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moonymeloncholymoney · 4 months ago

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Rid of him🍁

summary: no matter how hard life gets, one thing was for sure. You were never getting rid of Joaquin Torres ;)

Warnings: none, bad grammar ig, cocky joaquin (he is still a softie tho), fluff, reader being emotional

Word count: 2.2k

Author's note: I am so sorry for the late update. I was suffering from the worst writer's block and I have strict parents so😭😭. Anyways tysm for barring with me. This one is for @teamredlvr ik reader isn't exactly grumpy but I tried my best. Hope you guys like it 💗💗

Being a teacher at abbot is hard, heck being a teacher in general can be a catastrophe if you become one without ever having the true calling and love for teaching. When you do what you love, all the difficult things that come with it become a tad bit easier to handle but that still doesn’t take away from the fact that you have your hard days too.

and just like that you found yourself climbing the stairs of your exhaustingly long apartment because the lift wasn’t working, which didn’t really help in your case as your day wasn’t going very well to begin with.

After dealing with indecisive children and uncooperative parents you finally decided to head home, You had an entire class’s test to grade, a banner to make for the upcoming fest happening in your school and a truck load of paperwork from the school district inquiring about the progress of your children. You could deal with all of this but you didn’t want to, not when there were tears running down your face, snot on the shoulder of your favorite cardigan and not when you were carrying a bag full of test papers which were causing a deep burning hole to form in the skin beneath your bra strap. Everything about today felt like an unspoken burden that you had to carry because you made the mistake of doing something you love.

You finally reach your apartment door. You feel your bag dropping directly from your shoulders all the way to your fingertips and then hear it falling to the ground. You close your eyes, resting your head on the cold wooden door of your home. The scent of old linen and new laundry hitting you with a sense of comfort and security, you felt like home already. You decided to take the house keys from the back pocket of your jeans, when you feel yourself fall in front and collide with a warm body. You look up to find Joaquin in front of you, confusion and warmth in his coffee brown eyes.

You hadn’t seen your best friend in about 8 months or so after he came to visit for Christmas last year. He had been deployed at Tunisia and you were swamped with work, the only form of contact between the two of you being, the letters he sent, the cards you wrote and the endless calls you both slept off to.

So, to see him standing there with a spare key in his hand, your favorite movie on the tv and a pair of cup noodles set on the table, does things to you that you can’t even comprehend.

You jump into his arms causing him to stumble a few steps behind him.

“Hey hey hey, you okay? Y/n?” he doesn’t hug back right away, trying to get you to face him and tell him what’s wrong but you’re too busy trying to get the most of him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Shhh…just be here, be here with me.”

He hugs back this time.

He knew you needed that hug but he didn’t realize how much he needed it too until he hugged back. You both poured all the year’s exhaustion into that one hug, easing into each other like two intertwining souls. He sighed into the hug and pulled you closer, making sure he gets enough of you to last at least another 8 months of deployment. It wasn’t until your cat purred at your leg when you both let go of each other.

“I guess someone missed me?” He tried to be cocky but failed miserably due to the fresh tears that had appeared in his eyes.

You let out a teary laugh before continuing to speak, “I thought you weren’t supposed to come back till after next week? how i- oh my god I had a whole thing planned for your welcome party!” You admitted as you flung your hands in your face.

“The mission got over earlier than we expected and then I remembered that I have my beautiful best friend to tend to, now are you gonna tell me why you are crying? And don’t say it’s because you’re happy to see me, I know something’s up” you know arguing with Joaquin was only going to end up in vain. So, you decided to pick your bag up from the floor as he led you through your door.

You knew lying to him wont work, it never had. He was the kind of person who would poke you to death until you revealed what was bothering you. He cared and he would make sure that you knew of it, even if that meant that he had to be a bit annoying at times. Life was good when you both were constantly in each other’s life. You remembered when he took you to McDonalds after your first boyfriend dumped you on prom night.

“One iced mocha coffee for you and one large-large big mac for both you and me cause I don’t want to die eating all of this alone” you wiped your eyes on Joaquin’s blazer which now sat on your shoulders, as you felt him slide down beside you on the floor outside McDonalds.

“hey” He shifted his gaze to you.

“hey” you said looking down, not wanting him to see the mascara stains that ran down your face smearing your cheeks black.

“If there is anyone who should be crying right now, it’s that pathetic fuck of a guy who even thought about leaving a girl like you on prom night, not you”

“He has a name you know?”

“yeah well, I don’t care”

“ Also…Joaquin Torres, did I just hear you curse?”

“you won’t let me kick his face so I might as well curse” he said as he took a big bite of his big mac.

“look,I just wanted to say thank you and that I am sorry...for making you miss prom night” you admitted quietly ad you hugged your body tightly.

“wait why are you sorry?” Joaquin made a face so atrocious you thought he choked on his food. He turned completely to sit facing you.

“Well, I did ruin your prom night and I mean didn’t you finally ask that cute blonde out…wait what was her name again?”

“Jessca” he said going back to his original position, shoulder to shoulder to you.

“Jessica, yeah”

“no-no, jess-ca like she has no ‘i’ in her name” he laughed.

“Are you for real?”

“I am so for real, she almost had a seizure when I pronounced her name wrong but continued to call me jack the entire time. Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I even wanted to go out with her.”

“Yeah well me too. I should’ve known he was a dick when he said ant-man wasn’t a legit super hero”

you hooked your arm under his elbow, kept your head on his shoulder and opened your mouth for him to give you a bite of the big mac.

“Oh yeah then this one’s definitely on you.” You smacked his arm as he kept his head on top of yours.

there was a moment of silence, comfortable silence. The one where you appreciated each other’s company through unsaid words and through a million little actions that made you question if you two were just good friends.

“Also you never have to thank me or apologize for that matter”

“what?”

“I said you never have to-.”

“No, I heard that but why?”

“because then you’ll end up saying thanks way more than you can ever imagine, cause you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon” he said he looked down upon you.

“You’re this big sap aren’t you?”

“Says the person who is going to start crying again” he says with a smile that says all you need to hear.

“Okay shoot. What happened, who made you cry and do I need to kick someone because now I legally can” Joaquin said as he sat on the sofa in front of you. He handed you the takeout he got the both you.

“No you don’t have to kick anyone and I really wouldn’t want you to do that either”

“You’re no fun”

“and you’ve got sauce on your face”

“Y/N” he said while looking at you dead serious.

“Joaquin” you said as you wiped the sauce of his face and ate it of your finger.

“I am serious, tell me what’s wrong.”

You sighed and kept your food on the center-table beside you and sat with your knees to your chest.

“i…do you think I am a bad teacher?” your voice went quite, and Joaquin’s throat went dry. How could you be a bad teacher? You, who spent hours teaching him 12th grade mathematics one day before the exam so that he didn’t fail and that too without losing your patience. You, who made an entire batch of cookies for your student book club after they finished reading their first book as a reward. Teaching was not an easy profession and definitely not a financially wise one either but you knew how much a good teacher impacted the kids so you wanted to be the same for your students and try to be bring change in any which way you could.

“Y/N, angel why would you think that?” he shifted close in front of you.

“Because a student’s mom literally said it to my face today, told me that I’d be a better teacher if I focused on teaching them out of textbooks instead of silly little novels” you said as a few tears fell from your eyes.

“but reading books helps increase their vocabulary and not just that it also helps them focus better” Joaquin admitted it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Exactly! Well, I tried telling her that but she lashed out on me and walked out of my class, I felt so stupid…so unwanted. And its not like Barbabra didn’t make me feel better, it’s just… I try my level best to make sure all the kids are learning in a way that expands their horizon. I just don’t want them to by heart the textbook, I want them to understand why the textbooks say what they do. I just wish the parents also looked at it that way instead of trying to make their job easier and getting over with their child’s homework as soon as possible”

Barbara was the senior teacher in the school and even though she did assure you that you were one of the best teacher’s out there, you needed to rant out your feelings to make sure that all your feelings don’t spill like a bottle of wine manhandled.

You were full on crying now, shirt drenched with tear drops and mascara smeared across your face the same way it did all those years ago. Joaquin kept his take out beside him and pulled you towards him through your elbow forcing you to sit with your head on his shoulder and your arm hooked under his elbow.

“Well according to me, someone who can’t even sit with their child and help them do their homework doesn’t get to call you a bad teacher.”

“Joaquin i-.” he shushes you with a finger on your lips, “Let me finish.”

“and you’re not the parent’s teacher, you are your student’s. So don’t you dare let any parent tell you otherwise, when you know damn well how much your students adore you. You are a great teacher and the class’s grade says all it has to. Also, you made Shakespeare interesting for me, do you know astounding that is for someone who barely got through 10th grade English. So, yes I don’t think you’re a bad teacher, I think you’re the best and the most fun teacher these children will ever have.”

He wiped your mascara smudged cheek and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“ Yeah well I don’t know what I’d do without me either” he sighed as he picked up his takeout again.

You smacked his arm and opened your mouth to take a bite of the noodles he was having.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Whatever is yours is mine” you said ad you grabbed the takeout from his hands and left a opened mouthed and a little offended looking Joaquin to stare at you.

“Oh you’re so going down” he said as snatched the takeout from your hands and put it on the table and got on both his knees on the sofa.

“Joaquin what are you- No Oh my god” your laughter echoed through the room as you felt your back touch the soft material of the sofa and Joaquin's fingers dug into the sides of your waist as he continued to tickle you.

You were crying from how much you were laughing, he was laughing from how much you were. And in that moment all was forgotten because you knew that you were not getting rid of him anytime soon and that was all you needed to know.

Taglist: @brittnicki @buckyytorres @halliejaade @joaquinwhores @cruel-seduction @fireinmoonshot @badboysupremelvr @teamredlvr @nathanbatemanfucker @glader13

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres #danny ramirez #joaquin torres x you #joaquín torres #joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres imagine #marvel #The falcon x reader #Captain America brave new world #Falcon imagine #Joaquin torres imagine

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theseinfernalangels · 4 months ago

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Stuck in Place - Ridoc Gamlyn 🦊

Synopsis: You’ve been working endlessly to improve with your signet, but after nearing burnout, you feel like you’re just not doing enough. Good thing your wing’s resident hype man is there to cheer you on! (With Concealer!Reader)

A/N: Another WIP completed! I love Ridoc and Faelyn (read more about her here!). I’ll be working on more writing throughout the week, so be prepared!

Includes: injuries and general low self esteem from Reader, as well as Rosemary completely forgetting Basgiath’s layout, Ridoc being a cheerleader. Takes place during Iron Flame.

You groan, leaning your head back against the wall of the infirmary while your whole body quakes. The elderly Professor Carr, you’d come to find out, beyond intimidating and imposing, was seriously and actually insane.

Your thoughts flit back to two hours prior, as you’d been dragging your ass across the training field while Carr looked on. You knew he meant well – Or, at least, you hoped he meant well – but you knew something was wrong when you could barely stand on your own two feet.

“Continue, Cadet Fox!” he’d shouted at you from his all-too-safe distance away. “Concealing is a rare gift. You will not rest until you get this right! Get up and focus this time!”

Your dragon, Nat, had other ideas, groaning lowly into your mind. “Please, Little Fox; say the word and I’ll incinerate his sorry tail. I could get away with it.”

You ignored them both and persisted, though, continuing to conceal anything that Carr threw at you. Despite Nat’s warnings about burning out, despite the molten pain that slowly encased your limbs, you kept going. It was safe to say you made a mistake once you actually passed out, your mind curling in on itself as a roar of panic from Nat overtook it.

You’d woken up some time later in the infirmary, where you now sit alone besides the healer who was gently running her hands along your biceps, checking for swelling.

The healer, a second-year named Eden, slowly raises an eyebrow at you as her fingers prod your forearms. “Damn, girl,” she muses. “It’s actually a miracle you fainted when you did. If you had kept using your signet, this wrist could have dislocated itself by pure force.”

You sigh, your fingers flexing involuntarily. It bruised your pride a little – not the fainting, of course. You’d overexerted yourself, and you knew it. It was the fact that, after almost four hours of training, you’d still made little progress with your signet. You knew concealing was rare and required a ton of work, and you’d only been bonded to Nat for about four months, so it was only natural that your progress was slow. You weren’t used to that, though – having to work so hard at mastering a skill that, in retrospect, made you feel utterly useless in times like these.

Eden seems to read your thoughts almost perfectly, and she offers you a sympathetic smile. “Listen,” she says, leaning forward. “One of your friends came in while you were knocked out and asked to see you. I told him to wait until you were up and functioning. You wanna see him, or should I tell him to shut his trap and leave?”

That makes a small smile tug at your lips. You have a feeling you know exactly which friend came to see you.

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice a little hoarse from disuse. “I’d like that, actually. Thanks.”

The healer bids you farewell and limps out of the room, clasping a remarkably crafted cane for balance. When the door closes behind her, you groan softly and sprawl on your back, still slightly dizzy.

Nat’s voice sends a wave of relief down your spine. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Little Fox,” she says in amusement. “It is good to feel you awake.”

You frown. “I kind of wish I was still out,” you admit. “It’s easier not to be thinking sometimes.”

A grunt of disapproval. “Nonsense. In order to keep yourself alive, you must be alert. You cannot anticipate the actions of others while you are not conscious.”

You go silent for a moment, and her tone softens. “You are displeased with yourself.”

“...Yeah,” you say quietly. “I am, Nat.”

The dragon pauses as if she was considering her words. Dragons weren’t really ones for reassurance, but you obviously needed some sort of pick-me-up. “I will not waste my breath on positive affirmations,” she declares, “but know this, Little Fox: I chose you for a reason. If you were not worthy to be my rider, I would not be speaking to you. Remember that.”

You love your dragon, truly, but her words don’t really make you feel much better about yourself as you gaze out the window towards the setting sun. Nat’s voice rings through your brain once again, this time sounding…a little smug?

“Ah,” she says, sounding as if she was holding back a knowing smile. “The ice wielder is coming for you. He’s been waiting to see you for hours, you know.”

That confirms your previous suspicions. Ridoc.

As if on cue, the door to your infirmary wing swings open again, and a familiar dark-haired cadet pokes his head through the space with a giant grin on his face. It’s a comforting sight, and from Nat’s sudden silence, you assume she’s leaving you to talk to him alone. At least she values your privacy. You push yourself up by your elbows and sit back up, your head still spinning from the effort.

“There’s the maniac,” he muses, pushing into the room and shutting the door behind him. He waltzes over to you and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re looking pretty damn good for someone who almost keeled over, you know.”

Your smile turns into a scowl. “Not funny,” you huff, crossing your arms. “I thought I was going to implode or something. I felt all fizzy and then, Bam! On the ground and out like a light.”

Ridoc’s smile doesn’t falter. “Trust me, sweets,” he tells you. “If you were actually going to die, I’d trust you to make a spectacle out of it. Something that really screams, ‘I’m going to doorbell-ditch Malek and no one can stop me,’ with dragon fire and fun dancing.”

You almost laugh. Almost.

“Of course,” he says, “I’d prefer if you waited for that, though. Until, like, Graduation, preferably. Or later. You know, when I’m not missing my notes.”

You try to force a smile, but with all of the self-doubt whirling in your mind, it looks especially fake. It makes you feel a little guilty. You never faked anything with Ridoc.

Your lack of a response makes him pause. Huh. It wasn’t like you to brush him off; you bounced off him and his quips more often than not, and that look in your eyes…That wasn’t something he’d ever seen in you before. Maybe in Violet or Sawyer, but definitely not you, the most confident, sure-as-hell girl he’d ever met.

“Alright,” he says with a sigh, plopping down next to you and holding your gaze. “Talk to me, Fox. What’s with the look?”

You blink. “What do you mean, the look? I don’t have a look.”

He scoffs. “Sure, sweets; and Violet and Riorson aren’t fucking. You’ve got a weird look going on in your eyes, like the one Sawyer gets whenever someone mentions repeating. Talk to me. What’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?”

You can’t make yourself look away from him. This conversation, you knew, was going to happen eventually, but you didn’t think it would happen so quickly – Much too quickly for your liking.

“Oh, you know,” you say with a small shrug. “Just…thinking, I guess. About earlier.”

Ridoc’s head tilts, his eyes glimmering with sincere consideration. All humor is gone from his tone – a rare occurrence. “About what? Carr? He’s a bastard for pushing you so far when your signet is so new.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes finally falling to the sheets on the cot you sit on. Your fingers play with them absentmindedly. “I…Oh, whatever. It’s not that important, Rid. It’s just me being stupid.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he replies. “Hey,” he murmurs, raising a hand to gently tilt your chin back up. “No. Your feelings aren’t stupid. Not to me. Never to me.”

If you weren’t feeling so guilty, that would have made your heartbeat flutter. You don’t respond for a second, your lips twitching from the warmth of his gentle hands on your face.

You don’t want to talk about your feelings with Ridoc, but with the way he looks at you…You have the feeling that he’ll take you more seriously than anyone else, if you could ever stand to tell them how you really feel.

“I…” You take a deep breath, preparing to launch yourself into this anxiety-inducing territory. “...Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, you’ll never amount to anything?”

He blinks as if surprised, mulling over your words for a second. Finally, he nods. “Not often,” he says, “but I get what you mean, yeah. Like, as if you’re stuck?”

You nod. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it, I guess. I…I feel like I’m not making enough progress for my own liking, is all. With my signet, I mean.”

Ridoc’s eyes soften in understanding. “Ah,” he says. “So that’s what’s got your brain in knots.” “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I just…I don’t know, Rid. I know my signet is relatively new, so I should give myself some grace or whatnot. But it’s been enough time that I think I should have some semblance of control over it, you know? I can Summon things, sure, but not at the capacity that I should be able to.”

