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ladydekarios · 2 months

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One 18+

Fic summary: Bucky struggles with his feelings toward you, which he hides by pretending he doesn’t trust you. You get placed on a mission together where trust is essential.

A/N: sorry if this is all over the place, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything so this might be a jumbled mess. Enjoy though!

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (f rec), fingering, language, unprotected p in v, kissing, heavy petting.

Word count: 5.3k

Not proofread and no beta (apologies for any mistakes)

I do NOT consent to my work being copied, translated or posted to any other platform.

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Dividers made by the wonderful @firefly-graphics and thank you to @jijilaufeyson for helping me make a decision.

“Are you serious?!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “I’ve been with SHIELD for three years, I can do this mission by myself. I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Yes, you do.” Bucky sneers, you turn your head towards him and glare.

“I hate to agree with Barnes but he’s right, I think you still need someone to keep an eye on you. Your ex was HYDRA after all.” Tony says, as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You throw your head back in frustration, they’re never going to forget about him.

Three years ago, you had come back to the apartment you shared with you boyfriend of two years to find the place swarming with HYDRA agents. He had been assigned to you to eventually recruit you to HYDRA after they had discovered your abilities.

You’d always been able to sense how someone was feeling by just being near them and eventually it had morphed into being able to influence their emotions. You could walk into a party or a meeting and know exactly who to look out for, whether it be because they were vulnerable or someone with ill intention.

It took immense concentration, effort and energy to be able to change someone’s emotions without touching them. Which you always try and avoid, you don’t want to change someone unintentionally, you could ruin things for them. So, you manage to keep your emotions in check most of the time, and don’t accidentally influence anyone.

The moment you realised that Russell was HYDRA, you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, but they weren’t going to let you go without a fight. Luckily, you’d befriended the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, when you’d met her and Wanda Maximoff one night at a local dive bar after Russ had blown you off again. One text to her and they’d both been at your door and helped you get away from the agents and back to the safety of Avengers Tower where you’d been subjected to an intense interrogation from Tony Stark, Cliff Barton and Bucky Barnes.

You’d thought that after all the years spent training and fighting by their sides, they would trust you by now, but obviously they don’t. Or more specifically; Bucky doesn’t. Cliff had decided you were trustworthy the first time he interrogated you and had told them as much, but Bucky wasn’t hearing it. So here you were three whole years later, still deemed untrustworthy by the Winter Soldier of all people.

“You know what…?” You start and Bucky smirks at you, adding more fuel to the fire. “I’m glad you’re doing the recon alone, gives me time to pack.” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “This is my last mission, I’m done. I quit!” You turn on your heel and leave the conference room without another word.

Bucky groans and places both hands on the table in front of him, flesh beside vibranium, and hangs his head.

“Well that went well Barnes.” Tony says as he walks over to the door. “Looks like I have to do damage control.” He points at Bucky. “You find something on that recon and figure out a way to fix this. We can’t lose her.” And leaves the room, the glass door swinging back and forth.

Bucky makes a fist and slams it down on the table in front of him. “Fuck!”

You stalk down the hallway, heading to your room, walking past everyone and ignoring them all as they try talking to you. Natasha notices and follows you to your room, the doors are automated so you can’t even slam it to let out your frustration. So, you throw your self face down on your bed and scream into the comforter. Natasha just stands by the door, not saying anything and waits for you to finish your screaming.

“Feel better?” She asks as you flip yourself over to lay on your back.

“I can’t believe he still doesn’t trust me! Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, I quit.” You say without looking in her direction.

“You didn’t quit.” Natasha says as she walks over to join you on your bed.

“I did, straight to Bucky and Tony’s faces. Both of them looked shocked but I don’t care anymore. I’m fucking done!” You say as you jump off the bed and begin going through your closet and putting clothes in a suitcase.

The one thing you want, is to have Bucky’s trust…. Okay there’s something you want more than his trust, but you’re never going to get it. If he doesn’t trust you to be member of his team, there’s no way he’s going to trust you in any sort of relationship. So rather than trying anymore, you’ve picked the nuclear option. Serves him right!

“Buck…?” Steve says as he walks into the conference room where Bucky is still hunched over the table. “What’s going on?”

“What is wrong with me Steve? Why can’t I trust people?”

“You mean y/n?” Steve asks. Bucky groans. “Buck, I think it’s obvious to everyone except you and y/n that you like her.” Bucky looks up at Steve. “In a romantic way.”

Bucky stammers, “N... no I don’t.” Steve raises an eyebrow and smirks at Bucky.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since she joined SHEILD, hell you haven’t even on a date in a year. You like her.”

“You’re right Steve, I do. But… She quit.” Bucky says as his head hangs head.

“What did you do? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Fix it!” Steve says and leaves the room.

You and Bucky avoid each other for the next week, but to be fair he was out doing recon for the mission with Sam, who had been ribbing him about his feelings for you and pissing Bucky off. They had however, been able to meet the mark and started integrating themselves into his world. Your role as Bucky’s girl would come later, and you couldn’t help feeling like he was ruining your chances to prove yourself. You could’ve done the getting to know the mark and maybe brought Bucky or Sam or even Steve in as your man later on.

You hated to admit it but their getting to know him first was the better plan as not many women were in that world.

