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megalony · 2 months ago

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He Can't Have You- Part 2

Thank you all for the amazing feedback on this Evan Buckley imagine, I hope you will like this follow up.

Please let me know what you think.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: (Y/n) and Evan's baby is due any day now, therefore (Y/n) hangs around the station a lot so she isn't alone. But things take a bad turn when her ex finds her. And kidnaps her.

Enjoy.

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A groan tumbled past Evan's lips as he hopped down from the truck, feeling like his legs were about to turn to jelly. Both hands moved to press against his back as he leaned his chest back and clicked his spine into place like a neon glowstick.

He was ready to go home. He didn't want to be back on the ladders for a week at least; he didn't want to look at those ladders for what remained of his shift today. Not after he had almost fallen down them and had been running up and down those ladders more times than a yoyo.

His boots thudded against the floor as he trudged towards the lockers and shrugged off his helmet and jacket. He slung the jacket on the hanger and dumped the hat on the shelf before he turned and walked towards the stairs.

If the bell went off within the next hour, Evan was going to scream. They had been on that call for over three hours; he wanted something to eat and a chance to rest before another call had them running around and burning what little energy each of them had left.

His head tilted back and he tried to plaster a smile on his face and make himself look a bit more lively as he jogged up the stairs towards the annex.

He wanted to see (Y/n). She had been here for a bit over three hours now so Evan wanted to make sure she was alright and see what she had been up to. When she stayed at the station last week during a long call, they all came back to find she had done some baking in their absence.

Evan trudged towards the sofas in the right hand corner, but the tv was off and the area was vacant. His shoulders sagged a little and he twisted to the left instead to head into the kitchen.

He could see two new starters lounging around the pool table, chittering away while the radio played an eighties station in the background. But no one else was in the kitchen. There was no one else up here. He walked past the kitchen towards the pole at the far end, just to mae sure that (Y/n) wasn't hanging around anywhere, but his wife wasn't anywhere in sight.

Maybe she was in the toilet, after all the toilets and the showers were all downstairs at the far back of the station. Evan highly doubted she would be in the bunker room, he knew his wife and he knew she would be much too anxious to try and take a nap here at the station. Especially if Evan was out on a call.

His boots sounded even heavier as he stomped down the stairs and made his way down the corridor instead. But when he walked by the locker room, he paused and peered his head in the doorway at the sight of a familiar face.

"Alex, have you seen (Y/n) around?"

He knew Alex, Johnny and Amber were all on the back up shift, they stayed at the station in case any other calls happened while the rest of them were already out in the first truck. Evan figured Alex would have been milling about the station, going to the gym and tidying up while he waited for a call. He should have seen (Y/n) at some point.

The blond turned around and cast a familiar grin over his shoulder in Evan's direction. Although he did narrow his eyes a like he thought Evan was asking a stupid question."

"Your wife?" When Evan nodded, Alex shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Nah I haven't seen her in a couple hours. Her car alarm went off and she went to sort it out, haven't seen her since. She's probably headed home."

With a deflated 'thanks' and his fingers drumming on the doorframe, Evan pushed off the door and briskly walked down the corridor towards the back doors.

Why would (Y/n) leave without telling him? Why would she leave at all when she was here specifically so she wouldn't be home alone?

She was nine months pregnant, Evan had cleared it with Bobby for (Y/n) to come down to the station so he could be nearby and so (Y/n) would always be with someone if she went into labour. And Evan knew for a fact that his sister was working today so (Y/n) wouldn't have left to go and spend time with Maddie. She should still be here. She shouldn't have gone anywhere, (Y/n) promised she would stay and hang around until Evan got back.

A frown etched deep into his features as he wrangled in his pocket to find his phone.

He had no messages and no missed calls from (Y/n), surely if she left she would have told him she was going so he wouldn't be confused or worried.

He scrolled down and clicked on (Y/n)'s contact, raising the phone to his ear while it rung out and he headed out into the car park. But as he pushed open the back door, a horrible twisting feeling ignited in his gut when he heard a familiar sound.

(Y/n)'s ringtone. Her phone was outside.

Evan stormed out into the car park, his eyes frantically searching around but there was no one out here. He was alone, and yet he could still hear (Y/n)'s phone, the ringtone was getting louder. His blue eyes deepened as he tried to locate (Y/n)'s car. It was dead ahead of him.

She wouldn't have walked home, it was too far to walk especially when she had clearly been in discomfort earlier. There was no reason why (Y/n) would walk home and leave her car stranded here at the station.

When something crunched beneath his boot, Evan lowered his phone from his ear and took a step back as he looked down.

Oh God.

(Y/n)'s car keys. (Y/n)'s phone. (Y/n)'s bag. All three articles were cascaded on the floor in an odd pattern like they had been dropped in a hurry.

He numbly slid his phone back into his pocket after ending the pointless call and reached down to pick up her things. Her phone and keys were stone cold, they had been out here for a while.

Dread dwelled in the pit of Evan's stomach that was now churning like a washing machine and he could scarcely catch a single breath. His features began to turn a deep shade of red and his chest began to tighten and twitch until he had to gasp to get a proper mouthful of air.

Something had happened to (Y/n), he just knew it. He could feel it, like melted silver hardening to steel in his bones that now felt heavy and weighed down. It took all the effort Evan had to get his legs moving and scramble back inside when he simply wanted to collapse down to his knees and wallow in his own bubble of panic.

He began to suffer tunnel vision, only seeing the imagine of Bobby stood far ahead at the other end of the corridor. Blackness started to creep in around the edges of his sight and one hand had to plaster along the wall to keep himself upright as he continued to struggle for air.

The moment Bobby was within reach, Evan clamped his hand down on his Captain's shoulder and leaned against him like he was about to pass out. He felt Hen quickly reach out to grab his arm, trying her best to steady him and assess him in case he had suddenly taken a bad turn or felt sick.

"Buck. what's the matter?" The concern in Hen's voice did nothing to make Evan feel any better. If anything, it brought tears to his eyes as he sucked in a deep breath and moved his hands, motioning to (Y/n)'s phone and bag that were trembling in his grip.

"Something's wrong with (Y/n)."

"Where is she, did her waters break?"

"She's- fuck, she's not here. Her car's still parked up, but I- I found her bag and keys on the floor outside, no one's seen her in a few hours. She's not okay."

Bobby's hand stayed on Evan's shoulder but he leaned back to cast his eyes around the station floor and look up towards the annex like he expected (Y/n) to suddenly appear and tell them otherwise. If her things were left outside but her car was still here then that suggested that something had happened. She had been caught up in some kind of emergency. She had witnessed something outside and tried to help. She had felt unwell and tried to leave or find someone to help her.

None of those explanations made sense to any of them and when Bobby let go of Evan in favour of going to gather the rest of the team, Evan leaned towards Hen. He felt faint. Something was wrong, he knew it, but he had no idea what had happened or if (Y/n) was okay or harmed or suffering or somewhere unsafe.

What had happened to his wife?

***

"(Y/n) honey tell me what's happened."

Maddie pressed her microphone closer to her mouth and tried to secure the ear piece around the back of her ear a little better. She wanted to make sure she heard every word her sister in law spoke, she had to get every detail and find out what exactly was going on.

Her sister said she didn't know where she was and that she was in labour, two horrible combinations that shouldn't be put together. But Maddie couldn't fathom how (Y/n) didn't know where she was. Surely if she had been driving and got lost she would use the apps on her phone to find her location or look for signs or ask around. And why would she be driving somewhere unfamiliar? Where had she been going?

She scooted her chair closer to the desk while her feet tapped against the floor to rid herself of the nervous energy building up inside of her. She had no idea what was happening.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard and she typed in a few codes, but her eyes narrowed and she leaned closer to the screen.

Why couldn't the computer get an accurate location from (Y/n)'s phone? Why wasn't the signal working properly?

"(Y/n), talk to me."

Bowing her head down, (Y/n) tried to stop the tears that were furiously drenching her face like rainfall in the Amazon. Her shoulders were quaking and her body was hunched over, trying her best to make herself as small as possible. Not that there was anyone around, anyway.

"Caleb, he- oh, he made me go with him… I don't- I don't know where I am. I had to hurt him, he had a knife."

More tears continued to spill down her face as she gasped and snivelled through her words. She didn't have a choice. Hurting Caleb, getting hurt herself, it was all necessary to get away from him. He had done this, (Y/n) didn't have a choice or a chance against him.

Her palm pressed against the side of her stomach when another contraction tore through her and she sobbed, trying her best to hold herself together and make sure she didn't drop the phone. Her only connection to Maddie; to the rest of the world; to safety.

It had taken long enough for (Y/n) to find an area in this vast, stupid landscape where she had enough signal to hear Maddie rather than listening to a crackling, distant sound. It had been like trying to work out Morse Code without any training or information.

At least while (Y/n) was hunched down near a wall with the road still within sight, (Y/n) was safe and she had a signal. She wasn't willing to move from this spot until someone came to help her.

"Oh my God, is he still trying to hurt you? Are you outside or inside somewhere?" Leaning back in her chair, Maddie waved her hand until she gained Josh's attention and beckoned him towards her.

He murmured a soft "Okay?" as his brows furrowed and he looked between her and the computer screen to try and see what call she was taking.

"It's (Y/n)," Maddie covered her hand over her microphone so her sister wouldn't hear. "Her ex kidnapped her and now she's in labour. I can't get a good signal and she doesn't know where she is."

The agony in Maddie's voice was clear. She needed help. She needed Josh to get the police on the line and get eyes in the sky. They needed to pinpoint (Y/n)'s location so they could send help to her and make sure she and the baby were okay. No one wanted her to have this baby alone and Maddie knew her brother would suffer a breakdown if he wasn't there for the birth. If he wasn't there to look after (Y/n) and hold her hand.

With a nod of his head, Josh took a few steps away so he could start making the necessary calls. They would find (Y/n). They would make sure help got sent to her. They wouldn't leave her there alone.

"(Y/n), is he still trying to hurt you?"

"No, I h-hit him, with a rock and tried to get a-away- oow, Maddie it hurts."

It hurt so much.

(Y/n) didn't want to be here. She wanted to be back at the station, back where she was safe. Where she was with Evan and his colleagues and people who would look after her and protect her rather than try to harm her. She wished she had let Alex go out and turn off her car alarm rather than insisting on doing it herself. She wished she had asked him to go with her or that someone else had been around to see what happened and stop Caleb from taking her the way he did.

She wished a lot of things, but the biggest one playing on her mind was wishing Evan would suddenly appear out of nowhere. She wanted him here. She needed him here.

"That's good. I'm trying to get a location on your phone, as soon as I have that I can send help to you but don't worry, I'm staying on the line with you."

Why didn't Maddie know where she was? Why couldn't she find the location quicker and help? Why couldn't someone be right around the corner who was able to come and help her?

Her chin tucked down into her chest when another contraction burned through her abdomen and split her skin apart. A pitiful cry escaped her lips and her free hand moved down to clench around her thigh until her nails were cutting into her skin. At least the pain in her abdomen was taking her mind off the open cut in her knee and the gash in her left arm just above her elbow. Her whole body was pulsing and aching with each heartbeat that resounded beneath her skin like a drumbeat.

She couldn't stop another groan from tumbling past her lips and her body started to shake as she tried to shift around until she was sat up on her knees rather than sat down on the floor. She shakily put the phone on speaker and laid it in front of her as carefully as she could to make sure she didn't lose what little, precious signal she had on Caleb's phone.

With her free hand plastered to the side of her stomach, (Y/n) smothered down another groan that left her shaking when the contraction seemed to last longer and become more direct.

"I think… oh, I think I need to push soon. Get Evan, please!" The desperation in her voice made her wince but it broke Maddie's heart.

She needed Evan to know. She needed someone to get hold of him and tell him that (Y/n) was suffering and needed his help. Now. If he didn't get to her fast, she was going to have their baby without him. That wasn't something they had contemplated, that wasn't on the cards. It couldn't happen.

"Okay. (Y/n), honey I'm just going to put you on hold just for one minute so I can talk to Buck, okay?"

When (Y/n) hummed, Maddie clicked the on-hold button and swiped her own phone from her bag that was resting by her feet beneath her desk. It would be easier to call Evan directly rather than go through the station and try to ask people to put him on the line.

She just prayed he had his phone handy and that he wasn't in the middle of a call right now, or he wouldn't be able to answer the phone.

"Mads, you okay, you're at work aren't you?" Evan's voice was distant and his eyes kept glancing around the station, his mind preoccupied and somewhere else entirely.

He watched as Chimney and Eddie darted about the station floor on orders from Bobby who was currently in his office, trying to find out what was going on and where (Y/n) was. No one in the station had seen her since just after the team left on their call and that meant (Y/n) could have been gone for hours.

Evan's foot started to tap against the floor and his free hand moved to grip the back of his neck as he tried to keep himself calm and steady. He wasn't sure why his sister was calling, she never rang when she was at work and Evan knew she was on shift today. He prayed nothing was wrong with her too, he couldn't handle any more stress right now.

"Yeah, listen… (Y/n)'s called 911-"

"What? Where is she? She was supposed to be here with us but she left-" Rambles spluttered past Evan's lips while his heart hammered against his chest and his body surged forward like he was about to set off into a pelting run.

She had called for help. Why had she done that? Where was she? What had happened to her? She should have been here at the station, safe and unharmed and out of any sort of danger.

"Buck, Buck just take a breath and let me explain. Caleb found her, she said he kidnapped her. She managed to hit him and get away, but she doesn't know where she is, and she's gone into labour."

His worst nightmare had come to life.

When (Y/n) found the courage to explain to Evan what had gone on between her and her ex and how it had affected her, he had been riled up and stunned and angered all at once. He hated the fact that Caleb had attacked her, he had traumatised her and frightened her and tried to control her in every aspect of her life.

And the few times they had bumped into Caleb out in the street, Evan had made sure (Y/n) was hidden behind him and that her ex couldn't get within ten feet of her.

He didn't think he would have to worry about Caleb anymore. (Y/n) had mentioned him in over a year.

She and Evan had gotten married and they were having a daughter, they were moving on with their lives and Caleb should have been a distant memory. Why would he come back now? Why would he take (Y/n) like this and try to hurt her after all this time?

A low whine burned at the back of Evan's throat and he tossed his head back as his free hand moved round to smother his face. But it did nothing to stop the tears from trickling down his face.

And he couldn't stop himself from twisting to the right and pummelling his fist into the wall harsh enough to knock the kitchen clock off the wall and into the sink. He didn't feel one ounce of pain in his knuckles that were quickly turning a bright shade of red as one or two layers of skin started to split apart from the force.

All he could feel was unbridled rage.

"Did- did he hurt her?" He almost didn't dare ask.

He wasn't sure what he would do if the answer was yes. How would he cope if he learned that Caleb had hurt (Y/n)- again, while she was pregnant? If he knew she was gravely injured or that something was wrong with the baby, Evan wouldn't be able to breathe. He wouldn't be able to put one foot in front of the other if his sister told him news like that.

He knew how spiteful and vindictive Caleb could be and he knew (Y/n)'s ex wasn't opposed to hurting her. Evan doubted (Y/n) being pregnant would sway Caleb very much or make him change his attitude, he would probably still hurt her and he might want to try and hurt the baby too.

Evan couldn't have that. He couldn't hear that kind of news, he needed to know that (Y/n) was alright, despite being somewhere unfamiliar and going into labour, presumably on her own.

"Not from what she's told me. I'm trying to get a location from the phone she's calling on, but it looks like she's out of town. I'll send over some coordinates, you and the team need to head on out there and if I find any responders closer to her I'll divert them to her. Okay?"

"Okay. Don't let her off the line, not until someone's with her and- and tell her I'll be there soon."

***

"(Y/n), Buck's on his way to you and we're trying to get a precise location on you. Someone will be with you soon honey."

Those words were like music to (Y/n)'s ears, but it seemed too little too late. It wasn't going to be enough. Evan wasn't going to make it on time. (Y/n) didn't feel well, things were progressing and she just knew that Evan- nor anyone else- were going to get to her before she had this baby.

"Ooh, I don't think h-he's gonna make it… Mads I need to push!"

Terror pooled deep within (Y/n)'s gut as she tilted her head down and wound her arms tightly around her waist as if she were trying to give herself a comforting hug. But it did nothing to stop the cries from bubbling past her lips and wracking her body. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be somewhere safe, somewhere with Evan.

Why did Caleb have to do this to her? Why did he have to ruin everything? Was it not enough that he had destroyed so much of (Y/n)'s life already? Now he was trying to ruin her future and taint her life with the memory of him. There was nothing in her life that was hers anymore, everything was painted with the image, memory and torture of Caleb.

With a deep breath, Maddie inched closer to her desk and began drumming her fingers down on the keys, adding notes to her call log. Female in distress. In labour. Starting to have the baby alone. Needs urgent assistance.

None of her notes were going to do anything. Maddie couldn't get anyone to (Y/n) any faster than this, she had sent the 118 in (Y/n)'s direction, giving them rough coordinates and telling them with a heavy heart that they would have to search for her around that area. Maddie would stay on the line and give them any landmarks or houses or things that (Y/n) could see to narrow down their search for her.

But help was still out of reach just now and Maddie was all that (Y/n) had to help her through this.

"If you think you're ready to push then that's what we'll do. You've got me, I'll coach you through this. An over the phone birthing partner, hm?"

"I wanna g-go home!" (Y/n)'s wail had her sister in law cringing and coiling in on herself.

She didn't want to do this alone, not like this. Not somewhere unfamiliar with nothing to use, nothing to help her, no one present with her in case things went wrong.

But what other choice did she have?

"Buck will be with you soon, but until then, we need to get ready if the baby is coming. Where exactly are you, are you outside?"

"Hm. I c- I left the car." (Y/n) groaned through another contraction and tried to straighten up. Kneeling up like this felt better than sitting or lying down and she was glad she was near a wall for stability and closure and the fact that there were seemingly no houses or other people nearby. She needed medical help, not the help of any strangers who could be passing by.

"It might be safer to go back to the car, to sit in there while you have the baby-"

"No! No, Caleb could wake up. I can't!"

There was no chance of (Y/n) trudging back towards the car. She might not have stumbled too far away, but she had gotten far enough away that the car was only vaguely in her sight and she couldn't see any glimpse of Caleb. (Y/n) couldn't risk him seeing her.

If he woke up from the concussion (Y/n) gave him, she couldn't get away again in her state. It was unlikely that Caleb would wake up and be able to move about, not with the injuries he had sustained. But (Y/n) didn't want to be near him. She couldn't have him witnessing her in labour.

Caleb had already stolen this moment from her, she wouldn't let him taint it any further by witnessing or trying to comment or hurt her and ruin what was left of this moment. This memory.

It wouldn't be tainted by Caleb's hands.

"Okay, okay. Do you feel ready to push on the next contraction? If you do, then you sit however you like and take a deep breath. Big pushes."

(Y/n) found herself nodding until she realised she was still alone and Maddie couldn't see her. She hummed, bracing her hands on her thighs as she pushed up on her knees while her legs began to tremble. She tried her best to intake a deep breath but it came out in a low grumbling scream when the contraction hit and she tried to push.

Her ears started to ring with static and she didn't hear whatever Maddie tried to say to her until she repeated herself. Twice.

"(Y/n), I need you to feel and make sure baby is coming head first."

That was enough to send (Y/n)'s system shaking and she didn't feel able to kneel any longer, no matter how much she wanted to. She shifted around with a grunt until she was sat down with her back propped up against the wall and her eyes rolling until they could find some sense of focus once again.

Her chin tucked down into her chest as she brought her knees up and tried to feel for the baby as another contraction rumbled through her frame and she started to push again.

"Head's coming," She muttered weakly towards the phone that was now resting on her right side.

Thank God the baby wasn't breach, (Y/n) wasn't sure she would of been able to get through that on her own without someone to coach her in person and help if the baby got stuck or began to struggle.

"That's good. Keep pushing, big deep breaths for me." With a click of her hand, Maddie put (Y/n) on hold and patched through to the fire station radio frequency. "Dispatch to one-eighteen, are you any closer to (Y/n) yet?"

"We're almost at the coordinates but we don't see a road or a car yet."

"Once you find the car (Y/n) won't be too far away. She's starting to push, you'll need to take the medic bags with you and assist."

"Copy."

Maddie disconnected the call and switched back to (Y/n)'s frequency just as she heard her brother swear in fury. She couldn't listen to his howling cries or his infuriated screams at not being there sooner. That would only cause Maddie heartbreak and distract her. She couldn't calm down her brother, his team would have to do that. (Y/n) was her first priority.

"Maddie, I- I can't do this,"

"Yes you can, I'm right here and Buck is almost there. You can do this, you can have this little girl."

"There! There, stop the truck!" Evan's voice rattled through the speakers and his belt swung back and hit the window with a thud.

He scrambled out of the truck the moment Bobby stepped on the brakes and he hurried down the steps, aiming for the silver car parked up in the middle of nowhere. It was a deserted road, there was no one around and nothing out here. This was in the area code Maddie gave them and they hadn't passed any other cars around here.

That had to be it.

That had to be the car that Caleb drove when he decided to kidnap Evan's wife. The nerve.

Evan could feel his nerves igniting like sparklers had been woven into his veins and his hands started to tremble at his sides when he rushed towards the car but stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh dear.

He couldn't fathom how to take a proper breath when he saw the crumpled sight of Caleb before him.

Evan hadn't seen Caleb that many times. Only a few times he had bumped into him in the street and each time, (Y/n) had clung to Evan and pointed her ex out. Each time, Evan had pushed (Y/n) behind him or guided her away and he had only spoken to Caleb to tell him to back off and get the Hell away from (Y/n).

But there was no mistaking who it was on the floor and Evan didn't know what to do about that sight. The sight of his wife's ex, crumpled on one side on the floor, lying in his own dirty puddle of blood. He had a knife imbedded in his abdomen and a lot of dried blood caked on the side of his face. There were a few streaks of blood running down the side of his head and mingling in with his hair, trickling towards his eyes and across the bridge of his nose.

But Evan started to gasp for air when he contemplated what had happened to (Y/n). If Caleb looked like this, how did (Y/n) look? If Caleb had that knife on him, did he use that on (Y/n) before she managed to get away?

Did she have any injuries that she had neglected to tell Maddie about?

"Oh my God." Hen cast her eyes around the scene as her upper lip curled in distaste. But when she went to step towards Caleb, Evan's hand curled around her arm and pulled her back.

"We need to find (Y/n)."