He hums as if he’s taking your words into account. You’ve never seen him be so…quiet before. He glances back at you. “What capacity? Yours, or Carr’s?” he asks. “How can an asshole like Carr be so sure of where you should be when you’re the only one who can make that kind of assessment for yourself?” You look over at him, surprised by the question. “Well, he’s the expert, isn’t he?” you snort. “He knows the normal progression of signets, and how far along someone should be with theirs. I’m not on the right track with mine, no matter how much I train.”

“Right,” he scoffs. “Sure, sweetheart. With all the training you do from the crack of dawn to pushing curfew, I’ll bet you’re way past where you need to be with your concealing. You just hit a new record, remember? You got something all the way from your dorm from Battle Brief. That’s, like, two whole floors.”

“Yes,” you say impatiently. “And then I almost fainted at my desk. I’ve had this signet for almost two months now, Rid. I should be able to manage a distance like that. I guess…” You hesitate. “I’m just not too confident in my ability right now, is all. I can’t find it in myself to trust myself to improve. And…Can I be honest with you right now? Like, really honest?”

Ridoc leans closer, one of his hands reaching to grasp your fingers that still fiddle with the cot sheets. “Of course you can. Always.”

You swallow, suddenly feeling the weight of everything you’ve been ignoring since the beginning of the year, since the night you snuck out to Basgiath from your parents’ home in Deaconshire. “I find it really hard to believe that anyone believes in me,” you admit. “You remember that letter my parents sent me a couple of weeks ago?” He recalls your panicked movements when you fumbled with the parchment, trying to hide it from his view. “I do,” he replies.

You take in a shaky breath. “They never wanted me to join the Riders Quadrant. They wanted me to stay home – you know, safety and all that – but I didn’t listen, because they never even really paid much attention, anyway. They’re disappointed in me, too. How am I supposed to keep moving forward if my own parents don’t believe in me?”

Ridoc lets out a small sound of sympathy, squeezing your fingers. “Assholes,” he says. “The lot of them. Your parents obviously don’t know just how gifted you are, sweetheart. You’re one of the fastest, sneakiest people in the Wing, maybe in the entire quadrant. You don’t need anyone’s approval to know how special you are.”

Your fingers clench. “I know I don’t need it,” you say frustratedly. “But it hurts, Ridoc. It feels like everybody can tell that I’m not trying hard enough. It hurts knowing that no one whose opinions matter believes in you, and I’m just sick of it.”

A beat passes. Two.

Ridoc just looks at you, as if he’s searching for something hidden in your eyes. After a minute, his eyes narrow.

“Is that what you think?” he asks. “That no one believes you can make it?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

He continues to stare at you incredulously, as if you’ve just personally offended him. His next words take you aback.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry, but you’re a fucking idiot.”

You jerk away at the insult, heat flooding your cheeks. “I’m sorry?”

He holds your surprised look. “You heard me. What do you mean, ‘No one believes I can make it’? You have plenty of people that have your back!”

You frown. You certainly don’t feel that way. “Like who?”

Now Ridoc really looks offended. “Are you serious right now?” he says, borderline complaining and throwing his arms in the air in exasperation. “Me!”

You’re caught off-guard by his sudden declaration, so much so that you don’t reply. He cuts you off before you can even open your mouth.

“I believe in you,” he announces, miffed. “I have ever since I saw you spar with Rhi, all the way back in July. If you think you can shake me off your back just because Carr thinks your signet isn’t where it needs to be, then you have another thing coming, sweetheart. I’m clinging to you harder than a damn leech.”

His gaze turns fierce, making your heartbeat stutter. “I’ve got you,” he reiterates firmly, “and I know the others do, too. Even if they didn’t, I still would. You’ve proved yourself time and time again that you deserve to be here, much more than some of the others here can say. You’re doing so well; one little setback doesn’t mean that all the effort you put in doesn’t matter.”

You can feel the way you look at him change as he continues with his rant, which you barely hear.

I believe in you, you idiot.

Your cheeks warm a little, your heart singing with…something. You can’t place it, but it stabs at the vise grip you’ve been holding yourself together with ever since the day you left Deaconshire, all the way back in June.

Ridoc believes in you; he believes in your effort, your dedication, your care. Everything you’ve been doubting and pondering since you walked across the Parapet.

You swallow back a lump in your throat. Ouch.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when he leans back down to look you in the eyes.

“Hey,” he says, poking his pointer finger into your sternum. “What matters most is that you believe in yourself. But, since you’re not there yet, you’ll have to deal with me and my ass dragging you back to The Land of Emotional Support.” He offers you a grin, one that makes you bloom on the inside. “Sorry, sweetheart. It all goes downhill from here. You’re stuck with me.”

You stare at him and his beaming figure, looking down at you as if you’re capable of hanging every star in the sky and then shooting them all back down again. Maybe, if you look hard enough, you can find those stars in the wide expanse of his eyes when he stares at you, all determined like that.

You manage a smile, small but genuine. “I…think I might be okay with that, actually.”

#the empyrean #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #fourth wing imagines #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc gamlyn x reader #ridoc gamlyn imagines #ridoc gamlyn fluff #ridoc gamlyn angst #ridoc x reader

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saintsanddevils · 1 month ago

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Void & Omen - pt 3

Bob Reynolds/Void x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you meet Bob, that deadly power inside of you stirs, recognizing something just as equally dark and powerful in him. After all, like calls to like.

Warnings/Tags: Thunderbolts movie spoilers, canon typical violence & swearing, brief mentions of blood, fluff, angst, overprotective & possessive reader (& Bob)

Author’s Note: This is my FAV chapter I’ve written for this series so far! Enjoy!

Word Count: 5K

Masterlist

Part Two • Part Four

————

Arms locked and legs trembling, we barely make it to the closed elevator door hundreds of feet above the ground level. It must’ve been hours of exerting ourselves to get here. Sweat clings to my skin as heaving breaths saw through my lungs. I cling to Bob and Ava as tight as possible as we climb further, back to back.

“I see the door!” John gasps, startling our progress. “We’re almost there!”

Hope soars through us as we gasp out a mutual sigh of relief, until… Silence reigns as realization slices through the air like the blade of a guillotine.

“Now what?” Yelena huffs.

“Maybe one of us should go up first?” Ava suggests, shifting on my left side. Her weight drags me for a second as I shift my legs, stabilizing myself. I cling harder to my right side, to Bob, who also stabilizes himself, pushing his weight into me to keep me centered.

Yelena groans. “Then the other four immediately fall!”

“Ahh, shit,” John hisses.

“Yeah, sorry,” Bob sighs, voice quivering with uncertainty. “I guess I didn’t really think this far ahead.”

I turn my head towards Bob, finding him staring at the wall in front of himself in defeat as John berates him for this idea. My heart sinks at the way his shoulders sag, eyes losing that small bit of innocent, playful light they normally carry.

“Always making things worse,” he whispers under his breath. He says it like a mantra. As if he’s been told this for most of his life and he believes it.

Something protective stirs in my chest.

“Don’t say that,” I tell him, ignoring John’s tirade. “This was a great idea.”

Bob scoffs, shaking his head, but he doesn’t respond. He only stares at the wall, that light continuing to fade in his eyes.

“Maybe if we didn’t have two extra people, this would be much easier—“

I stop John before he can continue. “If you didn’t have Bob & I, you’d never make it this far.”

John scoffs. “Yeah, but at least we wouldn’t have you guys around, being a burden—“

I flinch. Bob tenses.

“Hey, I don’t think I can do this for much longer!” Ava complains loudly.

“Hand me your baton, I can reach it!” John calls to Yelena.

She gasps and they continue to bicker, but my eyes haven’t left Bob. That stirring in my chest hasn’t left and it’s telling me to help him. To be there for him. To protect him.

“Bob—“

Suddenly, he shakes his head, whipping it around frantically.

“Bob?”

“C-cucumber! Cucumber!”

“What the hell is happening?!” Yelena questions.

Bob tosses his head around. “Growing up, someone t-told me that you can stop sneezing if you c-can confuse your brain,” he stutters. “I always just yell cucumber.”

“Okay?”

“I have to sneeze, but if I sneeze, I can lose control and if that happens—“

John groans in annoyance. “This is insane! I can get us all out of here. I just need to go first—“

“No!” I yell, trying to grip tightly to Bob who keeps jostling us with his sharp movements.

“No way!” Ava joins in.

Bob suddenly stills. “Oh no.”

Fear drops in my stomach like a heavy stone. If he loses his grip, we’re all dead.

“Cucumber!” We yell in varied unison. “Cucumber!”

We continue to yell as John shifts, grabbing Yelena’s baton from her back.

“No!” I scream just as his arm whips it back before throwing it towards the closed elevator door.

Our screams echo as we fall like dominos. Bob reaches out to me, as if by instinct, and holds on for dear life as we plummet. Bob jolts from my grip as a thin rope suddenly ties around his ankle, stopping him. I scream before Bob grabs on to my hand, gripping me tightly.

My body slams into the wall of the elevator before stilling, hovering mid-air with Bob’s hand securely around mine. When I look up at him, he smiles sheepishly before finally sneezing.

“What the fuck, Walker!” Yelena screams.

“You’re welcome!” He yells back, helping Ava up through the elevator door.

“You selfish prick!” She spits at him.

“Yeah, well, you’re all safe,” he shrugs. “I made a tactical decision. Secure my own safety, which in turn, ensured all of yours.”

Yelena is pulled up next, swearing like a sailor as she shoves past him, grabbing her baton from him with a heavy glare.

“Pretty ungrateful, if you ask me.” John huffs.

“What an asshole,” I mutter as Bob pulls himself up, bending to hang on to the rope attached to him. At the same time, he pulls me up with one hand, helping me to reach the same rope he’s hanging on to. I stare up at him as he holds me close, gripping my waist.

“Thanks,” I breathe heavily. “That was some crazy upper-body strength.”

He smiles, red spotting his cheeks. “Uh yeah. It’s nothing.”

I shake my head. “No seriously, thank you. I could’ve died.”

Bob’s face grows serious, his hand tensing around my waist. “I wouldn’t have let you fall.”

Something hums in my chest at that.

“You gonna make it, Bobby?!”

Bob flinches at John’s shout. Sharp annoyance towards the super soldier sparks in my chest at the sight. John pulls us up by the rope before extending his hand to us. A smug grin crosses his lips and I glare up at him before accepting his help.

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it,” I grumble.

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Hey, at least you’re breathing.” He looks over at Bob, who breathes heavily as he pulls himself up to the door. “Looks like you might’ve missed arm, leg, and chest day.”

Bob glares up at him. I see something in his eyes. Something dark and shining as he holds his hand up to John. When they clasp hands, John pulls him the rest of the way.

Something under my skin rises to the surface. Feeling a strange spark of energy in the air, my skin pebbles with goosebumps. I furrow my brows, staring at Bob as he shoves past Walker, making his way over to me. His eyes—

“You alright?” He nods to me.

But his eyes… there’s a strange sheen of gold in them. Like a fire lit from within.

“Are you?” I ask.

He stills, eyes jumping from me to Walker, who’s dangerously close to the edge of the elevator shaft, staring at nothing.

“Yeah, fine. Great.”

I can sense the lie and it stings.

“Bob?” I step closer. “What’s wrong?”

When I reach out to touch him, he steps back. I stare at him, hoping the hurt isn’t written on my face as it pinches my insides.

The action of stepping back from me shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Memories of my mother, my sister, my friends, all stepping far from me. Fear filling their eyes as they backed away. As if I would hurt them. As if I wanted to hurt them.

My hand falls to my side.

“Walker?” Yelena calls out, drawing my attention.

John stands barely a step away from the edge, his body swaying slightly forward. The hair rises on the back of my neck at the sight. How his body seems suspended in a moment, lost in thought.

Yelena steps forward, reaching out towards him. “Are you crazy?!”

John jumps when Yelena’s hand touches his shoulder. He steps back from the ledge, eyes unfocused as he whirls towards the rest of us.

“What?” John questions, clearly confused.

Yelena shakes her head. “What the hell were you going to do?”

John furrows his brows. “What are you talking about?”

I stare at the ledge, dread filling my stomach at the thought of watching John plummet down the shaft, to his death. How could he not notice what he was doing?

Bob shifts in my peripheral.

Ava rolls her eyes. “Ugh, we don’t have time for this. Can we finally get out of here?”

When we follow her to the only door in the room, she presses a button and it lifts up, revealing a walkway to the outside world. A chill night breeze soars through the open door and the smell of sun-bleached earth fills the air. It reminds me of waking up in the middle of the night when I camped out in the desert years ago.

“Where exactly are we?” I ask.

Yelena shrugs. “Utah.”

We file closer to the door as the sound of marching and harsh voices echo from outside. The five of us lean against the corner of the wall, peering out to see what’s going on.

Large groups of men and women armed in tactical gear and various weapons run around the entrance. They shout and march, readying themselves for some sort of assault.

“Shit,” Ava shakes her head. “This isn’t looking good for us.”

“Fucking Valentina,” Yelena murmurs.

Backing away from the entrance, we gather around, trying to plan a way out of here that doesn’t result in getting shot in the head the second any of us step out of the building.

Bob is twitching and shifting from foot to foot again, nervously. I step closer to him on instinct, forcing myself not to reach out to him. Not since he stepped out of my touch earlier. The sting of it still hurts.

“I’m thinking I might just surrender,” Bob says, drawing everyone’s attention. “They don’t know me, I’m just some random guy.”

The thought of him going out there, alone and vulnerable, has my gut twisting.

John throws his hands in the air in frustration. “So, every man for himself, then.”

Yelena cocks her head to the side. “Who said you’re in charge?”

John, Yelena, and Ava continue to bicker, once again. I shift closer to Bob as they argue.

“You think they won’t hurt you?” I ask.

Bob shrugs. “I’m not who they’re after. I’m no one.”

I bite my lip. “Where would you go once you’re out?”

“If they let me go free,” he forces a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the states.”

“Me too.”

Bob turns to look at me, hundreds of questions drifting across his features. I resist the sudden urge to smooth my fingers over his face to reassure him.

Instead of touching him, I give him a glimpse of my past. “After my parents died, I didn’t want to stick around. Everything felt haunted. Once I left, I couldn’t stop running.”

I stare off into the distance, lost in memories of hitchhiking, sleeping on park benches, and doing odd jobs to pay for food and getting me as far from home as possible.

Bob shifts closer, head tilted as his eyes take me in. In this clearer lighting, I can finally make out how his eyes are a deep, dark blue. The color of the night sky right before dawn.

“I was running, too,” he confesses.

I give him a small smile, something secret and shared. “Looks like we’re just two runaways looking for somewhere to go.”

“For somewhere to belong.”

My breath hitches, watching as he steps closer, towering over me.

“Come with me.”

My heart beats rapidly in my throat at his boldness. “What?”

Bob hesitates, breathing in. “I mean, you don’t have to, it’s entirely your choice, after all. I just thought since I feel like I know you and we both went through the same thing with O.X.E., maybe it’s a sign we should stick together? I don’t know. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I get it. Completely. I just—“

“Bob,” I laugh, raising my hand to his mouth, stopping him.

No one has ever been so flustered with kindness towards me. It’s both refreshing and daunting. I feel as though I don’t deserve it.

Maybe you do.

The thought fills me with liquid sunshine.

I let my small smile grow, giving him some reassurance. “If we survive this and we’re somehow able to walk free,” I shrug. “Maybe I will come with you. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”

I feel him smile beneath my fingertips and only then do I realize how close we’re standing. How his skin pleasantly burns my own at the contact.

“Earth to the love-birds!” John shouts, clapping his hands together. It startles us badly enough that we jump apart. “Jesus Christ. Any second longer and you’ll be making-out when we’re trying to get the fuck out of here.”

Heat creeps up my chest and neck, filling my cheeks as I look down at my feet. I see Bob’s hands clench tightly at his sides as he stares at Walker.

“We were just talking—“

“Looked like way more than talking,” John scoffs.

Yelena steps forward. “Let’s focus on the task at hand, okay? If we want this to work, we have to do it together.”

Ava suddenly phases out, startling everyone as she disappears from view.

Yelena curses. “We can only hope she’ll grab a car for us to get out of here.”

Walker shakes his head. “That’s a lot to hope for.”

Yelena glares at him before turning to both Bob and I. “Now, let’s get to work.”

————

Gunfire echoes down the dark halls as we run. Yelena put Walker in charge of keeping the guards occupied and taking them out while she turned off the lights. Needless to say, the plan went to shit.

She had both Bob and I trailing after her earlier into the breaker room when we heard the first round of gunfire. She swore colorfully as she tried and failed to turn out the lights. Once she did, it was too late.

Now, we’re running towards the fight.

“Stay here,” she calls behind to us. “You’ll be safe.”

Bob shakes his head. “I can help you.”

She stops, turning to him. “You want to help? Fine, help me by watching over her.”

She nods to me and I startle. “What?”

“Watch over each other while I scout ahead. I don’t need you both getting shot while I’m trying to deal with these men and get us out of here. Alive.”

“But I don’t need—“ Yelena disappears around the corner towards the gunfire before I can finish.

Bob rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, shifting his weight. “Well, guess we just… wait here.”

I sigh, leaning against the wall. “Guess so.”

Silence fills the space between us. Bob begins to pace the longer Yelena is gone. More shouts and gunfire echo down the hall. I flinch at the sound, pressing against the wall and breathing deep. Something stirs under my skin as fear beats like a constant drum in my chest.

Bob must see or sense my distress since he drifts closer, concern etching his features. “W-what’s your favorite color?”

I pause, meeting his gaze. A short laugh escapes me at the randomness of his question. “My favorite color?”

He nods encouragingly.

“I don’t know,” I shake my head. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

Bob’s eyes widen. “You don’t know your favorite color?”

I shrug, thinking. “I mean, I probably don’t have just one favorite. Like I love the way this one tree looked outside my house when I was a kid and how it was always this golden orange. I also love how the sky looks just before the sun rises, a mix of light purples and blues.”

Bob still looks like he’s in shock, but he seems more placated now. “Wow, that’s… Those are some really good ones. I was just going to say blue.”