The mark. Carlo Vizzini is the head of an organised crime syndicate, who deals stolen HYDRA and SHIELD weapons and technology to other members of the syndicate. The goal is to find the times and locations of all the shipments being brought into the city, finding a list of buyers would be the icing on the cake but it isn’t a priority.

Bucky’s role is to present himself as someone new to the area who wants to become a member of the syndicate. FRIDAY has come up with an elaborate backstory for the two of you, created entire histories for you both which you’ve spent the last week reviewing and learning. Your backstory isn’t too far away from your real story, so it isn’t hard to memorise. The problem is pretending to be his girl. How can you possibly work together and be convincing if it’s obvious to everyone that he doesn’t trust you. There has to be a reason why Tony suggested Bucky for the mission and not Steve, you don’t know what it is, not that you care because you won’t be around once this mission is completed.

The story. You and Bucky have moved to New York from Michigan, where was a mid level HYDRA agent who oversaw a warehouse that contained new tech. The place had been breached while he was attending a HYDRA event with you, and they had fired him for allowing the breach to happen (An actual event orchestrated by Vizzini).

You had been together for five years at the point you’re at, and Tony had decided to add the fact that you were recently engaged. So, you had to wear an obnoxiously huge diamond on your left ring finger, which really bugged you. You had both been set up in a brownstone in Brooklyn, sleeping in separate rooms but having to appear all lovey dovey in case you were being watched.

Four weeks later.

Carlo Vizzini has invited Bucky and you to an event hosted at his mansion in the Hamptons, where you will both be introduced to other syndicate members. So, you need a spa day and shopping trip where you can buy a dress for the event and be seen out and about acting like this is a normal occurrence. Tony has also arranged for someone from Tiffany to show up at your house and lend you some jewellery for the event as you’re a simple teeny hoop earring kind of girl.

You find the perfect dress while browsing online so it’s very easy to go and get it without having to actually search in store. Scratch that, Natasha found the dress for you and told you it would be a crime if you didn’t wear it.

The idea is to infiltrate the syndicate event, find the intel and get out without your cover being blown until the weapons and tech have been recovered. If your covers can last beyond that until the entire syndicate has been taken down, that’s even better.

So, you’ve been to the salon and had your hair done and are heading back to the brownstone when you notice the dark SUV you spotted outside the mall had parked across the road and the occupant was crossing over to you. You play it off like you haven’t noticed, a civilian wouldn’t have and that’s who you are for the foreseeable future.

“Excuse me? Y/N” The stranger starts a conversation with you.

“Yes? You answer, turning to face the person who has spoken to you.

“I’m sorry, I work for someone your boyfriend is trying to get into business with and he’s asked me to check that you out.”

You chuckle, “Fiancé.” The stranger looks confused. “He’s my fiancé, not my boyfriend. Does Mr Vizzini think we haven’t done the same the same to him? Can’t be too careful these days, too many con men around, especially in New York.”

The stranger seems a little taken aback by your words, but continues, like his job is at stake. “I have a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”

You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. “Okay?”

He takes a picture out of his jacket and asks. “Who is this man?”

The picture is of Sam Wilson, the Falcon but you answer, “That is Sam, James’s brother, adopted of course. “

“And how long have you been together?”

“Five years, engaged for one. Are we done here? I have to get ready for a party.” You say and turn to the steps of your brownstone, heading up to your front door.

“One more question.” You turn to face him again. “Can I use your bathroom?” You sigh and open the door, directing him the right way and stay in the hallway so he doesn’t sneak anywhere else for a snoop. You hear the cistern flush and the squeak of the faucet, but you also hear the sound of the medicine cabinet being opened. Yep, he’s snooping. A few moments later he steps out of the bathroom and thanks you as he leaves your house.

You head straight into the kitchen and start the coffee machine; you then grab a detector out of the kitchen drawer and head into the bathroom. Using it to detect for a bug, which you find in the cupboard under the sink and leave it there. You have a get out your phone and send a message, one you’ve prearranged with Bucky, telling him about the bug.

‘Can’t wait to see your reaction when you see what I have on under my dress (followed) tonight. You’re not gonna be able to keep your cool or your hands (Suspicious) to yourself’

‘New lingerie?” (Bug?)

‘Maybe (yes), but you’re gonna have to wait and see’

‘Can’t wait’ (Understood)

You’re gonna have to start your charade earlier than anticipated and act like a real couple. I suppose there are worse things in life than pretending to be in a relationship with Bucky. You can’t deny that the dude is hot.

You pretend to use the bathroom by slowly pouring a bottle of water in the toilet, flushing and washing your hands. Then you head back into the kitchen to pour yourself a coffee.

Bucky arrives home a short while later, carrying a bouquet of roses (Sam’s idea) and gives you a kiss. You feel a little twinge in your stomach, feeling his lips on yours. His kiss is light and sweet.

Feeling your lips on his sends a thrill through Bucky, the feelings he’s been trying to hide for years bubbling to the surface and he has to stop himself deepening the kiss.

“There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen babe, I’m going to start getting ready. No peeking!” You say and head upstairs.

Bucky stays downstairs to drink a coffee and makes a few phone calls, all in character of course, before heading upstairs to get into his tux which takes only a few minutes. He’s back in the living room in less than ten minutes, waiting for you join him.

Bucky isn’t downstairs for very long before he hears your heels on the upper landing and stands up to greet you but at seeing you, his breath hitches in his throat.

(This is the dress you wear)

“You’re fucking stunning!” Bucky breathes out, causing you to grin.