"Buck, we still need to check on him too-"

"He fucking did this! If he's not already dead I'll kill him myself. (Y/n) needs help. Not him."

Evan didn't want anyone going near Caleb. If he hadn't already bled out then Evan wanted everyone to leave him to it. He wanted them to walk away and ignore Caleb like he was nothing more than an ant on the road. A speck of dirt that they didn't need to bother with.

It was more humane to let him bleed out and disappear right there than risking him living and Evan going over to finish the job. He didn't want Caleb to be treated or have the decency of living after what he had done today.

The contemplation was clear on Hen's face and she looked over to Bobby for guidance. If any of them could convince Evan, it would be their Captain. They were still firefighters, they were here to protect and help anyone, even the bad guys. They couldn't neglect Caleb when he needed medical treatment.

"Eddie, Chim, go check on him and call for a second ambulance to this location. We'll take the gurney and find (Y/n), she is our priority."

The contemplation was clear on Evan's face. He wanted to argue, he wanted to disagree and order everyone to go with him to find (Y/n) and leave this creep here. But he couldn't. He didn't have time to stand around and argue when he needed to find and help his wife. She needed him.

At least Bobby agreed (Y/n) was their priority. She was the one they would take to hospital, they wouldn't take Caleb, he could wait for a second ambulance to come down and sort him out. They needed to look after (Y/n).

Evan's boots stomped against the gravel and his hands fisted at his sides as he hurried back towards the truck and hastily snatched one of the medic bags. He slung it on his shoulder, walking in silent fury as he looked around for his wife. Maddie said she couldn't be too far away from the car. He hoped she was right.

He set off into a jog, hearing Bobby hurrying behind him while Hen moved to get the gurney to wheel it along behind them.

"(Y/n)?!"

Her name clawed past Evan's lips on repeat as he scoured round the endless landscape that was practically bare and void of anything and anyone.

But then he saw her. His eyes set on her in the distance, near a high rise wall, and Evan could feel his heart physically dropping from his chest down to the pit of his gut. His shoulders sagged and his hand clenched around the handle of the medic bag as he set off into a sprint, screaming her name until his face turned a bright shade of red and his lungs began to shrivel up.

"No, no no!"

Evan dropped, breathless, to his knees when he was close enough to (Y/n). His knees hit the floor with so much force that his body began to shake and shockwaves rattled through his system. And his arms were reaching out for her immediately.

His shaking hands grasped her arms as his jaw dropped, useless and broken as he couldn't fathom how to speak any other words.

She was crying. Her back was pressed against the wall, her head was dropped forward with tears drenching her features and silent cries tearing past her lips. Her knees were pulled up near her chest, but it was the sight of her arms cocooning a baby to her chest that made Evan cry.

He had missed it. He knew, deep within his gut that he wouldn't make it. Somehow, after Maddie's phone call everything seemed to settle in Evan's system before he could even process it. He just knew this wasn't going to work out in his favour and that despite the past nine months of him preparing himself and waiting anxiously for this moment, he knew Caleb had ruined it. That phone call assured Evan that he wouldn't make it for this moment and (Y/n) would be alone when she needed him the most.

"Sh- she's not breathing!" (Y/n)'s lips were drenched with tears as she thrust her trembling arms out towards Evan.

Nothing Maddie had suggested had worked. (Y/n) couldn't get her baby to breathe and she was starting to panic. She needed someone to do something because she was all out of options and energy and willpower.

Evan sank back on his heels as his lungs squeezed and screeched for oxygen when his daughter was placed into his arms.

He didn't think twice before he turned towards Bobby who knelt down beside Evan and ransacked the medic bag Evan had dropped to the floor.

"Let's take a look, okay sweetie, here we go." Bobby's voice was tender as he found a pipette and carefully squeezed it into the newborn's nose to make sure her airways weren't clogged and to remove any fluids she might have inhaled.

He then pressed his finger to her chin and opened her mouth so he could try and do the same to her mouth to clear her airways. While Bobby did that, Evan cradled her in his left arm and moved his right hand to start rubbing up and down her chest to stimulate her because she wasn't moving. She wasn't wriggling or kicking or making one subtle movement to indicate that she was okay.

Evan could barely see her due to the tears streaming down his face, but he tried to blink rapidly to clear his vision and took a deep breath to stimulate his lungs a bit more.

He kept running his hand forcefully across the newborn's chest while Bobby extracted a good amount of fluid from her lungs which started to terrify Evan. But the moment her little arm bashed against his chest and a strangled sound emitted from her lips, Evan felt like collapsing on the floor in a heap.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n) what's happening?"

"Mads, it's me. We're here a-and she's breathing now. It's okay." Evan wasn't sure he trusted his voice and when his words started to crackle and break up, he felt like dropping his head down and sobbing furiously.

He could hear the relief in Maddie's sighs that came through the phone that Evan was almost knelt on since he hadn't noticed it earlier or bothered to look at anything except (Y/n).

As soon as Hen aimed their way with the gurney, Bobby snagged the blanket from the end of the gurney and made quick work of swaddling it around the newborn. He didn't quibble when Evan eased his daughter over into Bobby's arms and shakily looked through the medic bag.

Once Evan found some clamps, he secured them around the cord and cut it, making sure there was enough cord still attached to the newborn in case there were any complications at the hospital. He knew sometimes things were injected or fed through the cord in emergencies and therefore it had to be long.

Tears continued to stream down (Y/n)'s face and she couldn't stop herself from shaking.

What would she have done if Evan hadn't arrived when he did? How would she have gotten their baby girl breathing? She had done everything Maddie suggested but nothing had worked. She couldn't clear the newborn's airways manually like she tried to do, she couldn't stimulate her, nothing worked.

A round of trembling set in (Y/n)'s system and she let her feet skid against the floor so her legs could flop down. She didn't have the energy to hold them up any longer.

Her shaking hands reached out until they were curled around Evan's arm and she found the strength to push forward and smother her face into his bicep. Allowing her cries to vibrate through his arm. She didn't care how loud she was or who heard her anymore, she just wanted everything to stop.

Twisting to the side, Evan carefully pulled his arm out of (Y/n)'s grasp so he could wind it around her waist instead. He reeled her closer until she was pressing into his chest with her face smothered in his shirt. He felt each cry vibrate through to his heart and the way she was shaking made him feel sick.

This was supposed to be a happy moment, one of the best moments of their lives. Now it had turned into one of the worst memories each of them would ever remember.

His right hand moved to cradle the back of (Y/n)'s neck and he brushed his thumb up and down her skin while his lips meshed with the top of her head.

"It's okay baby. Ooh, you did it, you did it." Evan hadn't wanted her to do it alone. He expected to be holding her hand, coaxing her through contractions, sitting in the hospital by her side.

He didn't expect or ever wish for (Y/n) to be sat in the middle of nowhere, alone and frightened and clearly hurt. Evan wasn't stupid, he had noticed that her knee was bleeding, so was one of her arms and when he peered over her shoulder, he could see a large cut in the back of her dress.

She hadn't gotten away from Caleb unscathed and that riled Evan up like nothing else. Both his girls had been hurt and threatened and traumatised. His daughter's life had been in jeopardy because of some sick, jealous idiot who didn't know when to leave (Y/n) alone.

"I wanna go home."

Evan almost didn't hear her quiet pleas muttered into his chest but when he did, his heart tried to beat out of his chest to reach (Y/n). He coiled around her tighter with his chin on top of her head and he began to sway them from side to side while he felt (Y/n)'s arms secure around his chest. Her hands scratched into his back and she clutched at him like she was afraid he was about to disappear or be taken away from her.

He wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't about to let her go either. Nothing was going to tear him away from either of his girls. He was here and he wasn't letting anything else happen to them, he was going to make sure they were safe.

"I know, I know sweetheart. It's okay, I'm not gonna let anything else happen to you. You're both safe now."

Evan hoped there was nothing Chimney or Eddie could do for Caleb. He hoped they were far too late to do anything for him, and he hoped Caleb had been lying in agony out there.

But if he wasn't dead, Evan was going to make sure he paid the price for what he had done today.

#imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #he can't have you #bobby nash #eddie diaz

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rafry · 7 months ago

Text

Euclydia, Cults and Need for Control

Disclaimer: this analysis raises sensitive topics. if you are/were a victim of a cult and the topic triggers you, please refrain from reading further(/seek help). Additionally, I am not a specialist on said topic, nor am I a clinician. But I am a survivor, so part of the narrative may or may not be just me projecting the trauma on a silly yellow triangle. That said, reader discretion is advised! :)

The take: Euclydia is likely to be a cult-like society and the reason Bill, after years of abuse, grows up to be as he is: a power-hungry monster. Let's analyze!

For the starters, The Start. Each state has its own anthem. How lucky that we were kindly provided with the Euclidian hymn (hidden under the code "FORGETTHEPAST")! Lets take a look:

"Two dimensions to and from, You always know which way to go If you're lost, don't be afraid, In Euclydia you've got it made! Run too far too right of frame, You'll appear on left again! Jump too high, don't fry or fret, You'll pop up from the ground, I bet! In this place there is no fear, Roles and rules, always clear, Euclydia, we hold you dear…"

That tells us way more than we could've asked for, really. The most important: Euclydia is a state of Clear Rules™. Everything works perfectly thanks to The Rules and The Roles, and the state is loved by it's citizens. It's might be a caricature 2D utopia, but how it reacts when the rules are questioned?

"Eye doctor of a different kind, who wants to make his patient blind The doctor says: 'three sips a day will make the visions go away' Fussy eater, baby Billy Wouldn't drink unless it's silly..."

If there's anything about cults and the way they make people behave, is that the "wrong" ones in the community are usually ostracized and/or heavily medicated to not cause any troubles. Those people are sometimes called 'heretics', but may as well just be called crazy or insane by their peers. Oh look completely unrelated picture:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane Starting fires with his brain"

Honestly, the other time it would be it. Euclydia, if not Is, then sure does Act like a cult in some way. I could've finished here, easily, but there's something missing, isn't?

"The hell do you mean by 'The Need to Control', OP?"

I mean that the BILLVILLE is important.

There's the thing about trauma survivors: some of us, after living a life with no control over ones societal position (ostracization/isolation), body (forcibly medicated) or even mind (feeling of inadequacy), crave for some form of control to be regained.

It can turn toxic very quickly when the only form of control one has ever seen in their life is being The Leader (cult leader/shitty parent/armageddon overlord/you get the idea, it's about becoming an authority figure).

And so, Bill becomes a cult leader! Very possibly covering up the need for control and admiration with what I call "The most inefficient way to build an Interdimentional Portal ever", since, well, he's got to lie to himself every now and then, that's his thing (trauma response).

As for the details:

He uses the dead mans body — the body that wouldn't cause any resistance, thus being perfect for taking under control.

He sees the position of the interviewer as more authoritative than the position of the interviewee — and he swaps the roles. That wasn't enough though, so he demands (politely) to be called "My Lord And Master" for a good measure.

He very possibly recreates some of Euclydia-like order in his own "Town" in terms of expressing individuality. They might've been pretty decent in following scripts, I think.

So, I don't think Euclydia has ever been religious in any way, since that would left some other scars on Bills psyche for sure. But highly authoritative, ignorant, strict in its rules to the point of self-damnation? That checks. That's the place that has formed Bill, after all.

That's the place that he wishes to rebuild.

Maybe not consciously, maybe distorted by his illness and broken memory of a loving-paradise-home that has never actually been that way, but he seeks the comfort of familiarity — most of us do. Familiar stings are better than an uncontrollable too-bright future, isn't?

I hope he does well on therapy.

#gravity falls #the book of bill #the book of bill spoilers #bill cipher #gravity falls analysis #bill cipher meta #bill cipher angst #euclydia #analysis #character analysis #rafry #rafry rambles

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urmum-lovesme · 2 months ago

Text

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P8

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: Did someone say angst? I'm sorry but I had to :( Let's see, things are a little awkward cause Rafe couldn't keep it in his pants, our boy has a new competitor and well... it's a pretty nasty ending ngl. My poor poor y/n I just want to give her a hot chocolate and tuck her into bed. I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the interactions with my writing, it makes me so happy to share my thoughts with you <3

ENJOY YOUR NEW YEARS!!!! STAY SAFE I LOVE YOU ALL XOXO -Lula ��

warnings: ANGST!!! mentions of rafe's mother who is dead, suggestive behaviour, finger sucking, mentions of giving head, mentions of slitting someones wrists.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks had passed since Midsummers. Three long treacherous weeks, since Rafe let things go too far, since he’d taken a step he couldn’t undo. It made him ache with regret, the guilt gnawed at him, biting at his insides every time he thought about that moment in the car when he’d crossed a line he knew changed their friendship completely. Every time he saw her name on his phone or heard her voice, he felt the weight of that night pressing down on him all over again. It wasn’t just about the guilt of what he’d done, though that was bad enough—it was the way he'd let things spiral. He had buried himself in the family business, using it as the perfect excuse to avoid her. The demands of the Cameron legacy were endless, and it’d never been easier to lose himself in it. His father’s expectations were high, and with the constant pressure to maintain the family's image, finding a way to keep away from the girl was easy.

Avoidance had felt like the only answer, but tonight, she’d called him over to meet up. She didn’t specify only sent him a short message;

Princess : Get to mine at 4 please???

Princess : And if Ward tells you to work I’ll come over and slit his wrists :)

He knew she was fed up with his petty excuses, and he couldn't blame her. This was the longest that they’d been apart from each other, the last time being two years ago when she went to Bali for the summer, even then they’d talked every day.

He rang the doorbell as he stood on the girl's porch, hands shoved deep into his pockets fiddling with the empty gum wrapper, trying to relax, but there was no calm to be found.

It's fine, she doesn’t know what you’ve done and she doesn’t remember the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n shoved the container into the little wooden basket, covering it with a red gingham towel. She’d realised that Rafe had been distant with her but she assumed it was his father’s fault. Truth be told she didn’t remember much from midsummers, the last thing being Rafe carrying her to the beach. It’s not that it worried her, she knew she could trust the boy, she always has. Yet the way he was acting with her, short answers, unanswered calls, it made her feel like she’d done something wrong. However, his absence worked in her favour as she knew Rafe didn’t know what she’d planned for the day, the only thing he got from her was a message telling him to come over. Just as she placed the basket near the door, there was a knock.

He raised his hand to the front door, and rapped his knuckles against the hard wood a couple of times again, hoping that maybe she’d forgotten and he could go home. He heard her footsteps walking towards the door, the sound of it unlocking before it swung open to reveal her standing there. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes roamed over her. Her lips drew into a smile as she saw the boy standing there on the other side of the door.

Breathe

“Hey angel baby.” She joked as she opened the door wider for him to come in.

Missed you

“Hey princess” he replied, smiling slightly as he stepped through the door, the sound of it closing softly behind him.

Just stay calm, she’s clueless

“I’m actually ready to go.” She spoke up as she slipped her trainers on her feet breaking the silence between them, standing up straight as she grabbed the basket off the floor and her car keys which lay on the table near the doors. Her eyes landed on the boy standing by the doorway, shoulders at unease.

“You look a little tense, you good?”

Rafe exhaled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the motion awkward, almost unsure.

“Yeah, just... long week.”

He shrugged it off, though the words felt false. His father’s business had been a convenient distraction, but that didn’t make the guilt any easier to ignore. He should’ve stayed away longer- for a brief second, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for this. Y/N, still holding the car keys in her hand, tilted her head, studying him. There was an odd quietness in the air, the kind that settled between them like an unsaid word. She could tell something was off. He was too guarded, too distant, and she had learned to read him better than that over the years.

"You sure?" She pressed, taking a small step toward him, her eyes never leaving his face.

“I mean, if you’re not feeling it today, we can always—”

“No,"

Rafe interrupted quickly, a little too fast. He cleared his throat, forcing a more genuine smile this time. "No, it’s fine. Just... a lot on my mind, you know?” He raked a hand through his hair, a motion that felt more defensive than usual. He wanted to tell her. But he couldn’t. It was easier to shut down, to lie, to pretend nothing had changed, that things were still as they were before.

Before everything had gotten well, messy.

Y/N didn’t seem convinced. Her eyes narrowed slightly, the concern evident, but she didn’t push it any further. Instead, she offered him a soft smile, the kind that always made his chest tighten, like she was silently giving him space without making him feel like a complete asshole.

“Alright,”

she said, finally breaking the moment, her voice lighter. “-oh wait…” she spoke up as she jogged quickly to the kitchen, grabbing something in her hand and slipping it secretly Into the basket. He watched her carefully as she grabbed the basket and her keys off the table, his brows raising in slight worry. Why did she have a basket?

“Ok.. I’m guessing you’re not telling me where we’re going?” he asked, as he followed her out to her car.

This is awkward

She shrugged her shoulders as she took the steps down towards her car, opening it up and placing the basket into the back seat, slipping into the driver's seat.

He rolled his eyes at her obvious closed off behavior and opened the passenger seat, getting into the car and instantly being engulfed in the familiar smell of her. He had to swallow down the lump in his throat as he settled, clipping the seatbelt in and turning to her slightly the girl speaking up before he had a chance,

“You’re being weird right now”

“No im not. I’m completely casual right now.” He mumbled out as he raised his brows, fingers fiddling with the buttons on the car, music soon filling the car.

“You’ve never been casual Rafe. And I can tell somethings wrong because you’ve been acting weird ever since Midsummers”

Rafe’s stomach flipped at the mention of that night. He’d tried to block it out, bury it under layers of busy work and fake nonchalance, but Y/N had a way of bringing everything to the surface, whether he liked it or not.

Well shit

“Did I… did I do something wrong?” She asked, voice softer now as she turned to look at him, hands slipping off the wheel to rest in her lap.

For a moment, Rafe didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He was too busy trying to suppress the guilt that surged up, threatening to choke him.

He cleared his throat, trying to mask the panic clawing at him, then forced a shaky smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No,” he said, his voice hoarse, like he was trying to swallow down the words that were begging to come out.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Y/N didn’t look convinced. She was too perceptive and definitely too smart to fall for his half-hearted reassurance. Her silence was enough of an answer, but when he glanced back at her, he saw the crease in her forehead, the slight downturn of her lips. She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me in, Rafe.”

He knew, deep down, that she deserved the truth, but there was something inside of him that just couldn’t let go. He closed his eyes for a moment, running a hand over his face in frustration.

“I’m fine,” he said, more firmly this time, “Really. Just... dealing with some stuff- family stuff.”

She nodded her head silently as the car hummed with the sound of the engine now, the road beneath them nothing but a blur as they drove, her eyes focused ahead, her fingers gripping the wheel again.

“Right well…” she licked her lips "well, can we stop with this awkward tension then?"

She let out a little laugh, trying to cut through the suffocating quiet. It wasn’t forced, but Rafe could hear the underlying edge of uncertainty in her tone, like she was waiting for him to meet her halfway. She was trying so hard to make this easier for him, so maybe it was time to get his act together. He leaned back in his seat, throwing his arm over her headrest,

"Sorry, I've been so moody lately. Think I’m about to get my period or something," he said to her as his hand came out to place over his stomach. Her hand left the wheel coming to swat the boy on the stomach, to which he let out a small ‘oof’.

“Don’t be a dick Cameron” she spoke out shaking her head, yet she couldn’t stop the smile from rising on her face.

Much better.

“So where are we going anyways?” He looked away from the window to the girl as he leant back in his seat, letting his guard down now.

“Listen. Can you just appreciate my effort Mr . ‘I need to know everything all the time’.“ She spoke back to him as her fingers tapped on the wheel along with the song playing in the background.

He rolled his eyes at her comment, a smirk pulling at his lips. He opened his mouth to throw back a snarky remark at the girl but was cut off,

“Stop bitching Rafe”

She rolled her eyes at him as she turned off the main road, wheels grumbling against the stony road. The boy let out a huff as she scolded him, yet his heart fluttered as he looked away out the window, satisfied they were back to being themselves. As they drove Y/n’s phone buzzed in the cupholder, her eyes flickered down to the lit up screen before ignoring it and looking back up at the road, it buzzed again.

Then again

The repeated buzzing of her phone in the cup holder caught the boy’s attention, turning the smirk on his lips into a frown.

“You gonna get that?” He asked quietly, turning to look at her, eyes taking in the way her fingers were starting to tap the wheel impatiently.

“No I don’t drive and tex-” she watched as the boy quickly snatched up the phone looking at the screen.

“Hey!” She protested.

He chuckled slightly at her protest to his move, staring at the phone; it took him a second to register the name of the person blowing up her phone, frowning almost instantly,

“Why is Cooper texting you?”

“It’s nothing.” She diverted the conversation.

The truth was that her and Cooper had been talking more than she thought they would be in the past week, and Rafe’s absence, well she did miss him but it did make it easier for her to get to know the boy a bit better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the dance floor before she could protest.

“Come on, we’re dancing now.”

Y/N laughed, stumbling slightly as he tugged her along. “I told you, I can’t dance,” she said, half protesting, half entertained. “I’m more of a ‘stay in the corner and judge the people who actually can’ kind of person.”

Cooper shot her a mischievous grin. “Oh, no way. You’re not getting out of this that easily. I’ve seen you at parties, Y/N. You’ve got moves.”

“You’ve seen me at parties?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice playful.

“That’s a little creepy, don’t you think?”

Cooper only shrugged as he pulled her along. “Creepy or not, I know what I’m talking about. You’re not fooling anyone. Let’s see you break out some of that hidden talent.”

Before she could respond, the boy spun her, his hand lightly resting on her waist as he twirled her around with more confidence than actual skill. Y/N stumbled a little, laughing as she tried to regain her balance. “I told you I can’t do this,” she teased, but her voice was light, the playful tension between them clear.

“You’re fine,” Cooper said, laughing too as he pulled her closer again.

“Yeah, right,” Y/N replied with a smirk. “I think I might need a lesson or two.” She rested her hands on his shoulders, a hint of flirtation in her tone.

“I guess I could be convinced to teach you... for a price.”

Cooper looked down at her, raising an eyebrow hopefully to her as she spoke up,

“Oh yeah? And what’s the price?”

“Maybe your number…?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He raised his brows, now feeling an emotion other than guilt which seemed to disappear the instant he saw the boy’s name, .... anger, …jealousy? They’d been talking and he had no idea about it?

He didn’t like it. At all.

His grip on the phone grew tighter as he looked at her, his eyes almost glaring,

“Bullshit”

“Jesus Rafe, I’m just talking to the guy. It’s not like I’m sucking his dick.” She rolled her eyes at him scoffing. His attitude from the moment they met this morning had been off and now it was just getting worse and it was starting to irritate her.