I laugh hard enough that it echoes off the walls. Bob smiles openly now.

“Favorite movie?” I ask.

“That’s a hard one.”

“I told you it’s hard to pick just one!”

He holds out his hands, as if in surrender. “Okay, yes, you’re right. But if I had to pick one, I’d probably say The Princess Bride.”

I raise my brows. “Really?”

“Hey, it’s a good movie. It’s got action, adventure, comedy, romance,” he counts each one off his fingers to emphasize his point. “It has everything. I’m also just a sucker for a damsel in distress and a happy ending.”

Smiling this much hurts my cheeks as I tilt my head. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the happily ever after type.”

“Well,” His gaze lowers to the floor. “When you live in a nightmare, you just hope everything will turn out in the end. That all that suffering was worth it.”

His smile has faded, eyes dark and lost.

I pause, studying him. From what I’ve come to know in the last few hours, Bob is sweet, kind, and selfless. Something broken and soft. Something complex from a past of deep hurt.

A part of me sings to that melancholic tune, wanting to step forward and hold him. I hold back, remembering how he stepped out of my touch earlier.

I say softly, “I think it’s a wonderful thing to believe in happy endings. When we get out of here, I hope you find yours.”

Bob meets my eyes and there’s something shared there. It’s familiar and warm.

But then more gunfire sounds down the labyrinthine halls, disturbing the peace of our corner of the world. It sounds closer now.

“What made you choose O.X.E.?” He asks, his voice no longer burdened by the past.

A glimpse at his innocent big eyes and small, curious, trusting smile has me letting down my guard a little more. Allowing for him to continue distracting me.

“It didn’t really feel like a choice. It was more that I was desperate and had no other options.” I shrug. “I’ve been on the run for a long time. I eventually got tired of running.”

Something hollow and desperate claws its way up my throat as memories threaten to overwhelm me, but I try to hold it back. Shoving it down, down, down, far from the surface. There’s a burning in my eyes, but I blink it away.

Bob is suddenly closer and his concern is heavy on my skin as he boldly takes my hand in his. “We’re both just two runaways, yeah?”

I smile sadly at the reminder of my words from earlier. “Two runaways who woke up barefoot in an incinerator with trained killers.”

Bob laughs.

The thing in my chest stirs, warming at the sound of his laughter. It simmers in my veins. When he jostles our clasped hands, I feel a pull in my ribs. Something that tugs and brightens when he smiles down at me. If I squint, I can almost see it, like a shining, silver tether. It glows, flowing from my chest to—

I swiftly close my eyes, breathing deep. I’m just imagining things.

“There’s two down this way!” A shout rings out down the hall, making us both jump.

We turn to find three people in tactical gear heading our way, guns trained on us.

Bob immediately shoves me behind him, hand still tightly gripping mine.

“Don’t move.” A command under his breath. The tone of his voice reminds me eerily of the one from my dream.

“Surrender or we will use force!” The group is closer now and their weapons haven’t lowered.

“H-hey!” Bob calls out. “Uh, we were totally on our way to do just that—“

“Step away from each other and show us your hands, now!”

Bob tenses under my touch. “Sure, if you just lower your guns, that would be great.”

“I said STEP AWAY!”

Their shout makes me flinch. Bob must’ve felt it cause he stops, standing straighter.

“And I said lower your guns.” His voice is low and harsh, again. Cruel and dangerous.

The group move closer and the one shouting orders points their gun right towards Bob’s head.

Mine! That thing inside of me, inside my head, growls.

My hands shake, veins bulging as they start to shift darker and darker. I stare in wide-eyed horror.

No, no, no, no—

I immediately let go of Bob, but he holds my hand captive in his. “Bob,” I whisper, hoping I don’t sound as panicked as I feel. “I need you to let go—“

“STEP AWAY! HANDS UP!”

Bob is trembling under my hand, but he stands tall, unflinching as he stares down the armed men. I would admire his bravery if I weren’t so terrified of hurting him on accident with whatever is stirring beneath my skin.

Yanking my hand forcefully out of Bob’s, I step to the side, in sight of the armed men, hoping the heated situation will cool down now.

It doesn’t.

“GET YOUR HANDS UP!”

“STOP POINTING THAT AT HER!” Bob shouts, startling me bad enough that I look at him instead of the guns aimed at me.

That’s when I see it. The reflective gold lining his dark blue irises, shining brighter with each second.

Mine.

I flinch at the animalistic claiming in my head.

“Whatever happens, don’t move.” Bob’s voice is commanding and dark in my head. All too familiar.

Bob steps forward and all three guns are trained on him. He takes another step.

“STOP OR WE WILL USE FORCE!”

Whatever sleeps under my skin, watching with lazy attention, now is fully awake and gnawing at my bones. My heart beats rapidly against my ribs like a panicked bird in a cage. With each beat, two words pulse through my blood.

Free me. Free me. Free me!

Bob takes another step and the men click the safety off their guns. The sound echoes in my head like an omen and it sparks something inside of me that causes true fear and anger to rise to the surface.

That sound is all I need to hear. The imminent danger hanging in the air like a tight thread about to snap. And something happens.

Within the span of a breath, a heartbeat, I’m changed. Something else takes over. Something primal and hungry. Something cold and deadly. Like a wave washing over my skin, I drown beneath the surface as my body is no longer mine to control.

It’s hers.

My hand raises, skin slowly blackening at the fingertips as my veins bulge and writhe with black coursing through them, like poison. My eyes have shifted from one blink to the next, now dark and depthless voids. With the change, I see the world differently. The men before us, armed and ready to shoot Bob, the center of their chests begin to glow. A small silver light that steadily beats to the cadence of their hearts.

“What the fuck?!”

“Holy shit!”

“STAND DOWN!”

Their voices of panic and surprise don’t phase me as they turn their attention to me. But it’s too late.

I raise my hand higher, like a conductor of an orchestra. I guide the music no one else can hear.

Their gear hides what’s happening to them, but I can see it all nonetheless. The skin beneath their tactical gear begins to tighten, veins bulging as poisonous black slowly spreads up through their blood. They cough and stagger back, blood leaking from their mouths and eyes as they choke on the toxic air lodged in their lungs.

My name whispered from his lips has me stilling, like an animal caught in headlights. I turn my head to him. He staggers back in shock upon seeing my face. I frown at the action.

When one of the soldiers grips their gun and aims it at us, I cock my head at them. It’s strange to watch the last dredges of humanity and fragile hope fight to live. Especially at the end.

I snap my fingers.

And the lights in their chest, that steady glow… It snuffs out like a candle flame.

Their bodies drop to the floor like marionettes, their strings cut.

More.

It’s voice— her voice, rings through my skull.

We need more.

He steps in front of me, eyes wide. I can smell the terror coursing through his blood, but I would never harm him. Never him. Not when I recognize what lies in waiting beneath his skin. How it reflects my own.

“Hey,” he says, voice shaking, as his hands reach out to me, but not touching me. “Come back to me.”

I furrow my brows. My voice is raspy, deep, and hungry as I say, “More.”

Bob’s eyes widen. I step closer, his scent entirely intoxicating and delicious. I’ve been without him for so long, I can’t bear to part from him. Now that I’ve found him. Now that he has found me.

I raise my palm to his chest. He flinches. I press into him, eyes focused on his. On the gold that reflects back. The power rattling inside of him, begging to be released.

I gesture with my head towards the three bodies. “They threatened what is mine. What belongs to me.”

Bob swallows, eyes scanning my features as if he’s searching for something. “You did that for me?”

I nod.

His body trembles under my touch. “C-can, uh, can you, I mean, can Y/N come back now?” I stare at him and he rushes to continue. “I’m safe now. Thanks to you. You-you took care of them.”

“Safe,” I repeat, hesitant.

He nods. “I’m safe. Thank you.”

When I blink, my eyes are back to normal. The ink-black of my veins and tips of my fingers is gone. I rise to the surface, gasping before my knees give out beneath me.

Bob catches me, hands wrapping tightly around my waist. “Hey, hey,” he cautions, voice reassuring. “You’re okay, you’re alright.”

I blink, slowly and heavily, up at him. “W-what? What happened?” I wince, pain pounding a steady beat in my head. “Why do I feel so…”

Exhaustion grips me, weighing down on my limbs heavily as darkness begins to cloud my vision. I hear Bob calling my name but I fall into that dark, allowing it to cradle me like his arms around my body.

The last thing I see are the bodies, lying limp and stiff on the floor. Their mouths agape, skin hollow, bloody, and cracked.

————

Bob hears someone running around the corner. He can sense it’s Yelena before she bursts into the hall, gasping when she sees the bodies on the floor.

“What the hell happened here?!”

Bob doesn’t turn to her. He’s too focused on the woman cradled in his arms. How her breathing has finally settled and her skin is paler than usual.

She killed them to save me.

The thought should scare him. It doesn’t. Not when what lies beneath his skin hums in approval.

Bob shifts his hold on her, heaving her off the floor as he stands, cradling her body to his chest. He finally looks at Yelena, who watches with raised brows.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Yelena pauses, staring at Bob before shifting her eyes to Y/N. “Is she alright?”

Bob nods, feeling her steady pulse against the skin of his arms, the slow breaths on his neck. “She’ll be okay.”

He strides past Yelena, not caring what she does or how she stands frozen, looking over the bodies on the floor. His focus is on Y/N.

She saved me. She saved me. She saved me.

The words echo in his head like a mantra. When he woke earlier that day to find himself confused and cornered by strangers in an incinerator, she was the one thing that made sense. Every part of him, every follicle and atom, knew her. Recognized her.

He didn’t know why or how, but he knew her and trusted her. The second he laid eyes on her, something stirred in him. Something claiming and new. It scared him, at first. But now, seeing what she was capable of, what he was capable of, he knows for certain this is something he can’t lose.

He holds her tighter as he turns down the hall. That thing inside of him, stirring in his chest, purring at her touch- it whispers in his blood.

Mine.

————

Valentina sits in the van outside of the Vault watching the monitors with rapt attention. Her hands grip tightly to the leather of the chair as she hovers inches from the screen. Her eyes glued to the last recordings from the dead soldiers body cams.

“Play it again,” she commands.

The tech rewinds it.

Valentina watches, a slow smile inching its way across her lips.

Mel appears at her side, startling at what she sees on the screen. “What is that?”

A young woman stands with her hand stretched out towards the screen, towards the soldiers. Her skin blackened at the fingertips, veins pulsing dark and menacing. But it’s her eyes that have Mel wide eyed and terrified.

Valentina turns to Mel, a gleam in her eye. “Isn’t she stunning?” She nods to the screen. “She is our solution. Maybe even our salvation.”

Mel purses her lips, staring at the screen with hesitancy. “She doesn’t look like a solution, more like a problem.”

Valentina rolls her eyes. “You don’t see the potential for what she can become.”

“A super villain killing hundreds of thousands of people with just the wave of her hand?”

Valentina laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “No, no, no,” she shakes her head. “You’re being too critical, too cryptic. You don’t see her potential.” She turns back to the screen. “She could be so much more.”

Part Four

————

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fluentmoviequoter · 15 days ago

Text

No Rules

Part 2 of Break My Rules

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Smitty!reader

Summary: As your relationship with Tim progresses, you both learn that some rules are worth not only breaking, but forgetting.

Warnings: injuries (Tim and Smitty), stress/anxiety, fluff, comfort, teasing/banter, insecurity, discussion of breaking up, softie Tim

Word Count: 3.8k+ words, requested

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

Beneath the desk, Tim’s foot moves to an unheard beat. You’ve been at his house almost every night in the past week, not because either of you needed comfort but because you wanted to spend time together. He’s convinced that breaking your rule is the best thing that has ever happened to him. Lucy has been nagging him since the morning after he kissed you, somehow knowing he had made a major change.

“I’m just going to ask her what happened,” Lucy sighs, pulling her phone from her pocket.

“Where do you think she’d like to go for dinner?” Tim asks.

Lucy’s eyes widen – which makes Tim roll his eyes and grumble that he regrets asking – before she steps forward and slaps Tim’s shoulder.

“What happened?” she demands.

Tim rubs his shoulder and begins to answer before they’re interrupted.

“Another stripper incident, Bradford?” Smitty inquires, smiling as he leans on a nearby desk.

Lucy swallows, observing Tim. Tim is unfazed by the interruption from your dad, though, and shakes his head.

“Grey told me to find something to do,” Smitty continues, nearly slipping from his attempted casual position. “What are you up to?”

Planning a date with your daughter, Tim thinks smugly.

“We’re looking at satellite of my patrol route,” Lucy lies. “I’m looking for-“

Smitty raises his hand to stop her, then groans. “Sounds boring.”

As he walks away, Tim shakes his head and wonders if you’ve taken a paternity test.

“What were you thinking?” Lucy inquires softly. “And who asked who out? Tell me everything.”

“Dinner somewhere nice, doesn’t matter, and no,” Tim answers in order of her questions.

“I’m taking that as she asked you out, and good for her.”

“I asked her first,” Tim grumbles under his breath as Lucy offers her phone, displaying a list of restaurants.

“I hope it goes well, Tim,” Lucy offers. “You both deserve it.”

“Thanks.”

“And I’m going to ask her for all of the details,” she adds before turning on her heel and leaving.

“I have no doubt,” Tim mumbles as he begins typing a text to you.

Tim pulls you under his arm as you exit his truck, laughing and smiling as you lean against him. Your first date went better than expected, and you’d told him as much before your food was delivered to your table. He admitted then that he’d lied awake last night, worried that he might be nervous and say the wrong thing, somehow making you regret breaking your rule for him. You’d taken his hand over the table and assured him that you would never regret it, you’d never been happier, and then you dropped your voice and admitted you feared you’d be so nervous you’d be awkward and ruin his carefully planned night. After that shared admission, you breathed and spoke a little easier, enjoying every single moment in Tim’s presence.

Your phone buzzes in your bag – which is over Tim’s shoulder – while you unlock your front door.

“You need to get that?” Tim asks, his hand spread comfortingly against your back as you walk inside.

“It’s probably Lucy asking how you did,” you say, smiling at Tim.

“Oh, so this was a test?” he questions, nodding along with your joke. “How’d I do?”

You hum, tapping your chin as you lean closer to him. “You couldn’t have done better.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” he points out.

You shake your head before you pull your bag off his shoulder and set it aside. Then, you wrap your arms over Tim’s shoulder, moving into his space as his hands rise to hold your waist.

“We should do this again,” Tim murmurs, his gaze dropping to your lips.

Nodding, you kiss his jaw.

“But you’re busy.”

You hum at that, kissing the other side of his face.

“So maybe I could take you out to dinner after the charity show,” he suggests breathlessly.

“Lucy called dibs on that night,” you reply between kisses.

“Seems like I should have veto rights,” he complains.

“Technically, she was my friend first.”

“Sure. But it’s different.”

Tim catches your jaw, holding your face gently in his palm to direct your eyes to his.

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “It’s different. How about the day after?”

Tim smiles, shakes his head, and kisses you.

As your choir team lines up to go on stage, you rise to your tiptoes and do a headcount. You come up two short, so you recount but get the same number.

“Who’s missing?” you ask.

“Peter couldn’t get his tie on,” one of the boys answers. “Derek stayed to help him.”

“Okay, can one of you go get them, please?” you request.

“Sure,” the same boy agrees. “As long as you’re okay with them not wearing ties?”

Your brows draw together, which is enough reason for him to add, “None of us know how to tie a tie. Our parents did ours, but Derek took his off to try to figure it out to help Peter.”

Pinching your eyes closed, you take a ragged breath. “Go get Peter and Derek, please, and I’ll try to find someone who can help them out. We’ve only got five minutes.”

He straightens and salutes you before running toward the bathrooms behind the stage. Shaking your head, you smile at their antics. They’re good kids, a better choir team, and you’re incredibly proud of them for all they’ve done.

“What about your dad?” the girl standing closest to you suggests. “You said he was coming.”

A memory of your dad tying a bow tie like a 5-year-old's last-minute gift wrap flashes in your mind before you draw your lower lip between your teeth and think. The answer comes as quickly as the memory: Tim Bradford. He doesn’t answer his phone, though.

Tim is tuning Lucy out as the crowd of law enforcement officers and their families find seats. The charity show is a highlight for many people, and the department always gets an astounding amount of donations from the live broadcast. As Lucy talks about the prospect of a station-wide talent show – or something like that, Tim thinks – he wonders about you. You were nervous before your kids competed, but he doesn’t know if a charity show is any less nerve-wracking for you or your team. He’s learned how to calm you down during the months you’ve been friends and found a few new methods in the weeks you’ve been more.

When his phone vibrates, your name and picture illuminating the screen, he stands. Lucy stops talking and asks what’s wrong, but Tim steps past her wordlessly and exits the large auditorium. He finds you in less than ninety seconds, relieved to see you smiling at one of your students.

Approaching you, Tim clears his throat to draw your attention. “You called?”

The teenage girls beside you fall silent, their eyes widening and lips parting at the sight of Tim Bradford in a suit. You take him in, dropping your eyes to his shoes before dragging your gaze back up to his face. His hidden smile tells you he appreciates your reaction to the view.

“Did you put on your tie?” you question suddenly, remembering why you called him. “Can you tie one?”

“Yes,” he answers carefully. “Why?”

“Your saviour returns!”

You release a deep sigh as three boys return to the lines, one wearing a tie properly and the others clinching the black fabric between their fingers.

“I got it,” Tim assures you, pressing his hand between your shoulder blades. “Relax.”

Nodding, you do just that. Tim can feel the tension in your back release before he steps away and introduces himself to Peter and Derek. They shake his hand, and you watch as Tim bends slightly at his waist and explains what he’s doing, allowing Peter to watch him tie Derek’s and Derek to watch the process on Peter. They thank him, offering a fist bump that Tim takes in stride. When he’s finished, he returns to your side, his eyes bouncing between yours as he ensures you’re good.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Thank you!” your entire team calls together.