“Not too bad yourself James.” You reply as you walk down the stairs and take his outstretched hand.

You arrive at the house in the Hamptons, impressed with the size of the place, hanging on to Bucky’s arm. The size of it is really impressive and you live in Avengers Tower.

Bucky thinks that he must thank Natasha for picking out that dress. He can’t keep his eyes off of you, that dress hugs your curves in all the right places. Bucky knows he needs to remain professional, but he really wants to get his hands on you and bring you pleasure like you’ve never known. He won’t have any problem pretending to be your lover tonight, because that’s the only thing he wants.

The party is in full swing an hour later, you’ve mingled with everyone, hanging on Bucky’s arm, acting like he’s your entire world. And to him, you are his world. It’s not acting, he’s crazy about you and has been since you met.

Another forty-five minutes go by with the both of you all over each other, giving you a reason to sneak off at some point, to find the intel you’re there to get.

Bucky’s arm is around your waist, holding you close to him as you leave the “ballroom” where the party is. You’re acting the part really well, practically hanging off of him, hands wandering. Walking down the hallway, still all over each other, opening doors looking for a place to have some privacy. Some rooms are all occupied, but the one you’re looking for is empty, Vizzini’s office. As soon as you’re in the room and you part ways, straight back to business, heading for his desk and turning on his computer. Plugging a USB drive you take off of your bracelet into it, and copying the files.

“Heads up Buck, Carlo is on his way and he’s not alone.” Sam says over comms. The last file copies just in time, and you attach the USB back to the bracelet and walk back around the desk.

“Shit!” Bucky says. “We’re gonna get caught!”

Your brain works quickly, “I have an idea, but you have to trust me.” You say as you switch the computer off.

Bucky nods. “Okay.” You pull him over to the wall beside the door and lean against it. You reach up under your dress and remove your underwear, Bucky’s eyes bulge out of his head. You throw your panties in the vicinity of the desk and reach down to undo Bucky’s pants. “What are you doing?!” He asks.

“I told you to trust me, I’ll get us out of this.” You unbutton his slacks and bunch up your skirt a little. “Lift me.” You instruct. Bucky catches on and lifts you, so your legs are wrapped around his waist. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close. “Go with it okay?” You say. Bucky gulps but nods and your lips meet in a searing kiss that makes you both moan out loud into each others' mouths. His hips begin to move instinctively, playing the part of a man who can’t keep his hands off of his girl. Bucky feels an usual sensation, kind of like a happiness he’s never felt before. As quick as he feels it, it goes away again.

You’re moaning loudly, alternating between passionate kisses and heavy breathing when Vizzini opens the door to his office and “catches” you, entering the room with two burly bodyguards. You gasp and fake panic.

“What the…?” He exclaims, his eyes bogging out of his head before he composes himself and continues. “This is my office, not a motel room!” You giggle. “This is not a laughing matter young lady, this is very inappropriate behaviour!” Bucky lifts you and places your heeled feet back on the floor and helps you rearrange your dress before tucking his shirt back into his slacks.

“We’re sorry Mr Vizzini, but when your girl looks like this, you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.” Bucky says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“But this is my office!” Vizzini says, exasperatedly.

“We’re sorry but other rooms were occupied!” You say with a smirk. Vizzini nods and the two bodyguards rush out of the room, they return moments later, both red faced.

Vizzini nods again and turns to you. “We will not mention this again and our meeting Tuesday will go ahead.” Vizzini says. Before sitting at his desk and making a choked sound. “I think these belong to you.” He says, pointing to the black lace panties that had landed on the keyboard of his computer. You giggle and retrieve them from his desk, biting your lip as you do.

“Sorry again!” You giggle as Bucky wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the office. You head back to the party, makes it seem less like obvious that you’re involved in espionage.

You both carry on playing the devoted couple, you’re hanging off of him like someone who can’t get enough of their man. Sneaking kisses here and there, selling the bit. Vizzini reappears a little while later and blushes when you and he make eye contact, you smirk back at him and pull Bucky in for a kiss. It’s after midnight by the time your car has pulled up outside and you’ve said your goodbyes.

You’re still all over each other as you get into the car, smiling and waving to everyone as the car pulls away. You keep the act up until you’re on your way out of the Hamptons and on the free way before you separate, in case you were followed. You stay close to each other just so you can snap back together quickly if you noticed someone watching you or for when you get back to the brownstone that is your “residence” at least until this mission is over.

You can smell Bucky’s cologne and it’s been invading your nostrils since you walked down the stairs before leaving in the early evening. It’s lingering on your skin from how you’ve been all over each other all night. You recognise it as Sauvage, one of your absolute favourites. You can’t remember Bucky ever wearing it before, he’s usually a Hugo Boss guy, which is another of your favourites. You momentarily let your control slip (not for the first time this evening) and imagine what it would be like, to have Bucky’s affections and let happiness bloom inside you, but you stop it as soon as you feel it reaching your face.

Bucky has put so much effort into hiding how he feels, he feels like he’s suffocating right now. He feels something again, like a happiness that he’s never felt before. But it disappeared as quickly as he feels it. The truth is drowning him and he needs to tell you how he feels, the thought actually terrifies him though. What if you reject him? What if you don’t feel the same way?

He needs to talk to Steve, find out how to approach this because he can’t lose you before he’s even had you. The car pulls up to your brownstone and you both get out, his arm around your shoulders as you head up the steps. “I need to go run a quick errand I’ll be back soon, wait up for me?” Bucky asks.