His eyes widened at her words, clenching his jaw to stop himself from saying anything stupid. The image popped into his mind again, of her on her knees, yet this time it was different because he hated it.

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me”

He said, his voice low, almost a growl, but heavy with sarcasm and bitterness. Y/N froze. Her mouth parted in disbelief, eyes wide.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice sharp with confusion.

“You heard me.”

The words left his mouth with an edge that made his insides twist, but he couldn’t stop himself. He knew what he was saying was childish and irrational. But he couldn’t care less. If there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was accept the fact Cooper of all people was getting her attention and she wasn’t telling him about it.

She finally shook her head, the frustration clear in her voice. “What the hell is wrong with you, Rafe?” Her words hit him like a cold slap, cutting through the fog of his jealousy for a moment.

“You’ve been acting weird all day, but now this? I’m just talking to him. He’s my fucking friend, okay? I didn’t know I needed your approval”

He wanted to apologize, to backpedal, but his pride kept him rooted to the spot. Instead, his thoughts simply spiralled, and before he could even make sense of what he was feeling, he blurted out,

“I don’t care if he’s your friend,” his voice tight, his frustration seeping through.

“You didn’t tell me about him. That’s what I care about.”

“You haven’t spoken to me for three weeks!?”

Her voice broke slightly on the last word, a mix of disbelief and frustration lacing it as she brought the car to a stop, shifting it into park, stopping just outside an opening of trees. She undid her seat belt. He got out of the car after her, irritation still thrumming through his body. He slammed the door shut with probably a little more force than necessary and followed her out into the trees. Basket in her hand she whipped around to look at him after she heard the car door slam. His jaw was clenched tight, his arms crossed across his chest as he stared down at her. Every bone in his body was thrumming with anger and annoyance, every cell in his brain screaming at him to say the stupid, irrational things he was thinking but instead he settled for shooting her a glare,

“And now you bring me out to the middle of nowhere. What are we doing out here?” He all but spat out.

“Can you not?”

She spoke softer now, no longer angered by his fury but more upset, she’d gone out of her way for him and he was being cruel, incredibly cruel.

“I’ve tried to organise this for you because I've missed you. And you’re treating me like some shitty ex you don’t want to see.”

He was about to say something stupid again, but he bit it back before the words could leave. The disappointment in her eyes made his chest tighten painfully, but the jealousy and anger was burning through his chest, and he couldn’t get it to stop.

“I’m sorry I just-”

“-talk to me please?”

“I’ve just been-” he looked at the girl, he knew he had to admit to her so he might as well tell her what’s been going on, there’s nothing else he could say.

“-struggling with my counselling”

You’re a fucking liar

“Oh...” she placed the basket on the floor, arms wrapped around the boy as she noticed him avoiding her. She rubbed his back slowly as she spoke,

“It’s okay i’m sure that there som-”

You’re sick

Her words faded, dissolving into a quiet hum in his ears. All he could focus on was the softness of her, her warmth, the way her body seemed to melt against his, trying to soothe him, to reassure him that everything would be okay; but the more she held him, the worse it got.

“Right?” She looked to him head tilted slightly

What?

“Uh yeah.” He nodded back as he watched her take a step back from him, his hand came up to scratch the back of his neck, his skin having gotten hot under his touch. Although, however much he tried to push away the burning question he couldn’t stop himself and the words tumbled past his lips,

“Why are you talking to him?”

He asked gruffly, slowly rubbing a hand across his face before looking down at the ground.

“Why can’t I talk to him Rafe.” She spoke with a gentle voice.

What is going on right now

“I just-“

“Can we drop this please?” She looked up to him “-it’s just going to ruin our day…”

Y/n was starting to think that the day was already ruined, maybe this whole outing was a bad idea, maybe she should’ve just taken him to the country club..? That would’ve been easier. The usual routine- drinking, mingling with people, keeping the conversation light and predictable. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to deal with this awkwardness, with his brooding silence and the strange, almost hostile energy he was radiating.

He’s being so… bizarre?

“Let's drop it..” He muttered out clearing his throat, breaking the silence which lingered between them. If he was going to be with her for the next few hours he guessed it was time he started being a little less, irrational. She nodded as she leant over to pick up the basket, head turning back to look at him.

“You coming?”

“I’m coming.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his muscles starting to relax a little as they walked deeper into the trees together. The rustling of leaves beneath their feet was the only sound between them now, the sharp crack of twigs beneath his boots grounding him in the moment. It was quiet, and for the first time in a long while, the air between them wasn’t thick with tension. Maybe it was the isolation of the forest or the way the sunlight filtered softly through the trees, but something felt less suffocating. Y/n occasionally bumped her shoulder into the boy’s as they walked, easing the tension between them. They walked a while out before she stopped him turning around and facing him.

“Okay so…” She looked down to the basket in her hands before up to him rocking back and forth on her heels slightly.

“I kinda sorta need to like…. Blindfold you…?”

She said, her voice trailing off. His brows shot up in surprise at the request.

Blindfold?

His mouth opened slightly as he tried to process what she was asking. The moment was so unexpected, so out of nowhere that his mind had to catch up with the words. His gaze flicked from her face to the basket she was still holding.

“You wanna blindfold me?” He asked, an amused tone in his voice.

“Yeah…” She spoke out hand reaching into the basket and pulling out a silky scarf of hers which she held up. She had to purse her lips to stop herself from smiling. He chuckled as he watched her hold up a scarf, his eyes flickering from the item in her hands back to her face.

“Why exactly do you need to blindfold me princess?” He asked, eyes narrowed curiously.

“It’s a… surprise?” She spoke out as she placed the basket down onto the floor.

His eyes flickered from the basket on the ground, to the scarf in her hands and he took a step closer to her.

“A surprise” he repeated back to her, his eyes trained on the scarf she held up.

“So..?” She spoke out as she rounded to stand behind him placing the silk material in front of the boy.

He shook his head humorously as she stood behind him, hands gently touching his shoulders. He couldn’t help a slight shiver run through his body at her proximity, he leaned back slightly, his head tilting back to look at her,

“Alright, whatever you say..” He said quietly, more than a little bemused by the situation.She lifted the scarf to his eyes covering them and tying it gently.

“S’this okay?”

He closed his eyes as the soft material of her scarf was placed over them. The sudden loss of sight made his other senses kick into overdrive, and he shifted in his spot slightly as every brush of her fingers felt heightened.

“It's fine princess”

She let out a hum in response as she picked up the basket taking his hand and leading him forward. He felt the subtle pressure of her hand in his, her palm fitting so perfectly against his, his large calloused fingers intertwined with her smooth ones. He let her guide him forward, his eyes covered by the scarf meaning he had to trust her completely.

"Careful," she mumbled, her voice a soft and breathy as she guided him through the dense forest. He felt her fingers tighten around his for a moment, pulling him a little to the left, avoiding an unseen obstacle. They came to a stop and she dropped his hand slowly and turned to him,

“M’kay you can take it off…” She said, her voice quiet, laced with an unspoken anxiety that she couldn’t quite shake.

Rafe reached up and pulled the blindfold from his eyes. The cool air hit his skin, and briefly he blinked against the light, his vision adjusting slowly to the shift in brightness.

It took him a moment, but when his eyes finally cleared, he looked ahead—and then froze.

His gaze swept over the sight before him, as though he were unsure if he was hallucinating. They were standing in a small clearing in the middle of the trees, but the thing that really caught his attention was the small, weathered wooden structure standing in front of them, tucked away amongst the trees. It leant just slightly to one side, the paint faded the colors dulled by time. It wasn’t much with only a small set of steps leading up to its door, but there was something undeniably nostalgic about it. Fairy lights were strung lazily by the door, which was cracked open just a bit, inviting, like it had been waiting for them to return.

"Surprise,"

she whispered, and the boy heard the smile in her voice before he even looked at her.

This wasn’t just a hut. This was their hut.

No way

The one they had found together when they were kids, hidden away in the woods. The memories came rushing back with startling clarity, those summer afternoons when they would sneak away from everything, from the adults, to build their own little secret place to get away.

"How did you… " He stuttered out in amazement, his eyes flickering from the building back to her face.

“Took me a while.”

She spoke as she took a step towards the door encouraging him to push it open.

“Go on,” she said, a small, nervous smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It’s just like we left it.”

He gently pushed the old door open, creaking loudly as the hinges moved, and stepped through the doorway. He let out a sound of disbelief as he stepped further into the hut, his head swiveling, eyes wide, scanning every familiar corner. She followed after him a few steps behind to give him space. The shelves were still filled with their old toys and colouring pencils in old faded tins, football and kite stacked all atop each other, old baby dolls sitting side by side, frilly lace dresses covered in layers of dust. Everything was scattered across the shelves, jumbled together as if time had forgotten to organize them. She walked over to the small table in front of an old rickety couch, its fabric faded and worn from years of use. She placed the basket she held on top of it as she watched the boy admire their childhood playground.

He was still in a daze, his eyes flickering across the familiar surroundings of the old hut, his mind awash with memories he hadn’t thought about in years.

“This is…”

He paused, searching for the right words, though none seemed to quite capture the enormity of what he was feeling.

“Wow,” He finally said, his voice tinged with amazement. He ran a hand through his hair, still a little shaken by how much this place had stirred inside him.

“I can’t believe you brought me here.”

She watched him as he stopped near the wall, his gaze settling on an old picture that hung there, slightly crooked, the frame worn with time. It was when they were all much much younger; Rafe, Y/n, Topper and Kelce all standing and staring at the camera striking silly poses. The girl had her hands up behind Rafe’s head, making bunny ears as she flashed a mischievous grin at the camera. The boy, in turn, had his tongue sticking out, eyes wide with that gleam of carefree innocence. Rafe’s breath caught in his chest as he took in the photo, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, he couldn’t help it. It was a sound of genuine amusement, a laugh that felt like a brief, joyful release from the weight he’d been carrying. He stepped closer to the picture, his eyes lingering on the faces of his friends, all of them so young, before life had gotten so complicated. He reached up, running a hand along the picture frame, looking at the dusty picture, his finger coming out to whip across the glass to see it clearer.

“We were so dumb.”

He laughed again, but this time there was something bittersweet in the sound. Y/n watched his reaction, the tenderness in her gaze softening as she joined him by the picture. She could see the way his expression shifted, how the laughter had faded just slightly as he took in the nostalgia, the way his eyes lingered on the frame.

Y/n walked up standing closely to the boy as she looked at the picture above, her, Rafe and his mother. All three together, the older woman’s arms wrapped around the two kids with a wide smile as she’s crouched next to them holding them close. A small smile lifts on the girl's lips before her eyes flicker back to the boy. He felt her presence next to him so close their shoulders were pressed together. His eyes were on the picture, taking in his mother, all of them smiling together. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"I remember this picture"

His voice was quieter than he intended, a low murmur as he glanced down at the girl. The sadness that settled in Rafe’s chest was something he couldn’t escape. Even now, all these years later, his mom's absence felt like a heavy, lingering shadow over everything.

“So do I.”

She spoke softly and reached up without thinking, her hand brushing over his arm as she spoke. It was a small gesture, but one that carried a sense of comfort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June’s laughter was soft, musical, and it rang in the air, soothing, like a lullaby. Her arms were wrapped around her son, pulling him close to her; Rafe, barely old enough to appreciate the moment for what it was, squirmed a little in his mother’s embrace. He’d never liked posing for photos, always too restless to stay still, but by his mother’s side he seemed to calm.

“Come on baby, just one picture,” she coaxed gently.

Y/n stood off to the side, hands gripping wildflowers she had picked earlier, the brightly coloured flowers vibrant in her grasp. The woman, sensing the silent observer, turned her attention toward the small girl, who was still standing by the door of the hut, looking at them.

"Y/n, come on," she beckoned her with a warm smile. She hesitated for a moment, then walked forward, her small feet shuffling in the dirt as she came closer to Rafe and his mother. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but there was something comforting about the way his mother reached out to her, as if she was a part of their family.

“Look at those flowers,” June said, her voice light and filled with affection as she gently cupped the flowers in the little girl’s hands. “They’re so beautiful.”

“They’re for you,”

The girl replied softly, her eyes lifting to meet June’s after lingering on the small flowers on the woman's dress. “I thought you’d like them...”

June’s eyes widened in surprise and delight, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Well, thank you, sweet girl,” she said, a hand resting on Y/n’s shoulder for a brief moment, the touch gentle and full of warmth before her finger pops out to ‘boop’ the girl on the nose, the child giggling in response.

“These are perfect.”

Rafe, who had been watching the exchange between the two, let out a small smile lift to his lips. Something about seeing his mom with Y/n made him feel... content. He didn’t have the words for it, he was only six years old after all.

June adjusted the camera sitting on the wooden steps near the door of the hut, then glanced at the two of them.

“Alright you two, ready for the shot?”

Rafe, who had been shifting from one foot to the other, suddenly stopped and looked up at his mom with big, expectant eyes.

“Do I look good mom?” he asked, holding his arms out to the sides like he was presenting himself for approval. The woman couldn’t help but laugh softly, her heart melting at how seriously he was taking this.

“Oh, you look great my handsome boy,” she said, her tone playful.

Rafe grinned, looking pleased with himself, June turning to Y/n with a teasing eye roll gesturing back to her son, the younger girl sending her a bashful smile.

June pressed the camera button, setting the timer, “Alright, on three…” then jogged over to the two children, kneeling down behind them and pulling them closer to her in a hug. Rafe wiggled a bit, trying to stay still long enough for the picture, while Y/n leaned into June’s side, her small smile soft and content.

“Say cheese!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She was happy in that picture”

“She was always happy with you.”

She spoke comfortingly before talking his hand and leading him towards the couch gesturing for him to sit down before she crouched down next to the basket pulling the towel off the top. He smiled slightly at her words before doing as she asked, the couch creaking slightly under his weight. His eyes flickered to the basket, watching as she pulled the towel off the top.

“Close your eyes,” she spoke out as she looked up to him.

His corner of his lips twitched up her orders, he let out an amused hum before obliging, shutting his eyes tightly. The sound of a lighter clicking, once, twice filled the room before the couch dipped as she sat next to the boy.

“You can open your eyes,” she spoke ever so quietly.

Rafe’s head turned slightly towards her, his eyes flickered under her instruction, slowly opening his eyes to take in the sight in front of him. The girl sat next to him, plate in hand which held a small cake with 5 lit candles on top of it. It was lined with white icing and small cherries sat on each piped swivel of the icing around the cake. His eyes flickered to the cake in her grasp, the soft flickering of the candles making the her glisten in the dim room.

"Is that for me?"

He asked quietly palms feeling clammy. Y/n looked to the boy a sheepish smile on her face as she nervously spoke out,

“Um- happy 5 months clean.”

...

She didn’t know if the boy even knew that she’d been tracking his progress. She cared about him, of course she did he’s her best friend, so when he’d told her he was stopping his relationship with the drug she observed him, although she doubted he’d noticed as she did so in silence. She’d noted each month that passed, a little star on her calendar, and now that she hadn’t seen him in a while, she thought it was a good idea to do something small to show him, that she had noticed. A wave of shock ran through him as she spoke out the words. He was stunned.

“You’ve been counting?”

He felt his heart start to thump harder in his chest, his eyes flickering from the cake to her face, slightly taken aback at the gesture.

“I-” she started to worry, overthinking that she’d overstepped a boundary,

“I thought that I’d uh-”

His heart thumped harder against his chest, beating rapidly in his chest due to a mixture of shock, surprise and… something else, an emotion he couldn’t quite name yet. Y/n, noticing his hesitation, quickly began to pull back, her fingers fidgeting nervously around the edge of the plate.

“I shouldn’t have— I mean, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or—”

She stammered, her voice quiet and unsure, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room.

“I just thought it’d be... nice. You know? To mark the day.”

Rafe’s throat tightened. He hadn’t expected this, he thought, maybe foolishly, that no one cared enough to notice the small milestones he was too proud or embarrassed to admit to. But here she was. “Five months, huh?” He let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“I didn’t even realize.”

Y/n’s eyes softened, a quiet relief settling over her features as she relaxed slightly. The tension that had gripped her melted, and she leaned back into the couch with a small exhale.

"I’m proud of you, Rafe."

The words hung in the air between them. The phrase didn’t seem to fit him, it felt foreign, strange, like he was standing in a moment that didn’t belong to him. People didn’t say that to him. They never had. He’d spent most of his life either fighting to prove he was worthy of anything, or pretending he didn’t need anyone to tell him anything at all. His heart skipped again. It wasn’t the first time someone had said that to him, but somehow, with her, it felt different. More genuine. Less like a platitude and more like a truth. He smiled, a real smile this time, one that didn’t have to hide behind sarcasm,

“Guess I should be proud of myself too, huh?”

Y/n's laughter was light and, like a soft wind brushing against his skin. “Yeah. You should.”

“Didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

Rafe shifted again, his chest feeling tight in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—vulnerable, raw, with someone else’s belief in him resting so heavily in his lap.

She gave him a gentle smile, her expression tender.

“But you did.”

Now as she was sitting beside Rafe, hearing him speak those words, something inside her clicked. Her mind briefly flickered to her brother, and the wave of grief that had followed his overdose. In a strange way, she’d felt more connected with him today than she had in a long time. There had been no ‘five months clean’, no cake, no candles, they never had the chance; so being here with Rafe, celebrating his progress, somehow felt like a way of moving forward, a kind of redemption she hadn’t known she needed. Her heart tightened in her chest, and a lump rose in her throat as the weight of the moment settled over her. She had never told Rafe how much this meant to her, when he first told her he was going to quit she expressed her support, but never truly told him how much it mattered to her, not wanting to overwhelm him.

Now’s not the time for this

She cleared her throat slightly looking down at the plate in her lap, lifting the plate up towards him passing the boy the cake, candles still flickering against the white frosting.

“You should make a wish.”

“I’m not really the ‘wish’ type.”

Rafe looked at the cake, his eyes rolling at the girl’s childlike antics, his lips quirking up slightly, he stared at the flickering flames for a beat, and Y/n could see him thinking.

“Maybe you should be,” she teased gently, nudging his arm with hers.

“I wish-”

“No!”

The girl exclaimed loudly, cutting him off eye’s wide, “can’t say it out loud or it won’t come true.”

Rafe couldn’t help but raise his brows at her theatrics, “Alright, alright, relax” he said, “I’ll keep it to myself.”

He glanced back down at the cake, the soft glow of the burning candles reflecting in his eyes. His mind wandered. He turned his gaze back to her, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to speak—but then he stopped. Instead, he let out a slow breath, his eyes tracing the outline of the cake.

I wish you knew how much you mean to me.

Without waiting, he leaned in and blew out the candles with a quick puff of air, the small flames disappearing in a soft wisp of smoke. Y/n let out a little cheer- more of a giggle- an unexpected sound of pure joy. She clapped her hands once, as if the moment deserved a celebration.

“You made a wish and everything,” she teased, her voice light and playful now. Rafe’s chuckle was low, a smile tugging at his lips,

“Guess I did,”

The girl next to him shuffled around in the basket on the table,

“Don’t know if it’ll come true,” he added, “but I think it’s a pretty good one.”

Wonder what he wished for.

She pulled out two forks holding them up for the boy to see.

“Sooo.. d’you want some cake?” she spoke, Rafe chuckled again, his hand reaching out to take one of the forks, fingers brushing lightly against hers.

"I suppose we gotta try hmm?" he reached out and took one of the forks, before looking down at the cake in front of them, eyeing the little red cherries. She took the fork in her hand and digged it into the cake then held it up to the boy in an offering,

“First bite?”

He looked at the fork in her hand, before looking up at her face, the eagerness in her eyes making his heart thump in his chest. He let out a small hum before he spoke out in a somewhat joking manner,

“Are you feeding me?”

“You got a problem?”

She raised her brow playfully. He let out a small huff in response, his eyes flickering over her face. He let a slow smile spread across his face.

"No, I have no problem with that at all princess."

He replied, opening his mouth waiting for the bite. She brought the fork towards him watching as his lips wrapped around it tasting the dessert piled on it. He held a gaze on her as his lips wrapped around the fork, taking a bite of the cake. He pulled the fork from his mouth, letting out a small hum as the sweetness of the treat coated his tongue. He let out a content hum, a small smile still on his face.

"That’s real good." He mumbled out swallowing, his eyes flickering to the cake on the plate in front of them.

“I’d hope, worked my ass off on it” She rolled her eyes teasingly at him as she took some of the sweet cream onto her finger licking it off letting out a satisfied hum. He couldn’t help but watch her lick the sweet cream off her finger. The action making his brain go slightly fuzzy and making his heart thump faster. The sight in front of him was so… innocent, but it was still making his brain buzz with something else.

Stop that

"I bet you did princess," He said, eyes glued to her still licking her finger.

“Is it up to standard?” She asked as she watched him lift another fork full to his lips. He finished eating the bite of cake as she spoke, swallowing it down and licking the lingering sweetness from his lips. He hummed out a small response as he looked at her.

“Yeah, never knew the kook princess was a little baker.”

She shook her head at his comment hand coming out to shove his shoulder. He grabbed the other fork again, his eyes flickering back to her face,

“Come here”

She leant forwards at his request, as he took his fork and ran it along the edge of the cake, scooping up some of the cream it was covered in, coating the end of the fork. He lifted it and held it in front of her mouth, an expectant look on his face as he watched her. She parted her mouth as he raised the fork to her, her lips wrapping around the sweetness coating the metal. He couldn’t help the sharp inhale he took as her lips closed around the fork, his heart thumping rapidly at the action. He pulled the fork slowly from her lips, a slow smile spreading itself across his face as he stared at her.

“Taste good?”

“Mmhmm.” She hummed back, “I should probably start a bakery, what about ‘The Sweet Spot’?" She questioned tapping her fork against her lip in mock thoughtfulness. Rafe’s face immediately lit up with amusement, his eyes widening like he’d just heard the most ridiculous thing.

“The Sweet Spot?” he repeated, his voice humoured. “Sounds like a place where people go to get more than just cake.”

Y/n threw her head back with a laugh, but there was a glimmer of challenge in her eyes. “What’s wrong with ‘The Sweet Spot’? It's catchy!”

Rafe shook his head, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Catchy?” he teased. “You’re setting yourself up for a whole different kind of clientele with that name.”

She shook her head finger taking some of the cake frosting on her finger,

“Hey you’ve got a little-” She smudged the cream onto his cheek letting out a giggle. He felt the cream hit his cheek and he let out a chuckle, looking at her with raised eyebrows,

“Really princess?”

