassian walked you home, especially when Cassian was tipsy and he walked you home, he never shut up. So this was unusual. You squinted as you looked up at him, but he gave nothing away, keeping his gaze forward and his steps in steady pace with your own.

“Okay, out with it,” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest. “What was so funny earlier? And why are you walking me home all stoic?”

“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.”

“Liar.”

Cassian smirked, shaking his head, and then schooled his expression into one that was a touch more serious. “You really think Az likes Elain?”

You watched your breath puff out white. “Don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Well, then you’re wrong. I’m good at picking these things out. I knew Feyre was Rhys’s made before the rest of you figured it out, didn’t I?”

“It was pretty obvious, y/n,” Cassian scoffed. He took a fleeting glance down to the ground beneath your feet. “Honestly, I’d wager that you’re actually the worst at picking these things out.”

You gaped at him, bringing your coat closer to your body in a ploy to protect your damaged pride. Cassian only shook his head—again—and then flung an arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t take that the wrong way. Just…take a second look, maybe.”

“A second look at what? She was practically sitting in his lap tonight.”

“If you say so,” Cassian hummed.

“Stop being cryptic and buy me a snack on the way.”

The following days were… strange to say the least.

Everywhere you went, Elain of all people was sure to follow.

And she spoke of Azriel. A lot.

Azriel did this and Az is so sweet isn’t he and oh, did I mention that…

Obviously, she was just as in love with Azriel as he was with her.

You were so, so right.

There was something off-putting about that truth, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. After a few days of hearing the younger girl rave about the shadowsinger, you chalked it up to the novelty of it all. You had known Azriel for over a century, and things were changing. Of course a serious love interest in his life would make you feel strange.

Azriel had had lovers in the past, but—now that you thought about it—you hadn’t heard him talk about another woman in months, much less seen him with one.

Well, other than Elain.

Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, nor productive, to be so caught up in Azriel’s love life. He was plenty capable of managing it on his own, and it’s not like you had that much of an interest, anyway.

You blinked, shaking your head and attempting to focus back in on the book you were reading. Elain had followed you into the library under the house, but thanks to the priestesses and their admonishing looks, she kept quiet. She flipped through her own book as you continued your research assignment from Rhys. It wasn’t very interesting, which was clearly the most plausible explanation for your mind drifting to Azriel.

Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.

“Do you have dinner plans?” Elain whispered after an hour of silence.

You sent her a small smile, looking up from the archaic book. “No, are you inviting me out?”

“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.”

A suffocating sort of pressure clawed at your skin. “Oh?”

That was new.

“Yes, but I would really appreciate it if you came,” Elain continued, eyes downcast. “It could be fun.”

You bit into your bottom lip until the pain was uncomfortable. This was no different than her talking about Azriel all week. And you already figured that they liked each other—that they loved each other. You had relished in the discovery just a few nights ago.

So why did it suddenly feel so different?

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” you whispered. “I think a dinner with just the two of you would be nice. Azriel would surely agree.”

Elain shook her head. “I think he would be more inclined if he knew you were coming.”

As a buffer. She was asking you to come to displace any awkwardness that would arise on a first date. You had done it before for Cassian. You’d done it plenty of times for Mor—even making it a double date with random men you never spoke to again. But you’d never done it for Azriel.

Something about it felt… wrong.

“I could come,” you found yourself saying anyway, words tumbling out before you could catch them. “But I really do think he would love a dinner alone. I might be a bit of an outlier.”

Elain gave the closest thing to a smirk you’d seen on her face. “I somehow doubt that.”

“What does that—”

The ground was shaking. The faelights began violently flickering and the ground began shaking with even more vigor. You pressed down on the book in front of you and braced yourself as the air grew frenzied. The priestesses ran down the many stairs of the library as panic began setting into your bones. The last time something like this happened…

You shuddered at the thought.

This couldn't be an attack on Velaris.

Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes.

“Get under the tables!”

You both dove beneath your table at the call, clutching at the legs with shaking hands. There was a commotion as books fell from shelves and lights popped, but there were no screams. No one was hurt. There was no attack.

Realization coursed through you, but it did little to quell your fear as the shaking continued.

“It’s an earthquake!” you shouted to Elain. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine!”