“Of course, baby, I’ll see you when you get back.” You reply with a kiss on the lips, smiling at him as you unlock the door and step inside, closing it behind yourself and leaning against the door with a sigh.

Bucky runs to the bodega on the corner and uses their pay phone, making sure that he’s concealed before dialling.

“Hello…?” Steve answers on the fourth ring, his voice scratchy with sleep.

“How do I tell her? After everything, what do I say?” Bucky’s words are rushed out, not even telling Steve that it’s him.

Steve lets out a sigh. “Buck, just say what you feel. Honestly is the best policy. She needs to know what you feel is real and not because of what you’re both living right now. Open up, I think she will be more open than you expect. I’m going back to sleep now.” Steve hangs up and Bucky is more determined than ever.

He grabs a bottle of wine and some other items so it looks like he had a legit reason to be in the bodega, pays and heads back to your brownstone.

He unlocks the door, you’re not in the living room when he gets back so he quickly takes off the jacket of his tux and goes into the kitchen and puts the items he bought away. Bucky rolls the sleeves of his white shirt up his arms, grabs two glasses and opens the wine then heads upstairs.

You’re in your bedroom, you’ve taken off your dress and are wearing a short black silk robe. He walks in with the wine and goes to speak but the words die in his throat. He takes a deep breath and closes the door, you raise an eyebrow but take one of the wine glasses off of him as he pours the red wine into it. He pours his own, puts the bottle down and takes a big gulp from his glass.

“We need to talk.” The words rush out with his breath.

“About what?” You reply.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky says, looking straight in your eyes. “I act like I don’t trust you because it’s easier than admitting the truth, but the truth is what you deserve so here goes…” You look at him expectantly. Bucky takes another deep breath before he continues. “I like you and I have since we met, and it scared me because I’ve never caught feelings that quickly before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever caught feelings like I have for you, with anyone. I think I…” he stops himself.

“You think you what?” You nudge.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You look into his eyes and the cerulean blue shows nothing but sincerity. He means it. He loves you. You contemplate telling him how you feel but actions speak louder than words.

You walk to Bucky, standing in front of him. You lick your lips he looks into your eyes, searching for hesitation and finding none. He reaches out for you, his hand grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you closer. His lips brush yours and your breath hitches in your throat. You look into each others eyes and you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him closer and planting a firm kiss on his lips.

Your lips feel like they were made to kiss his, they slot together perfectly, like two halves of a whole. He sighs contentedly as your lips open to allow his tongue access, your tongues dance together, caressing each other as your bodies get even closer.

Something snaps in Bucky and he pulls you towards him, walking backwards until he’s against the wall. He spins you around and pushes you against the wall, breaking the kiss and leaving you panting for breath.

“I need you to say that you want this, please say you want this. I can’t bear one more moment without touching you.” Bucky says breathlessly.

“I want it, I want you.” You say and reach out for him again. He kisses you sweetly, pulls back and sinks to his knees. He plants a kiss on the inside of your knee which makes you shudder. “Fuck!” You moan out as his mouth kisses up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your centre. Bucky lifts your robe and groans out loud, noticing that you never replaced the underwear you removed in Vizzini’s office. He grabs your knee and lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder and moving his mouth to your mound, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. “Holy shit!!” You moan out and grab Bucky’s head with one hand and scratching at the wall with the other.

Bucky groans at your taste and begins to practically make out with your pussy, his eyes glassed over as your juices drip down his chin. His uses two fingers on his flesh hand and teases your hole, gathering your slick until he can sink them into you, straight to the knuckle. He’s eating you with such fierce ferocity and fucking you with his fingers so passionately that your orgasm builds quickly. “I’m not gonna last much longer.. I’m gonna…” a long moan escapes your lips as your orgasm washes over you. You shudder and shake, struggling to breathe as you ride the waves of your climax, your cunt pulsating around his fingers.

Bucky’s oral ministrations slow as your orgasm dies down, and your breathing returns to normal. He removes his fingers and your leg from his shoulder, stands and unbuttons his shirt before removing it and using it to wipe his face. He stands there in a white vest, his face flushed and looks at you adoringly. Bucky undoes your robe and lets it fall off your shoulders, leaving you in just your bra. You reach out and undo his pants, pushing them down leaving him in just a pair of black boxers. You can see his erection straining the fabric, you want nothing more than to take what you can tell is an impressive member out of his underwear and show him how good your head game is. Bucky however has other ideas.

“Take off the bra, please. I need to see all of you.” He says, his eyes still glassy. You oblige and he groans out loud, he steps forward and pushes you against the wall again. He takes your left breast in his hand and massages gently, causing you to arch into him. He lowers his head and takes your nipple in his mouth, circling the tight bud with his tongue. Bucky stops and plants a searing kiss on your mouth, it’s sloppy, full of teeth and tongues. He pushes his underwear down as you’re kissing, depriving your view.

You still don’t get a glimpse as he grabs your ass and lifts you, your legs automatically going around his waist as you continue your assault on each others' mouths, it’s like you can’t get enough. Bucky breaks off the kiss as he looks into your eyes, the both of you are heavy breathing already. “Ready?” He asks, you nod. “Words baby.”