She shrugged her shoulders playfully, licking the rest of the cream off her finger and popping a cherry into her mouth with a grin. He let out a small, somewhat incredulous scoff as he shook his head slightly, the amusement clear on his face. She was acting so innocent and yet…

Stop

"You're a brat" He stated teasingly, a small smirk still tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She raised her brow at him as she watched the boy wipe some of the cream off the cake and onto his finger moving it towards her,

“Rafe!”

He let out a small huff of laughter,

"Relax"

He said in a somewhat innocent tone, but his eyes gave away his playful intentions as he held his finger up to the girl’s mouth.

Just as she moved forward to lick the cream off his finger the boy pulled his hand back at the last second, watching with a sense of satisfaction as the cream got smeared on her cheek. Her gasp made a small shiver run through his body, making his heart thump faster in his chest

“You have something on your face princess” He teased, the amused smirk back on his face.

“Rafe!”

She exclaimed as she sat back from the boy in surprise. She suddenly moved forwards taking a large wipe of the cake onto her fingers and pushed it against his cheek, he barely had time to register her grabbing a handful of cake off the plate.

“Really Y/n?”

He said with another huff of a laugh, his arm reaching around her waist, she squealed as he pulled her closer to her, smudging the cake all over her cheeks now, spreading it across her skin as a small grin appeared on his face.

“You look messy princess.” He said in an amused tone

“You're such a dick,” she laughed at him as she leant against the boy, his hand now covered in cake, the plate laying on the couch next to them. He could feel the cake getting smeared everywhere as she leant against him, but he couldn’t care less.

“I’m a dick? You started this”

He stated in a somewhat mock offended tone, his arm wrapped around her as they both sat there covered in cake. Y/n looked at the boy’s hand as he held it by her face, not wanting to get any of it on the sofa. He felt her look down at his outstretched hand, not wanting to dirty the sofa. His blue eyes met hers, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it vibrating in his ears. As he looked at her soft expression, he got a sudden idea. He mumbled out quietly,

“Open your mouth”

She swallowed, looking from the boy's eyes, her gaze landed on his hand, long slender fingers with the white sweet cream clung to them, tempting and indulgent. As his hand lifted to her face and she parted her lips for him. He let out a small, shaky breath at her action. He slowly closed the distance, his long slender fingers pushed into her mouth, coating her lips and tongue with the sweet cream as his heart thumped in his chest. As her lips wrapped around his fingers, an inexplicable feeling of satisfaction surged through him at the feeling, her hand came up to wrap around the boy's wrist; she didn't know what was taking over her as she moved.

What am I doing

He let out a hum as her mouth worked on his fingers, a soft sound catching in his throat as he caught her eyes looking up to him. He moved his fingers slowly in and out past her lips, feeling her tongue on his skin, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He felt a shiver of pleasure run through him, igniting something in his brain. He could barely think, his brain fuzzy and filled with sinful thoughts of her. She swirled her tongue around his fingers, licking off the cream that coated them savouring the taste, her breathing had picked up ever so slightly as she looked up to the boys eyes who were boring into hers. He groaned softly at the feel of her tongue caressing his finger, and his eyes met hers.

Fuck me

He could feel heat begin to build within him, a mixture of desire and need. His eyes watched her intently, taking in the sight of her. Rafe swallowed slightly, his throat suddenly dry as he pulled his hand away from her, a light string of spit momentarily connecting his finger to her lips. The girl leant forwards slightly, her eyes flickering down to his lips and he was suddenly hyper-aware of her closeness to him, the way he could feel her breath on his skin. Rafe’s breathing was now ragged and uneven, and he felt himself leaning closer to her, his gaze falling to her lips, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. He imagined the way they would give under the pressure of a kiss, soft and inviting, making it harder to concentrate on anything but the urge to close the distance between them. He wanted to trace the line of her lips with his own, feel their warmth, and taste whatever sweetness lingered there. He could feel the tension between them, thick and electric, and he knew he should pull away, he should stop this before it went too far, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when he wanted her so badly, not when he could almost taste her on his tongue.

Y/n felt light headed as she pushed herself closer to the boy, her hand resting on his upper thigh as her gaze darted up to meet his eyes, inches away from his face. Rafe could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

“Y/n”

He mumbled out barely audible as he watched the girl’s tongue dart out to wet her lips. He could feel his resolve weakening, the reason and rationality fading as the pull of desire became harder and harder to ignore.

He wanted her, needed her… in a way he never had before.

What the fuck am I doing.

What am I doing?

This is my best friend

Yet even as her conscience screamed at her she didn’t pull away, she wouldn’t, she’d wanted this for too long.

The sight and the sound of her slightly breathless made something inside Rafe stir, the line between best friends and something more beginning to blur. The realization of what they were doing suddenly hit him, a pang of guilt mixed with desire flowing through him. She was his best friend, she was supposed to be just his best friend, nothing else. He couldn’t do this.

“We shouldn’t”

Her heart dropped to her stomach as she heard him speak out. His words hung in the air, the space between them suddenly feeling miles wide. She felt sick, and she couldn't tell if it was because of the amount of cake she'd consumed or because her best friend, whom she'd been pinning over for years, didn't want her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she could barely move, as if the air itself had thickened, the boy sat back slightly putting distance between them.

-what?

The confusion crashed into her like a wave. Her mind scrambled for some explanation- anything to make sense of what had just happened. Had she misread something? Had she been too obvious? The nagging feeling that she might have let her feelings show too clearly, too soon, clawed at her, but that didn’t make sense. He’d leaned in.

He had leaned in.

He felt his heart sink as he’d pulled away from her.

Fuck

He watched as she sat motionless, her eyes searching for his, his stomach twisting and turning at the sight. He wanted her, more than anything, but he couldn’t risk ruining what they had, their friendship, the last stable thing in his life. He felt guilt coursing through him.

She blinked, trying to focus, but her mind was in a fog. She could see him, sitting back slightly, his gaze lowered, the distance between them growing, and it was like the walls around her were closing in. She couldn’t breathe.

Is he rejecting me?

Her throat tightened, and she almost choked on the lump that formed there. No, that wasn’t possible. Not after everything. After all the years of being close, of leaning on each other, laughing, sharing moments—this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was meant to be her moment. She had dreamt about this so many times, imagined it in a thousand ways.

But never like this.

He watched her expression, seeing the flash of disappointment and pain in her eyes. He didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want to push her away, but he couldn’t give in, he couldn’t do this to her

He didn't do relationships, he never has…

He felt his heart sink as she sat up suddenly. He watched as she shook her head, his stomach twisting and turning at the sight. He wanted her, more than anything, but he couldn’t risk ruining what they had, their friendship, the last thing connecting him to her. He felt guilt coursing through him.

“Look at me princess”

He tried to sound firm, but there was a hint of hesitation in his words, desperate for her to look at him.

“No. No you're right-”

She cleared her throat, grabbing the kitchen towel off the table and wiping her hands off the sticky cake, lifting it to wipe her cheek, before passing it back to the boy without looking at him.

You’ve fucked up

He felt his heart tug at the sound of her voice, the lump in her throat making him feel guilty. He felt sick with the whole situation. Rafe let out a breath, he knew she was lying, he could hear the shakiness in her voice; he took the towel from her, watching as she purposely avoided looking at him, and began wiping his face and hands off as well.

“Y/n.” He muttered out quietly.

She had to close her eyes momentarily to regain her composure, her back still facing him, she let out a silent breath and opened her eyes as she turned to the boy.

“Rafe, it's fine. You're right.”

He watched her for a long moment, her features composed but distant, like she had built some invisible wall between them. She didn't move, didn't say anything after that for a long time as she placed the forks and left-over cake back into the basket. The silence stretched between them uncomfortably. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the silence,

“You’re my best friend”

He said it like a confession, almost like he was trying to convince himself of it, trying to hold on to the one truth he thought he could trust. Y/n froze for a second, her fingers still gripping the handle of the basket. She could feel the weight of his words sink deep into her chest, where all the other unsaid things had already gathered. She stood from where she sat next to him forcing out a smile,

“Yeah of course- and you're mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive back was silent. Not the comfortable silence that usually lingered between them- no, this one felt different.

Tense, discomfiting, awkward.

Neither of them was brave enough to break it. Y/n’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles white, her posture stiff and forward-leaning, as though if she moved even slightly, she might shatter. Her eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, her focus unwavering, as if she was trying to ignore the weight of the boy sitting beside her. Rafe sat in the passenger seat, his body turned slightly toward her, his heart twisting in his chest. He’d never felt so conflicted, so confused, so sick all at once. He wanted to reach out to her, to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. And even if they did, he wasn’t sure if it would make things better or worse.

His gaze drifted to her, taking in the tightness in her shoulders, the subtle strain in her posture as she tried so hard to hold herself together. His chest ached, and the desire to speak, to make it better, was nearly unbearable. But the words felt trapped, like a dam that was ready to break. He couldn’t bring himself to say them.

"Do you want me to drop you home?"

Her voice cut through the silence, monotone, cold, as she kept her gaze fixed firmly ahead, as though the road were the only thing she could handle looking at right now. The shift in her voice, in her demeanor, hit Rafe harder than he expected. It stung in a way he couldn’t describe but he knew he deserved it.

“Yeah.”

He mumbled, his voice barely audible against the low hum of the car’s engine. The word felt too small, too inadequate, but it was all he could manage.

The sound of the indicator filled the silence between them, the rhythmic clicking marking each turn on the route she knew so well. The road to Tannyhill was embedded in her memory, but tonight, the familiarity of the journey did little to ease the tension in the car. When they finally came to a stop in front of the estate gates, the silence stretched, once again- heavy and suffocating. She leaned back against the seat, her shoulders sinking as if the weight of the drive had finally caught up to her. Licking her lips, she pursed them briefly before clearing her throat. The words she wanted to say stuck, tangled in her chest. Her gaze flicked toward him before retreating, hesitant.

“Thanks for… Thanks for coming today.”

She finally managed, her voice unsteady. He watched her carefully, his own heart tightening at her tone, she wasn’t looking at him. He swallowed down the sharp pang in his stomach and nodded.

“Course.”

He muttered as glanced at her again, but her face gave away nothing. She shook her head suddenly, a small, sharp movement, her hands gripped the steering wheel again, her knuckles whitening. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. The sound of his seat belt unbuckling cut through the silence, followed by the soft creak of the door opening. He stepped out, standing just outside the open door, the cool air hit him, but it wasn’t enough to cool the heat rising in his chest. Guilt mixed with longing clawed at him, the rawness of it almost unbearable. He glanced back into the car, his hand resting on the frame of the door. She still wasn’t looking at him, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the lights on the dashboard of the car.

“I-”

He started, his voice barely more than a whisper, she echoed, her voice overlapping his, pulling his gaze back to her.

The word hung awkwardly in the air.

Finally, she looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time. The corners of her lips twitched into a small, tentative smile- a fragile thing that barely held together. He froze, caught off guard by the flicker of emotion in her face. She hesitated, her grip loosening on the wheel as she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. There was so much she wanted to say, but the words felt too big, too heavy to voice. Still, she knew if she didn’t speak now, the distance between them might never close.

“I don’t want this to… change us.”

She said softly, her voice breaking slightly. Her smile faltered, but she held his gaze, hoping he could see what she couldn’t quite put into words. He felt horrible for putting her in this situation and making her question their friendship.

He wished he could tell her he didn’t want this to change them either, but he did. He was lying earlier, he wanted more than just friendship from her. He wanted to be more than just her best friend.

His breath hitched at her words, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,”

He said finally, his voice stiff, he nodded slightly, more to himself than to her, as if trying to convince himself of the truth in his own words.

Fucking say something to me

She blinked at him, her brows furrowing just a little, unsure what to make of his response.

“That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

He shot back, his tone sharper than he’d intended. He winced at himself and softened immediately, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean… I don’t know what to say.”

Her lips pressed together tightly, and she exhaled through her nose, her gaze fixed on the dashboard.

“Yeah, well… neither do I,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was suffocating, the awkwardness palpable. He stood there, half-in and half-out of the car, shuffling his feet against the gravel. Every second stretched uncomfortably long.

“We’re friends Y/n. That’s all we’ll ever be.”

He gestured vaguely between them as he spoke. He didn’t even believe what he was saying, but he told himself it was for the best.

What are you talking about?

Stop talking

Y/n didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t say anything at all. Instead, she slowly glanced at him, but only for a second- just enough for him to catch the faint shimmer of tears in her eyes before she quickly looked away.

“Right…” she whispered, her voice strained and hollow.

He opened his mouth to say something else, anything to fix it, but no words came, he let out a sigh, hand rubbing down his face.

“I’ll see you later,”

Rafe said, his voice trailing off, she didn’t speak, didn’t move to look at him, instead she let out a small hum of acknowledgement. Her head finally turned towards the sound of the car door shutting. She sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her hands were sore. Her eyes followed him as he walked up the path to his house, his steps slow, the porch light flickered on as he reached the door, casting a soft glow around him. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, glancing back toward her car for a moment. Her breath caught, her heart foolishly leaping in her chest, hoping- praying- he’d come back and tell her it was a mistake, that he hadn’t meant anything of what he’d said.

But he didn’t.

He turned back to the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

She sat frozen, staring at the now-empty porch, her mind racing and her chest tightening. Her lip trembled and her vision blurred as tears pooled in her eyes. She blinked hard, trying to push them back, but it was useless as they slid down her cheeks. A sob broke past her lips, filling the silence that had pressed down on her for the past few hours. She slammed her hand against the steering wheel, her whole body trembling as the tears came in waves. Her forehead dropped onto the wheel, the cold leather pressing against her skin as she shook with the force of her crying.

How could she have been so wrong? So embarrassingly, painfully wrong?

“We’re friends Y/n. That’s all we’ll ever be”

She thought he’d cared—really cared. She thought there had been something between them. All those moments they’d shared, the late-night conversations, the way he’d smiled at her, the way he made her feel seen when no one else did- it had to mean something. The answer was glaringly obvious now, and it made her feel sick. Of course, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Not the way it had to her. She’d let herself believe in something that was never there.

Her sobs grew quieter, but they didn’t stop. Her chest ached as she sat there, her nose blocked as she sniffled. She hated herself for thinking he could ever see her as anything more than a friend. Her tears soaked her cheeks, and she wiped at them furiously, her hands shaking. She felt stupid, exposed, and humiliated. She let her head fall back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the car, her breath coming in shakily. She looked back toward the house one last time, the darkened windows staring back at her like empty eyes.

And for the first time, she wondered if holding onto him was worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk

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cjlouwho · 4 months ago

Note

bucktommy: working together on a call, not just working the call separately with their houses but tommy working with buck and the 118

This is kind of a short one, but I wanted to get a prompt finished before I went to bed. Hope you enjoy!

“Fancy meeting you here,” Tommy panted, out of breath as he continued digging through rubble. “Thought everyone was told to evacuate.”

“We were told to evacuate,” Buck informed him. “And yet, here you are.”

He stopped digging long enough to look up at Buck. “Please tell me you have a Halligan with you?”

“Of course I do.” Buck pulled the Halligan out from where it was strapped to the side of his turnouts, handing it over to Tommy. “Where's yours?” He asked as he kneeled across from his boyfriend, beginning to dig right next to where Tommy was now pulling up some pieces of plywood.

“Fell down the elevator shaft.”

Buck glanced up at him. “Do I even wanna ask?”

Tommy shook his head. “No. Listen, Evan, you need to-”

“Don't even start with me, Tommy. I don't know why you're in here, but as long as you're in here, I'm in here.”

Tommy took a deep breath. He thought about arguing, but he knew Evan. Knew there was no point. “I heard a noise,” he explained. "I don't know how far down they are.”

“Then we keep digging.”

The sunlight outside did little to help them see. Smoke filled the room so thick they couldn't see any more than about a foot in front of them.

“About how long do we have?” Tommy asked.

“They said five minutes... six minutes ago.”

“Awesome,” Tommy deadpanned.

Tommy was taking one last sweep of the building when he heard the order to clear the area. Two stories had already collapsed, and the rest of the building was gonna go down at any time. He was just about to confirm that he was heading out when he heard a noise.

A squeak, or a scratch, coming from below the rubble. He'd called out, but gotten no answer.

He was in the middle of convincing himself it was the building itself causing the noises, when he heard it again. Louder this time. Right in the dead center of where there had been a partial collapse.

So, instead of radioing that he was exiting the building, he asked for help on the third floor.

“That's a negative, Kinard,” Captain Fredricks had replied, incident commander at the scene. “You gotta get out of there. Now.”

But he couldn't. He couldn't leave someone behind. He'd think about those noises for the rest of his life. How he left them as they made a final effort to be saved.

So turned his radio down and kept digging.

He should've known Evan would show up in record time.

He also should have known that three others would pop up as well.

Chimney set his equipment down next to Buck. “You guys know I hate not being invited to parties.”

“Cap is distracting Fredricks,” Hen explained. “We've got three minutes, maybe.”

“You ever regret taking these extra ground ops shifts?” Eddie joked, giving Tommy a pat on the back before beginning to pull debris from the area.

“Every single time I do it,” Tommy answered honestly.

“Yeah, but our extra shifts are gonna help us pay for the wedding in cash,” Buck pointed out. Just then, a large portion of what was remaining of the roof fell directly behind them.

“Let's worry about actually getting you to your wedding, Buckaroo,” Chimney said, chomping down on his gum. “Hen, help me out over here?”

“Coming!”

Tommy sighed anxiously. “You guys don't have to be-”

“Shut up!” The rest of the group exclaimed synchronously.

“You should know by now,” Buck grunted as he lifted up a heavy piece of floorboard, “none of us listen well.”

“Yes, well,” Tommy motioned to the space around them, “apparently I don't either.”

Buck smiled. “That's why this works, Babe.”

“I just can't help it if I don't want you to-” Tommy paused abruptly.

“What?” Buck asked. “What is it?”

“I hear something. It's right under here!” They all began moving faster, tearing away at the debris to get closer to the noise.

Finally, they'd made a gap big enough for Tommy to reach his hand down and grab onto- “I got it!” he exclaimed. As Chimney shined a flashlight on him, he pulled his hand up, cradling a black and white kitten.

“Gotta say,” Eddie noted, one hand on his hip, “I expected something slightly more human.”

“There's gotta be more!” Buck reached in next, pulling out one orange and white kitten, then a gray one. Tommy shined a flashlight into the hole and reached in a final time, this time grabbing onto a fully grown gray and white cat.

“All clear,” he announced, just in time for the building to start to rumble in a way that was definitely not good. “Let's get out of here, guys.”

When they got outside, Hen and Chimney both tried to pull the babies away from Buck while the mama cat got some oxygen as she laid on Tommy's laps. She was malnourished, and nursing. It was clear she and the babies hadn't been properly taken care of, if they belonged to anybody at all.

Each time Hen or Chimney tried to take the babies, they'd squeak and squeal until they were returned to Buck.

“I see the rescue was a success,” Bobby said, a smile on his face as he came over to where Tommy and Buck were sitting on a curb. “Are all the patients doing alright?”

“They're good,” Tommy answered, giving the mama some extra pets as she rested in his arms. “All stubborn little fighters, that's for sure.”

“Seems like they know their people,” Bobby quipped.

Buck smiled widely as the kittens climbed up and down his turnouts. “I think we just started a family, Cap.”

Bobby laughed, looking from Buck to Tommy with nothing but fondness in his eyes. “You good with four new fur babies?”

Tommy stared over at Buck, too busy giggling with the kittens to pay Tommy and Bobby any mind. He grinned. “How am I supposed to say no to that?”

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #short sweet and cheesy #prompt

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kunasthiast · 2 months ago

Text

Blackmail

Playing boardgames and Stardew Valley are your and your husband's favorite pastimes. But, do you really have to take it so seriously? Even going as far as blackmailing your husband?

a/n: i've just been SOOO addicted with playing Catan and Stardew this holidays that i actually "craved" for some wholesome, crack Sukuna fic playing these!! also, if u don't know, Catan is a classic boardgame where u really need to strategize LOL (and i always take games so competitively serious) >.<

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, Husband AU, Gamer AU, board game playing Word Count: 882 Warnings: cursing, laughing hard (please) All characters are of age.

“Oh my God, I needed that fucking ore! Come on, here’s 3 sheeps for 1 ore.”

Your husband then laughed at what you just said. You both have been playing Catan for the past 3 hours, with all 3 games owned by your husband. And now, you just need 1 point to win but instead he rolled a ‘7’ on the dice and stole your one and only ore resource – to upgrade your settlement into a city (which is worth 2 points, by the way). Thank God, you still have your 2 hay resources.

“No can do, babe.” Sukuna continued snickering at your misfortune. “This is a game of luck and I’m one lucky guy,” he continued and winked at you from across the table.

Groaning, you rolled the dice for your turn and landed on a ‘4.’ And you got a sheep resource, again. For the 5th time. “What the fuck am I gonna do with 5 sheeps?”

“Make ‘em steak,” Your husband said as he collected the dice to roll them, landing on a ‘7.’ Laughing at this, he said “Told ‘ya, the Catan gods are with me today.” He then moved the robber from your mountain territory to your wood territory – making you give up all your lumber resources, which amounts to a total of 3 by the way.

“Oh come on, why are you sabotaging me? I thought you love me?!” You’re overreacting at this point.

“Who else am I gonna sabotage? Me?! You just need luck today, babe,” Sukuna answered with a fucking boisterous laugh that makes your ears bleed.

“If I don’t fucking get a ‘9,’ I’ll be ignoring you for a whole week,” you said and rolled the dice. Sukuna laughed at you so hard with your dice ending up at the number you said. “Aww, see? The Catan gods love me so much that they wouldn’t allow you to ignore me.”

With a ‘9,’ you got a brick resource. Not the ore. Please, Catan gods – just two more ores.

Glaring at your smug husband, “You know what? After this round, we’re not playing this game anymore. Clearly, this isn’t for me. I’m just gonna play Stardew Valley and water all my seeds there – thinking about how that made me happier than ever playing this game.”

“Babe, it’s just a board game. Why are you taking this seriously?” Sukuna stared at you and yes, he’s still laughing. But, this time. Hard laughing.

“No. This is betrayal!” You said so seriously. How you said it without laughing made Sukuna fell down the chair and now literally rolling, laughing at you from the floor.