Tim smiles and waves at them, chuckling as they applaud him while he walks back toward the auditorium. Your laughter-filled demand to focus is the last thing he hears before he returns to his seat, and he remembers it rather than indulging Lucy’s questions.

Three hesitant knocks distract you from the sheet music spread before you. Pulling a sticky note from a nearby pad, you mark your place before moving toward the door. As you pull it open, you see Tim leaning against the door jamb with heavy eyelids and a small, close-lipped smile.

You don’t speak as you open the door wider and invite him in. Tim waits until you’ve closed the door to perch on the back of your couch and open his arms to you. Not questioning or hesitating, you step into his hold and wrap your arms firmly around his waist. His heart beats beneath your cheek as his hands wander your back, grounding himself as his breaths slow. When he leans heavier against you, you grunt and tap his back.

“You’re fine,” he says into your hair. “I’ll get up in a second.”

You smile, trusting him. As promised, he stands a few moments later, keeping you close.

“Can I get you anything?” you offer, tipping your chin to look at him.

“No,” he murmurs. “Thank you. I just- I’m just tired. Last time I slept, I had nightmares.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tim shrugs. They’re normal now, but they’ve gotten fewer and farther between over the past few years. Dreaming of losing you, however, might be the worst he’s ever had.

“What are you doing?” Tim asks, dropping his hands to your hips as he surveys the music on your table.

“Prepping for semi-finals and finals,” you answer. “It’s not a guarantee, but we need to be ready either way.”

“Anything I could help with?”

Smiling, you counter, “I think you might be too tired.”

“I’m good,” Tim assures you.

“Then… I could use a distraction, something worth taking a break for,” you whisper.

Tim hums. “Well, I could make dinner.” He lays his hand on your shoulder, then trails it up to hold the back of your neck. “Or we could try something else?”

Your nod isn’t enough. Tim waits until you request, “Kiss me,” to move forward. He has this down to a science, you think as he angles his face to align perfectly with yours, like two puzzle pieces made to fit together and only together. While he holds your jaw, you slide your hands from his waist up to his chest, leaning closer to him with every second.

A sudden knock on your door startles you, but you don’t immediately pull away from Tim. He smiles into the kiss and steps back, prepared to open the door for you.

“I can see your car!” your dad yells from the porch.

Your eyes widen as you look between Tim and the door. He snatches his phone off the couch before tugging your shirt back into its rightful place.

“I have a backdoor, but you’d have to jump the fence,” you say. “He won’t stay long, though.”

“What do you want me to do?” Tim whispers, lifting his arms. “And don’t say meet Smitty as your father, I don’t have the energy for that right now.”

Hiding your smile, you nod in agreement. “Bedroom it is,” you decide, pushing Tim toward the hallway.

“Moving fast aren’t we?” Tim jokes. “When I said we could break some more rules, I didn’t-“

You cut him off by closing the door behind him. As you return to the front door, you glance in the bathroom mirror to ensure your hair looks okay. Your dad knocks again, likely getting worried, so you hurry to the door and pull it open with an easy smile.

“Sorry,” you begin, “I was looking at music.”

“I’m aware of your inability to multi-task when it comes to melodies,” he replies, pulling you into a quick hug.

“I’m actually working on harmonies.”

“Tomato, potato.”

“You alright?” you inquire. “You don’t stop by much these days.”

“I wanted to see you after the show, but you were busy rubbing elbows and then you were gone,” your dad explains.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you say as you sit beside him, “a friend wanted to take me out to dinner, and I couldn’t find you in the crowd. It was hectic.”

“Well, you and the kids did a great job.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“We haven’t gotten dinner in a few weeks,” he remembers, “what about tonight?”

“I really need to finish this prep,” you answer. “What about tomorrow?”

He checks the date on his watch, then nods. “I- I’m glad you found some people to hang out with. Anyone special?”

“Are you asking if I’m seeing anyone?” you translate.

“Hey, I’m just making conversation, dear, sweet daughter,” he defends, lifting his hands in surrender. “But the offer-“

“I might be,” you interrupt. “I’m not sure where it’s going yet.”

“I’m happy for you,” your dad says. “And I’ll let you get back to work. Meet you at the station tomorrow or pick you up here?”

“I can meet you there. I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too. And tell your new friend your dad is a cop before he can get any ideas.”

“I’ll do that,” you agree.

You wave as your dad pulls away, then close the door and sigh. Walking back to your bedroom, you begin to wonder if you left anything out and fail to remember if you even made your bed this morning. Tim has been quiet, but he had to have heard your dad leave. Without knocking, you push the door open.

“What are you doing?” you ask when you see Tim sitting at the end of your – made, thankfully - bed with something in his hands.

“You’re adorable,” he says, showing you the picture of you and your dad at your last high school choir show.

“Shut up,” you beg, taking the picture and laying it face down on the shelf he took it from.

“Hey, you’re the one that invited me into your bedroom,” he defends.

“That joke isn’t going to stop anytime soon is it?” Tim smiles, so you sigh and remind him, “I’ve broken a lot of rules for you. Don’t push me.”

Tim nods with faux seriousness before he reaches out, grabs your waist, and pulls you down onto the bed with him. Propped up on his elbow, he looks down at you like he never wants to see anything else.

“We were doing something before we were interrupted, right?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He leans forward like he’s going to kiss you, then stands and says, “Dinner.”

“Never should have brought you in here,” you grumble as he pulls you to your feet.

“Guys!” you call. “Focus!”

It works for a second; the team quiets and watches you, then one person laughs, and the room descends into chaos once more. You chuckle then, unable to remember what made everyone laugh in the first place. Regionals are a week away, so you can stand to give them a bit of a break. You would have loved one in high school.

While you scroll through your phone to find a fun song for them to sing as a break in routine, Lucy calls. You swallow the anxiety you always feel when a cop calls you unexpectedly and then answer the phone.

The room silences after Lucy speaks. Her rushed explanation, “Something happened during a call; your dad and Tim are in the hospital,” makes your face drop, and when the kids standing before you see the fear in your expression, they silence.

“How bad?” you whisper, gripping the edge of your desk.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “They were both injured and transported via ambulance. The watch commander and I are waiting for the doctor to come give us an update. I just wanted to let you know.”

“I’m on my way.”

You hang up, trying to remember everything you need to say and do before you leave.

“I texted my mom,” one of the students – Eliza, you think but can’t be sure – says. “She’s here, so she can stay with us until everyone’s parents get here.”

On cue, her mother walks into the room and lays her hand on your shoulder. You nod, then exit the room. Your team calls after you, sending well wishes and promising to keep practicing. Your mind is racing with thoughts of the worst-case scenario.

The drive to the hospital is strange; you’re focused but distant at the same time. It feels like three seconds and three days, but you enter the emergency room and see Lucy and another cop lingering by a door.

Lucy rushes to you, pulls you into a hug, and says, “They’re fine. You can go see them, but…”

“But what?” you press.

“They’re in the same room.”

You release a sigh. If that’s the worst news, then they must really be okay. Tim and your dad are both important to you, and you need to see them. It’s as good a time as any to let your father know about your broken rule, you decide as you knock on their shared door and step inside.

Tim sees you first, his eyes brightening as he inhales deeply. Your dad is on a bed to Tim’s left, looking worse for the wear. One eye is bruised and swollen, a bandage lines his collarbone beneath his hospital gown, and his knuckles are red. Looking back at Tim, you’re unsurprised when he tips his head, telling you to visit your dad rather than worrying about him.

“Hey, Dad,” you greet quietly as you approach his less-bruised side.

“Hi,” he replies. “Looks pretty cool, huh? Bruce Willis couldn’t have come out this unscathed.”

Tim rolls his eyes, but you smile. Your dad can be dim sometimes, but it’s who he is. Right now, you’re glad to hear anything he says, no matter how strange it may be.

“We’re going to have to reschedule dinner,” he adds.

“Yeah, that’s okay,” you reply. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks to Bradford.”

You look across the room then, meeting Tim’s eyes.

“We got a call, standard, nothing out of the ordinary,” Tim explains. “Turns out, it was an ambush. I managed to get the guys off Smitty, but it wasn’t pretty.”

“Thank you,” you tell him. “Are you alright?”

“Bradford is pure steel, I think,” your dad interrupts. “A shot to the vest and he didn’t even go down.”

You freeze at the realization that Tim was shot. Desperate to go to his side, hug him, feel him alive and loving in your arms, you weigh your options.

“Dad,” you begin, “Tim-“

“Isn’t Superman,” Tim interrupts, shaking his head at you. He doesn’t want you to tell your dad yet, but you don’t know why. “I’ve been trying to tell him that.”

Unseen to you, Tim’s mind is overthinking so hard it’s giving him a dull ache behind his eyes. If you told your dad you broke your rule and started dating a cop – one from his station, no less – would it be enough? You were scared to be with a cop because of the risk, the fear, the stress, and everything that loving a cop requires. This will be enough to make you regret it, a voice in his mind says, and you’re going to leave.

For you, however, nothing has changed since you first told him you wanted to try. Losing him is going to hurt regardless of whether he’s taken from you or you leave voluntarily, so you deserve to be happy, to have him by your side when you’re happy, scared, elated, in love, and everything in between.

“Hey,” Lucy says from the doorway. “Smitty, your doctor cleared a trip to the cafeteria, if you’re up for it?”

“Free food?” he questions excitedly. “Best part of the hospital as far as I’m concerned.”

Lucy smiles at you as your dad is helped into a wheelchair. You squeeze his hand and tell him to have fun, which he promises to do.

“Tim,” you sigh after the door closes, walking to the side of his bed.

“It’s okay,” he says, nodding as he avoids your eyes. “I get it.”

Furrowing your brows, you slow and question, “Get what?”

“This is why you didn’t want to be with a cop. I understand that it can be too much, that you don’t deserve it. I won’t blame you for leaving, and I won’t make it awkward with Lucy.”

Your jaw drops as you reach his bed. Despite the shock at what Tim just said, you take his hand. A bandage wrapped tightly around his chest and shoulder is visible, and you drag your finger across the skin of his chest without thinking.

“Are you alright?” you whisper.

“I’m fine,” he answers tightly. “A piece of buckshot grazed my shoulder. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Tim doesn’t reply, opting to stare past your shoulder.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” you say. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Of course not. I just…”

“You assumed I’d leave when it got hard? This isn’t a Hallmark movie, Tim, there is no second act breakup for a grand reconciliation. I meant what I said before: I want you. Losing you is my greatest fear, so why would I walk away from you? After everything it’s taken to get here?”

Tim visibly relaxes, sinking into the pillow behind him as he interlaces his fingers with yours and tugs you closer.

“I love you,” he says, blinking slowly. “You don’t have to say it back yet.”

“I love you,” you promise. “And breaking that rule is the best thing I’ve ever done; don’t ever doubt that or second guess if I mean what I say. You’ve healed so many jagged edges I didn’t even realize I had, Tim, and we’re going to keep growing together, alright?”

“Alright,” Tim agrees, nodding. “Whatever you say, honey.”

You laugh, blinking away the tears clouding your eyes as you lean against the side rail of his bed. “Could I interest you in a song?”

“Do you have to ask?” he counters.

“Tim?”

He blinks his eyes open again and hums.

“If you ever mention me leaving you again, I will punch you, buckshot or not.”

Tim smiles. “Yeah, I’m okay with that.”

He moves over carefully, inviting you to sit on the bed with him. Before your song is over, he’s asleep. You trace your fingers along his knuckles, reiterating your promise.

You barely manage to slide off the bed and take a seat across the room before your dad returns with three trays stacked high with food. As you talk to him, you’re distantly aware of how Tim invited you into his bed. Now, two can play his teasing game, you think, and there are no rules.

#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x y/n #fem!reader #requests #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc

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cumikering · 6 months ago

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Gym bro Soap x reader 3 (end)

3.7k | fluff You never had to ask again (part 1)

It was close to three months before you saw each other again.

Johnny was on the incline bench with his weights when you called his name. He froze. Nobody needed to know that soft voice still made him weak.

“H- Hi.” He turned to you, placing his dumbbells on the ground before searching your eyes. “I hope you’ve been alright.”

It felt forever ago, since the last time he saw your smile or heard you laugh at his lame jokes, since the last time you made tea at his. It had been forever since you wounded his heart.

“I have. I hope you are too.” Your gaze dropped to your feet.

“Aye. I’m fantastic, of course.”

“Right. Um- well, I didn’t mean to disturb.” You took a step back. “Sorry, I’ll leave you to it.”

You walked away before he could protest. He took a beat before picking his weights back up, surprised by the wave of emotions that rushed back from the innocent exchange.

He wasn’t facing the door so you could have walked out if you wanted to avoid him, but you went out of your way to greet him. Were you trying to be friendly? Why was it only a hello before you rushed away? Did you change your mind?

It was stupid, but he would be lying if he said he’d stopped thinking about you, let alone missing you. He wondered about how you were doing, about work and your fitness progress. How had you been shopping without him driving you? It was too far of a walk to carry your groceries.

But you must have already found someone. Any man would want you, and would claim you as his you as soon as he could – the way Johnny never had the balls to. He should have spat out the flickering hope out of his mouth and extinguish it under his heavy boot, so why was he walking over to you on the elliptical after he finished his set?

“I was wondering if ye’d like to get dinner? Just to catch up a bit?”

You should tell him he was insane, and break his heart once and for all. Maybe then he could finally let go.

But you smiled so gratefully at him instead. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

Did he hear you right? He wasn’t helping himself, but he was a hurting man with a hole in the shape of you in his chest.

You spotted each other. It unwedged something from his chest, like a dead clock finally moving its rusted hands once more. Working out alone could never compare, and the satisfied smile on your face after each set still made him swell with pride.

Half an hour after the session, Johnny knocked on your door before strolling to the nearby kebab shop. He willed himself to not get ahead of himself, for his heart to stop fluttering as he pondered what the dinner meant – the dinner that hadn’t happened yet.

“Have you got a deployment coming up?” You glanced at him.

“Not yet. I just came back last week, was away fer almost a month.”

“And you’re alright? Not hurt?”

“Bruises here an’ there, but nothing time can’t fix.” He clasped a hand over his chest.

“You got a new haircut,” you noted, nodding at his hair.

“Och, aye.” He ruffled his short hair with a chuckle. “I… I needed the change. Somethin’ easier t’maintain.”

He used to enjoy standing out with his mohawk, but if you weren’t looking, it didn’t matter. He only wanted your attention.

“The beard too?”

He’d forgotten he’d let his stubble grow out. Was it ugly?

He rubbed a self-conscious hand down the side of his face. “Just tryin’ things out. Not sure I’ll keep it.”

“You look different, but I like it.”

He averted his gaze from your reassuring smile and continued his steps.

He let you split the bill that night, already thankful you said yes to dinner. At the table in the far corner, you popped open your meal.

”Erm- I finished the papercraft. I messed up a few times and had to paint over some parts so it took forever.”

“I hope you like how it turned out.”

“I do. It’s real pretty. I can take a photo fer ye.”

“I’d like that.”

That smile made his stomach flip again so he shoved another bite into his mouth. What kind of voodoo hold did you have on him? Someone please smack Johnny across the face, because how dare he fantasise that this was another Friday night date with his missus when before this, you hadn’t even spoken for over two months.

He cleared his throat. “Hav’ ye been? To Edinburg Castle?”

“No, which is weird come to think of it.” You laughed. “I love castles and Scotland isn’t even that far.”

“How so?”

“Oh, I guess I just never had a reason to go.”

“Well, it’s beautiful this time of year. Maybe my maw’s stew can be it,” he pretended to tease. Pretended, because how mad would you be if you knew he meant it?

You let out a small laugh as you held his gaze. “Maybe.”

Did you miss me too? The words threaten to claw up his throat and he forced them down with another sip of his drink.

You probably only spoke to him because it’d been long enough, thinking he’d have moved on. You wouldn’t think he was pathetic if you knew the truth, would you? That he was close to tears from how much his bones hopelessly ached for this, and how natural it was to be with you even after the void.

After the meal, he dawdled. Would time sit down and catch its breath? It didn’t have to hurry, really. His chest had just stopped bleeding, and he wanted to be here a little longer before it poured again.

He told himself to not think that maybe you lingered too. That you leaned back with that shy smile and toyed with the straw of your empty cup, pretty lashes flicking as your gaze went between his eyes and the floor… Like looking into his eyes too long would shift the stars and make you change your mind.

He didn’t mind at all.

Alas, the shop had to close. Johnny let out a resigned sigh as he pushed the glass door open of you, accepting that the magic would vaporise with your exit. At least he’d had another taste – his last. Maybe it would be easier now. Maybe in a few more months, it didn’t have to hurt anymore.

He dragged his feet to yours, bracing for the finality of the goodbye. His chest had started to ache again. The way you looked at him with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes – was that sympathy? Like an unspoken agreement that this was a bad idea all along, like this was only dragging the pain on.

Still, to him, it was not one to regret.

But the doormat squelched when you stepped onto it.

“Erm- hen?” He pointed at the puddle seeping from under your door.

You gasped and promptly unlocked your door, only to discover your flat pooled in an inch of water.

He hurried to the bathroom, learning that a trickle of clear water poured from the ceiling. “Shit, I think yer neighbour’s got a burst pipe or somethin’.”

“Oh, no, no no…” You ran a hand over your face. “I can’t afford the repairs.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders, eyes trained on yours. “Hey, it’s not yer fault. Call the landlord.”

Meanwhile, Johnny got your belongings off the floor. Thankfully, the water hadn’t ruined anything apart from the carpeted floors.

Your landlord lived a few floors down and promptly inspected the flat above yours. Your neighbour wasn’t home, but his sink’s pipe had burst and flooded his place too. The landlord assured you that the building was insured and that you didn’t have to pay for damages. If any, you were covered for yours.