“Yes please!” You feel the head of his cock against your entrance, gathering as much of your creamy slick as he can. Before notching inside you, your eyes roll back in your head as he slides into your wet cunt, painstakingly slowly. He wants you to feel every inch, every vein, the way he throbs for you. Once he bottoms out in you, you release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Your arms are around Bucky’s shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. You’ve never felt so full, so… complete. There’s a slight sting and burn, you can only assume but there’s a very good chance that he’s big and girthy.

Bucky plants a kiss on your lips before he begins to move, sliding out of you, almost completely before sinking into you again. The air is knocked from your lungs, you feel amazing as his cock slides in and out of you at an agonisingly slow pace. You moan out loud at the sensation.

“Faster!” You groan out, frustrated at how slow he’s fucking you.

“All in good time, I need to feel you.” Bucky moans out, but pretty soon he can’t just revel in the feeling. He needs to move faster, chasing his end. His hips snap up quicker and your moaning increases in volume, that heat in your belly building again with each thrust of his hips.

Bucky takes your mouth again, kissing you with all of him as he fucks into you with abandon. Your moans and tongues intertwined, your heavy breathing entering each others' mouths. Your hands carding through Bucky’s hair, tugging gently on the strands at the nape of his neck. Each time you do it makes his hips thrust harder and makes him grunt. But you have to stop after a minute as the heat blooming in your belly expands more until it can go no further.

It snaps and blooms upward and downward, sending heat to your toes and making you see white. Your climax makes your head roll back and you let out a scream of pleasure. There’s a new sensation as your orgasm hits, the feeling of white-hot heat spreading through him. Happiness, love, every positive feeling ever shoots through him and the spasms of your cunt around his cock, prematurely sets off his orgasm. He has wanted to draw another two or three from you before his end but he can’t hold it back.

He roars out, even the way your climax muffled your hearing you heard him. You’ve never heard anything like that, the sound was primal, animalistic. Your breathing slows and you lower your head to look at him, he’s staring back at you, looking completely fucked out, but so do you.

“You okay baby?” Bucky asks, breathing heavily and pulling your face towards him so he can kiss you. You can’t even speak, you just about nod before he lifts you off the wall and carries you over to the bed. He lays you down and pulls his semi-hard cock out of you, which makes you whine. He goes into your en suite and grabs a washcloth to clean you up, before joining you on the bed. He pulls you close and you snuggle into his warm body, your hand rests on his chest, just above his heart.

Happiness blooms in his chest once more, a content feeling. He realises that you’re projecting onto him with your abilities but you’re too out of it to realise. The feeling is one of pureness, a feeling of love. Bucky realises he has had this feeling before, many times, the first time was the day he met you. He really did feel love at first sight, he didn’t think it was possible but it happened. And now you both knew how the other felt, there’s no way he was going to go back to the way it was. And you’re not leaving SHIELD. Not unless he leaves with you, because from now on, you are one.

THE END?

Posted 23/04/2024

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #ladymunson #Bucky Barnes x female reader #18+ only

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coco-loco-nut · 3 months

Text

die first

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max’s wife is an international superstar, who’s anxieties tend to show up in her songs

Inspired by: die first by Nessa Barret

requests open! masterlist prequel

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“What are you writing, Schatje?” Max asks, sliding onto the piano bench beside you.

“I wrote a song based on my vows,” you tell him, writing down the last couple chords, humming a rhythm to yourself.

Max, ever since I met you, I knew you were special. You’re my fire and my safety, you never try to break me, and you promise to always stay. I promise those same things to you. I don’t want to live without you, I never want to learn how to fall asleep without you, I want to be in love with you forever. You are my forever.

“Play it for me?” he asks when you finish, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You nod, gently pressing the keys, mentally noting the kinks to fix before recording tomorrow. “It’s beautiful, the fans are going to love it, I love it,” Max compliments and you grin at him.

“I’m excited to announce the album and tour, and I’m glad we follow F1 around Europe. I get to spend more of summer with you that way,” you lean on his shoulder. You dedicated the album to him, and your third record is set to be the best selling one yet.

You took the unconventional route and took his last name after marrying him this year, despite having two hit albums and international fame. You still publish under your maiden name, but the name change caused a lot of shock.

You became an international superstar with your first release and it’s only grown since. Despite your relationship with Max spanning most of your music career, the both of you are able to spend a relatively low profile life in Monaco. Everything you record in the studio down the street is sent to your Hollywood label and released from there.

The next few months see you doing press for the surprise drop that was your bestselling third album and hyping the tour. Tour rehearsals fell during training time for Max and the both of you were going nonstop.

“I have to go to bed, Schatje, love you,” Max yawns over Facetime, you wish him goodnight as you stretch for your last show in North America. Tomorrow you jet to Europe to pick up that leg of the tour.

By the time you reach London, your tour has officially lined up with F1, which means your personal box near the stage is full of drivers, who likely are being bombarded with autograph requests. You slip into your black, sparkly bodysuit and matching hells; hair, makeup, and nails perfectly done; and grab your matching microphone before heading to your mark under the stage. The roar of the crowd energized you as the intro video plays.

“Come on London, let’s have some fun,” you say into the mic before smoke fills the stage above you and the trap door opens, the platform beneath you rising you up. You launch into your opening act. Half an hour later, after prancing and dancing and singing around the stage you take a pause to introduce the next act. The crowd cheers loudly before you have a chance to speak. You look around, smiling at everyone even if you can’t see them.