“As if you can play long enough at Stardew without bothering me,” he said in between his laughs. And yes, you two play Stardew Valley in co-op mode because it gets boring when you play it alone – so you always, always play it with Sukuna. He does the mining, fishing, and other heavy works there and you just water the seeds.

Crossing your arms and glaring down at him who is laughing like he just won the fucking lottery, you then said, “Keep laughing, ‘Kuna. When we’re done here, I’m selling all the gold ores you mined. Every. Single. One.”

That finally shut him up. He sat up so fast, you swore you heard his back crack, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s sabotage! Let me remind you that it’s our livelihood. You can’t sell that – they have to be gold bars before we sell that!”

“As if you didn’t sabotage me here. Stealing my ore and lumber?!” You leaned closer, poking his chest for emphasis. “Not just that. I’ll also marry Elliot just to spite you.”

Now Sukuna was actually frowning as he sat back up on his chair. “Elliott?! The poetry guy with the flowy, long hair?”

You grinned. “Yep. And I’ll make him recite me sonnets every morning.”

Sukuna grabbed the dice, clearly forgetting it’s his turn and now desperate to shift the power dynamic. “Roll. Right now. You’re not marrying that Shakespeare wannabe.”

You picked up the dice, shaking them dramatically before dropping them onto the board. And lo and behold—a ‘7.’

“YES!” You screamed, throwing your hands in the air as you finally get to move the robber and drop it on Sukuna’s mountain territory – robbing him off all his fucking ores. Sukuna groaned, throwing his head back.

“No! No, no, no!”

Looking at him, you stick your tongue out, “Oops, I think the Catan gods had a change of heart, babe.” You then upgraded one of your settlements into a city. “And now? I’m building my city. Suck on that!”

Sukuna looked at you like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline, “This isn’t over.”

“But, it is,” you leaned over the board and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You just lost to a girl with five sheeps and one brick.”

As Sukuna sat there, counting all your victory points and comparing it to his for ‘fairness of the game’, you added, “Also, Elliott and I are getting married this fall.”

That’s when Sukuna lunged to tackle you—and the game board—straight onto the couch, laughing so hard that you almost forgot why you’d been mad in the first place.

Almost.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #husband sukuna #au sukuna

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 months ago

Text

The Villain's Protector (Part 1) - Don't Blame Me

Summary: The reader wants out from working for the CIA so they propose a deal. She acts as the captured Soldier Boy's caretaker and she's free to go in six months. Their idea of stealing Soldier Boy's supe altering powers aren't exactly for what the reader thinks though and she needs Solider Boy to escape for her own plans. But those plans go awry when the CIA unleashes a dangerous life-changing weapon and the only way for her and Soldier Boy to survive is to stick together...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, violence, torture, bombing,

A/N: This series takes place post Season 3. Please enjoy this first part and let me know what you think!

________

“Y/L/N.” You lifted an eyebrow, finding an unfamiliar older woman at the entrance to your office. Your supervisor nodded beside her and you pulled your headphones off, letting them rest around your neck. “You’re off desk duty.”

“The chatter from these guys-”

“Yeah, I know. Somebody else will handle it. As of five minutes ago, you report to her now,” said your supervisor, rattling a knuckle on the door. You were ready to argue about how you were promised desk duty to finish out these last six months but she was gone before you could blink. You grumbled as the older woman stepped inside, closing the heavy door behind her.

“I heard you want out,” she said. You leaned back in your chair, cocking your head. “Nobody ever really leaves the CIA you know.”

“What’s my handle ID?” you asked, the woman raising her chin. “I ain’t telling you jack shit until I know you’re legit.”

“Black Midnight Angel. You want to get to work now? Or you going to waste more of my time?” You narrowed your eyes, the woman giving it right back. “Work this job for six months until you leave and the agency will pay for your schooling. And I know you’re skeptical so we already wired the funds to your bank account.”

“Black ops?” you asked quietly. She shook her head, taking a seat in the chair across your desk.

“Mallory Fischer,” she said, your lips pressing into a thin line. “You know what I do then.”

“Yes, I do. Question is why do you want me on your team? There are far more qualified people.” She looked you up and down, a small smirk crossing her lips.

“You’re right. Your agent assessment scores are average aside from your intel work. Last time you were in the field you were shot-”

“Why. Me.” You knew it was coming. You knew exactly what was coming.

“You have a year of medical school under your belt.” That…was not what you were expecting. Did she not…know? Maybe not. Fine. You weren’t bringing that up if you could help it.

“I do. You should know that the reason I couldn’t finish was because the CIA recruited me, despite my desire to not join,” you said, letting it hang in the air. Mallory rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. “You people fucked up my life plan you know. I’m thirty two. I’m going to be a good 5 years minimum behind my peers by the time I graduate.”

“Did I give you the impression that I give a shit?” You grumbled but kept your mouth shut. “You agreed to work here.”

“You threatened to deport my friend if I didn’t,” you growled.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had an ex-boyfriend with ties to-”

“Just stop. What the fuck do you want with me?”

“I have Soldier Boy.” You laughed, Mallory dead eyed. “I’m quite serious.”

“He fucking blew up last week.” Mallory cocked her head. You sighed, running a hand over your mouth. “He fell from, what, the seventieth floor? He’s really that strong?”

“He’s damn near indestructible. If it makes you feel better, Maeve survived too. But seeing as how she hates Vought more than most, we let her slide. Pretty sure she and her girlfriend went up to-”

“So she’s free and you don’t give a fuck about what she does. Fine. But what the fuck does ‘I have Soldier Boy’ mean exactly?” you asked. Mallory eyed you up and down.

“He’s Homelanders father.” You rolled your eyes and she frowned. “Why exactly is that not surprising to you?”

“Come on,” you laughed. “The most powerful supe to exist suddenly disappears right around the time Homelander was born? They’re both the poster child for all american wonder boy. I figured he was the dad doing a book report in middle school. It’s not that complicated.”

“Then you can understand why having Homelander’s father provides us an opportunity. His power is the only weapon we have that comes close to taking Homelander out. You watch the news. Homelander is losing his shit. We need to find a way to deal-”

“You don’t need Soldier Boy’s powers to fucking catch Homelander. If you caught pops, you can catch the kid and for the record, I am not one of your fucking super agents so you want me for research, fine. But save the shooting and catching Homelander for your own people.” You scooted your chair in closer to your computer, Mallory grabbing your hand roughly when you placed it on your mouse.

“Soldier Boy didn’t have the power to knock out other supes powers until after the Russian’s tortured him. We need to understand that ability of his and what made it change.” You sighed, pulling your hand away. “Work the job and in six months you’re gone.”

“And what exactly does this job entail?”

“We need a doctor, or the next best thing, for the night shift. Twelve hour shifts. You feed him, clean him, tend to him. Most of the time he’s going to be out cold. It’s maybe an hour of real work a night. You can do whatever the fuck you want in your office when you’re taking care of him, I really don’t care. We just need him in working order, got it?”

You pushed away from your computer, lifting your chin. “And that hour where he’s not out cold? How the fuck do I go near him without dying?”

“You better not be claustrophobic.”

Two Days Later

Mallory had ditched you not five minutes after seven pm after showing you to an office in the very plain looking warehouse in upstate New York. She’d naturally failed to mention that Soldier Boy was being held at a facility outside of the city. But you weren’t about to complain, not when the commute was shorter than your original one. So there you stood, a frozen TV dinner in your backpack, a guard dressed head to toe in black combat gear with an assault rifle almost as big as you, still wondering what the hell you were meant to do.

“You guys got a break room?” you sighed, dumping the bag on the desk and pulling out your dinner.

“Two doors down on the left. Unisex bathroom is around the corner,” he said, still not revealing his face from behind his dark mask. That was fine. He was an overqualified security guard in your mind. “Mallory left a schedule and map of the building on your desk. Burn them when you’ve memorized it.”

“Yup,” you said, walking past him and heading down the hall. “So how many guards are there right now?”

“The only staff on the night shift is yourself, a dozen interior guards, and four patrolling external officers.”

“No custodial staff?” you asked, entering the bare bones room with a microwave, old fridge and a wobbly table. Wonderful.

“No. They clean during the day. The facility isn’t large enough to warrant external help.” You hummed, popping the tray out of the box and into the microwave. “Do you have any further questions?”

“Is the Novichok gas always on in the room he’s held in?” you asked. He shook his head.

“He’s kept in a cryo tube during the night. Before entering the room, we will fill the room with gas for five minutes that will allow him to waken slightly but remain harmless. You will then enter in your hazmat suit and remove him from the chamber where you will perform your duties. When you indicate you are finished, we will increase the gas until he passes out and you can place him back in the tube. When you leave the room, we will stop the gas.”

“Does he eat during the day? What about the bathroom?” He was still and you frowned. “Dude. I get that everything is need to know but I need to know basic shit about my patient.”

“You feed him according to the schedule. He has a catheter.”

“And going number two?”

“He doesn’t get solids.”

“I don’t care what kind of liquid diet he’s on, he’s still going to shit.”

“I have my job, you have yours.”

You grumbled when he left, hitting the power on for your dinner. Just what you wanted for a career. Wipe the ass of the world’s most powerful supe.

You tried to forget about that portion of your “duties” as you ate your meal. It was still going to be easier than your first rotation in med school, that was for sure. He’d just…lay there drugged out of his mind. With the small threat in the air of if your hazmat suit tore for any reason, like say an angry supe being held prisoner grabbed it and ripped the plastic which he very likely was capable of even in that state.

Easy peasy.

You were able to distract yourself for an hour by walking the halls to figure out the layout of the building. The guard had been right. It wasn’t a large building. There were a few offices and typical building facilities in the front of the building. Security was stationed in the middle and Soldier Boy’s holding cell along with a viewing room was in the back corner. What appeared to be an operating room was further down the hall but that wasn’t entirely uncalled for in a black ops prison like this. You couldn’t exactly take your wounded agents or prisoners to a normal hospital.

You ended your self-guided tour in the viewing room staring down at the dark room below. Save for the soft blue light emitting from the cryo tube. You couldn’t see much at the angle. The top of the tube was see through but all you spotted were a pair of bare feet.

“He’s not strapped down?” you asked as the door to your right opened, a guard stepping through, this one slightly shorter than the one you’d spoken to originally.

“No. You’ll need to move him around. He’s wearing a face mask providing a direct stream of Novichok gas to him. You only need to remove it when you shove a tube down his throat for feeding. I’d suggest saving that for last.”

You quirked an eyebrow up. He was a supe, sure. This was a CIA secret holding prison, sure. The treatment of prisoners didn’t exactly have to adhere to the Geneva Convention in this kind of environment.

But it felt gross treating him like a meat puppet, keeping him alive only to figure out his powers. Which made you consider something else.

“Why go through the trouble of keeping him alive? Wouldn’t it be easier to just drown him? Or just take his DNA and recreate the power aspect?” you asked. Unsurprisingly, the guard didn’t answer. You crossed your arms, glancing at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t much past eight and there were still a few hours until his scheduled “wake” time. “New plan.”

“New…plan?” he asked. You just knew he was rolling his eyes at you behind those thick black goggles.

“Well he’s my patient, isn’t he? I’m making a new schedule, one that’s more appropriate for the patient.”

“You can’t do that,” he said quickly, your chin raising. “He’s a prisoner.”

“I know I’m just the glorified ass wiper for this guy but the more he feels like he has someone in his corner, the more apt he is to let a secret loose. Maybe he says jack shit but maybe he tells me what the russians did so you can figure out whatever power crap you’re looking for. Got it?”

“That’s the Y/N I’d expect.” You turned around, Mallory appearing in a doorway behind you. “Dismissed, Greg.”

“Don’t play games with me,” you said when the guard left. Mallory took a few steps forward to join you at your side, peering down into the room below.

“We had to know you’d be a team player. You’re not dumb. I think you can understand why I want you to do this job, even if you don’t have your medical degree.” You narrowed your eyes.

“Am I supposed to be his doctor or his fake friend? Which is it?” you asked.

“Both. It probably won’t work, the cocky bastard’s too smart for it, but it doesn’t hurt to try every option. I’d like to think you in particular would be willing to do whatever it takes to figure out that supe destroying beam of his. Am I wrong?” You ignored her, staring through the glass to the dark room.

“You hired me to be his doctor so that’s what I’ll be. Anything more will be my choice, am I clear?”

“Fine. Now let’s get you acquainted with your patient.”

“Fine.” You turned and left the room, heading down a set of stairs. You were in a changing room that had hazmat suits and respirators, different outfits for you to choose from. Along the back was a fridge that held his food, a thick mixture that looked completely unappealing. Beside the fridge was a cart for you to bring in and out, a medical bag on top but otherwise it was bare.

You stared at the options and sighed as you picked up the gas mask on its own. For one, if he wanted to kill you, he really could, suit or no suit. But mostly you had a bad feeling in your gut, like he needed some actual human interaction. If they were barely letting him be conscious during the day, he was going to start having problems. Namely, the angry supe was only going to get angrier which meant more violent which meant way more likely he killed you.

A gentle hand might be the only way to get through these six months in one piece.

After securing your mask, you made a note of the log by the fridge, surprised to find he’d been fed roughly an hour before your shift started. Huh. Maybe they were treating him better than you’d though. With your bag in hand, you hit the button on the wall, thick metal doors opening and allowing you to step into an air lock. You hit the button behind you, sealing it off and then a large black one with a hazard symbol over it. A small light appeared red over the button for a moment before turning green. You hit the button on the far wall and another thick door opened to the dim room. A fine mist clung to the air, deadly novichok swirling all around you. You raised your arm, checking for any reaction but you weren’t expecting one. Novichok was an aerosol. You had to breathe it in to suffer any consequences which hopefully you’d never find out how that felt.

The door shut quietly behind you, leaving you alone save for Mallory observing from behind the thick glass panel above.

You set the bag down, approaching the side of the far end of the chamber and hitting a large black button. A locking mechanism released, the door swinging open and allowing you to grab the end of the pull out tray. The first thing you noticed was Soldier Boy was naked, followed by a slight warmth to the air. The tray helped but he was heavy, a solid wall of muscle you noticed as your eyes darted over his body. Every inch of him oozed strength.

Ever so gently, you moved to his side, knuckles grazing over up his leg, over his strong thigh, soldi chest. You rested your palm over his chest, a slow, steady beat thrumming away.

You didn’t falter, didn’t do anything strange as you started to check his pulse, mind wandering while you went through the motions.

Sure, you’d be his fucking doctor. Until you figured out how to get him out of there that was.

Ten minutes later you returned to the viewing room where Mallory had remained, her focus on Soldier Boy below.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know you’re thinking about how to break him out. Why do you think I hired you?” You smirked, cocking your head.

“So you don’t want me for my medical knowledge. Shocking.”

“Fuck no, just like I know you have no desire to finish med school. Use that money for whatever the fuck you want. You do what I ask and we’ll give you ten times that and maybe we end up dealing with your little…problem along the way.”

You glanced at Soldier Boy, pursing your lips. “Why the ruse? Why not just tell me you want me to act like I’m the only one on his side?”

“Because I had to see how good an actor you are. The second I told you he can take away another supes powers…you should have seen your face. You were already in. You’ll have to be on all the time with him though. No mistakes. He’ll snap your neck if he finds out.”

Your gaze shot back to Mallory, her mouth forming a small smile. “I’m good at pretending everything is just fine. So what exactly is the plan to get him to trust me?”

“Be his friend. A few weeks from now you’ll miraculously break him out after learning about the torture he goes through during the day in our attempts to understand his powers. He’ll be leery of course but weak with the massive dose of novichok will get in him. By the time it wears off, he’ll trust that you’re a caretaker for him, likely even fall for you. And then? You prove your loyalty, shower him with that love he so desperately wants but won’t admit to. By then, he’ll blow the powers out of whoever you tell him to. He’ll be our loaded gun without even realizing.”

“That’s what you wanted all along,” you said, Mallory nodding for the two of you to leave the room, heading down a hallway. “Because if it doesn’t work, you can blame it all on me.”

“There’s a reason I wanted you on this job kid and it’s not just because that man will take one look at you and want to screw you. You will need to adapt on the fly. Use that head of yours and we’ll relay the list of supes we want him to take out and then he’ll go back in his box.”

“We’ll worry about that later. Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill me first.”

You were tired when you got home from work the next day around seven thirty in the morning. Mallory and security had given you an in-depth briefing of their plans. It was all very simple. Manipulate him. Make him see you as his only friend. Break him out and make him reliant on you to the point where he was doing exactly what they wanted without lifting a finger.

Except that wasn’t your plan. You’d break him out, play along to get him there but the second you had him alone, you’d tell him the truth.

And if he killed you in a fit of rage, so be it.

If he even could.

Three Weeks Later

You were grateful Mallory no longer came into work during your shifts. She wasn’t suspicious of you. Shit, she thought she had you read like an open book and you were perfectly happy to let everyone keep on thinking that. The guards left you alone unless you asked for something from them which meant you spent a lot of time either in Ben’s room, you’d taken to calling him Ben when you went in with him, or sitting in the observation room with a book.

It wasn’t hard to feign boredom when there wasn’t much to do. You desperately wanted to spend more time with Ben but it was dangerous to leave him off the gas for more than thirty minutes at a time. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call cognitively aware when you’d pull open the drawer and assess him. His eyes would flutter open weakly, a glimpse of an angry glare behind them before he’d call you a bitch and they’d shut again, his chest rising and falling deeper than when he slept.

Which meant you were in for a fun time in about forty five minutes when you were supposed to “break him free” according to the plan. You were meant to go about your usual routine with him before they’d take him away to the operating room they called it. More like commit war crimes against a prisoner.

You didn’t know exactly what they were doing to him during the day but it was bad enough that Ben was starting to show injuries. Injuries. On an all powerful supe. Nothing major. A few bruises and scratches but it meant something was up and you wanted to be done with this charade and now.

You just needed Soldier Boy to take care of Reaper, that god awful supe, and then he could do whatever the fuck he wanted for all you cared.

A faint scream in the distance made your head snap up. You heard it again and closed your book. Who the hell would be screaming in a place like this? You got up and headed down the hall, dipping your head in the observation room.

A louder scream rang out as you saw the empty cryo chamber. You ran out to the hall, bumping into a guard.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, Lance from the sounds of it.

“Where is he?” you asked, more screams heard now.

“Oh. Yeah, they kept him in the operating room longer today so he can do his ‘breakout’ with you soon. Sorry for the noise, he can get loud sometimes.”

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“The breakout. You’re supposed to grab him from the operating-“

“I know which room I’m supposed to fake the breakout from. Why is he screaming?” you asked. The guard blinked, raising an eyebrow.

“He always screams. I would too if they shoved nuclear waste through a needle into my eyeball.” You scrunched up one eye, the guard giving you a look like you were the weird one. “It’s the only way they get the red matter out of him…”

“If you have your fucking red matter then what the fuck are you faking a break out for,” you growled. The guard held up his hands. “I asked a question.”

“Listen. I’m only telling you this cause I like you. They needed to fake a breakout that way they can drop their red matter bomb they’ve been brewing up and wipe out Soldier Boy and let the fallout spread down to the city and kill all the supes there, including Homelander. You were…the fall guy,” he said quietly. Your eye twitched as you grabbed his assault rifle, jamming the end under his jaw. “Y/N-”

“The only reason I’ll let you live is because you warned me. Now put on your gas mask.” He hesitantly did as told, securing it before you clocked him in the back of the head.

Soldier Boy let out another pained scream and you’d had enough. You grabbed your gas mask from your office and ducked into the security office, grateful to find it empty. A large red button behind glass sat on the far end of the console.

NOVICHOK - EMERGENCY USE ONLY

“Fuckers,” you said before smashing it, jamming it with the butt of your weapon. You watched on screen as people started to panic and then came the screams in the hallways as the nerve gas tore through their nervous systems, quickly but oh so painfully killing them. You knew there’d be a few people that would see the flashing amber lights in the halls and get their masks on before they keeled over. Whatever.

You’d deal with those people easily enough.

The monitors showed most people had gone down, convulsing violently as they foamed at the mouth. The south hallway was clear and after checking your gun, you ducked back outside, slipping the sidearm from the guard you’d knocked out into the back of your jeans. Soldier Boy had stopped screaming, the halls eerily quiet. Still, you stepped carefully, amber flashes bouncing off the dull gray walls.

Past the bodies, you went down the far passage, taking a breath before opening the double doors. Blood stained the walls. Dried blood. Old, rusty, oxidized blood.

“What the fuck…” you trailed off, eyes settling on where a barely conscious Soldier Boy lay restrained on the metal table in the center of the room.

“Y/N,” he mumbled, your eyes widening briefly. He rarely spent time awake with you and the rare occasion he did he’d only ever called you curses.

“Can you fight?” you asked, unbuckling the thick leather restraint wrapped around his right wrist. He was strong, powerful. But even he couldn’t escape when they kept him gasing him all the time. He grunted, closing his eyes. “Most of them are dead but there’s stragglers to deal with.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow under your mask, removing the leather restraints over his torso and left wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you out of here. I need to get you up North,” you said, strapping the gun over your body. You helped him sit up, Soldier Boy’s body lax, littered with dark bruises. “Can you walk?”

He only stared as he slumped against your chest, face jammed against your body before mumbling, “You got great tits.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” you muttered. You grasped his shoulders, forcing him upright, Soldier Boy scowling as you barely kept his heavy body steady. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he tried to growl, coming out like a petulant child instead. You rolled your eyes, scanning the room quickly. Trays of syringes littered the room, bottles of something red inside some, a cream white liquid in another. “Fuck off.”

You dropped his shoulder, grasping his jaw hard, Soldier Boy flinching slightly at the touch. You’d deal with whatever the fuck that reaction was later.

“I will leave you here to die you insolent little man-child. Cut. The. Shit. Now.” The hardness in his gaze stopped, an almost panicked expression replacing it. “Work with me here. What’d they do to you? Why are you the equivalent of a sack of potatoes?”

“They keep me gassed and stick the white stuff in my eyes. I think it’s novichok,” he said. He closed his eyes, slumping forward ever so slightly before flying them open. “It’s the only way they get the drugs in. Or out.”

“Out?” You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. “Later. Can you move on your own or no?”

“I’m fucked for at least a few hours. Does that answer your fucking question?” He spit out the words, his glare indicating you’d be thrown against a wall if he were capable at the moment.

“Little bastard,” you grumbled to yourself, slinging the automatic rifle across your chest. He raised an eyebrow as you sighed. “Here’s how this works. You do as I say or you can die here. Your choice.”