She moved you to another flat, a bigger one for the same price, for how bad she felt. However, it was freshly renovated so it needed a major clean and some furniture hadn’t been moved back in yet.

You figured you could spend another night in your soggy flat, but Johnny insisted it couldn’t have been good for you, especially not in the weather. He promised to help you move the day after.

He could tell you wanted to say no, but the exhaustion gripping your shoulders made you pack your necessities for the night without a fight. When you said you’d take the couch, he firmly told you to take the bed. How could he let you have anything less than the best? It was the least he could do in such a misfortune.

While you cleaned yourself up, he hurried to tidy his room and change his sheets. Later when he emerged with a bundle of dirty sheets and shirts he’d picked up off the floor, you were at the kitchen counter, your back to him.

“Sorry fer the mess, but the room is good t’go now.”

You turned with a smile. “Thanks, Johnny, really. Here, I made you tea.” When you placed his mug on the table, you paused, gaze fixed on it.

When he realised what you’d seen, he sprinted to the dining table where he’d been sketching that afternoon. He didn’t plan on meeting you today, let alone have you in his flat.

“Aw, no, no- fuck.” He scurried to shut his sketchbook, clutching it to his chest with hot cheeks. He looked up at you, a stunned or perhaps even pained expression across your face. “I- I swear it’s nothin’ weird! I can throw em’ out-”

“Who’s that?”

“What?” he said incredulously.

“Who’s that, that you drew? Is she…” Your eyes darted to the ground before you continued in a small voice, “Are you seeing her?”

He blinked. Did you think it was someone else?

“I fockin’ wish I was!” He tilted the sketch he was working on towards you, the one where he was supposedly cupping your smiling face, mindless doodles of hearts piled in the corner of the page. “It’s you!”

“No, I don’t look like that… It’s not me.”

“Did ye just insult my drawing prowess?”

He flipped back to a page of smaller sketches from your last dinner. It was the night his lovelorn mind kept drifting off too, the only time you dressed up for him, the closest he had been to having you.

He did a full body sketch of your outfit. Next to it, you at the table across him with the prettiest smile. He drew each dish, even the one you didn’t like, as he didn’t want to forget a thing from that perfect moment.

“She’s beautiful,” you muttered, eyes softening as you took in the illustration.

“Because you are. I love looking at you. I love drawing you,” he confessed. “But I guess yer too busy avoiding me to care.”

Your eyes met his blue ones as your shoulders sagged. “Johnny…”

“M’ sorry. I wasn’t trying to make ye feel bad.” He closed his book again with a sigh. “But if I’m honest, it hurts. A lot. But at least yer not leading me on, so I’m just… trying to forget.” He chuckled humourlessly as he shook his head. “It’s stupid how I can’t stop liking ye.”

“You like me?” you repeated.

His brows furrowed. “Isn’t that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“No! Oh God-“ You held your hand over your mouth. “I was… I started liking you too much and I had to stop before it was too late, because you don’t like me like that.”

“Me? I don’t like ye!?” He pointed at himself. “Who the fuck said that?”

“Well, no one, but-“

“I can say with certainty ah’ve never not liked ye.”

You paused before your gaze shifted to the mug in your hand. “I didn’t think it would matter to you.“

“Of course it matters, hen.” He rounded the table and placed his hand over yours, lowering the mug onto the table. “It hurts, losing ye like tha’.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny. I didn’t mean to,” you mumbled.

“So do ye still like me or not? Because I like you a lot.”

You couldn’t meet his baby blues, but you gave a small nod as you supressed a smile.

He set the sketchbook down, a grin forming on his lips. “Will you finally let me hug you now?”

You reached out for his hand, your touch feather-light as you stepped in. He wrapped his arms around you with a content sigh. You felt better than what he’d always imagined – softer, warmer. He didn’t let go for a few moments as he smiled to himself, still not believing his mind-boggling luck that you liked him.

With his lungs full of your scent, he pulled away to cup your smiling face, just like in his last sketch. It was perfect in his rough hand. Was he allowed to touch something so beautiful with it?

He didn’t expect you to lean in as your eyes locked with his, but it was second nature to pull you closer. Your lips against his made his knees tremble. When your hot tongue swiped across his lower lip, goosebumps broke out on his arms. You lit him up with a zap up his spine.

His lips parted as he let out a noise, something between a gasp and a moan. Another pathetic whimper escaped him when his tongue swirled with yours. He could only hold onto you tighter as he melted against you.

This was how it was supposed to be like all along.

When he pulled away, he couldn’t help but bring his fingertips to his wet lips. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Was tha’ real or am I dreamin’?”

“Kiss me again, Johnny,” you said breathlessly, cupping his bearded jaw.

“You never have to ask again.”

Johnny didn’t think it would ever come to this, but you and him became the gym couple.

“Can I get a kiss for every sit-up, hen?”

“Bon, let’s make out between sets.”

“Do ye want to see how many times I can hip-thrust yer weight, love?”

You’d giggle, swatting his arm as he gave you a smug grin. But you were the one he pressed up against the far wall of the deserted gym, your hips squirming against his.

“So glad there’s no cameras here,” he muttered between kisses.

“I still would prefer no possibility of someone walking in.”

“Everyone knows not to walk in when we’re here.”

It was true. People didn’t take long to learn to give you space, lest the muscular Scot stared them down. That, and he imagined it was rather awkward to witness him smack your butt not-so discreetly.

You laughed against his lips, pinching his ass lightly.

“Ye know I like it when ye do that harder, bon.”

He should start wearing oversized shirts that hung past his groin again. He didn’t need a compression shirt anymore when he could rip his shirt off anytime to tempt you now that you were his - in the privacy of his or your flat of course.

Before his next deployment, Johnny gave you his key and let you drive his car in case you needed it. When he came back two weeks later, you greeted him with a new papercraft kit. He didn’t have enough time to thank you because he dove right into your lips. Did you have any idea how much he missed you?

Spending time at his sketching or crafting became a nightly routine as you joked and chatted about the day.

Across him, you hunched, laser-focused on attaching the conical roof to one of the castle towers with a pair of tweezers. The way you furrowed your brows in concentration always made him smile.

“Hen,” he said again, finally gaining your attention as you looked up at him. “I said I can take a leave next month.”

“Oh, how long? Have you got anything planned?”

“I wantae take ye t’see the real thing.” He nodded at the half-built Glamis castle in the middle of the table.

The smile bloomed on your lips. “Are you serious?”

“Aye, of course.”

“That would be wonderful.”

He shifted his attention to the piece of paper in his hand. “Ye know, I could- if you want to see my home, meet the rest of my family… Maybe have my maw’s stew.” When you didn’t respond, his eyes flicked up to your warm ones.

“I’d love to, Johnny,” you muttered.

He gave you a relieved smile and you continued the activity until you called it a day. You washed the tea set as he put away the papercraft.

He watched you for a moment, your back to him at the sink wearing one of his shirts. It was a familiar sight, you in his flat. It was silly, but even after hours of being with you, he grew clingy when it inched closer to bedtime on weekdays as it meant you had to go back to yours.

While he was grateful for each night spent in each other’s arms, it was never enough. These walls had never been this much like home before you. It was your home too, wasn’t it?

He shouldn’t have asked. He didn’t want to scare you or make you uncomfortable, but his heart belonged to you. How could he not be honest?

“Love,” he placed a gentle hand on your hip. “Would you consider moving in with me? It doesn’t have to be anytime soon, but later on. In the future, whenever you want to.”

You turned to him with a teasing smile. “You sure you won’t get sick of me?”

“Never, bon,” he said under his breath. “I’ll take care of rent, and you can use the savings to take that course you always wanted.”

You held his gaze for another beat. “I’ll only consider if we split rent.”

“In that case, I’ll just have to find more ways to spoil you.”

He planted a kiss on your forehead, making you smile. He’d make sure you’d never think of him as anything less than the best boyfriend.

Johnny couldn’t stop bouncing as you boarded the train to Scotland. He hadn’t been able to wipe that grin off his face either.

“I’m so excited, bon.” He gripped your hand with two of his, holding it against his chest as his eyes sparkled. “My maw’s going to love ye.”

Under the clear blue skies, the city tapered into a line as the train bolted through vast grasslands.

You turned to him with a small laugh. “Why are you saying that as if I don’t know her, like she hasn’t been giving us cooking lessons on video call?”

“Ah, well, that’s true.” He shrugged. “But she’s gonnae love ye even more. And my niece and nephews.”

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

“They grow so fast, some could only sit on my lap last year. Don’t know if they still can this time.”

“What if I also want to sit on your lap?”

He grinned. “There’s always space for ye between my legs.”

Johnny took you to his nan’s to meet his extended family, which included his niece and nephews who were devastated that their favourite uncle didn’t have a mohawk anymore. Looking at the dejection in their little cute faces, of course he promised he would return with it next time.

His mum and aunts gushed over how sweet you were together. His cousins included you in the conversation, asking about your itinerary in Scotland and recommending spots to check out. Of course they’d also asked how you two met. They weren’t surprised you found the rat in the gym.

After lunch, the energised kids took Johnny and you by the hand to the backyard to play. Because he’d been bench pressing you, he could swing the kids around as they latched onto his arms and legs, shrieking in glee. The others formed a line for their turn with a giggle while you gave his niece a piggyback ride.

Before heading back home, Johnny gave you a tour of the town. It was quiet, but he showed you his schools, the hip places he and his friends frequented as teens and the football field he used to play on. Lastly, he drove past his first ever gym - the one that started it all.

“Tha’ fine summer day when I was 15th, I decided I needed t’carry all my maw’s shoppin’ in a go,” he lamented in front of the small building. “Mr. Russel’s the owner. He was always so nice, gave me free protein shake every Saturday. He was so proud when SAS accepted me.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Wha’?”

“I know you’ve been itching to lift. Come on.” You climbed out of the car.

He followed with a grin. Perpetually dressed in athleisure clothing had its perks. “This is why I love ye, hen.”

Mr. Russell was scribbling behind the desk when the door swung open.

“Hiya, welcome-“ His face lit up when he saw the sergeant. “Johnny!”

“Good t’see ya, Mr. Russell.”

The middle-aged man patted his shoulder firmly, looking him over with pride. “Looking huge, pal. Are you following a new split?”

“Ta, mate, but it’s the same as always.” He grinned. “Giza day pass, would ye?”

“Don’t be daft, Mactavish! Yer free t’walk in whenever.” He swatted his hand and turned to you. “An’ who’s the lady?”

“Och, sorry, this is m’friend.“ He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and shot you a teasing smile.

You frowned, but immediately recovered with a smile. “We’re super best friends actually, and flatmates. Nice to meet you.”

He laughed, his thumb rubbing your shoulder. “No, she’s ma pretty burd. We’re staying fer the weekend.”

“Hope ye enjoy yer stay, miss.” Mr. Russell chuckled along. “Go ahead then. Have a good session ye two!”

Past the turnstile gate, your hand slipped down to pinch his butt making him jump.

Yeah, he should stop teasing you in public, or at least wear baggy shirts when he did it.

Masterlist

Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :D I'm grateful for the support this fic has got, always enjoy writing for you guys. Hope to see you around again. Take care!

@tiredmetalenthusiast @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @marvelssssssss @mydaiilyescape @teranyaa

@noicedog @wannabhere @devcica @loveergirll @vmaxis

@dind1n @wh0s-ra3 @trashitytrashitytrash @winnieb00 @izzybmep

@kukavittu @toeeekneeee @rip-cod-brainrot @asbestos-n-asbesties @sinelity

@two-autumns @partyrockingbeanwater @eve-lie @kelseyms-world @anacod

@lovebookbunny @sil-ver-shadow @illegirljoonie @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen

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itostea · 2 years ago

Text

rings (gojo x wife! reader)

in which you want your arranged husband to finally give you a ring

warnings: arranged marriage au (part of the gojo's wife series), gojo calls you his wife, suggestive bc gojo is a menace, reader lowkey downbad, i'm back after 4(?) months oops & lmk if i’m missing anyone for the tag list

There’s a gentle breeze that escapes from the open windows of the cafe you sit in, the quiet chatter blending in with the bossa nova jazz that plays from the speakers. Only a few people reside in the building–some of which include students, friend groups, or strangers just hoping for a nice cup of coffee.

Your eyes flit to Utahime using a straw to make circles in her drink. She was the one who recommended this cafe, referring to it as an “underground” location–a phrase that you would’ve not expected her to use. Correctly at that.

“How are you doing with that idiot,” your other friend, Shoko asks. “Do you guys still sleep in separate rooms?”

You watch her reach for a cigarette and frown, your hand slapping hers lightly. “There's a ‘no smoking policy’ here. And to answer your question, no we’re not. We’ve been sleeping in the same room for a little over a month now.”

“On the same bed?”

“Yes?”

“And that’s it?” She drawls, arching an elegant brow as she puts her box of cigarettes away–taking another sip of her black coffee. “Nothing else? You know, like clothes gone, french kissing–”

“Yes that’s it! Keep it down here,” you hiss, shooting another glare at Utahime who stifles a laugh by pretending to drink her tea.

Shoko rolls her eyes, taking another sip of her coffee–this time narrowing her eyes at you. “So why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Yes you are,” she retorts and you frown when you hear Utahime agree. They’ve always been so sharp. “Something’s bothering you so tell us.”

You purse your lips, gripping your cup a bit tighter as you heave a sigh. You’re avoiding their gazes, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s stupid.”

“We’re not gonna judge you,” Utahime gives you a reassuring smile, nudging Shoko who tries to take out her cigarette box again.

“Okay,” you start. ��Something feels like it’s missing. Not that it’s ‘Toru–”

“You call him ‘Toru?” Shoko laughs quietly, rolling her eyes when you narrow your eyes at her. She sighs. “Continue.”

“There's nothing wrong with ‘Toru and I feel like I’m expecting something from him. We’re making progress with the whole husband and wife thing but I guess I just want,” you pause. “I guess I’m just wondering when he’s gonna give me a ring…”

They both blink at you, with Utahime making a sound with her throat. “There’s no way that idiot’s that stupid.”

“But that makes sense. The wedding just happened on paper since the elders wanted Gojo to get married quickly,” Shoko adds. “So? What are you gonna do? Drop hints?”

“That’s not really my way of doing things…”

Shoko rolls her eyes for the nth time, frowning at the lack of coffee in her cup. “Things would be a lot easier between you two if you just communicated,” she says, holding a hand up when you’re about to respond. “But I say give him some time. Gojo might be a lot sharper than he lets on.”

You replay your friend’s words in your head as you dice the carrots mindlessly–throwing them in a bowl with chopped up potatoes. Ever since Gojo told you that he hardly has any time to cook with the sudden rise of curses, you’ve been wanting to surprise him with a home cooked meal: curry rice. After all, you were finally granted some leisure time after a mission so you were more than happy to set up a surprise.

Not that it was much of a surprise since he was home earlier than usual–not that you were mad since it was rare for him to arrive home just a little after you did. You perk up, catching a glimpse of his boyish grin that seems to spread across his face. “Oh? What’s this?”

You clear your throat, feeling a bit bashful at how pretty his smile was. “I’m making dinner for us since we haven’t been able to have a home cooked meal in a while.”

“Well, aren't I a lucky guy?” He ruffles your hair as if it were a habit of his, his eyes as soft as his voice the moment he leans down. “You mind if I take a shower first? I promise it’ll be quick.”

“Your shower’s are never quick,” you comment, giggling at how he acts as if he’s been caught. As he leaves, you feel yourself getting giddy at how wide his grin had been when he saw you. You wonder if he always looked at you like that and you have to mentally calm yourself down by reminding yourself to not get too excited.

By the time you set the plates down, you already hear the padding of his feet against the marble floor. He’s dressed comfortably in a pair of sweats and a pullover, sitting in front of you. He smiles again, murmuring a low “hello” as if somewhat shy.

You smile in return, observing him as he takes a bite of the food you made. Your heart stops for a few seconds, gauging his expression for any sign of disgust–feeling it explode in your chest when he eats it like a starved man. “Is it good?”

“So good,” he answers without hesitation, flashing another grin at you–the same grin that makes you feel warm inside. “My wife’s so talented.”

“It’s just curry rice,” you respond, feeling a bit sheepish at how easily he sings praises to you. You realize you’ve been watching him eat for a little over than a minute, your hands reaching to the utensils to try your own food.

The conversation takes off naturally. He’s asking about your day at work and you do the same; he teases you and you shoot another remark at him. It’s all good-natured until he pauses, looking a little hesitant. “Listen (Name),” his voice is lower, nervous. “I know I should've done this before but it really didn’t cross my mind…”

Your reaction is instantaneous as much as you try to hide it. The ring. Was he going to give you one? Your eyes flit to his furrowed brows and the way he pokes the inside of his cheek. If he’s this nervous, then it should be pertaining to a ring right? You’re already answering before he can finish. “Yes.”

He blinks, peering directly at you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, your smile wide as you lean a bit closer to the table.

He breaks out in a large smile, breathing a sigh of relief. “Wow I didn’t know you liked Netflix so much.”

All of a sudden, the delusions you’ve been building up topple like dominos. Your voice’s stuck in your throat as a wave of bemusement hits you. “Huh?”

“I was gonna give you my Netflix account! I completely forgot to give you it for a while and the kids have been on my ass about it.”

“Y-Your Netflix account?” You murmur in disbelief, wondering if sharing a Netflix account was a golden rule couples had to obey.

It was Gojo’s turn to be confused, his pretty blues blinking at you. “That’s what we’re talking about right?”

Disappointment drenches you from top to bottom but you quickly mask it with an easy going smile. “Yeah! I love Netflix…”

You breathe a sigh of relief, mentally applauding yourself for not mentioning anything about a ring. You take another bite of your food, not noticing the way Gojo looks at you–gulping as if hiding a secret of his own.

“I want to give you something,” your husband’s voice is gentle, velvety as he pulls you towards the couch.