Velaris hadn’t been struck by an earthquake of this magnitude in many, many years. The last one was centuries ago, and it had led to many rebuilding efforts and a handful of injuries. You hoped this wasn’t on the same scale. Or at least that Rhys’ magic was enough to abate the worst of the damages.

After another moment, the shaking ceased. You let the panic and adrenaline run its course as you caught your breath, Elain right beside you. It didn’t seem so bad now that it was over and the building had stayed intact. With a hand at your chest, you shook your head in disbelief.

“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.”

Elain let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt an earthquake before.”

You offered your own breathy laugh as you both got to your feet. “Well, you have plenty of time to get The Mother scared out of you and experience another.”

She opened her mouth to reply but was abruptly cut off as shadows materialized. Heavy footsteps rushed up stairs and it was only another beat before Azriel was upon you. Scarred hands cradled your face, turning it back and forth as hazel eyes took in every inch of your skin. Light became sparse as wings flared out behind him, shielding you from nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice still low despite the urgency. “Were you covered?”

“Azriel? What are you—How did you know we were down here?”

“Are you hurt?”

You attempted to reconcile the chaotic present with the very calm, very expected past. Sitting in the library with a boring relic in front of you and a new reading partner compared to an earthquake and a frazzled shadowsinger clutching at your face.

Gripping his wrists, you answered him with a slow and confused, “I’m fine.”

He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. “Good…. good.”

When he released your face, he ran his hands along your hair. And then your shoulders and your arms. It wasn’t until he had touched most of you that he took a step back and ran a hand through his own hair. It was then that he seemed to remember Elain.

“And are you alright?” he asked, far more composed than he had been a moment ago.

“A bit overwhelmed, but I am fine as well,” she sighed out.

Azriel didn’t touch her as he nodded in relief.

“Was it as bad as the last one? Is everyone okay?” you cut in.

Azriel, who had gone back to unnecessarily looking you over, furrowed his brows. “What?”

You mirrored his expression. “The earthquake. Do you remember the last one? Was this one that bad?”

“Oh. No. Not as bad.”

“And how is everyone else?”

“I’m not sure.”

Azriel was typically short with his answers, but right now he was being particularly short. And he was never one to not have information. Ever.

“Are you okay?” you asked instead.

“I am now.”

You left the library wondering why Azriel had run to you and not Elain—why that moment felt so monumental in the face of all others.

Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore.

But maybe that wasn’t your decision to make.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #a court of thorns and roses

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agreeewrites · 3 months ago

Text

safe with me | R.G.

feat. Rick Grimes x sunshine!reader cw: MDNI 18+, established relationship, mentions of traumatic incident with family annihilation & suicide (you are responsible for the content you consume), mentions of child death, hurt/comfort masterlist

“Carol!” Rick called, jogging across the lawn to catch her after the town meeting. The sun blazed down, ruthless and disorienting after hours of being indoors. “How'd it go?” He asked, referring to the run she led this morning.

They both knew he was asking how it went for you specifically.

Rick didn't care about much else besides you and his kids these days. Alexandria ran just fine without him worrying himself sick; you’d shown him that.

Carol grimaced. “She hasn't come to find you?”

Rick's jaw clenched, his heart beating a bit faster. “Would I be askin’ if she did?”

“She, ah—she’s fine,” Carol clarified, sensing his mounting alarm. “But there was a—an incident.”

“What kind of incident?” He growled.

“We were clearing a property, and she went into the house first—”

His anger flared. “Why would you let her—”

“Because everyone matters, Rick,” she snapped. “I can't treat her special because she's yours.”

He grit his teeth. He knew Carol already paid you extra mind, so there was no sense arguing it.

“She volunteered anyhow, so I sent her. There were no Biters, but…” Carol took a shaking breath. “She found the family in the dining room, parents and two little boys. Practically nothin’ left of the bodies, half-eaten dinners in front of ‘em, rotten through. Mom’s brains all over the wall—”

“Alright, alright,” Rick cut her off, scrubbing a hand over his face. Fucking brutal. Rick had seen plenty gruesome scenes like it, but you—somehow you'd held onto your heart through the end of the world.