“Get me the hell out of this shithole,” he growled, reluctantly holding out a hand. You turned, squatting down and pulling him into a fireman’s carry. He was warm against you, two hundred plus pounds of solid muscle. “At least you ain’t a weakling.”

“Shut up. Take that handgun in my waistband and shoot anything that moves and I mean anything.” He grunted which you took as an answer. You shifted you itself. Fuck, he was heavy. Dead weight too.

He might be able to run his mouth but that was all he had going for him. He nearly dropped the gun the second he took it out of the back of your jeans. Without another word, you exited the room, fine mist filling the corridors. Quickly, you moved down the hall, Soldier Boy grunting more than once.

“Shut up,” you whispered.

“Fuck off,” he snapped back, albeit more quietly. With gritted teeth, you continued forward, eyes flaring wide when you saw movement ahead. Gunfire rang out as you spun around, Soldier Boy hissing as loud shots fired off behind you. It went quiet, Ben dropping huffing against your back. “Thanks for using me as a fucking meat shield. That’s the only reason you busted me out, isn’t it?”

You dropped him straight on the ground, straddling his hips, not even a flicker of amusement on his face. You held up the gun, Soldier Boy scoffing. “What part of listening to what the fuck I say don’t you understand?”

“Leave me to die then, bitch.” You grabbed his jaw, pressing your thumb right under his eyes socket, his eyes narrowing. You pointed the gun at the inner corner, his eyes focused on the barrel.

“I need you to kill a supe for me. Reaper.”

“Reaper? That dumb fuck kid? Why the-” You pressed the hot barrel against his cheek, Ben growling.

“It doesn’t matter why I want him dead but I do. You will die if we stay here, Ben,” you said, tucking the gun back away. You sighed, checking the silent hallways once before re-focusing on him. “Lots of people hurt you. People here hurt you. But I am the only one that’s ever tried to protect you from something. So be quiet or I will leave.”

A grin crawled onto his face, a frown forming on yours. “You need me, don’t you sweetheart? Cut the tough guy act-”

You grabbed his throat, Soldier Boy’s eyes narrowing. “A bomb is going to drop killing all supes on the eastern seaboard. That’s us and you know what? Fuck it. Maybe I get lucky and this thing kills Reaper somehow and I don’t need you.”

“Dramatic are we?” he said as you stood upright. You got three steps down the hall when he slammed his fist against the cement floor. “Fine! I’ll shut up and kill Reaper for you. Now get me out.”

You smirked, wiping it off your face and hoisting him up once more. He stuck to his word, keeping his lips sealed as you made your way out, shooting one more guard at the front lobby area before you were in the parking lot.

After a quick check for trackers and bombs, you picked him up off the cold pavement, sitting him in the passenger seat of your SUV.

“My suit,” he mumbled. “Need my suit.”

“Already in my trunk. I was supposed to take break you out,” you said, closing the door.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked when you got behind the wheel, leaning over to buckle him up so he didn’t slump over.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, pulling off your mask and tossing it in the back seat. “We need to-“

You both tensed when the night sky lit up red in the distance, a towering inferno blazing up into the atmosphere from the direction of the city.

He grabbed your hand as a shockwave barreled toward you, both of you flinching as a strange feeling washed through your bones.

But you also felt a sharp familiar zap kick in and course through your arm, straight into his hand. He pulled his hand away, staring at you.

“What the fuck was that? Why the fuck aren’t we dead?” he asked, flexing his hand as best he could.

“I sort of…can’t die. I guess that bomb can’t kill me…or Reaper,” you mumbled, turning the car on and driving out of the compound. All the while you felt his drugged up stare. “I can’t control it. But good news for you, apparently you can’t die either when you’re touching me.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge that you felt all of his fear and pain when you’d somehow protected him. How afraid he was. How fucking alone he felt way, way deep down in a place even he didn’t touch until the moment of immediate death.

You slowed down, reaching over to hold his hand, ignoring the way he relaxed at the touch. Soldier Boy was out cold fast as the adrenaline wore off, his grasp on you too tight to slip out of.

You didn’t get far though, barely a few miles up the road when you saw people arguing outside a house, strange red streaks across their skin.

What the fuck did that bomb do?

Unfortunately for the two of you, you didn’t have to wait long to find out.

____________

A/N: Part 2 coming soon!

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys x reader #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfic #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy au #the boys #apocalypse au

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space-station-nursery · 5 months ago

Text

◜ ❗𓂃 Space Station Reports ‧ ❕ ◞

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DO NOT INTERACT WITH @KODASWRLD

now that that's out of the way, we will be discussing NSFW briefly in this post, please make sure you are reading when in a safe mindset. All moots will be tagged at the end for further reach, i apologize to anyone i ping who does not like to be pinged[/g] however this is a serious topic to me and i want this to reach as far as possible

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Beforehand:

Hello kiddos, this is a more in-depth report from the one we made [here] about the up and growing agere creator Kodaswrld. I found their[i cant remember their pronouns rn] blog a few months ago, and absolutely fell in love. I loved their dividers, their text posts, and all the freestyling on their blog!

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September:

On september 10th, 2024, we created a post called "Agere Backpack ideas"! The next day [Sep 11th, 24], while scrolling through a creator i also thoroughly enjoy, i saw a post they had reblogged.... It was our backpack ideas, but it wasnt written by me... in fact, it was re-uploaded by someone who i thought created interesting content. I commented under the original post to take it down as we did not consent to our work getting re-uploaded. They deleted our comment. A few days later after fd calmed me from my panic attack, we sent an ask to take down our post as we did not consent to our content being reposted. At the start of our blog, i did have "do not rewrite" on our blog, however because nothing ever happened, i took it away when we changed into the space station nursery. They deleted our ask. a week or more later [unfortunately i dont remember at this point anymore] They closed asks under the guise of "getting hate"

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Current:

After everything happened, fd scoured around to create a blacklist. At this time, i had finally calmed down, and was ready to blacklist. Before we got to it tho, i saw a post created by another agere creator in which Koda had stolen from. This creator asks that all followers or people interacting report if their content was being reposted, as koda had taken one of their posts, and it got SIGNIFICANTLY more notes, as well as Koda copying their DNI banner, just changing the font and small images on the side:

Original post that Koda stole, at the time, post had at max 200 notes, minimum 150. OP name and pfp covered for privacy

Copied post made by Koda. Notice the amount of notes it has [if you check] 740 notes

---

This is not the only instance of this happening with Koda, and no "but they add credits" is not a viable defense here. We did not tell them they could do this, and they did not ask, by the looks of all posts, they didnt ask ANYONE to use their posts. The little credits at the bottom is also hard to see, especially by those who are visually impaired. I had an almost blind friend check out their post, and that friend couldnt even see the credits without us zooming in and circling it for the friend to see. Thats a problem. And people who see it but dont think much of it [like me] will not click the credits. I didnt. and i apologize to those whom i contributed to as apart of the problem

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So what else needs to be discussed?

Well, before we get to the NSFW they interact with, lets go with the tracing and stealing. Thank you to the person that sent us this [will not name for the safey of the individual but they are free to comment and let you guys know! They sent a non anonymous ask but still, yknow?]

So-.... Proof?

This is a screenshot sent to us that shows a user by the name of @/b4bybear_ , crediting their BF and CG @/SEABUNE for creating an image we all know and love, and have MOST LIKELY SEEN amongst agere intros [all blue markings have been made by me]

As you can see in the second image, the user is written on the bottom, exactly how its written on the twitter post. This image is widely available, and many many individuals use it..... However, Koda didnt seem to care

As you can see, Koda NOT ONLY traced, changed a singular item, and erased the original creators credits, they then wrote their own name on the bottom and claimed this post as their own. And no, changing one thing on an art post while still tracing everything else is not "creating your own content" or "taking inspo" This is blatant copying. This is further than just stealing text posts, they are stealing

ART from other sources [nsfw below]

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And now, the NSFW....

Kodaswrld does have their following open, meaning that littles, middles, and anyone visiting their blog can see who they interact with. These are some of the blogs they currently follow, and content they post/reblog:

@/slvttyfied

@/firstladyofjuicycouture12

Whilst being 18+, there is nothing wrong with interacting and following NSFW content and blogs. However if you are running a blog with a minor following [not small amount of people, minors. people 17 and under] you should not have your follows seen if you are interacting with this kind of content. Minors are curious, and you are exposing them to things they do not yet need to see or know about. Especially when kinks/hard kinds are involved. I am 21 and fd is 22. We will NEVER, allow nsfw blogs or rebloggers to interact with our content

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Final thoughts:

Through our mini blacklist, we have found out that koda knows what they are doing, and are actively avoiding discussing it. We also learned that they ship real people [called rps or "real people shipping"], and for having almost 800 followers, do not deserve it. Please, spread this far and wide, show your friends, you moots, reblog it even if it doesnt fit your aesthetic. This person NEEDS to be stopped.

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Our moots: @oftlunarialmoon @nostalgic-woodwind , @zimswife , @deesblanketfort , @angel-bunnie @aprilsmabelmaple , @diaryofalittlestar , @h3ll0everybby1 , @xx-raines-space-kindergarten-xx [hi raaaaine]

#t✩⸜⸜agere reports 📢#dni with #kodaswrld #anti endo #agere report #age regression sfw #agere community #sfw age regression #age regression #art theft #autistic agere #agere blog #age regression caregiver #age regression community #noncom agere

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whorekneecentral · 1 year ago

Text

The Night Before Christmas

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: snow storms, delayed flights, slight disappointment, mention of a christmas miracle, hitchhiking - don't worry andrea is there for adult supervision, incorrect ski terms and whatnot - idk I don't ski, old ladies love joris, fear of flying/small planes, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, cuddles in bed.

Word Count: 2,225

Author's Note: so sorry for the delay in posting this, I've been in a bit of a slump lately and im trying to get back on schedule with the posting, bare with me lmao

merry smutmas series

A massive snow storm delays Charles’ flight home for the holidays and you both begin to give up hope but a Christmas miracle occurs.

Christmas was a bit of a mess this year.

December 24th and Charles Leclerc was stranded in Italy with Andrea and Joris. Charles had gone because he had a Christmas event to do with Ferrari, Joris and Andrea had accompanied him but they decided to go up north and go skiing for the remainder of the week.

They hadn't planned to push it so close to Christmas and then the snow came down; the stupid snow which blocked the roads and left them stranded in the mountains of Italy.

You were a bit disappointed when your boyfriend called to tell you that he wouldn't be able to make it home in time for Christmas. You asked him if there was anything you could do and he told you because of the snow, he wasn't exactly sure when he'd get home.

Charles could hear the disappointment in your voice, and it made him sad to know that he wasn't gonna be able to be home in time to spend Christmas with you.

It was as if Andrea could read Charles' mind; "what?"

"We have to get out of here, we need to go home."

"I know," Andrea tells him, Joris looks up from his laptop, "everything is closed, the roads, the airport, like.. we're stuck."

Charles was nothing if not determined. He made it his mission to make it home in time to spend Christmas with you - bit of a tight task considering it was 10pm on Christmas eve. Nonetheless, he and the boys rallied up - not like Joris or Andrea had a choice - and followed Charles out of the ski resort.

They made it about 2 miles down the road trudging through the snow before they finally came across a ski ranger, the man on his way down the mountain to pick up something they needed on the resort. He was kind enough to let them get in, the 3 of them squished into the back seat as the ranger drove them down. Due to the snow, it took them triple the time to go down than it took to go up but it was progress nonetheless.

Once they made it to the town, they were at crossroads again. How are they going to make it to the airport?

It was a one step at the time sort of plan, if they thought too far ahead, they'd just give up.

Joris wanders into the one place that was still open, a little bakery that was run by the older couple that lived there and they had a grandson who lived not too far off from the airport. The roads were cleared down there but they had no car.

The couple happened to be closing up for the night and on the way to their grandson's, the older woman took a liking to Joris, holding his arm as he led her over to their car.

"Charles!" Joris shouts, waving his friend over. Andrea and Charles wandering over. "Yeah?"

"This is Maria, she and her husband are on their way to grandson's, who lives like-" "He lives five minutes from the airport, let us take you."

"Are you sure?" Charles asks her, as much as he wants to get home, he wouldn't want to put a sweet old woman out of her way.

The woman pinches Charles's cheek, "yes please, I cannot leave you out in the cold. Come, come." She tells him, Andrea helps the older gentleman put all the luggage into the trunk, the 5 of them getting into the car - Charles, Joris and Andrea squished into the backseat again.

The older gentleman, Joe, was just as sweet and welcoming as his wife. They told them stories from when they moved there, how they opened their bakery and their family. As much as Charles appreciated their kind gesture, he was wondering if maybe he should have offered to drive them to the airport.

At some point, an excruciatingly long 3 hour drive - Joe drove slower than most, they made it to the airport.

Maria rolls the window down, saying goodbye to Joris. The photographer holds her hand as she calls for Charles. "Make sure you come back! And bring your girlfriend."

"We will, thank you both so much. I don't know what I can do to repay you."

"Take us to the race next year," Joe calls from next to his wife. Charles laughs, "sounds good, I'll come back and bring your passes."

The 3 of them run into the airport, the boards in front of them display only one word listed to all of the flights - canceled.

Big, bold, red letters crush Charles's heart and his chances of getting home.

Joris pats his friend's shoulder, Andrea already one step ahead of them trying to see if they were anything they could get on to make it home in time - after all, he wanted to get home to his family too.

It's an hour of Andrea bickering with the very tired and annoyed woman behind the counter before Charles joins him, asking her if there was anything they could get on to go home.

The flight to France was 2 hours, he'd manage anything at this point.

"There's one flight, a small passenger plane. I'd have to ask the pilot first."

"Please," Charles says, "I'll pay extra if I need to."

After what felt like another hour the woman finds them and tells them to follow her; she checks them in, getting their passes to them before directing them to where they'd meet the pilot for their flight.

When she said it was a small plane, Charles was expecting small but not this small.

The plane looked like those water planes you'd take from the mainland to an island - it didn't hold more than 6 people.

Charles is just clinging to his seat, counting down the minutes until he can get off that plane. He feels his ears pop, the thud as the plane meets the runway in Nice and he's thanking every god out there for that. They thank the pilot, trying to figure out if they should take the train or just drive home.

None of them have a car at the airport and thank god, it wasn't snowing.

It was Christmas morning, the airport was a madhouse and Charles didn't typically do this but he did use his F1 status to get them a rental, he signed a few autographs for the staff behind the counter and they were off again.

The sun is peeking over the Monaco pier, Andrea drove them home because Charles was too antsy to drive. They dropped him off first.

"Thank you guys, really." He says, standing on the curb with his suitcase.

"We didn't have a choice," Joris tells him jokingly, Andrea nods. "Tell y/n we said Merry Christmas."

"I will," Charles smiles, wishing his friends well before waving them off.

It was good to be home; the man made his way up to your shared apartment, the lights off as you were still sleeping - your soft snores filling his ears as he quietly made his way to the bedroom.

You're tucked away under the covers, the blanket wrapped you up and kept you warm during a lack of Charles in bed. He knew you were a deep sleeper, the fact that he had accidentally slammed the door and it hadn't woken you was sign enough.

He stripped out of his clothes, making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. At some point he thought he heard you shift, he peeked out the door way to find you still sleeping.

Charles joined you in bed shortly after, his arm snaking around your waist, the coldness from the bracelet he had on startled you. Your body responded before you could, taking a second to gather your thoughts - the fight or flight kicking in.

He presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, the smell of his cologne and toothpaste filled your surroundings. "Charles, you're home," you whispered, turning to face the man.

You couldn't fully believe it, not after his call last night, telling you that he wouldn't be making it home.

Your boyfriend smiles, kissing your forehead. "I'm here."

"How?" You mumbled, moving closer to him. Charles's hand presses to your back, rubbing the bare skin softly. "It's a long story, for another time."

You hum, not really caring for the story at the moment. All that matters is that Charles was home and he was home for Christmas. You opened your eyes slightly, peeking at your boyfriend. Both of you wore the same sleepy look - you having just woken up and Charles after a long night of traveling.

You kissed his chin, the man hummed in response. You follow the structure of his face, moving from his chin to his jaw and up to his sideburns, down his cheeks and finally to his lips. Charles pulls you flush against him, his lips holding your hostage.

It had been a long week apart and you both missed each other terribly. Andrea often says you two are like high school kids, all young and in love.

Your arms wrap over his shoulders, pulling the man on top of you. Charles settled himself between your hips. Your boyfriend pulls away from your lips, much to your dismay and finds himself moving down to your neck, along your collarbones and to your chest. Now propped up on your elbows, you watch as your boyfriend's head dips, his teeth softly grazing your stomach on his way to between your legs.

Charles glances up at you and pulls your panties to the side. He was close enough that you could feel his breath on you, your head dropping back when his tongue finally met you.

You look down at your boyfriend between your legs; the man smiling up at you as his arms hook your thighs to pull down flat on his face.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. Charles’s hand on your hip rocks you back and forth slightly, just enough that he can hear his name fall from your lips.

Your hand rests on his cheek, “I can't believe you're home.” Your eyes meet his blue ones.

“I'm right here, baby.”

You pull him back down for another kiss. Charles’ hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressed to your clit. Your back arches from the sudden touch, moaning against his lips.

Charles smiles, his heart fluttering every time knowing he’s the one that reduces you to nothing more than a whimpering mess.

“Please,” you pull on his hair, “Charles.”

“What?” He asks, rubbing circles with his thumb.

You can’t help the whimper slipping past your lips. “Fuck me, please.” You ask sweetly and how could he ever say no to you?

Charles finds himself moving to hitch your leg on his hip, lining himself up with you before pushing into you. Your back arches and he gives you a second to adjust to him before moving. You’re biting your lip so hard, you probably drew blood.

Your hand drags down his torso, pressed against his toned stomach when you speak. “You feel so good,” you whisper, knowing you can’t speak any louder.

“Yeah?” He calls, hand slipping between the two of you.

Your red nails, painted for the holidays, digging into his skin, leaving matching red marks matching the colour of your nails against his pale skin. “Fuck- please yes.”

Charles doesn’t quit; his fingers rubbing on your clit, the other hand moving your leg from his hip to rest over his shoulder. Just when his ego couldn’t get any bigger, it did. The 16 hanging off the silver chain around your neck, sitting flat against your sternum.

He can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to it, in the process pushing your leg back. The sound that left your mouth was nothing if not music to his ears.

The sudden ego boost, Charles takes his chance to ask you. “Who makes you feel this good, amour?”

You’re trying to answer him but between keeping the same position and his excruciating pace, you couldn't bring yourself to answer him.

Charles asks again. “Who makes you feel this good, amour ?”

A strangled answer slips past your swollen lips; “You, only you Charles.”

The answer satisfies his ego, his focus is making you cum. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, your boyfriend has now moved your other leg over his shoulders.

“Charles-” you call, your eyes meeting his. He can feel the way you’re clenching around him, his hand moving back to your clit.

“I know,” he hums, “me too.”

A few more sloppy thrusts and both of you fall over the edge, one after the other. Charles kisses by your ankle before letting your legs down, settling against you between your legs still.

Passing a hand through his hair, you smile at your boyfriend; his eyes all droopy and a sleepy smile on his face.

"You're here," you whispered, he nodded and his stubble scratched against your bare skin. "I'm here."

You hum quietly, the sun shining through the curtains in the room, the two of you cuddled up in each other's arms.

"Shall we open gifts?" Charles asks and you shake your head, "they're not going anywhere, let's stay in bed for a bit longer."

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your soft skin. "I like that idea."

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

#merry smutmas xoxo #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smut

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ino-takumas-baggy-sweater · 1 year ago

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The Blessing to Your Curse - Part 1 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

Hey y’all I’m back again so soon with another fic, Sukuna’s lover reincarnation (whatever you call it) has me in a chokehold right now and I thought I’d share this with the world. Would like to warn you there is a lot of strange jumping around/pov changes which are indicated by the change in pronouns, I would mark each change but it would get a bit messy after a while so I hope it’s not too hard to follow! ^-^

Reader’s powers involve something I like to call ‘blessed energy’ which is the opposite to cursed energy and is mostly used for healing (reverse blessed energy is used to harm in the same way reverse CE is used to heal) and it’s something I created to use with my writings in the JJK universe. (sometimes I write it a little op because im a self-indulgent piece of shit so for most of what I post I’ll probably dial it back if I use it hehe) The reader has a similar situation to Maki/Mai (MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD) where one twin is restricted and the other has all the energy, and when the one with the energy dies the living twin gains all the power, so I hope that makes sense in context of the story

(PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO SEND A REQUEST!!!! I'M ALWAYS IN NEED OF NEW PROMPTS AND CHARACTERS TO GO WITH THEM ❤)(I have a post which outlines characters I mostly write for but I'm open to adding to that list!!)

Warnings: mild description of mutilation (sukuna’s transformation), main character death (not described), fluff

Word count: 2.4k

“Ryomen!” You laugh, trying to keep a few steps ahead of the young man who chases after you. Your legs tire easily, body frail and sick despite the immense power flowing through your veins. “I’m coming for you!” He growls playfully, “Better run!” He’s holding back from his top speed, this you know well, but you refuse to let that stop you from trying to keep up with his childish play. Still young, 16 and 17 with him being the older one, you insist that you would rather spend the rest of your life here with him than being shepherded around in the village like a priestess.

This is your only escape from the temple on the hill, only solitude, your time with Ryomen Sukuna is precious and you treat it as such, thinking only of him and his rare smiles. You refuse to let the village’s words taint your view of him, as powerful as he is with his cursed energy there is good in him and you seek to nurture it, for both simple selfish gain and so he doesn’t turn on everyone like they did him. You reach the treeline and race out into the meadow, the grass tall and soft around your waist having stripped down from your daily ceremonial robes into just modest loose undergarments.

He does eventually catch up near the middle of the meadow, springing out of the grass and tackling you to the ground, making sure to roll so you land on top of him and he takes the full force of the fall. The last time you returned to the village after a long day of simple play with bruises and scrapes you weren’t allowed to leave the village for a few weeks.