He smells good, you think to yourself–earthy and fresh. It’s faint yet it’s enough to make you dizzy. “Something?”

“That’s right,” he coos, grinning down at you from the couch. Again, you have that undeniable feeling of hope choking you, trying your hardest not to show your excitement as he reaches in his pocket.

Yet, instead of a small, round object, you’re faced with a card. A black card. Not a ring. Your lips part in shock as the initial disappointment becomes surprise. “I can’t take this!”

You’re left with more disbelief at how his expression seems to fall dramatically. “Why not…?”

“Because I just can’t!”

“But you’re my wife and I wanna spoil you,” he tries to reason and you have to try not to swoon how he calls you his wife even though you already know it. You clear your throat, shaking your head rapidly.

“I can’t ‘Toru–”

“Yes you can,” he huffs, his lips falling into a pout that you would’ve found funny if he didn’t just hand you his card. “Trust me on this one. You’ll make me happy if you use it. So treat yourself, alright?”

You frown, murmuring another protest and stopping when he glances at you from under his shades, his lips curling into a coy smile once he sees the guilt in your eyes–his mind piecing things together. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” He ruffles your hair once more, making your heart do another jump. “Just take it. Please?”

You think he’s doing it on purpose–the way he looks at you as if you’re a diamond among rocks. It’s hard not to say no when someone looks at you like that–harder when it’s Gojo. You sigh. “Fine. But I’m not gonna use it often.”

He grins that smile you like again, his thumb grazing your jaw. “That’s my girl.”

You avert your eyes at his binding smile, ignore how he seems to enjoy teasing you a bit too much. You sigh, ignoring the way your heart flutters all over again. And with the way he watches you, you think his stomach’s doing somersaults as well

It’s early in the morning, dark in the room you share with Gojo–the sun barely awake just as you were. There’s the sound of quiet shuffling, the spot next to your empty. It must be one of those missions, you think to yourself.

You hear him murmur a low curse at the sound of something dropping, feeling amusement at how he tries to quietly put the item back in its original place. You think of falling asleep again but your gut tells you to stay awake, still listening to his quiet pacing.

You feel how the mattress slightly dips, his cologne filling your senses–luring you to sleep. Out of sheer willpower, you try not to react as his fingers reach down to graze your cheek–try not to open your eyes to see what kind of expression he wore. You wonder if he did this every time he had a mission so early in the morning, feeling an unfamiliar feeling tug at your heart.

His voice is barely above a whisper as he leans down. “I’ll be back home by dinner today. I promise.”

Part of you debates on falling asleep and it wins, until you feel him shuffle a bit closer. And just like that, you feel cold metal slip on your finger–your ring finger. The material fits perfectly around your finger and your hand twitches as you hear him stand up to leave.

It hits you a bit later than you’d expect and you would’ve never thought realization would sound like the front door opening. You scramble out of bed, tripping on the blankets as you smile so hard it hurts.

“Toru?! Wait! Don't leave yet! Toru come back!”

And like you hoped, he looks back, the metal of a ring similar to yours greets you.

tags:

@maliamaiden, @dookiemeshibear, @icarusignite, @padsgrlly, @katiaesmeralda, @mooncleaver, @jcrml, @istanuwow, @stilinskispjo, @hjjjbb, @delulusuga, @hellogoog, @scrumdillyyumyumpurr, @wordskeeper, @rampagingroses, @demiwizardvampire145, @haikyuusimpsblog, @esmeensheep, @msunknown911, @saebeary, @mysuperrainbow, @scarletevening, @tedbunny333, @tulips-ss, @primapoppy, @realboysrdumb, @ems-tumbo, @a-cloudy-dreamy-day, @evalynanne, @kaiisers, @trisisbasic, @luna0713hunter, @arisucat, @honili, @dovahkiinsbitch, @porridgesblog, @siennahsteaparty, @dee-dreams-and-stuff, @satoruskitchenrag, @moonmalice, @junglewoos, @thisbicc, @heartsoji, @mysticmyth, @phoenixforgotten, @sillygoosegoose, @the-mad-hatress, @kairuthewriter, @batmansleftfoot

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #fluff #arranged marriage #gojo’s wife series

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sayyestoheav3nn · 6 months ago

Text

You, Again

Roman x black!oc

Warnings: fluff, angst, short mention of abortion, emotional/verbal abuse

Word Count: 3k

a/n: thanks for your patience, it really means a lot 🥹 I hope this isn't a disappointment. still working on part five of nights like this, most likely won't be posted till monday.

Sky spent hours in her room crying into her pillow. She was sick and tired of this constant fucked up routine.

Her mother’s disdain for her progressively grew worse day by day. For as long as she could remember, that woman did everything in her power to make sure she understood that her biggest mistake in life, would always be the day she chose not to abort her.

It was starting to become a nightly occurrence of her drunkenly barging into her room just to belittle and scream at her.

Her mother’s hatred for her grew immensely as the years went on, to the point where she would find absolutely any reason to take her frustrations out on her.

This included breaking any and everything she could get ahold of in Sky’s room.

Sky knew any attempt to defend herself would only make the situation ten times worse, so she just stayed quiet and accepted it.

Sky could tell she wanted a reaction out of her, which is exactly why she refused to give it.

Maybe life would have been a tad bit easier, if her sister would’ve had her back during these repetitive toxic situations she was forced into.

But no, her one and only sibling turned out to be an even more evil and vindictive bitch.

Eva was four years older than her, and it was absolutely no secret that her older sister despised her.

Sky spent many years hoping she would eventually be able to build a relationship with her big sister.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t have been more wrong.

Sky remembers that night like it was yesterday. The night where Eva went to the bathroom and her creepy boyfriend tried to make multiple passes at her.

The fact that he knew she was underaged and still chose to hit on her, disgusted Sky to another level. She quickly rejected his creepy insinuations, trying her best to ignore him.

As soon as Eva stepped out of the bathroom, Sky wasted no time in telling her exactly what happened, not giving two fucks about the fact he was still standing there.

Her boyfriend immediately interjected, saying that Sky was the one who was hitting on him, he painted a story about how she’d been making him uncomfortable for the longest of time whenever Eva wasn’t around.

She remembered the exact lies he spewed, “Baby you know how jealous she’s always been of you, don’t tell me you believe this crazy bitch! Why would I ever do that to you? Let alone in your own house!”

To her surprise Eva looked at Sky like she was fucking insane, Sky could see her sisters anger rising.

“Eva, please don’t tell me you believe him over me…” Sky’s voice cracked as tears started to form in her eyes.

Eva pushed Sky against the wall with all the force she had, causing the back of Sky’s head to slightly start bleeding.

“If you ever even think to go near him again, I’ll fucking kill you,” Eva sneered.

In that exact moment Sky whole heartedly accepted the fact that she was truly alone, with absolutely no one by her side.

And just when she had fully given up hope on continuing to live this shitty life, with her even shittier family, she met Joe.

Joe was a boy who made her whole entire world shift.

He was her new neighbor, who in a short time of getting to know, became her favorite person.

As years passed they grew even closer, she was his best friend, and he was hers.

He was truly a light in her dark world, and there wasn’t a damn thing she’d do to change that.

……….

After another night of the same bullshit fight caused by her drunken mom, Sky carefully stumbled out of her bedroom window making her way across the wet grass that was now starting to soak her fuzzy slippers. Her phone was dead, so she had no choice but to rely on the natural moonlight to illuminate the short path leading her next door.

She lightly tapped on Joe’s window, hoping not to startle him.

Shortly after, he carefully slid his window open. His eyes were low and sunken, a sleepy smile formed on his face.

“Come in.” Joe helped Sky climb in, which basically consisted of him doing all the work in picking her up.

“Shit, sorry for waking you up Joe,” she whispered.

“Sky, how many times have I told you? Never apologize for that shit,” his voice was low.

Joe knew that she had issues with her family, but Sky made sure to never tell him how bad it really was. She knew him well, his hot headed ass would confront them with no hesitation, but that would only end up making things worse for her.

If Sky’s mom found out about him, she’d forbid her from ever seeing him again.

And that’s something that Sky simply would not allow, so choosing to keep him in the dark, in her eyes was the right choice.

Joe pulled his covers back leaving Sky’s preferred side easier for her to get in.

His bedroom became a safe space for her, it was starting to become a habit for Sky to spend her nights sleeping there. For some odd reason the smell of his sheets gave her a sense of comfort, his cologne scent became soothing to her.

They both laid down on their backs, with their gazes focused on the ceiling.

Joe was always respectful, making sure he left a small space in between them.

“You wanna talk about it?” He whispered.

“Thanks, but not really,” she sighed.

Joe could hear the sadness in her tone, he knew she was holding something in, but he didn’t want to push her. He believed she’d open up when she felt comfortable enough, so he respected that.

“That’s okay….but know you can tell me anything, Sky.”

She turned her body to face him, “I’m going to tell you something, but promise me you won’t get upset,” she muttered.

Just as Joe was deep in his thoughts admiring Sky’s beauty, beauty in which he was convinced everyone saw except her, her light angelic voice instantly snapped him out of it. “Talk to me, we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be my last night sleeping here…”

Joe quickly sat up on the bed, with his eyebrows furrowed. Sky could feel his gaze locked in on her. “Why?”

“Joe I know we’re just friends and that we’ve always had boundaries, but you have a girlfriend. It…it just seems disrespectful to keep sleeping here knowing that,” she muttered.

Joe paused in silence for what felt like forever. Sky was starting to get anxious, because the last thing she needed was to cause problems or a rift between them. As regret started to seep in, she decided to try and smooth the situation over.

“It’s just—”

“We’re not together anymore,” his voice was low.

Confusion, that’s exactly what Sky was feeling. This was the last thing she was expecting him to say.

“W—Why didn’t you say anything? What happened?”

“She didn’t like me being friends with you, so she gave me an ultimatum… to choose between you or her.”

At that Sky stood up, her anxiety causing her to pace the room while so much guilt began to weigh her mind. She felt so fucking bad, knowing that her friendship ended his relationship which was the exact thing she was trying to avoid.

She swallowed down her emotions as best as she could, which worked to no prevail because she instantly felt warm tears begin to slide down her face. “Joe I-I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t….you shouldn’t have chosen me.”

Joe instinctively walked towards her now seeing that she was crying, he gently grabbed her chin forcing her gaze on his.

“Sky, there’s no reason to be sorry. It was the easiest choice I’ve ever fucking made.’’

“I—It’s my fault Joe…. I shouldn’t have put you in this situation,” she sniffled.

“Look at me,” his voice was assertive but still gentle, Sky’s glossy eyes met his.

“The ultimatum wasn’t the only reason I ended things with her, Sky.”

“Joe, w—what do you mean? I’m confused…..”

He moved some of her hair behind her ears, the way his eyes were glued to her lips gave her butterflies. “I….don’t want to just be friends anymore.”

Sky could feel her heart beating out of her fucking chest. Sure she believed they were close, but in no world did she ever think he thought of her that way. Joe carefully studied her facial expressions, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

“I—”

Before she could speak Joe interrupted. “I’ve always liked you Sky, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, inside and out. I enjoy every moment I spend with you. With that being said… I understand if you don’t feel the same way, my intention isn’t to make you uncomfortable. But, I just needed you to—

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“I want you to kiss me, Joe.”

Just as he was beginning to lean in, she slightly hesitated while slowly pulling back.

“I’ve.. I’ve never…” Sky was too embarrassed to finish her sentence.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?”

She shook her head no, her gaze now shifted to the floor.

Joe lightly brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Sky, it’s just me. I got you, I promise.”

Once she silently gave him the approval, Joe gently pressed his lips against hers, starting off slow letting her get used to the feeling. Her lips were so fucking full and soft, it was going to be a challenge for him to contain himself.

Once Joe could feel her growing comfortable, he began to deepen their kiss. Sky could feel her arousal intensify as the kiss went from soft and slow to something more needy and sensual.

Without a second thought, he picked her up by her ass, hoisting her on his hips.

Sky wrapped her legs around him, while doing the same with her arms around his neck. Joe carried her back towards his bed, laying her down gently, while pulling her closer towards him.

To his surprise Sky climbed on top, straddling and kissing him. Joe sat up with his back resting on the headboard, a light moan escaped him when she slid her fingers behind his head, lightly scratching at his scalp.

He slightly pulled away, biting down on his bottom lip, his eyes entranced by that beautiful face of hers. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.”

“Me too,” she grinned.

Time passed, and Joe had no idea how long they spent kissing. It’s almost as if time didn’t exist when she was around him.

They eventually had to stop, Joe refused to get ahead of himself, making sure to prioritize taking things slow with her.

Just as they were about to sleep, Joe got up and walked to his drawer pulling out something plastic, it was too dark for her to tell.

“Shit, I almost forgot.”

“What is it?”

Joe handed her the light plastic item. “I know you forget to bring it sometimes, so I bought you one to leave here.”

Once Sky shined her phone light on it, a smile formed on her face.

A bonnet.

Joe went out of his way to buy her a bonnet.

Something so simple, yet so fucking thoughtful made her eyes water “Thank you Joe.”

She immediately pulled it out the package, wasting no time in putting it on.

Sky kissed his cheek and laid down, Joe pulled her by her waist with his big arms wrapped around her, there was no longer a gap in between. The warmth of his chest on her back was the most comforting thing she’d ever experienced, resulting in her instantly falling asleep.

Since the day he met her, she’d been the only person he thought about. Having her this close to him, internally evoked new emotions for him.

Watching her sleep so peacefully while being wrapped in his arms, brought a smile to his face. In that very moment he made a vow to himself, to always put her happiness first.

No matter what.

…………….

Present

The New York city lights illuminated the busy streets. Sky wasn’t used to being in such a live and ambient city.

After a shit ton of convincing from her best friend Lori, Sky forced herself to step out of her comfort zone and pursue a new potential career opportunity. It’s something that she had been wanting to do for the longest time, but unfortunately her deep rooted insecurities had her convinced she wasn’t good enough.

She was scared to waste so much time and effort, just to end up receiving rejection.

Except she was wrong, very wrong. Because after an exhausting few months of traveling around the world and going to so many different try outs, life finally threw her a bone.

Sky had received a message from her agent, informing her that a well known modeling agency based in New York, was interested in flying her in for a week to attend their casting call.

This was an opportunity she was glad she didn’t miss. Lori, being the amazing friend that she is, decided to join Sky to offer her unwavering support.

After being in this colorful, fast paced city for a few days, Sky went in for one last meeting with the agency where they informed her she would officially be signed.

Sky still had the weekend left in this enormous city, so she figured she’d make the most of it. Lori, suggested they try out this new fancy bar to celebrate Sky’s new job.

As they walked in the atmosphere was relaxing, the room was filled with dim lighting and the low sounds of jazz music. Sky noticed diverse groups of people scattered across the room, the air was filled with chatter and laughter, which brought a small smile to her face.

They decided to sit at the stools of the bar, they figured the closer they were, the faster they’d receive their drinks.

To say they were having a good time would be an understatement, Sky was starting to truly enjoy the feeling of being immersed in this vibrant city.

While Lori went to the bathroom, Sky decided to order their third drinks, and as she was waiting she ended up getting distracted with a dumbass reality show, that for some reason was starting to pique her interest.

Just as the boring commercials started to play, she was starting to zone out when out of the corner of her eye she saw a WWE ad.

Sky could instantly feel her breath hitch in her throat. It’s not the first time she’s seen him randomly displayed on tv.

That’s not the exact reason her heart was racing, while her body felt frozen in place. It’s the fact that the advertisement said he was in this exact area for a press event he had during the weekend.

Every piece of joy she was feeling prior to this revelation was stripped away.

Lori came back, and with one glance at Sky, she immediately knew something was wrong, “Sky, are you okay?”

Sky cleared her throat, trying her absolute best to play it off. “I’m fine, I promise. I think these drinks are hitting me all at once,” she nervously chuckled.

Lori stared at Sky, seeming completely unconvinced, but she ultimately decided to let it go.

“I’ll drop it for now, only because it’s a big day for you.”

“Thank you,” Sky mouthed.

Sky waited twenty minutes for Lori to finish her drink, her anxiety made it feel like she was waiting a lifetime. Once Lori finished up, Sky asked to leave, using the excuse that she was exhausted.

Lori paid their tab after refusing to let Sky pay a dime. They started to make their way out of the packed bar, trying their best to maneuver away from large crowds.

Just as they were close to the entrance door, Lori had to turn around when she noticed she left her sunglasses. Sky was looking back to see if her friend had located them, while still walking forward.

She decided it would be best to wait outside since the bar was starting to get congested. When she reached to open the door, her gaze was glued to her purse while she dug for her cellphone.

Before she knew it, she accidentally bumped into someone, causing her to stumble back.

She stood up, immediately apologizing, moving to the side as more people walked in. “Shit. I’m so sorry!”

“Sky?” His voice was low and hesitant.

In hearing that voice, his voice… she looked up, suddenly feeling the air grow thick. The bar started to feel small, as if it was enclosing around her.

She felt her body go cold, her legs started to feel weak and numb. No words escaped her mouth, she was rendered speechless.

He studied her, noticing she was just as fucking stunning as he remembered. After all these years, the feeling he got when she looked up at him, never changed.

“Sky…”

“Stay the fuck away from me, Roman,” her voice cracked, while tears began to pool in her eyes. She pushed past him, while quickly walking away.

He knew he deserved it, but hearing her call him by that name fucking stung.

He stopped her by gently grabbing her arm.

“Sky, if you never want to see me again after this, I’ll…I’ll let you be. But please just let me explain,” he pleaded.

“I think it’s a little too fucking late for that,” she scoffed.

Sky walked out the bar without looking back, quickly texting Lori saying she’d be at a café a few blocks over. Right now all she wanted was to create as much distance as possible, from the man who broke her heart.

#roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction

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deathbxnny · 4 months ago

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The death of my love for you. | (Arlecchino x Wife!Fem!Reader)

Other parts of this series can be found in my genshin masterlist under Arlecchino's name!