“I don't think she took it well, didn't speak the rest of the run. Passed her ration off to Rosita. Had that stare, y’know?”

Rick nodded. Had that stare himself on countless occasions. “She went home?”

“Far as I know,” Carol affirmed. Rick went to head that way when Carol grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. “Don't push her, she'll talk when she's ready.”

“I know, I know," he assuaged. “I’ll go easy.”

Carol nodded and released him, and he started down the road, breaking into a jog when he was sure no one was looking.

When he reached your shared house, sun-bleached siding and half-roasted grass, he slipped through the front door, finding Carl reading by the lone fan in the living room. The house was eerily quiet, save the cordant hum of the whirling blades, it's cedar bones heavy on its foundation.

“Hey,” Rick hissed, getting Carl's attention. “How is she?”

Carl shrugged. “Makin’ lunch. Not singing’ like usual,” was all the boy offered before turning back to his comic.

“Alright, take your sister and go on to Michonne's for a bit,” he said, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

Carl huffed his displeasure, but did as he was told, trudging upstairs to fetch Judith while Rick moved towards the kitchen. He waited to hear the scampering of Judith's footsteps and the click of the door shutting behind them before pushing through the small door into the kitchen.

You were staring down at the blue flames of the gas stove, an open can of soup in your hand. Completely frozen, besides your yellow sundress fluttering around your bare legs.

Normally, the sound of Rick's boots up the steps was enough to have you bounding out the front door and throwing yourself into his arms, even if he'd only been to the neighbors and back. And you always sang while you cooked, some scratched-to-shit record backing you up.

His heart cracked.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, careful not to startle you.

You blinked, bleary eyes focusing on the can of soup, then flicking back up to the empty pot. Trying to connect the dots of what you'd been doing. “I'm making lunch,” you said, barely above a whisper, and he wasn't sure if you were talking to him or yourself.

“I see, can I help you?” He asked, moving a little further into the room. Turning down the knob on the stove to reduce the lapis flame.

You shook yourself, straightening with a too-wide smile. “I've got it!” You chirped, pouring the can into the pot. It spat and sputtered, entirely too hot. Rick snatched it off the burner, putting his body between you and the wrathful soup so you didn't get burned. “Shit! Let me get some towels.” You hurried away, frenetic energy wafting from you, spooked like a hare.

He knew that with one wrong move, it could tip into full-blown panic. “Honey, easy,” he soothed, catching you by the arms when your turned back towards him. “No harm, no foul.” He gently took the stack of towels from you, six for a few splatters of broth, and set them in the counter.

“I need to—” Your eyes were glazing again, hazy as the memory creeped back in.

“Don't worry about lunch, darlin’. I sent ‘em off to Michonne's for a little while.” He took your arms again, rubbing up and down your biceps to try and keep you with him.

“Oh,” you mumbled, glassy eyes drifting just past him at the wallpaper. “Why?” Your eyes refocused on him, brow furrowing slightly.

He leaned down to kiss the wrinkle away. “Too nice a’day for kids to stay inside. And thought you and I could spend some time together.”

“Oh,” you repeated. You fell quiet for a moment, and he could practically see the gears turning in your head, like you were trying to dredge something up you'd forgotten.

He waited patiently, sliding his hands down to hold yours.

“How was the meeting?” You finally asked, though your voice retained that same listless quality.

“Went fine. Same shit, different folks,” he said, shifting both your hands to his right one so he could bring the left up to cradle your face. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” You leaned into his palm, a rough, calloused thing against your supple skin, and your lashes lowered a bit, fluttery like moth wings. Something warm unfurled in his chest.

“C’mon, let me fix you somethin’ to eat,” he said, kissing your forehead again to hide the frown pulling at his mouth. He guided you back over to the stove, patting on the counter beside it. Your favorite spot whenever he got a wild hair to cook.

You hopped up, obedient little thing, and smoothed your skirt, crossing your dangling ankles.

He felt your eyes following him while he put on one of your favorite albums and resumed lunch preparations. He tried to keep his movements slow, fluid, easily trackable in your addled mind. After a few minutes though, you drifted off again, staring at a cracked tile on the floor.

Once the soup was simmering, he stepped towards you, moving to stand between your knees. “Pretty girl,” he hummed, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Why don't you tell me what's goin' on?”