He’s grown quite a lot larger than you during his time in exile, to be expected when you have to fend for yourself against wild animals and build your own shelter, “You’re getting stronger every day,” You smile, pushing yourself off him and laying in the grass, staring up at the beautiful pink of the sunset. “Well I have to, to be able protect you, I’m not the only thing out there you know,” He says, his tone almost too blasé for what he’s implying. You tilt your head and trace the lines of his tattoos with your eyes, “I know you’re not, but you’re not a thing to me Ryomen,” You murmur, “Please, you’re the closest thing I have to a friend, you’ve always been human to me,”

He meets your gaze, his eyes used to be brown, but the red no longer worries you like it used to, “One day I’ll get you out of that village,” He says softly, his words for your ears and the rustling grass only, “I will take you far away from here and we can live somewhere untouched by the rest of the world,” You sit up, looking down at him as you hug your knees to your chest, “I’d like that,” You say, smiling, “Just the two of us,” Nothing could touch you while you were together, the world stood still for you, not even the scathing remarks you sometimes got from the other young girls of the village could hurt you.

The world is volatile, things can change so quickly. Curses are still so new to the world of humans, sorcerers that act as protectors are only just starting to appear among humans and spread themselves between villages when the day finally comes. The wave of hatred and anguish that came with the curses suffocated everything in its path. You were outside the village when it happened, returning from a visit with Sukuna, and you returned to find nothing but death and destruction. More than half of the village had been killed with no discrimination towards age or gender, and it only soothed you a little to see your old family home empty when you wrenched the door open. No blood nor bodies of any kind. Your parents and sister had made it out alive, but the temple atop the hill that you resided in was completely engulfed.

You weren’t naïve, you did not attempt to return to the temple, but they came for you all the same because your energy was like a beacon for them, and they were programmed to destroy. Running with Ryomen had improved your strength over the time you spent together, you supposed that was one of the ways he took care of you in his silent brooding way, but it wasn’t enough to get you all the way to him. He must have sensed your fear as you grew nearer, your breaths shallow and your chest tight, his eyes are the last thing you remember seeing before your soul was harshly liberated from your flesh.

The smell of blood permeated through layers of warmth that held you in suspension beyond life, but you felt yourself being dragged back to the ground, standing over your own body as you watch the only person outside of your immediate family who ever truly cared for you cry. You had never seen him cry before, it was cathartic to know even he still felt human somewhere inside while holding your weak broken body to his bare tattooed chest.

You felt his cursed energy filling the air like smoke, almost able to see it in the purgatory state you’re trapped in, his body shaking and his muscles twitching. It was like watching someone turn themselves inside out when it finally happened, his body began changing before your eyes, an extra pair of arms sprout from the top of his ribcage just under the normal ones. His face contorts with an agonized cry and one half becomes unrecognisable, the flesh pink and hardened into some sort of twisted mask, and to finish the monstrous transformation a second pair of eyes open under his regular ones.

Drenched in sweat and breathing heavily as he cradles you, you hear him make one last promise, one that locks around what remains of your essence like chains and puts you into a deep sleep. “I will burn this world for taking you from me, I will become the King of Curses, and when you are reborn I shall make you remember, make you my Queen, I will bind myself to you to protect you,” It’s the final part that reassures you he isn’t losing himself as the darkness consumes you, “When I find you, the world will be right once again,”

Now it had been over a thousand years since the light in Sukuna’s life had gone out, reducing him to a killing machine that punished the world for snuffing it out, and he had returned once more in the body of a naive 15 year old boy with pink hair. Having been preserved as twenty separate cursed objects since his untimely death he was eager to resume his self-assigned purge, but the boy had more control over his body than Sukuna could break through, leaving him trapped within his innate domain watching through Yuji Itadori’s eyes like they’re windows.

“I had to do it at least once,” He grumbles to himself as the boy sits up, stark naked, on the morgue table, surprising the three sorcerers in the room with the formerly dead boy. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Yuji, come,” Gojo instructs as the boy slips on some clothes handed to him. “Another sorcerer?” He asks. “You’ll see when we get there,” The taller man beckons him and they make their way to a house on the furthest outskirts of the Jujutsu high campus, small in size and surrounded by forest on all sides except for the path leading up to the entrance.

A fire burns in the chimney and the house is warm when the pair steps inside, “L/n!” Gojo calls out. Sukuna’s attention is elsewhere as around the corner down the hall out walks a pure angel, her energy blinding and her form strong. “Gojo!” She smiles, “Who’s this?” “This is Yuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel,” She bows politely, “Welcome to my home,” She looks back up into Yuji’s eyes as he smiles, “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Enchain!” Sukuna shouts, and suddenly he’s thrown violently to the forefront of Yuji’s mind. His trump card, wasted. He hadn’t considered the potential consequences, it had been instinctual and foolish of him. The girl didn’t know who he was, but he wanted to speak to her all the same. He would make her know. He cannot stumble, he cannot falter, not when she’s right there and all he has to do is show her, “Y/n,” He murmurs. “That’s not Yuji,” She frowns, her voice soft, “That’s-” Before the two can react Sukuna is on his knees before her, holding her hands in his and hiding against her soft clothing. “I’ve…” Gojo trails off, “I’ve never seen that before,” The girl doesn’t let him go, and he feels her power reach into him, feeling around in the darkest parts of his soul, “My Queen,” He mutters, feeling the metaphysical chains around his heart tighten, “Please, remember,”

A fast surge of energy from Gojo causes the man on his knees before you to react just as quickly, pulling you tighter against him and then seemingly teleporting out the open door into the clearing, “It’s rude to attack ROYALTY!” He roars as Gojo steps out the door after the pair of you. Sukuna has planted himself firmly between the two of you, “You sorcerers never learn manners!” Something happens when your skin next touches his, his hand shooting out to catch you by your wrist as you fail to keep your balance.

A flood of memories that don’t belong to you, in fact, ones that belong to him. You see yourself, weak and frail but smiling widely, Sukuna as he is in front of you now not as he is described in sorcerer texts. A regular human man with an abnormal amount of tattoos, fiercely protective and full of love for the only person who still sees him as human. You vaguely feel yourself fall to your knees as everything from the day he was exiled to the day you died returned to your mind. You knew that despite the life you had lived for twenty years, you were in fact over a thousand years old.

This wasn’t your life, this wasn’t your body, it was hers, but you are her. You can feel the chains, too, the ones he put there the day you died to ensure that you would return. “The world took her from me, and the world paid the price, now BACK OFF!” His words shake you out of your visions, his hand still clutching your wrist as your head hangs weakly.

“Come now, Sukuna, taking hostages isn’t your style, you know that,” Gojo bargains, “Let her go, and we can fight like men,” You shake your head, “No,” You murmur, “No, Gojo,” You finally look up into his eyes, slightly uncovered as he prepares to fight, “He’s right, I know who I am, I know where my clan comes from,” He doesn’t make a move towards you and you take the opportunity to speak again, “My mother was blessed, her child would calm the beast, but she had two and one was weak in body strong in energy, the other was lacking in energy but strong of body,” Your sister had been the one the clan records mentioned, nobody remembered the girl who died alone in Ryomen Sukuna’s arms.

“I am the Queen to Ryomen Sukuna’s King,” You breathe, feeling his grip on your wrist go lax. His energy dies away and he falls to his hands and knees, but the tattoos are gone. “Yuji!” Gojo’s shoulders finally relax and he recovers his eyes, “What happened? How did he get through?” “Don’t ignore me, Satoru,” You state firmly, “Sukuna will not be a threat while I am alive,” “Can you guarantee that?” He’s always been intimidating, but this man was a part of your training as a sorcerer, and he can be rational when he wants to be.

“You’re an imbecile if you think I’m going to go back on a binding vow,” Sukuna spits from Yuji’s cheek, the boy not even having a chance to get a word in, “She is the only thing in this forsaken world I care about and you’re not about to take that away from me just so you can pretend like you’re the saviour of humanity,” You don’t remember ever being as harsh as Sukuna is right now, but his rage fills you with confidence and admiration, “I can guarantee humans will not fall as long as I am alive, his vow makes sure of it, though I’m sure he would not need it either way,”

The secondary eye on Yuji’s cheek closest to you locks its gaze onto you, “Ever so cunning, I wish I’d had the chance to nurture your hatred towards the village, maybe you’d be more open to killing,” He sounds almost wistful, “But alas, I did make a promise, and I intend to keep it, no matter how idiotic I think you sorcerers are,” You finally move to stand back on your feet, helping Yuji up with a tentative smile, “It’s nice to meet you Itadori,” You murmur, “I’m sorry you have to listen to that punk, you come to me if he gives you trouble alright?” The boy nods, his previously cheery demeanour replaced with something mellower and he seems deep in thought as he looks into your eyes.

“He really loves you,” He murmurs in disbelief, “I didn’t… I didn’t think he was truly capable of love, after what he did to me,” You shrug, “It’ll make sense one day, but I’ll let him be the one who opens up, it’s not my place to air out thousand year old dirty laundry with people who are long dead anyway,” Your words hang in the air as Gojo finally sighs. The discussion and conclusion are finalised when he leaves, Yuji will live with you and you will suppress Sukuna’s energy. You will keep the world safe by preserving your life, lest another binding vow come down upon your departing soul and the King of curses be forced to unleash his merciless fury once more.

Sukuna is a little shit and out of character because it’s my fic and I get to write the male love interest however I want (I tried besties :( I don’t like mean Sukuna but I do love “I hate everyone but you” so that’s what you get) also I wrote this instead of sleeping at 2am, the brainrot is real and this will probably end up being a series because I can’t control myself

Part 2 here!

Post dividers from @cafekitsune

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #true form sukuna #ryomen sukuna #yuji itadori #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk sukuna #heian era #jjk x reader

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floweycidal · 2 months ago

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hey op i know youre insane over flowey so i thought id share my brain with you

have we considered the chara parallels in undertale yellows neutral run? as in. how flowey is pissed that midway through the plan clover went back on it? how flowey probably said something that chara said in the moment frustrated? im ill.

HEY OP I KNOW YOU’RE INSANE OVER FLOWEY HAHAHA INSANE START /SILLY

ah, yes, yes! you've come to the right place. please, make yourself at home. i’ll handle your brain with the utmost care.

OUDHUHGH YUUUP, we've (me, myself, and i) absolutely considered all that. and more!

but see, i personally never thought that was all there is to it. it would’ve been far too facile, much too pat, to assume chara had just... snapped at him in their final moments. that they’d cursed his name, branded him a traitor, made their hatred crystal clear.

oh, how delightfully clean that would’ve been for him. because then he’d get his closure, wouldn’t he? an answer, wrapped up all pretty just for him.

"i betrayed them. they loathed me for it. the end."

HA! too polished for my liking. no thanks. closure is reserved for those who can find resolution. and flowey, my son who's got everything wrong with him, has never been one to receive that kind of accord. he doesn't get straightforward, not then, not now, not ever.

in my head, flowey woke up in that garden with gaping holes in his memory of the incident. not total oblivion—never that generous. instead, it was bits and pieces. just enough to know. enough to understand that it was his fault. his frailty. his failure that brought him to this point.

but chara's last moments? their final utterance? those are lost to him. gone. TORN.

he never gets that confirmation. or, more precisely… he doesn’t remember. can’t remember. mwhahaha…

what does spring to mind, however, is the terror. the detestation that wracked their shared body. the oppressive shame that pervaded every step he didn't take.

but then... at the time... who was feeling what exactly? who blazed with fury, and who broke beneath it? did someone beg? did someone weep? was it him? was it chara? who was hating whom in those parting moments? the harder he tries to remember, the further it slips away.

and because flowey's never met a void he didn’t try to fill, he does what he’s always excelled at. he patches the blanks. projects, narrates.

his guilt demands a story, and so he obliges. in his version, every foul emotion, every drop of vitriol, was aimed squarely at him. how could it not have been?

chara MUST have surely thought he was an idiot. a weak, cowardly, sniveling idiot. a pathetic creature who couldn’t even get one plan right. couldn’t even die properly!

the self-blame constricts him like a vice, and with every reset, the narrative grows more discordant. he doesn’t just wonder if chara felt let down, he KNOWS they did. feels "their" revulsion rooted in his stem, their disappointment rotting his petals from the inside out with every cycle.

when clover comes along, he's elated. this is his shot at a fresh start. a second chance. the perfect subject for redemption, for forgiveness by proxy. his very own moment to fix everything, to prove that he’s changed. gone were the days when any plan was doomed with him around. this time, he was going to make it work. are you looking, chara?

but when clover hesitates... wavers the way he once did... flowey FREAKS.

he doesn’t see clover anymore. he sees HIM. he doesn’t hear his own voice, either. he hears the chara he’s created. the version that exists only in the cruel theater of his own mind. the variation that would never absolve him. that would never understand. that would only revile him.

the words he chucks at clover are the same accusations he believes chara would have spat at him, the same venom he’s already used to poison himself.

the words fall into insignificance, though, because much like the first time, the plan fell apart regardless of whether he condemned asriel clover or not.

all he was left with now was his certainty. chara HATED him.

and they were right to.

#undertale #undertale yellow #flowey undertale #flowey #flowey the flower #dreemurr siblings #ask #anon i know this is so insanely late #i'm sorry!! i promise i'm not ignoring anyone #i just keep FORGETTING MY INBOX EXISTS!!!!!#thank you for sending this through! had a lot of fun rotating your ask in my head like a rotisserie chicken #headcanonish #my own depiction #i respect all the other portrayals please put down the pitchforks #he is so not okay guys i love him #he is never not projecting

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megalony · 2 months ago

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Merciless Wrath- Part 2

Here is a follow up for my latest Emperor Geta imagine, this was requested by a lovely mututal.

I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

Summary: Geta loves how timid his wife is when it comes to watching the Gladiators. But Hell rises when one of the fighters decides to shoot an arrow and hits the Empress.

Enjoy.

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Having an entourage of people crowding around him had never felt so daunting and irritating before. Geta used to love having people following him around like a shadow cast by the sun. He used to think it was encouraging and powerful to have people watching his every move and observing him like they thought he was a God walking amongst men.

But this was different. Geta didn't like having people crowding into the drawing room like this. He didn't like the nervous look plastered across the guard's faces. He didn't like the servants jittering from foot to foot, waiting to be told what to do and where to go. He didn't like people looking at him now because right in this moment, Geta didn't have any answers or orders for them.

He didn't know what to do when all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of betrayal and agonising fear.

Fear that he was going to lose the woman in front of him. The one who had taken his heart since the moment he first laid his eyes on her. She was the one with the pure heart of gold that was more valuable than any of the riches in Rome. (Y/n). (Y/n) was the purest soul here and now Geta was in danger of losing her.

If her wound didn't heal, if it got infected or she began to lose blood internally. If she didn't recover from this and Geta lost her, he would succumb to a worse state of madness than that which was slowly taking hold of his twin. Geta would be lost and the world would be at the mercy of his vengeance if he lost (Y/n).

With a deep rooted sigh, Geta pushed up from where he had been sat on the end of the sofa rather like one of the many marble statues that littered the palace. He couldn't sit in here any longer. He had to move, he had to do something, but he couldn't stray far from his wife. She needed him.

He turned around so he was crouched down beside the sofa (Y/n) was laid on. The healers had already explained things to him. They would be giving her more opium so she wouldn't wake until sometime tomorrow. Geta didn't like the thought of (Y/n) falling into an endless sleep, but her being asleep was the best way to let her body calm down and begin to heal, at least according to the best healers in Rome.

And by tomorrow the worst of the pain would have been dulled down by the opium and her body would have started to better itself. The pain would be bearable by the time she woke tomorrow. If indeed she woke from this at all. Geta prayed that she would; he couldn't imagine a scenario where she wouldn't.

With his knees pressing into the edge of the sofa, he hovered over (Y/n) and began to move her, little by little. He made sure both her arms were crossed safely and resting over her waist before he eased her head up from the cushion and leant her cheek against his chest instead.

"Sire?"

Geta spared a sideways glance towards the healers, all of whom were now watching him with a burning intensity in their eyes and confusion plastered across their faces.

"She isn't staying here." His snappy response had them all biting their tongues at any disapproval they might feel.

They weren't going to argue, they didn't feel able. And (Y/n) would have to be moved at some point, Geta was just moving her now rather than later. (Y/n) couldn't stay here in the drawing room, it wasn't practical and Geta wouldn't have her spending the next day or two laid on his sofa. If she was going to be induced into slumber by opiotes then she would do so in the comfort of her own bed in her own room. Where he could properly sit with her and keep watch over her.

Once her head was safely lolled against his shoulder, Geta slid his arms beneath her frame and eased her up into his arms bridal style, the same as how he had frantically carried her an hour earlier when he brought her here.

Only this time Geta felt much calmer. He didn't feel like each step he took was causing the world around him to crumble into dust. He didn't feel like he was running towards a bright light that was going to snatch his wife away from him. He wasn't rushing to find help or feeling her body go limp and lifeless in his arms.

This time, he walked with slow determination and his eyes constantly casting down to his beloved. It didn't matter that Geta could feel her softly breathing against his neck. He wanted- no, needed, to see that slow rise and fall of her chest. He needed to see her body working and be reassured that she wasn't about to stop breathing or suddenly slip away from him. He had to make sure she wasn't leaving him, for anything.

"Move." That one word was enough to frighten everyone in his path and have the guards slinking off to the sides to allow him to pass by.

Geta stormed out of the drawing room and began walking slowly down the hall towards the nearest set of stairs.

He could feel the entourage following behind him. Caracalla being the closest behind him. Followed by at least four guards with heavy steps and clattering swords against their hips just waiting to be used and weaponised against anyone. He was sure the healers were following too along with the few servants who had filtered into the drawing room to see if they could help.

Geta hated them all. He hated how they were following him as if this were some grand procession rather than him trying to take his wife somewhere else to keep her safe and rested and comfortable.

He hated that he needed them all to follow. He hated that he needed the healers close by in case his wife took a turn for the worst. And how he needed the guards to ensure no one else tried to harm her like this. And his brother's presence to keep the last bit of sanity he had. And the maids and servants to be nearby to tend to his wife who was now motionless and unconscious in his arms.

He didn't want them following, but he needed them all the same.

His eyes cast down to his wife once again as he began his ascent up the stairs. He could see how her skin was starting to swell even more now. It wasn't just the tenderness beneath the bandages around her chest. He could see swelling rising to her right shoulder making the skin tense and push against the bandages wrapped around her frame.

He hated the pale blue tinge to her parted lips that showed she had a lack of oxygen and possibly too much opium in her system than was really good for her.

And what hurt him more was the fact that it wasn't just one wound. It was two holes torn through her skin. It was a stitched up hole through her chest and one in her back too. It was the right side of her chest that was swelling and sore and meant she wouldn't be able to move her arm for a while.

And the fact that her dress had been stained and torn beyond repair irritated Geta even more. No one else but him should be able to cast their eyes on his wife's beautiful silky skin, and yet everyone in that room had seen her chest and had a dangerous view towards her cleavage when her dress had been pulled down to expose her wound.

Even now while she was laid in his arms with her golden dress stained dark rouge, the fabric was barely covering her chest. It was hooked over her left shoulder but pulled off her right arm to make the wound visible. Geta had readjusted the material half a dozen times already to make sure her cleavage was covered to spare her the indignity.

He didn't realise his nostrils were flaring and his breathing had turned ragged until he was almost towards their shared chamber and he found his chest heaving with frustration and unfiltered fury.

He didn't wait for anyone to open the chamber door when he got there. With it being partially opened, all Geta had to do was slam his foot into the base of the door and it swung wide open for him.

He stormed into the room, ignoring the sounds of dozens of footsteps following swiftly behind him.

He passed through the main room that they used as a joint study, a reading room that (Y/n) frequented more than Geta, and he blundered through into the bedroom.

The sight of the golden sunlight streaming through the open windows was irritating. Geta didn't like the dark orange glow as the sun was halfway towards setting behind the sand. He didn't like how warm and iridescent the room looked compared to how dark, cold and gruelling it should have looked after what had happened to his wife today.

But he ignored the bright sun in favour of rounding the side of the bed. He didn't want to set her down. He had been holding her for long enough that Geta simply wanted to keep her here, safe in his embrace until his arms snapped and his body dropped. He wasn't tired or aching from carrying her, rather the opposite. He felt himself growing angrier and more protective the longer she was in his arms.

He pressed his knees into the edge of the bed and carefully eased forward until he could set (Y/n) down in the middle of the bed.

Once she was laid down, Geta perched on the side of the bed with one hand pressing into the pillows so he could lean over her. And his other hand carefully began brushing tendrils of hair away from her face, one at a time while he took the time to glide his fingers across her cheek and along her neck.

He didn't like how motionless and unresponsive she was, this wasn't normal.

He bent forward to press a tender kiss against her temple that was flushed with sweat and radiating heat enough to rival the sun in the hottest days. His lips stayed against her temple for a few moments, maybe a few minutes, while he listened too the sound of her soft breathing.

When he finally lifted his head, he cast his eyes towards the doorway where two maids were meekly stood. They had their hands clasped together in front of them and their eyes cast down towards their feet, not wanting to intrude or face Geta's frustration if they had somehow overstepped any marks.

He trailed his fingertip along (Y/n)'s chin and down her neck before he sighed to himself and climbed off the bed.

He approached the maids with a look of distaste on his features and every part of his body shaking, seething with anger. But the way he took a slow, calming breath and silently pointed his hand behind him towards his wife showed a small air of relief as he tried to calm down just a little.

"Change the Empress and make her comfortable. I want that dress burned."

Both maids nodded their heads and finally dared to lift their gazes to look at their Emperor. He looked rabid and his expression was dangerous, but there was also something caring hidden within those eyes.

He wanted them to be careful when they looked after his wife. He wanted them to treat her as if she were something fragile that was about to break. He wanted them to touch her as if she were a petal, so delicate and beautiful and close to ruin if handled without care.

And he wanted that golden dress to be thrown on the fire and burned to ash and dust. Geta didn't ever want to see that dress again. He didn't want to see that dress or the blood stains that reminded him of what had happened, no matter if that was his wife's favourite (and his favourite) dress. It couldn't be salvaged and therefore it had to go so it didn't serve as a memory for the Empress when she eventually awoke.

Just as the maids went to walk past him, Geta reached his hand out and clamped his cold fingers around the younger girl's arm. He wrenched her closer and tilted his head down to sneer in her ear. "Be careful."

The young maid nodded her head frantically and tried her best not to burst into fits of tears. Not only had the Empress who the maid adored been hurt but now she was tasked with tending to her. The maid felt too inexperienced to be looking after the loving Empress who didn't deserve this kind of anguish. And she didn't want to do something wrong and be subjected to the Emperor's wrath.

Once they were both tasked with helping (Y/n), Geta left the room and closed the door behind him. He wouldn't have anyone trying to look in and spectate and watch. The only people going into that room would be Geta, the healers and the few servants who Geta approved. No one else would see the Empress while she was in this state.