“London, thank you, my name is Y/n Verstappen, that’s my show for tonight,” you tease, the crowd silences. “Nah, I’m kidding. I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that, not when you are one of the best crowds I’ve had on tour,” you tell them, giving them a second to cheer.

“Since you have been such a great host, I wanted to share something special about this next song, something not many people know, but not quite yet. Quick shoutout to the F1 drivers here tonight, including my handsome husband, y’all are cool. But not as cool as everyone else here,” you purposely leave them hanging a little, blowing a kiss in the direction of Max.

“Alright, so, this next song is not only the title of my new album, but I also took parts of my vows and wrote them into the song. I hope you like it,” you say and the crowd cheers as the first chords play behind you.

“Thank you, London! Goodnight!” After the concert, you rush backstage and into Max’s open arms.

“You were incredible, Liefje” Max kisses you. Charles jokingly gags behind you.

“Thank you, Maxie,” you whisper, hugging him tight. Your assistant hands you a towel to put around your neck and a bottle of water which you happily take.

“You had a great show,” the other drivers tell you, all complimenting the show and thanking you for the tickets. You thank them for attending and excuse yourself so you could change. Max reminds them of the post-show dinner and club plans and carries you to your dressing room. You collapse on the couch, as Max chuckles at your dramatics.

“I swear the best part of a show is laying down after,” you groan and Max gently takes off your heels causing you to moan in relief.

“Y/n! People are going to think we are doing things in here,” Max laughs, you wave him off, changing into comfy but club appropriate clothes. Max helps you take off your stage makeup, and redoes your hair as you put a little bit of normal makeup on.

“Ready, Maxie?” you ask, grabbing your purse. It is nice knowing that assistants will take everything back to the hotel for you.

“I promise I will always come back home to you, I know my driving style is agressive, but I won’t make you learn how to fall asleep without me,” Max says, his hands holding your face gently.

“I know, but I will always be scared when you are on the track. You can’t promise nothing will happen, but I know you will always try,” you tell him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. You stay in his embrace for a minute until rejoining half of the paddock. I can be in love forever, if I die first…

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #Spotify

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 5 months

Text

Warm Me Up

Summary: Illyria is cold, Rhys has some ideas on how to stay warm.

Content Warnings: Smut; dirty talk; little bit of cursing.

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Illyria was a wasteland, nothing but frigid mountains and harsh winds, you'd never understood how anything survived here. Your mate had flown you in an hour ago, you'd immediately had to sit in front of the cabin's fireplace, smothered in blankets, a warm cup of tea in your hands to avoid your teeth chattering and your fingertips from turning blue. The boys were somehow training outside shirtless. You could see them from the window, sparring, even as the relentless wind continued to beat against the windows.

You furrowed deeper into your mountain of blankets, still so damned cold. How were they managing that? How had Cassian survived his childhood, alone and hungry in this for so long? Was there something built into Illyrians to help them survive?

You tapped a mental hand against the bond hesitantly, worried you might distract your mate and he'd get hurt... again. Rhys had gotten used to your random questions, but thd first couple of times had been so sudden he'd lost focus, Az had clipped him across the shoulder, drawing blood. It hadn't even scarred, had healed with the help of his powers in less than hour. He'd probably forgotten about it. You hadn't.

Your mate responded with a gentle caress against your mental shields, like he'd brushed a hand over you mind, urging you to come forward.

"Do Illyrians run hot?" You asked.

A dark chuckle ran across the bond, sending a shiver over your spine. "Why don't you come out here and find out?"

You rolled your eyes. "And freeze to death? No thank you."

"It's not even snowing yet.," he let your peer through his eyes, the landscape dripping from yesterday's rain, but it was more mud than anything.

"I've seen warmer places in the Winter Court."

"There are plenty of ways to stay warm up here," Rhys purred, his voice a playful caress against your mind. "You're welcome to join us in the birken when we're done."

"And leave the safety of my little nest by the fire? I'll have frostbite by the time I make it there."

"Give me five minutes." The bond snapped closed and then Cassian was screaming obscenities from where they were sparring near the side of the cabin.

"THAT'S CHEATING YOU BASTARD!" Azriel shouted.

"RHYSAND I CAN'T FUCKING SEE!"

You pulled the comforter off the top of your head to try and get a good look through the closest window, but there was nothing but darkness against the glass. It was still too early in the day for the sun to be going down, the darkness outside rattling against the windows like a harsh wind. Rhys very rarely unleashed that much power, but you felt your own flare to life in your chest at the sight of it. Like calls to like, and your starborn powers had always risen to the challenge it found in Night Triumphant.

It wasn't even a full five minutes before the back door was thrown open so fast the old wood cracked against the wall. The wind came in with it, making you burrow deeper into your mound of blankets to avoid it.

Rhys must have kicked off his boots at the door, because you heard it slam shut and then nothing until large hands settled on your blanket clad shoulders.

You jumped with a shriek of surprise that had your mate bending over the back of the couch to kiss your barely exposed forehead apologetically, his skin colder than the wind beating against the walls.

"Ack! You're an ice cube!" You hissed, twisting to get away.

He chuckled as he pulled away and went to the closet near the front door.

"Don't bother, I've already raided it," you warned.

He opened it anyway, then frowned at all the empty shelves. "You weren't kidding." His next move was to go to the stack of wood neatly organized by the fire place and throw more in, the blaze illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, training leathers hanging low on his hips, a fine sheen of sweat making his bronze skin glow in the firelight.