So, due to formatting issues, I had to make a separate post from the ask, which you can find HERE.

Anyhow, this is a continuation of our favorite genshin series led by my lovely X Anon. I'm sorry it took so long to get to, but I hope that the wait was worth it and that you'll enjoy this guys!

A special thanks again to my X Anon for the ask and their contribution to the blog!!<3

Content: Wife Reader, heavy angst, established romantic relationships, threats of divorce, some violence (one slap)?, toxic behavior, wlw, Sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns.

((Not proofread))

The sound of your heels clicking against the fine wooden floors of your home echoed through the halls as you pushed through moonlit darkness towards your wife's grand office. Your body was stiff and rigid, tense shoulders near trembling from the withheld anger you have been internalizing for days now. This wasn't right. You should have never been pushed to feel this way, even if you claimed to be used to it. It's been years of this neverending struggle between two different ideologies you foolishly believed that one day could co-exist together.

But you were wrong. You can admit that now, although with seething, burning difficulty.

Is this what you expected life to be like for yourself? As a young girl, stuck in your own mother's cage, no. You dreamt of adventuring through the lands of Teyvat, accompanied by Peruere and Clervie, far away from everything. Especially the wrath of the motherland and its Archon.

Exhaling a short, 'calming' breath, you politely knocked on the large double doors, doubts beginning to crawl into your mind on whether this was truly worth it... but hearing her voice burned all of it to ash again.

"Come in."

You obliged, head held high with a stoic expression, eyes colder than ever before as they met her own. "Ah... it's you." She says, but you knew that she was expecting you already. "Is something the matter?" On any other day, you could've deluded yourself into thinking that she actually genuinely meant her oh so heartfelt question. But this wasn't possible anymore. It hadn't been for years now and yet denial was much easier to live with than the truth.

"Why... Why are you doing this?" You breathed out finally after a near eternity of unfathomable silence, eyebrows furrowed, lips shaking in anticipation at her answer. The question has been on your mind for a while now. It had many layers, a lot of hidden trauma that was never uncovered or acknowledged before. You were committing a large taboo in your relationship for the first time in your life. You were questioning her authority, her position, her love. You've never done that before.

And what made you do this in the first place? What was the last straw? It ultimately might have been all of the incidents leading up to this moment. But what really did it for you was the misery your children were clearly plunged into. If it weren't the concerned whispers and rumors of the fall of your relationship weren't enough for you, then it must've been the exhausted gaze of your dearest son Lyney, who was clearly struggling to keep everyone together.

And that's why you were here now, standing before the Knave, your once loving and caring wife, for an answer to her behavior.

But unfortunately, she didn't seem too keen on answering a thing, as she simply went back to her paperwork with a dismissive hum. "Whatever do you mean?" "So you'd rather pretend to be a fool than just answering my question, Peruere? You know exactly what I mean. You're willing to throw years and years of progress down the drain and for what? For your ego? To get back at me? No... to get back at Curcabena through me-" You stilled, when she slammed the pen down and gave you a glare that made your blood run cold.

Seems like you've hit a nerve. A very dangerous one at that.

"Enough. I suggest you turn and leave at once." She said with finality in her voice, but you couldn't back down now. If you did... then there was no point in any of this. You were trying to save your relationship despite your rage... but is it too late now? "No, I can not do that. Not anymore. If... If I leave this room without an answer, then I suppose this marriage is over." The silence that followed was deafening, and you could see that even she didn't expect this. Not from you, never from you.

She then stood up. Her domineering figure was as rigid and tense as ever, but you could see the hesitance in her uncertain gaze. But underneath that, you could see that unnamed anger bubble up again. "... How dare you come into my office and threaten me like this? After all I've done for you-" "-You've been unnecessarily cruel to the children lately, Peruere. You've been absent, barely look at me, or speak to me. How do you think that looks in front of anyone in the house? Have you ever stopped to think about us, me? Or has your position as the Knave clouded your judgment so deeply?"

Rounding the table with dangerously slow steps, you found yourself taking a couple back in secret worry. You never believed that she could hurt you... but even that was beginning to become likely in your heartbroken mind. "You are not the woman I married anymore. You are not who I fell in love with. You are not my Peruere-" You were being backed into a corner, you couldn't breathe, everything around you was spinning, and you could barely think under her suffocating glare. She wasn't saying a thing either.

You needed to get away. Get away from her, from everyone. Just away from this cage, she's trapped you in.

Freminet was nervously fiddling with a letter in his hands as he rushed through the halls and avoided bringing attention to himself. He hoped that Father was in a good enough mood to just accept the envelope and let him leave wordlessly. The last thing he wanted was to become the next victim of her wrath. This really applied for all the children here, ever since the tension between you and Arlecchino reached an all time high.

You two were trying to hide it... but it was clearly not working, and the worry over the future of the house was becoming worse with every passing day ever since the failed date you two had. Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet were trying their best to keep everyone in the house together, but it was unclear if their efforts were in vain or not. Until today, that is.

The young man stilled at the sound of your voice, his hand hovering over the doorknob to his father's office. Pressing his lips together in thought, he thought about leaving and coming back another time, when he suddenly heard a smack echo from beyond the door. A gasp left his lips, body automatically pushing the door open in fear that you might have been the one getting hurt. He never thought he'd think of his Father in such a way... but was it really beneath her to hurt you physically too now?

Freminet's heart beat against his ribcage in uncertain bravery when you scurried past him blindly, seemingly not having noticed him. His breathing felt uneven and heavy, as his head slowly turned to look at his father in disbelief, yet the sight make him freeze again.

The Knave stood there with a hand to her reddened cheek, eyes and mouth slightly widened in surprise, whilst her gaze trailed after your disappearing form. Had you... really slapped her?

The thought of it was so surreal that Freminet stumbled out of the office wordlessly, leaving the equally as speechless woman behind to process the end of your love for her.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x female reader #arlechinno genshin #genshin arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlechinno x reader #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino

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idleoblivion · 1 year ago

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"Hey Man I Love You, But No Fucking Way" Jamil Viper x GN Reader

Synopsis: The time has finally come for you to leave, but he isn't ready to lose you. Surely you'll hear him out, right?

Word count: ~900

A/N: I usually prefer fluff but thought I'd experiment with a little angst, though I don't think it's too intense. Never written any kind of yandere stuff before so sorry if it's tame.

Warnings: angst, yandere Jamil

This day was bound to come. He knew it, you knew it, everyone did. That didn’t make it any easier for him, though.

He knew you had started bugging Crowley harder about going home after the second overblot. And harder again after the third, then his, and so on. He wanted to meddle, but Kalim kept him busy. Plus, his faith in Crowley was so low he thought he’d have more time. Time to win you over, time to convince you that your place was with him. And he had made progress, you two had become very close despite what went down in Scarabia over the holiday. But the time for you to go had come regardless.

He knew you had people you missed and places you still wanted to see. He knew that at the end of the day, no matter how much he’d grown to like your presence, you were not meant to be in Twisted Wonderland.

But he still held onto that naive hope he had that you would hear him out tonight. Perhaps too tightly.

“You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

“I do.” You answer almost emotionlessly.

“Then… then please-” “Don’t ask me what you’re about to ask me. Don’t do that.”

He should’ve stopped there, but he couldn’t. If there was any chance of you staying with him, he had to fight for it. So he kept going.

“Please… you don’t know what my life was like before you. Please don’t leave me like this.”

You don’t say anything back. He could already feel himself unraveling, but tried to hold it together the best he could.

“You’re the only person I can be myself around. You’re the only person who I can show what I’m actually capable of, the only-” “Jamil, you need to stop this. Now.”

“I love you.” He admits with desperation. “I love you, please, you can’t leave me like this. I’ll never…” he trails off, holding back tears.

“I love you too, Jamil…” You sigh deeply.

“Just not enough to stay?” He snaps without thinking. The look on your face immediately tells him that was the wrong thing to say. “How fucking dare you? You think you’re the only person I’m allowed to care about? I have people that I miss, Jamil. That I’ve been missing. I had a life before this school, sorry that hurts your feelings so badly.” He hadn’t expected you to get so angry with him.

“I didn’t mean-” “I had a life. A life without magic and overblots. Where I didn’t spend every waking moment waiting for something else bad to happen. Where people didn’t want to fight me just for existing, and I wasn’t almost constantly in some kind of trouble or danger.” You’re crying now too, and you turn your back to him as you continue. “I can’t do it. I can’t stay. There’s nothing good for me here.” “What…what can I do? There’s has to be something I can do-” “No, there isn’t. I’m leaving tomorrow and that’s that. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I…I told you, I love you!” “And I told you I love you, but I can’t do this for you!” You wipe your face as you turn to face him again. “You think I’m happy about leaving you? Of course I’m not! But I’m not going to suffer here for your sake. I have to do this, for me. Why can’t you understand that?!”

And in that moment, he finally did understand. You didn’t want to hurt him. You weren’t trying to, you just needed to look out for yourself. He couldn’t blame you for that. You said you loved him, and he believed you. He watches you sniffle in front of him and put your face in your hands. He feels remorse for how this world has treated you, and guilt for not getting what you really meant at first. Yes, he understands perfectly.

It was the rest of the world that was the problem. You could be happy in Twisted Wonderland, you just didn’t know it. With Crowley and overblots and other stress always wearing you down, of course you didn’t think you could stay. If you were constantly hurting, how could he expect you to?

But, why hadn’t you just said that from the start? If you knew how much you meant to him, didn’t you also know just how far he’d go for you? The mountains he would make move? The people he’d dispose of? Wouldn’t you do the same for him?

Of course, you would never have to do the same for him. He would do everything, take care of everything. Nothing would keep you two from each other. All you had to do was be with him and be happy. He could make that happen, he was sure of it.

He decides that those kinds of plans don’t matter right now, though. What matters most is that you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, and he isn’t going to let you.

“Look at me.” “Jamil, I’m done with this. I-”

“I get that, okay? Just…please, look at me one more time.” He was pleading, and his voice sounded so terribly dejected. You sigh again. You lift your head up from your hands and meet his eyes.

“I told you, I’m sorry. I really am. I-” “Snake Whisper. Follow me. You’re not going through that mirror.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x gn reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst jamil #jamil viper #twst angst #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader

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alternate-real-ities · 9 months ago

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So I’ve been working really hard at the gym and am really proud of the progress I’ve made (down 130 lbs!) but I often wonder what kind of life I lead in alternate realities. I’d love to get an idea of what might have been!

This post was written with the help (well mostly him) of a friend (we need to talk btw 😅). Hope you like it! - A.R.

Damn buddy, 130 lbs is a lot of weight! You should be very proud of yourself. But hey, I get it. Everyone wants to know what lies beyond the borders of this reality. Everyone wants to take a peek, to see how they would do if some minor things would have been different in their life.

Let’s look at something close to home. Here, in this reality, only a few away from our own, not much is different. Your fitness journey has continued, which has led to a good physique with some nicely toned muscles.

In this reality you are a total eye candy, working an amazingly successful job and enjoying life to the fullest. Having such an amazing physique certainly has it perks. You are a famous Insta model, making easy money flexing your toned muscles.

This is you in another universe similar to the previous one. The main difference in is that in this reality, you are a true testosterone bomb. You are even more buff in this one! In this reality, you have been working out for ages, which has led to an amazing level of hormones, leading to this rugged hunk! A thick beard covers your face, as dark hairs powder your balloon-shaped pecs and rock-hard abs. A manly musk hangs around you, as you are the peak of masculinity in this reality.

Oh wait, what's that?

Hmmm interesting. There seems to be an intertwined parallel reality to this one. The only difference is that now you are a strong black man. Your blonde, straight hair has curled up into a dark afro and your body hair became more coarse, as your dark skin glistens with sweat. A natural swagger comes over you, as you radiate confidence!

Interesting, intertwined parallel realities are rare, but they are super interesting. I wonder if timeline convergence is easier to achieve in these...

Okay, one more reality to check.

In this reality, further away from our last one, you are of arab descent. Instead of going to the gym, you found your athletic passion in football. As a young child, you showed potential. After being scouted, you got accepted to a premier scholarship.

During college, you are extremely popular. I do not know your sexuality in our reality, but in this one you are very much bisexual, going for both the cheerleaders as well as your teammates in the football team. But oh well, who could even resist your charm when you look like that, right?

I hope you enjoyed these different versions of yourself!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #musclegrowth #muscle tf #race change #arabization #africanization #alpha muscle #hair growth #alternate real ities

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alllgator-blood · 9 days ago

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I need to ask, because of it I CAN'T SLEEP AT NIGHT.

How do you make, not only long comics, but also VERY FAST. Like- I read one part that has 2/3 like pictures and then next day are again 2 or 3 and I'm like grabing my head and just screaming HOW??? (Also these comics are very yummy and I feel like getting stabbed after each one but in a good way cuz I like being stabbed (Kallamar got a bit too relatable in that one comic 💔))

THAT'S REALLY IMPRESSIVE AND ALSO SHOCKING FOR ME. Like- what is your secret??? 🤨🤨🤨

HAHAHA OH GOD I DID NOT THINK I WAS VERY FAST BUT- I'll try to do a list of tips I thought of off the top of my head, in case any of these help you or anyone else??? I try to not gatekeep anything I do because I think the world needs more comics honestly, so I tend to ramble a lot when giving advice.

click the read more to unleash many paragraphs of tips:

Okay these tips aren't 100% about being fast but also being efficient/keeping a good pace, I hope that's okay!

1: Originally the first tip was "draw every day even if only a little bit, so you don't lose steam" but I'm sure everyone has said that at some point. So I'll just say I Pavlov myself into drawing better by having little "rituals". Liiike...the only time I have energy drinks is when I draw. Or the only time I light candles is when I draw. I have specific songs I put on when I START drawing to get me into the Zone. I find that when certain circumstances are met, it helps the time fly by 'cause I stay focused enough to keep a steady pace. After a while of doing those things when you start drawing for the day, it tricks the brain into going "oh shit, we're drawing now? aight bet" and then you just. Go

2: SETTING DEADLINES FOR SURE HELPS. It's definitely nice hearing from people that there's no Real Pressure on me when I post comics...for free...of characters I have no obligation to draw...just for the enjoyment of doing it. BUT I work best when I have a fire lit under my ass, so I set deadlines like "I need to post this on saturday/sunday at noon so the algorithm will actually let people read this comic". I usually slip those into a description so it's a very casual announcement and I feel okay with postponing it if necessary, rather than making a text post like "NEW COMIC SATURDAY!!1" and then feeling terrible if I can't finish it in time. Lmao

3: I just fuckin GO when I make a draft. Like for this new comic I'm working on, I just sat down and started drawing like the world was gonna end; there's a lot of panels with very off model characters/wonky anatomy because I just wanted to sketch enough for future me to get the idea. I try not to look back on my progress for any reason besides continuity, because then I see how long the comic's getting and I sweat bullets. Literally so many comics have been ditched because I got spooked thinking about how hard it'd be to finish them. So if you just shut your brain off and don't think about the technicalities of it, just keeping mind the story you want to tell- it's SO much easier to complete. Breaking comics into parts is ABSOLUTELY necessary for completion :')

4: Maybe the most important piece of advice I learned from a published comic artist, is that people are gonna look at your comic panels for an average of like 10-20 seconds and will move on to the next. You don't wanna spend hours on a single panel that basically only exists to convey a tiny bit of the plot. So I like to draw just *enough* to convey the general environment/mood, but not feel obliged to put in a million little extra details. I really hate doing backgrounds but my art, to me, feels incomplete without them. So I'll add like PART of a room or a general Nature area just to say hey, this takes place in the temple/outside/whatever! As long as your story is engaging and the pacing is comfortable, I don't think people will mind (or notice) if you take shortcuts.

5: I listen to specific things to help maintain a good speed while not being distracting or understimulating. During the sketch stage, I usually have something slow/instrumental going so I can focus on the little movie that plays in my head and draw what I feel like a scene would look like. It also helps not distract me from what they're saying. For tasks like lining/coming up with color schemes/reworking dialogue, I have something more stimulating playing but not like distracting, so a video essay I've already watched or fast music I already heard a lot of times. THEN for the absolute fucking slog that is the coloring stage, I blast shitty breakcore or put on an actually interesting video so I can zone out while I click my mouse ten billion times to fill in all the colors >:)

Basically, comics are funny to me because it's like a frantic fucking race to the finish line before your motivation completely abandons you. There's been a few comics where I was ABSOLUTELY sick of even looking at them, I think it was specifically "in little ways, everything stays" where the comic itself is sweet and inoffensive but OMFG. I WAS SO TIRED OF DRAWING GRASS AND REWORKING DIALOGUE. KALLAMAR AND LESHY JUST HUG IT OUT ALREADY SO I CAN STOP DRAWING.

This post probably reads like "I HATE COMICS!! I HALF ASS THEM TO GET THROUGH!!" but I really do love making them and it's kinda the only thing I like doing nowadays, so the other aspect of why I get them done fast comparatively is just that it's what I spend all my free time doing. Some comics take weeks of me working on them daily to finish them, because working on them is my main coping skill rn so it always feels worth doing. I know it can't last forever so I try to just get as many stories as I can out before my circumstances change! Maybe don't be motivated by fear of the future though. Just do these because it's fun and people love reading your comics :') I KNOW I DO

In any case- here are the lines for the beginning of the new comic, I KNOW you love the funny squid so here's mine as a kid flexing on narinder for being able to summon his crown weapon:

#river rambles #this got very long.....#I have a lot to say about comics idfk

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champagnefountains · 1 year ago

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I have a request if they're still open.

Alastor decides to hire Reader as a radio intern. He first did it for entertainment, sending them out to do ridiculously hard and long tasks for his own amusement, like fetching him coffee from the other side of Hell in a super short period of time or proof reading scripts that he purposely made completely illegible to anyone but himself, but had slowly begun to fall for them the longer they stuck around.