An overwhelming headache crashed through Geta's temple and flooded his head behind his eyes when he approached the adjoining study and saw everyone crowding in. He didn't want any of them in here. They were useless and getting in the way.

"I don't need three of you. Out." His hand pointed menacingly towards the healers. He wanted the elder gentleman who had attended to (Y/n) in the drawing room. (Y/n) wasn't dying, Geta didn't need three healers stood twiddling their thumbs in here, he only needed one.

He wouldn't let that healer leave until (Y/n) was fully recovered. The healer could be set up in a room on this floor and he would be called on day and night if needed. The healer had already agreed to stay here at the palace and be ready to tend to the Empress, when and if she should need him.

Once they departed the room, Geta turned to look at the guards. "Why are you in here? My wife has been shot and you've been no help at all. Do you're jobs out there before I'm the one shooting arrows. All of you get out!"

His voice rose higher and higher until he was roaring so loud that his face turned as dark as (Y/n)'s stained dress and spit froffed from his lips. He waved his hand at everyone in the room. The guards, the servants and the maid. He wanted none of them in here.

The servants weren't needed. The guards didn't have to be in here; what were they going to protect Geta from within his own chamber? They should be out in the hall, patroling and making sure no one got up to this floor and got anywhere near the Empress. Standing in here watching Geta wasn't going to help or do anything useful.

Everyone rushed to leave, pushing and shoving one another until they were all blundering out of the door and only Caracalla was left in the room.

He looked disgruntled. He didn't know what to do with himself or how to settle because this had never happened before. Caracalla knew his presence alone would be helpful to his twin, in times of desperation and panic they always found and clung to one another. He wasn't going anywhere and the tender look in Geta's otherwise unhappy face told Caracalla that his presence was indeed welcomed and needed.

"She will be well?" Caracalla's words sounded more like a question than a reassuring affirmation.

He had grown fond of (Y/n). In his outbursts of anger, she had often soothed him and calmed him down. When he became disgruntled and confused, she gave him clarity and she treated him like a friend rather than a nuisance. And she was fond of Dondus.

Caracalla didn't want to lose her and he didn't want to deal with the broken pieces that would be left of his brother if he lost her.

Both their heads turned to look towards the doorway when it creaked open. geta was ready to shout at whoever dared to intrude and waltz back into the room, but he stopped himself short when he realised who it was.

General Acacius.

He had departed when Geta demanded they find the gladiator who had caused this mess. Hopefully his return meant they had found the man responsible. Geta wanted to make an example of him. He wanted to attack the man who had done this and unleash a new wave of Hell upon him.

"Emperor…" Acacius dipped his head in acknowledgement as he stepped into the room and stood before both Emperors.

Geta stayed standing, too riled to even try and sit down and hold himself still when all he wanted to do was trash the room until only broken pieces were left to resemble how he felt on the inside. While Caracalla remained unusually still, sat up straight with his hands fiddling with the belt around his middle to try and give some stimulation and stop himself from mooching about the room like a bored child.

"Did you find him? The one who did this?" If so, it hadn't taken them very long to find him. But then again, none of the Gladiators would have been able to escape the colosseum so it shouldn't have taken too much brains to work out which one had shot the arrow. Only one gladiator had been given the bow and arrow to begin with.

"We found him, and he's talking."

"Talking, what does he say exactly? Do not tell me he's boasting."

Geta's words were fuelled by anger and displayed how volatile he was. If the gladiator was indeed boasting then Geta would begin burning the city to show his rage. He would unleash torment onto his citizens and dismember every gladiator held within that colosseum if one had been boasting about harming the beloved Empress.

"No, no… he says he was paid to target the Empress." Acacius didn't want to be the one delivering this news. He knew how unstable both Emperors could be, especially without (Y/n) stood here to calm them and be the voice of reason.

And he knew this news wasn't going to go down well with Geta. It wouldn't settle well with Acacius if he found out that someone had been paid to try and harm and kill his own wife.

"Paid?" Gladiators often died in the arena, most succumbed to death than found their way out of the colosseum. Why would one take a bribe and accept money when his life wasn't guaranteed? Why be paid to do something so trecherous when he could be mauled to death the next day if he was chosen to fight in the arena?

"His family have fled Rome, probably with the money he was offered. He was paid and promised his freedom if he hurt the Empress… from what he says, someone wanted her dead."

Acacius did well to steady his frame and hold still when Geta lashed out. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back and steeled his frame, closing his eyes so he didn't have to bear witness to Geta's anger.

A horrible grating scream left Geta's lips as he reached out for the vase of flowers on the table beside the sofa. He launched the white and ocean blue vase with as much strength as he could muster, watching as it flew like a bird through the air before colliding with the far wall.

Pieces of dried clay splintered across the floor like the first fall of snow and a soul shattering echo vibrated around the room when the vase broke apart and the fragments bounced across the marble floor.

Flowers laid on the floor, some snapped, some in tact and most with their petals fallen and loose leaving them bare and effectively dead, melting into the puddle of water that soaked them up.

"Who?!"

Geta roared with all his might as his lips turned beet red and his eyes became bloodshot and narrowed. His hands trembled in tight fists at his sides and he felt like stomping his foot in anger when he didn't receive a response right away.

Who would do this to (Y/n)? Who would order her death and execute a plan like this? Why would they do this to her?

She was the light of Rome. Geta knew of no subject in his capital who held one ounce of hatred towards his wife. She was loving and fair to all and as soon as Geta announced his engagement to her, the people seemed to rejoice. Geta and Caracalla had gained numerous favour with the people by bringing (Y/n) to the throne.

"Macrinus." Acacuis could well believe the old Senate had been the one to do this. He was power hungry, he strived for greatness and power and control and Rome was next on his list to conquor.

He would do anything to get his way and he would bend anyone to his will in order to better himself. Macrinus was a man who had once been a slave, a man who fought for his life and scrambled his way out of the colosseum by the skin of his teeth and who had made something of himself. But he had gotten to the highest point he could. Macrinus couldn't further himself any more unless he used force and broke the rules to get himself on the throne and be the person with the most power and control in Rome. In the world.

Geta's expression changed from a look of fury to the look of a broken man.

One of their own Senates, someone who had risen through the ranks and who they trusted. Someone like that who had power and authority, had thrown it all away by coming up with such a devious, haneous plan to kill the Empress. Geta's heart and soul.

Geta wasn't a very well-learned man. He had spent more time learning about war and governing Rome than reading passages and poems and scholars. But he did remember one thing that had stuck with him.

You do not have a soul. You are a soul, you have a body.

He thought there was something justified in that, until he met (Y/n). Then he disbelieved. Geta truly felt that he was a body, a vessel and his heart and soul had been given away to (Y/n) to protect and nurture for him. He wasn't complete unless he had her by his side.

And Macrinus had tried to take her from him.

"Why?" There was clear fury boiling over in Caracalla's voice, even if he hadn't quite fit all the pieces together yet. He was still furious that someone they trusted had tried to sabotage them and harm (Y/n) in this manner.

"To get to me," Geta's voice was no more than a whisper and his expression stayed oddly blank as he seemed to stare down at the marbled floor. "To send me into a state of madness."

Acacius nodded grimly.

Marrying (Y/n) had redeemed Geta for all the bad things he had done, the people he had killed, the mercy he never showed to people and the harm he had brought to Rome for seeking new liberties for her.

But when he married (Y/n), it brought back a popularity to Geta and to Caracalla too. They were favourable in the public eye. (Y/n) was loved by the people and she had earned their respect, the people seemed to think she was a gift from the Gods, Geta's thoughts exactly.

The people saw how (Y/n) calmed Geta down, how she guided him and helped hima nd how good she was to him and for all of Rome. By killing (Y/n), it would cause Geta to spiral into a state of despair and he would become vulnerable to someone using his anger and tormented grief as a means to gain power and manipulate him.

Macrinus could easiky sway Geta to his advantage and use him to further himself if Geta was maddened with grief and on the verge of burning his Kingdom to the ground and wanting to lose himself in the process. Geta couldn't survive without (Y/n) and Macrinus had clearly worked that out. He knew how to play the game, but Geta wouldn't let this continue.

"There are to be no more games; I want this barbaric hound in the colosseum tomorrow. He will be executed."

Geta wouldn't allow any more games to continue. They had been scheduled all week but they would be cancelled now. No one should celebrate after what had happened to the Empress.

But tomorrow wouldn't be a game, and it wouldn't be a spectacle like the rest of the games. Tomorrow would be an execution for all of Rome to witness. They could see their traitor be punished for his crimes, for what he had done to their beloved Empress.

Geta turned on his heels, about to walk back into the bedroom but he paused after a second thought and glanced over his shoulder to look at Acacius. "Find Macrinus. He can join his barbarian in death."

***

A subtle shaking began to overtake Geta's body as he began to pace the length of the viewing box in the colosseum.

Everything was capturing his attention.

It had been only yesterday that the attack on (Y/n) had taken place and there had been very little time for the servants to clean up in here and make it look presentable once again.

They hadn't removed the chair. Geta could see the large hole in the exquisitely carved wood from where the arrowhead had lodged itself there. He could see the blood that had stained the lacquered wood in a large streak down the back and onto the cushioned seat. He could see the remnants of his wife's blood soaked into the stone floor in a puddle that couldn't be cleaned away. Not yet. Not without vigorous effort and a lot of vinegar and cleaning supplies.

One or two remnants of fruit were dried up on the floor from when Geta had snatched the cloth to use on (Y/n)'s wound and subsequently took the knife to cut her free from the chair she had been pinned to.

And clenched in his right fist, was the arrow that had been impaled in his wife yesterday.

Geta had spent all of last night lying awake, vigil by his wife's side with that wooden arrow resting on his bedside table. He stared at it when sleep evaded him. He praised his wife's sleeping body for surviving having such a horrible instrument impaled through her delicate skin.

He nursed her when she tremored and shook and broke out in a fever, he gave her more opium to keep her asleep and rested and he helped turn her every few hours to prevent sores and keep her circulation flowing.

And now he was here, back at the scene of the haneous crime with his brother and the General. Back to commit vengeance on behalf of his beloved.

He could see that Caracalla seemed too bewildered and unsettled to sit back down in his seat. His rightful throne. He couldn't sit there when only yesterday his sister had been punctured to her own throne by that arrow. Sitting down felt like he was setting himself up for the same fate or somehow dismissing what had happened to her.

Caracalla settled on standing at the corner of the royal box with his hands resting on the balcony so he could lean forwards and stare down into the arena. He didn't look too far, in fear of toppling forward or finding an arrow or a sword flying his way.

And at the back of the box stood Acacius, hidden by drapery. Both hands clasped together in front of him while he bowed his head in respect. He was here as a curtesy and for protection. But he wasn't sure what kind of reaction the crowds would give to todays events.

Finally, Geta stopped pacing and stepped forward towards the balcony so he could leer down and observe.

He hadn't been able to watch the fight. He couldn't watch that hound, that vicious, selfish gladiator who had shot the arrow now clasped tightly in his hand. Geta couldn't watch him try in vain to fight for his life that he surely knew Geta would not spare, not for anything in the world.

Nor could he look down upon Macrinus and see that deceitful, spiteful arrogant man fight like he used to when he was once a slave to Rome.

He watched them both fight well against five gladiators who were there simply to outnumber them and provide a show before the execution.

Geta had told Acacius not to tell Macrinus that today was his execution. He was invited to the palace last night and kept under watchful eye until dawn when Geta approached him and asked him why he would come up with such a scheme.

Macrinus as good as admitted what he'd done and that was enough for Geta. He let Acacius bring the scorned senate here, but he was under the impression he could fight his way to victory and be spared like before.

Well, not today.

A glimmer of glee mingled with spite lit up Geta's eyes as he stared down into the arena that had streaks of blood mingling in with the golden hues of sand.

Both the barbaric gladiator and Macrinus were now knelt in in the centre of the arena, their heads cast up towards the viewing box to see what their fate would be. It seemed the gladiator had already accepted that his punishment would be death; Geta could see that all-knowing, sorrowful look building in his eyes. Whereas Macrinus looked hopeful, and that made Geta's anger soar.

His hands pressed down into the smooth stone balcony and he leaned over to stare down at them with the arrow pinned between his palm and the stone.

"You took it upon yourselves to try and take Rome for yourselves. You tried to murder your Empress. The attack on her was planned and executed by your hands. Now all of Rome shall see your demise."

His fingers began to tap against the stone, but he moved his right hand over the edge and held the arrow. He knew the crowds wouldn't be able to see what he held and he knew both Macrinus and the gladiator would have a hard time distinguishing what was in his hand, but they would work it out. They would see the tip stained in blood and the thin wooden shape and they would know.

They would know that this was now Geta's token. This was something he was going to keep. It was going to fuel his anger, his fire and his rage and the protectiveness within him to keep his wife safe. And this token was going to be used to threaten anyone in Rome to keep them in line and keep them away from the Empress.

"The Gods have spoken, and you have enraged them. While the Empress lives, you cannot."

Lifting his hand, Geta stuck his thumb out and slowly twisted his wrist until his hand was angled down. His lips twitched into a sickening snarl and his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth started to grate and grind down against one another.

He would never let either of them live. He wouldn't allow them to live in Rome or be exiled to a nearby nation. They couldn't survive when they had almost robbed (Y/n) of her life. They had tried to rob Geta of his beloved, of his sanity and his heart and soul. That was an act that was unforgiveable and had to be punished. The price was their lives.

General Acacius stepped out of the shadows just enough to look at the scene as both men were impaled with arrows. More than five arrows each, into various parts of their body. The symbol they had tried to use to kill (Y/n) had now ended their own lives.

He was prepared. He was waiting to escort both Emperors out of the box and through the colosseum to get them back to safety. He was anticipating the crowds roars, their screams of anguish and terror as a highly praised Senate was executed without mercy.

But he wasn't prepared for the cheers.

The crowds were smiling. They were tossing rags and remnants of food and even stones down into the arena. They were throwing their fists in the air, their voices were overwhelming and surging and uplifting.

Almost no one in the colosseum was sad to see these men be put to death. They were cheering.

A toothy grin splintered across Caracalla's face showing off his golden tooth as he stepped forward, grinning and revelling in the cheers of their people. They were praising them for showing no mercy. This is what both Emperors had always wanted, the support of their people when they became ruthless.

something righteous bubbled up inside of Geta as he finally allowed himself to smile and bask in this victory that was his and his alone.

He tilted his head back, aiming his chin high while his fractured smile stayed splayed across his face and his narrowed eyes watched both men fall into the dirt where they belonged. He watched the life drain out of them as the blood soaked into the arena floor that would have to be swept and scrubbed and gritted with fresh sand to cover the leftover pieces of their deaths.

The crowds were clapping. They were all in agreement.

The people truly did love their Empress; they wanted to watch her attackers bend at the knee and pay the price for their crimes. There had been outrage in Rome yesterday when people heard and witnessed what happened to their beloved Empress. And now, only one day later, they were satisfied that their Empress was indeed alive and now she would be safe with these men put to death.

There would be no riots for what had happened here today, only celebration. Encouraging cheers and rounds of celebration that Rome's beloved Empress was safe and her attackers were no longer a threat.

***

Geta felt an overwhelming sense of love when he opened the bedroom door. It was the way (Y/n) looked at him when he walked in. With those big round eyes and that sparkle that had come back to them now she wasn't dosed to the heavens with opium.

It was the way she smiled when she saw him like he was the light in her life and she thought that Geta was the sun bringing her light and a source of life.

She still looked terribly unwell and unsettingly weak, but that smile was enough to bring a light to Geta's shrouded heart.

He watched as Lucilla and the maid carefully eased (Y/n) forward so they could help her sit up. Her right arm was laid limp across her lap, still able to move but not without significant pain. The healer had told (Y/n) the moment she became lucid that she should refrain from moving her arm until her stitches were taken out and her wound was fully mended.

Her hair fell in unruly waves around her shoulders and Geta noted to himself that he would brush her hair for her later, he knew she would hate to get knots and tangles.

The discomfort was clear on her face as she winced and shuddered, but once she was leant back into the pillows, (Y/n) stretched her good arm out and curled her fingers. Softly motioning for Geta to come over to her. She hadn't been properly awake or lucid this morning before he left, but Lucilla had taken residence at her bedside and helped nurse her for the morning. And she had filled (Y/n) in on what was happening today and what had happened at the colosseum this morning.

Both Lucilla and the maid excused themselves when Geta approached and they left the room, closing the door behind them to give the couple some privacy.

The moment he sat down on the bed, (Y/n) looped her left arm around the back of his neck and tugged him closer. She sighed contentedly when he tucked his face into her neck and the feel of each breath fanning across her throat was surprisingly soothing. Her fingers latched into his hair and her cheek nestled against the top of his head while Geta bound his arms around her waist.

He made sure to keep his arms low around her abdomen, not daring to even brush his skin against her wound in fear of inflicting any sort of pain onto her by mistake.

"How are you, my love?" His words were muffled against her throat but (Y/n) managed to hear him just fine.

"Okay now."

He knew what she meant, and it made him grin. She was okay now that he was back.

When he lifted his head from her neck, he kept one arm around her back while the other cupped her face. He brushed his thumb along her lower lip and down her chin before he kissed her. He tried not to devour her lips and nestled his nose against hers, letting her pull back for air rather than pushing her down and inhaling all the air from her lungs. He didn't want to overwhelm her when she wasn't well.

He scanned his eyes around the room once he pulled back and instead attached his lips to her temple where he could stay for seconds, minutes, hours if he wanted without overwhelming her or stealing her breath away.

The plate of dried fruits and bread were untouched and the pitcher of water was still mostly full. She hadn't managed to eat anything or drink very much yet, but there was still time. Geta would help her gain back her strength, he would nurse her back to health.

"Lucilla said this- this was planned." (Y/n) couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what had truly happened yesterday. "That Macrinus orchestrated it."

Some of the day was blurred, it felt like a feverish dream that was fading before (Y/n)'s very eyes. She could feel Geta's hands gripping her skin, she could feel the way his pulse seemed to pound through her skin too and the frantic tone of his voice telling her to look at him, stay with him, listen to him.

She could feel his hands on her burning skin, she could feel the tonic trickling through her system and making her fall into horrible dreams, even if it did take the horrendous pain from her shoulder and chest.

But knowing that everything that happened yesterday was deliberate hurt (Y/n)'s mind and crushed her heart.

She never thought that someone would stoop so low as to hurt her like that, to try and kill her because they knew Geta's love for her was so unconditional and widespread that he would simply cave without her. That they thought they could use her death to control her husband, it was despicable.

Tears were already glistening in (Y/n)'s eyes at the thought that just a few inches to the left and she wouldn't be here. A better aim, if she had sat at a different angle, and she would be in the chapel waiting to be laid to eternal rest with the Gods.

Geta tilted his head down when he felt something wet against his throat and his upper lip curled into a tortured snarl when he realised (Y/n) was crying.

He sat up straighter beside her, moving his hand around to cup the back of her neck while he began kissing her temple with fever. "Shh, shh it's alright my love. You're alright now."

He felt her left arm loosen from around his waist and he waited, intrigued, as she slid her hand up his abdomen until she had her hand clenched in his tunic in between their chests instead. She leaned into his touch, relishing in his words and kisses that were being peppered against her temple while she closed her eyes and tried to calm down.

He was right. (Y/n) was okay now, she was going to recover from this and heal and get better. She had been so lucky to escape the ordeal with her life when she could have easily passed away from her injuries. If Geta hadn't of thought and acted as quickly as he did, she wouldn't be here.

"He's no longer a threat to you. I've dealt with them both, and Rome rejoices."

"Thank you."

Geta tried to smile against her temple, but when he tilted his head to the side and peered down at her, he could feel his chest bubbling with that familiar sense of rage that kept getting out of control.

The maids had dressed (Y/n) in a thin nightgown that undid with strings at the front. Something very easy to remove for when they had to change the bandages and bindings around (Y/n)'s chest and so the healers could attend to her wound and check the stitches.

Right now, the gown was hanging off her right shoulder and it allowed Geta to see this mornings fresh bandages. He could see how her skin was still swollen and how the bandage had to be wrapped around her upper chest, beneath her arm and around her shoulder and collar bone to keep it tight and in place. He dreaded to think what her wound looked like.

When the wound had been checked in the early hours of the morning, Geta had witnessed. Partially to make sure (Y/n)'s modesty was preserved and so he could witness the damage. Swollen, discoloured skin. Tight stitches that looked far too harsh and degrading to be punctured into (Y/n)'s silky skin. Dried patches of blood glued to her skin where the wound leaked and oozed.

Geta was just waiting for it to become infected and for the healers to tell him his relief had been short-lived.

He had already told the guards that tomorrow, as long as (Y/n) was okay, he would be taking pilgrimage to pray to Juno, the Goddess and protector of women. Geta wanted to make sure the Gods understood that he was eternally grateful that (Y/n) had been spared, but he wanted to ensure her health. He wanted to pray to Juno to keep watch over (Y/n) and keep her safe.

If his prayers worked then Geta would never again think it stupid to pray at a Gods feet when he was the Emperor of all Rome. He would take pilgrimage and pray much more often if they watched over (Y/n) and Caracalla for him.

"For now, I don't want you anywhere near the Senates, none of them. And I need you to remain here in the palace, where you're safe."

(Y/n) nodded against his chest without really taking his words in at first, but when she realised what he was saying, she couldn't help but feel relieved. She didn't want anything to do with the Senates. She didn't want to attend any meetings or visit the Senates and engage in conversation, not when one of them had tried to have her killed and so many others could want to do the same to gain control over all of Rome and her entities.

If Geta wanted her to stay in the palace then that was what (Y/n) would do. She knew she was safe here with all the guards and servants, and she knew Geta wouldn't be leaving her side for a while yet. It was going to take time for her wound to heal and she couldn't move her arm too much until that happened. (Y/n) wasn't likely to go out until her arm was back under her control and she was no longer crippled with pain.

"I don't want you in the public eye either, until I'm assured your safety is guaranteed. I won't have this happening to you again. I can't lose you."

Geta felt (Y/n) hum against his throat and he bound his arm just a little tighter around her waist.

He couldn't have (Y/n) out in the public. The people of Rome might love her like she were a Goddess walking amongst them, but there might still be people out there who wanted to harm her.

Until the guards could guarantee that they could stop any other murderous attempt on (Y/n)'s life, Geta wasn't having her walk out of the palace. He was having her where he could see and protect her at all times.

Geta couldn't come that close to losing her again. Ever.

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