Under normal circumstances, you would have jumped right on him, ran your tongue over his abs, traced the swirl of ink across his chest. Something about him in leathers made you weak in the knees, all rational thought out the window. The only thing keeping you in place this time was the thought of loosing the little pocket of warmth you had created.

He felt your gaze of course, turning away from the fire to look at you. "Better?" His voice had gone down an octave, his pupils dilating.

"Little," you admitted, though him being so close, looking like that might have been more of a reason for the heat you were starting to feel than the fire.

He walked to you slowly, intently, violet eyes fixed on you.

Your heartbeat quickened in your chest as he knelt in front of you.

"Think you can make room for me in there?" He kept his hands on the top blanket of your little cocoon, waiting for permission.

"I don't know, how cold are you?" You teased; this would be the last little bit of your resolve.

He slid a hand under the blankets, fingers dragging up slowly, intently over your calves.

"Cold," you whimpered, but the shiver that ran through you had nothing to do with the temperature, not as he traced his way up your thighs, only stopping when he found the hem of your sweater.

He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose first, then the corners of your lips, his breath warm against your face, the contrast between the two temperatures making your head spin. You wanted to reel away and lean in all the same time.

"Just for a second," he promised, "then I'll get you nice and warm."

You opened the blanket, and that intense violet gaze took stock of your attire: His old sweater, so loose and baggy it looked like a dress on you, and knee high, fuzzy pink socks. Pants had felt like a waste of time, not when sifting through the dresser meant time spent away from the fire.

Rhys all but jumped on top of you, pushing you down into the couch cushions, the blankets tangling between you as he crashed his lips against yours.

Rhys, as High Lord, was always so poised and put together, everything about him calculated and curated to create the necessary masks of court duties; but alone, like this, when it was just the two of you, no masks necessary, he let that unending restraint slip, kissing you and running his hands over your body like a man starved. His tongue swept into your mouth as he slid a hand under your sweater, deft fingers dragging up your skin to cup your breast.

He'd kept his promise about the cold, you'd only felt it for a moment before he'd settled between your legs, using a bit of magic to untangle the blankets and rearrange them over the two of you. You ran a hand through his hair, scraping your nails lightly over his scalp as he playfully gave your nipple a tug.

"Better?" He rasped, lips barely off yours like he couldn't bear to be that far from you.

The warmth of his weight on top of you would have been enough, but the way he kept running his hands over any bit of you he could reach, the way he kissed you again and again and again was enough to make you forget you had ever been cold in the first place.

"Much better," you confirmed as he broke away to nip at your neck.

He chuckled as you arched into his touch; whimpering lightly as his tongue laved over the sting of his teeth on your throat.

"Can't decide," he murmured into your skin, "if I should fuck you in my sweater or not?"

Heat coiled between your legs, even further when he rocked his hips into your center, even with the clothes separating the two of you, the friction was enough to make you moan.

He nipped under your jaw, "Look so pretty in it, but I gotta get you all warmed up don't I? My poor little mate, not used to the cold."

Now that he was with you, you wanted, needed, every bit of contact with his body you could get. The sweater, so warm and comforting before, now felt like a tremendously itchy obstacle keeping you from him. "Want it off," you complained, trying to find your voice around another moan as he rutted his hips into you again, hard even through his leathers.

He chuckled as he fisted the hem and started pulling it up your body. "Wear it again for me later?"

You nodded as he pulled it over your head and tossed it over the back of the couch. Distantly, you hoped Rhys had the good sense to send his brothers away for a little while since you had stopped hearing them moving around outside, but had no time to ask as he started kissing his way down your body, pausing to give some attention to your peaked nipples. A whine tore from your throat as he swirled his tongue over one and then the other.

"Love when you make those little noises for me," he purred into your mind, not wanting to remove his lips from your body to speak.

"Rhys," you whimpered, body arching into him as he nipped at your sensitive skin.

"You're gonna look so pretty, all marked up under my sweater later," he sent an image of you, covered in hickeys from your throat to your hips down the bond as he continued to move slowly down your body.

Rhys liked to push you, liked to see how worked up he could get you, first with that silver tongue of his, then his hands, he could keep this up for hours. You, however, where so desperate for more friction, to fill the ache now burning between your legs, bucked your hips, squirming underneath him now. "Please. Need you."

He scraped his teeth along he hem of your underwear, humming his approval. Rhys grinned against your skin, all male satisfaction as he held your hips in place. "So impatient. I thought you were freezing to death in here? Don't you want to get warm, Darling?"

Warm? Your skin was on fire in every spot he had touched, the warmth of his body spreading to every point of contact he gave. It was becoming too much and not enough, you needed more, more, more.

"Please!"

He caught the hem of your panties in his teeth and pulled them slowly down your hips, hands skimming your hips and thighs, kneading soft skin. Your legs widened for him automatically, instinctively, despite the fact that you were now uncomfortably wet from his ministrations.

He ran his tongue against your center, humming his approval, blasting it down the bond. "So wet, and I've barely even touched you."

You pinched your eyes shut, overwhelmed already. He really was too damn good at this. No amount of time would ever be enough to satisfy the well of need you had for him. You blasted that desperation, that ache for him right down the bond as words failed you, as he continued his exploration of your dripping core with his tongue. Stars erupted behind your closed eyelids as he chuckled down the bond, pleased with your reactions to his body.