ALASTOR - H.H.

Prompt: Being Alastor's radio intern.

Thank you for your request anon! I hope you'll enjoy this one!

Word count: 1.5k+ words. Genre/other tags: Fluff. Humour. Warnings: None.

You were unfortunate to have your soul be owned by the renowned Radio-Demon. Tough luck. You were merely a desperate soul who needed a major favour to be done by yours truly, and are now forever tied and forced to do his bidding. You initially expected a life-time of torture and pain, but was pleasantly surprised when he had requested for you to be his personal radio-intern-slash-assistant.

"Dear Charlie and I have been so, so busy and I just need an extra hand is all...and that's where you come in!" He chimed, pinching your cheek. Alastor explained that he needed someone to assist in managing his radio-broadcasts and schedules while he was out playing hotelier. And just as you thought that you were off the hook, it turns out that this had been his own, little way of torturing you.

Alastor made you do the most ridiculous and tedious tasks ever – like fetching a cup of coffee from a cafe situating on the other side of Hell, or obtain some weird, obscure item from sketchy shops in the most dangerous and chaotic districts in all the Nine Circles, only for it to have little to no significance to him at all. Of course, you did some actual radio-intern-related tasks, but it didn't make things any easier for you. More so than often, Alastor would give you a stack-pile of his broadcast scripts to proof-read. The only problem was that all of it was mostly illegible, almost appearing like chicken scratch. It was then that you knew for certain he was doing this as some sort of sick entertainment for himself, knowing that he had the neatest penmanship amongst the entire team. Oh, and don't even get started with the ridiculous deadlines!

All in all, Alastor was constantly giving you a hard time. However, you were determined to not let him continue to walk all over you. After some time, you were slowly getting used to his strange requests and behaviours, and managed to find ways to work around them. Oh, he wanted his oddly specific order of coffee? You already had it ordered beforehand, and even had the beans supplied to have it readily brewed in the Hotel. He asked for some random-ass antique item? You had already established some connections during your previous commutes, and will have it delivered on the doorstep the next day. You needed to proof-read his scripts? You've learnt to decipher his hieroglyphics and were able to get them done hours before its deadline, whilst also adding in a few of your own critiques and comments.

Already a couple months in the job and you've already got it in the bag. And if he was being honest, Alastor was surprised with your progress. Dare say that he was even impressed! It was like no matter what he had thrown your way, you were able to catch it with ease. Yes, he had to admit: he did initially hire you for his own entertainment – you were his little play-thing when boredom struck – but you had proved yourself as an important asset and massive help towards him and the Hotel. You even went out of your way to help with tasks in the Hotel, such as tending the front desk with Cherri, assisting in the kitchen with Nifty, and even managing some group activities alongside Charlie and Vaggie.

You were incredibly hard-working, selfless and compassionate. Alastor and everyone in the Hotel could see it. It initially ticked Alastor off, seeing that his plans were foiled and were tailored to your favour, but the more you stuck around and spent time with himself and everyone else, he genuinely began enjoying your company. And vice versa. When he wasn't being the overbearing and unreasonable boss that he can be, you actually found yourself having fun in Alastor's presence, now often chuckling at his jokes and schemes.

But that wasn't the only thing that changed.

Alastor came to a stark realisation that he had developed feelings for you. It was a foreign feeling to him, which initially confused him at first but it filled him with such warmth that his cold-heart craved for. He found himself seeking your presence constantly (more than usual, that is), always making an effort to talk to you (again, more than usual), and at times, forcing you to stay in his office while he worked on his scripts, and even have you sit through his broadcasts. Even if it wasn't obvious, Alastor's feelings were overwhelming him with each passing day – he didn't know how to go about it.

So Alastor resorted to what he does with most things – in straight-forward and curt fashion, of course.

"S-Sir, you...y-you want me to do what?" You stuttered, a rapid and violent blush suddenly taking over your face. "I said, I want you to go out with me!" Alastor repeated nonchalantly, all the while jokingly tapping a finger on his microphone, "hello, hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing!" You couldn't help but gawk at the deer-demon and his bluntness. He had summoned you to his office out-of-the-blue, requesting your presence urgently in the midst of an activity session you were co-hosting with Vaggie. With the way he went about it, you would've thought that there was some sort of emergency. Not...well, not this.

"...Go out with you? Like...on a walk, or something?" You slowly reiterated, trying to get a grasp on what he was trying to say. Alastor hums to himself, tapping his chin in thought. "Well, if that's what you prefer to do on our date, then I suppose that would be quite swell! We can fit that right in once we've had our dinner," He nods after a brief moment’s contemplation. It nearly sent your eyes popping out of its sockets. "Woah, woah! A-A date?! You mean, a date?! With–with me?!" You exclaimed, pointing to yourself in disbelief. The Overlord rose a brow.

"Why, of course! You're the only one in the room that I'm currently talking to, dear! Oh, hoh, you're quite silly, aren't you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "B-But...don't you think this is like–I don't know, a bit unprofessional, sir?" You timidly ask, picking at your fingers, "you are my boss, after all..."

Alastor tilted his head to the side, humming, "Hm, perhaps. But I believe we’ve already crossed that boundary long ago, don’t you think? We’ve treated each other like good, ol’ comrades rather than just co-workers these past few months, have we not?” You blink. “I…I guess we have,” you blankly affirm.

“Right? So, with that being said, I can't help but want something more. I do wish to properly court you. After all, it's not everyday a mortal soul such as yourself could pique my interest. That means to say that you’re quite exceptional, dear!” You couldn’t help but nervously chuckle at the flattery, shaking your head, “w-well, I don’t know about that–”

“Oh, none of that nonsense!” He suddenly swoops in, waving a hand and shaking his head, “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who has managed to keep up at my level the way you have. It’s very impressive and admirable – take my word for it!”

Alastor then suddenly evades your personal space, leaning down to eye-to-eye level with you. It startles you momentarily but you decidedly maintain eye-contact with him, too nervous to look away. It causes his grin to widen. "And I can bravely assume that you wouldn't mind taking up my offer...as you haven't yet made any effort or comment to decline it, hm?" He smartly comments, looking at you expectedly.

Well..damn, he got you there, didn’t he? Because in truth, you did enjoy the playful dynamic you've established with him. You found satisfaction in the little praises and smiles Alastor would send your way whenever you accomplished something and slowly, you found yourself valuing his opinion of you. You then tried to up yourself with each passing day, and it was just as shocking for you when you came to terms with your own feelings.

And that’s how you found yourself being courted by the Radio-Demon himself.

After that, nothing much had changed in your dynamic with Alastor – you still continued being his radio-assistant. Well, other than the fact that he had become more openly sweet towards you. This meant calling you a variety of pet-names and giving you a little less work for you when he knows you’ve worked yourself hard enough. Small pecks and kisses will be rewarded when you would hand him his cup of coffee every morning, and he would invite you to join and sit on his lap when he would do his frequent broadcasts. He would also teasingly ask you to call him ‘sir’, knowing that it’ll fluster you so much – he just loved and enjoyed seeing you turn red all over. He even stopped with his hieroglyphics, reverting back to his usual handwriting when writing his scripts – the joke’s gone a bit stale, he says. And at the end of a long, tiring day, Alastor would have you in his arms as you happily basked in each other’s company.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel

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frenchtantan · 2 months ago

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(Maybe) unpopular opinion: I am not a fan of the ending of Clair Obscur: Expédition 33

BIG SPOILERS DOWN BELOW, OBVIOUSLY!

Okay, so before anything, I must warn you that any variation of the "it was not real" trope is something I deeply dislike. It always makes me cringe, because it usually means nothing mattered from the get go. In my opinion, the only ways to make it work is either to leave it ambiguous (Inception did this, and the Lego Movie to an extend) or to make it clear from the get go so you understand the stakes.

As I arrived at the end of act 2 of Clair Obscur, I thought they were about to show me a third option.

I was wrong.

67 years. 67 FUCKING years of expedition after expedition trying to stop their own from getting erased every years. 67 years of their motto being "Tomorrow comes". 67 years of strong, albeit wavering hope that somehow, someone will make it so that they survive. Then, during the entire game, interesting characters, whose stories, personnalities, motivations and trauma you learn from talking to them. You see traces of former expeditions, laying the trail for those to come, making your progression easier, understanding their other motto "when one falls, we continue". Hell, "We continue" is even what's written at the end of a fight instead of just "Continue".

The first act and a half has this atmosphere of desperate but hopeful "last ditch effort" to save humanity, to give it a future. Lune, Sciel, Gustave, Maelle (before she remembers) and even Monoco play a huge part in setting this ambiance. You want Lune to find answers, Gustave to make sure his apprentices grow old, Sciel to find hope, and Maelle to find out somewhere she belongs. You want Monoco to get the chance to reconnect with Noco once he is reincarnated. And even though you get the feeling that there is more to this, you want Verso to finally get to see an expedition through, after all these years of seeing every single one die. You will save these people, you will give them back the time they were robbed of. You fight the Nevrons, those monsters who are trying to kill humans and absorb their chroma, and every fight makes you stronger, more hopeful.

But then you reach the Paintress. Hints have been spread from the very beginning that this might not be her fault, that she is trapped also, but you defeat her nonetheless. And you can feel something is wrong. Celebrations follow, but there is this... hint of eerieness. This is confirmed as literally everyone is Gommaged on the spot and then... Alicia.

You learn who she is, you learn about her dead brother Verso, wait what do you mean "dead"? And her father is Renoir, but not the one you just fought, and he is fighting her mother Aline, to get her out of a... Canvas? Apparently it's Verso's Canvas, and she's been in there way too long. Clea, Alicia's sister, has been tipping the balance in Renoir's favor, which allowed him to slowly erase Aline's... oldest creations? Wait, the monolith, the number!

Everything makes sense now, this was a World-Canvas created by a family of Painters, humans with the power to create realities in their paintings, and then that world was shattered by their grief.

This is where my instinct went off a bit. It very much looked like the trope I dislike. But then I though, no, the people in this Canvas are still real, their lives matter. This is not just a painting. Maelle, who now fully remembers both her lives but embraces her new name, aims to stop the Canvas from being destroyed. The third act starts and the objective is clear: Defeat Renoir, bring everyone back. Great! It might be a pocket universe of sorts, but their lives matter, you should still save them!

And then the endings. Either you do save them by siding with Maelle, but she becomes corrupted, puppeteering an unwilling version of Verso so that she can live in her perfect world, or you side with Canvas-Verso and the canvas gets erased, along with everyone in it. Turns out the only thing holding it together was the last bit of the real Verso's soul, painting forever. The "good" ending is to set him free and let the world you spend nearly an entire game in just... fade away.

So yeah. An entire world you cared about destroyed because a family can't go to therapy to get over their grief, and the game saying at the last minute that it's the right decision because it's held together by a tired soul. And I just think it sucks. No word about how the will to survive of the people of Lumière is literally what allowed Renoir to prevail. Their lives either become Maelle's fantasy world, or they are sacrificed, and I think it just... sucks. In the end, the lives of those people you grew to love is nothing more than a plot device. They matter little in the grand scheme of things, which as it turns out is ONE family of French metahumans.

I can't help but feel like there was something else that could be done. I mean, EVERYONE in Lumière is used to grief. Literally Lucien at the beginning is cheerful despite the loss of what must be hundreds of people hours prior, because it happens every year anyway. Nearly everyone in that city could help the Dessendre overcome their grief, as thei had to themselves... And you're telling me the only way to get this family of essentially gods to move on is to destroy a world the one they grieve created so that they aren't tempted to get in it? C'mon... It just sucks that the same gief that shaped the lives of the people in the Canvas for so long needs them to be erased to be overcome.

#clair obscur: expedition 33 #verso dessendre #renoir dessendre #aline dessendre #alicia dessendre #clea dessendre #clair obscur spoilers #clair obscur verso #clair obscur ending

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mariacallous · 1 year ago

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I plan on voting for Biden in November. But it’s terrible. A vote for him is still a vote that will not significantly improve our deepest and most troubling social problems. He won’t give us Medicare for All or any other badly needed boosts to social programs. He will probably continue to support policies that actively oppress BIPOC. He will not help us. He’s also a sexual predator. Truly, I do not want to vote for this man. This is not the man I wanted to vote for. I don’t want him in office. He is simply not good enough. This man doesn’t represent what I want at all.

But if I don’t vote for Biden in November, I feel like I’m making it that much easier for Trump to win another election. And I want that even less than I want a Biden presidency. I don’t want another 4 years of what we have now. No fucking way. No.

I’m so conflicted. I feel like there is blood on my hands. I feel like I’m casting a vote for death and misery if I’m not voting for a progressive candidate with a progressive platform. I feel like I’m committing nothing short of an atrocity no matter what I choose to do. I don’t want to harm people, and yet, won’t I essentially be doing exactly that? I just want to do the right thing. I don’t want to bring harm, or perpetuate harm towards anyone.

Trump will probably win anyway. He’s doing all he can to ensure that, and it will probably work. The impending climate disaster will kill us all because we will clearly continue to do nothing. Our bodies will be riddled with micro and nanoplastics. America will become an even more of an inhospitable police state.

Nobody will hold Biden accountable for anything if he wins, and he’ll never give us the public policies we desperately need.

“Is this what hope feels like? I’d forgotten,” you tweeted recently. How? And for what? I see nothing but bad things to come. I feel a deep sense of hopelessness and despair.

There are plenty of reasons to feel hopelessness and despair right now, but with regard to Joe Biden, you are wasting a whole bunch of negative emotions on a giant pile of shitty beliefs that just aren’t true.

First, and let me be very clear on this one, Joe Biden is not a sexual predator. He’s just not. Believe me, I would be shouting it from the rooftops if I thought he were. When Tara Reade went public, I took her allegations very seriously. I gave her extra helpings of the benefit of the doubt, but it turned out there was a mountain of evidence suggesting that Reade has always been a lying, manipulative grifter (which I didn’t want to be true), and there was another mountain of evidence suggesting that the predatory behavior alleged by Reade is simply not in Biden’s character (which I was very reluctant to trust). There was a time when I was hopeful that Reade’s accusations might even knock Biden out of the race, but I’m not the kind of person who believes a thing merely because I want it to be true. It’s fine if you want to criticize Biden for what appears to be a history of awkward or retrospectively inappropriate behavior. Hell, you can even buy into all that “Creepy Uncle Joe” bullshit, but you’re just plain wrong if you insist that Joe Biden is a sexual predator. (Obviously, the same cannot be said of Donald Trump, who is a straight-up serial rapist with a list of at least twenty-five women who have publicly and credibly accused him of sexual assault.)

As for your policy concerns, I understand your frustration. I would love to be voting for a far-left ultra-progressive firebrand of a candidate in the upcoming general election. That would feel wonderful, right up until the moment that she loses in a landslide, and I guarantee you, a far-left ultra-progressive candidate would get her ass handed to her by Trump. That’s not an outcome we can afford as a species, much less as a nation. You understand this, which is why you still plan on voting for Biden. Good. I’m really glad you’re not being a purist asshole about this. The evil garbage monsters in the GOP just love a left-wing purist who refuses to vote responsibly. Republicans are desperately praying to their imaginary white Jesus that all the Green Party crunch bars will fuck it up for the rest of us like they did back in 2016. We cannot let that happen again.

Listen, I’m not gonna try and convince you to like Joe Biden. You’re already gonna vote for him, so I’m perfectly fine if you hate his breathing guts. What I do want from you is a little maturity, some vision, and a realistic sense of scale. No one candidate will ever be the solution to our problems — not Bernie, not Liz, and certainly not Joe. At best, a candidate is a vector, a course correction, a desperately needed step in the right direction. That’s all we can expect from Biden, and he is bringing it. He’s bringing it every single day with a list of policy positions that are more progressive than any President’s in the history of the United States, and he most certainly brought it with the selection of Kamala Harris as his running mate.

Biden recognizes his place in history. He knows he is little more than a national stop-gap, a post-Trump tourniquet to stanch the bleeding. His Vice-Presidency and eventual Presidency will be a line of demarcation between two very distinct chapters of American history. This is more than just bridging the Boomer/Millennial generational divide. In the distant future (if we have one), it is my sincerest hope that Biden will be remembered as “The Last of the Old White Men,” a happy warrior who marked the end of a certain kind of Modern America and who helped usher in a new kind of Postmodern America. Those terms are clunky and loaded and absolutely will not stand the test of time, but we’re not the ones who get to name what we’re about to become. We’re the ones who have to keep doing the hard work to finally get us there, and that’s why I really need you to change your whole fucking attitude.

This shit is going to be grueling. The fight will be brutal if not bloody, and there is absolutely no room for whiners and layabouts. You want to improve our deepest and most troubling social problems? Great. Quit moaning about doing harm with your vote and go do some actual good with your own two fucking hands. Pulling a lever in a voting booth every couple years is the bare minimum. In terms of civic duty, it is the absolute least you can do. Of course Biden won’t give us Medicare for All. Neither would Sanders or Warren. That’s not how any of this works. Presidents don’t give us shit. We do it ourselves. We demand it, loudly and with force, and over long stretches of time, with enough solidarity and sustained action, laws are enacted and policies change.

I was around when the Clintons tried deadlifting their universal health care plan off the ground back in 1993. Maybe you remember it, maybe you weren’t even born yet, but that’s how long this shit takes. It’ll have been three fucking decades and two fucking generations of Democrats trying desperately to kick that gutbucket up Capitol Hill by the time we finally get around to some semblance of a single payer healthcare system. Thirty fucking years, my friend. That’s the kind of patience and perseverance the American experiment demands of us, so quit your fucking whining. Enough with all the pearl-clutching and hand-wringing. Take all your conflicted navel gazing bullshit and toughen the fuck up, buttercup.

You are on the right side of history. You are with the good guys. Quit your fucking bitching, and get out there and help us win.

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