You shook your head, tugging your chin from his fingers and turning your head away from him.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips along your hairline, balmy and salt-tinged from the heat. “You know I'll never let anythin’ happen to you,” he murmured. “Nothin’ out there can hurt you, or them, here.” He smoothed his hands over your ribs, the swell of your hips. “Not while I'm around.”

Tears welled in your eyes. That's a start, he thought. Out here, that numbness will eat you alive. Feeling is the only way to keep going.

“I’d rather die than let anything happen to them,” you whispered.

“I know, baby. I know.” He pulled you in for a proper hug, your face buried into the meat of his shoulder. “You take such good care of us, and I'm so grateful,” he said into your hair, kissing your crown. “You're a dream come true, darlin’.”

You cracked, a whimper eeking through your teeth, then another, until you were sobbing into his chest, fingers digging into the cotton of his shirt.

He sighed in relief, petting your hair while you purged the pent up emotions. “That's a good girl, there ya’ go. Let it all go,” he encouraged, your tears seeping through his shirt and cooling his sun-warmed skin. “You're alright now, I've gotcha.”

“She poisoned them,” you sobbed, thumping his chest with your fist. Barely hard enough for him to register. “She must have been so desperate—”

“This world makes people do monstrous things,” he said, flattening your fist out against his chest, willing his heart to beat slow and steady under your palm. “We can't try to understand it.”

“Do you think they knew?” You looked up at him, lashes dark and spiked with tears, eyes almost feverishly bright. Pleading.

He shook his head, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, deeply sorry that he couldn't give you the answers you needed. “We can't know, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

“We should have buried them,” you whispered, looking towards the window. “It wasn't right, leaving them like that.”

Rick never loved you more than he did in that moment, his heart leaping up his throat, choking him with affection. “I'll take care of it, baby. Don't you worry.” He couldn't resist pressing a kiss to your temple, your forehead, your nose, adoring you so much it ached.

“You will?” You turned back to him, fingers tightening on his shirt.

“Daryl and I will go as soon as I know you're alright,” he promised.

“But—”

“No buts.” He placed a thumb over your lips, quieting your protest. Another sign that you were feeling a little more like your usual, stubborn self. “Now, think you can eat a little f’me?”

You eyed the soup warily as he clicked off the eye and fetched a spoon, returning quickly back between your legs.

He dipped the spoon into the broth, lifting a small amount to your lips. “Just a few bites?”

You folded your lips together and shook your head.

“Baby,” he sighed. “You need to eat somethin’. I won't go until you do.”

But instead of indignation flashing in your eyes, he saw a prickle of fear as you stared at the spoon. Guilt curdled in his gut.

“Here.” He put the spoon in his mouth, eating the bite instead, then scooped a second bite, offering it to you again. “We'll eat it together.”

You didn't look convinced, but you parted your lips anyways, and he fed you a small sip.

“Good girl,” he said, taking the rest of the bite himself. “You trust me, don't you? Would I ever give you something that was going to hurt you? Hurt Carl or Judith?”

“No,” you mumbled, accepting a second, larger bite. “You wouldn't.”

“I'll share every bite with you if that's what you need, whatever I gotta do to make you feel safe,” he promised.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his. He set the spoon down to hold your waist again, tugging you to the edge of the counter to feel your body press fully against his, his arms braced across you back.

“Promise me that if I ever start to lose it, if I ever pose a danger to those kids—” your voice splintered, brittle with emotion. “That you'll do whatever you need to keep them safe.”

He couldn't even think about it, the fleeting idea enough to make his chest constrict painfully, his stomach roil. “I'll do what I need to do to keep all three of you safe,” he promised instead.

“Deal,” you sighed, lifting your head to meet his eyes.

He shifted that final inch forward, catching your lips in a tender, top-lip kiss. You softened, nails raking through the hair at the nape of his neck as he drew you closer, languishing in the honeyed taste of you. Finally relaxing now that he was sure you'd be alright.

After a moment, you broke the kiss to breathe, your nose congested from crying. He grazed his thumb over your bitten lip, smiling softly at your slightly dazed expression.

“You're safe with me, darlin’,” he assured. “Always.”

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