You were sure you were begging for him, whimpering and pleading nonsense as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, but the words faded in and out of your consciousness. There was only Rhys, the movements of his tongue, the feeling of his fingertips digging pleasantly tight in your hips, the heat of skin wherever it touched you. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body arching, hands tangling in his hair as the edge rose up to meet and you and you toppled over it with a scream that sounded an awful lot like your mate's name.

"Such a good girl," he purred as he lapped up the evidence of your pleasure.

You're whole body shook as he kissed his way back up your body, grinning against your flushed skin the whole way. He was so warm, when he kissed you again, the taste of your release still on his plush lips, your only thoughts were on how you could get more of that warmth, until it has seeped into your bones, erased any trace of the cold that had laid so deep beneath.

You threaded your hands in his hair, now a mess across his forehead, whimpering. "Need you still."

He grinned as he caught your lower lip between his teeth in a playful nip. "I know, love."

You moved a hand to the small of his back, pulling him closer.

"You'll have me until there are no longer stars in the sky." The bond flooded with more warmth and affection, as deep as your need for him ran, his was equal, there was no end to what he could give you.

You kissed him again, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, a bit of magic finally removing those damned leathers. Maybe you'd ask him to put them back on later, so you could enjoy the sight of him in the aftermath as much as he would you, but those were questions for later.

"I love you," you whimpered as he finally slide into you, slowly, casually, like there was all the time in the world for the two of you to enjoy each other.

He fit like he was made just for you, the stretch just uncomfortable for a moment before the pleasure made your back arch and your toes curl. He moaned into your throat, pushing his nose into your sweat dampened skin, inhaling your scent as he pushed all the way in to you.

You wondered, distantly, if the stars you were seeing were his making, or something that appeared for him too. The way he panted into your skin as he rocked his hips, testing you, made you think he saw them too.

"So perfect," he moaned as he slid almost fully out.

Your nails clawed at his shoulders, begging for him to come back and he plunged back in a little more forcefully this time, the couch groaning beneath the two of you.

You rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, hands still trailing down the contours of his spine in a move that would be sure to leave marks of your own. He nipped at your neck and shoulders when you pushed too hard, skin breaking beneath your fingertips, but you knew he didn't mind, know he relished in being marked up by you, like it was a badge of honor. You'd leave hickeys on him afterwards, when the pleasure building between your legs wasn't so white hot, when you could focus your attention somewhere other than the need burning it's way through you.

His hand snaked down between your legs, drawing you closer and closer to the edge again.

"Rhys," a prayer, a mantra, the only thing that made sense as pleasure turned all rational thought to mush.

"I've got you," he rasped in your ear, every muscle taught as he rocked into you again and again and again. His pace was quickly becoming more frantic, his breath hot on your throat as he moaned into your skin. It was that sound, so desperate and low right beneath your ear, coupled with the movement of his deft fingers, the angle of his cock inside you, all hurtling you so quickly towards the edge that you didn't notice it was there until you toppled over it. Your mate followed with a roar, his own release warm inside you.

You clung to him, trembling, panting, as you came down from your high, the familiar weight of him atop you grounding in the aftermath. He snaked an arm around you as he positioned the two of you on your sides, sharing the couch now. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he kissed the top of your head, gently.

"Warm now, darling?" He asked softly, a hint of teasing still there, even as he recovered his breath.

He hadn't pulled out of you yet; you bit your lip in thought as you tossed a leg over his, bringing you flush against his hips. You were sensitive, the movement made you wince a little, but even after all that, you still wanted more of him. Perhaps it would never be enough. Like the Illyrians that called this frigid place home, there was always going to be something that pushed you back towards the fire, that damned insatiable need to get warm.

"I think I'm still a little cold," you purred, eyes glinting playfully.

Your mate chuckled at the challenge in your tone, violet eyes narrowing into where you were still joined. "Can't have that, can we?"

The fire roared in the fireplace, a bit of your mate's magic flaring, making sure there was more heat in the cabin, before his lips were on yours again, chasing away any hint of cold before it could touch you.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar smut #rhysand smut #fanfiction #i'm so downbad for this male as you can clearly tell #my writings

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 11 months

Text

Reunion

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x teen!reader, Tyreese Williams x teen!reader, Carol Peletier x teen!reader, Judith Grimes x teen!reader (all platonic obviously)

Requested by Anonymous: when the prison fell you and Daryl got separated, this is how you meet up, based on this request

Warnings: mention of blood, fighting, mention killing walkers/zombies, killing people, Daryl hug (yes that’s a warning), knives, guns, mention of killing kids, Terminus, hopefully if you read this you’ve seen the episode and knows what it includes, but ya know typical twd stuff.

A/N did I accidentally write this way longer than I intended yes, yes, I did, now don’t get me wrong the moment where Tyreese defends Judith is iconic but for the sake of this fic I changed it up, kinda wanna make another part

For you who wants to know the episode is season 5 episode 1

Anyway I hope you enjoy this <3

Judith giggled happily in your arms as you walked on the edge of the railway. You could’ve once imagined all kinds of trains going up and down the tracks as they blew past the trees, but now you couldn’t actually remember much about trains, you had the idea of them but not much details (and if a train were to come right now that would’ve been a miracle).

Tyreese walked a few steps behind you, with Carol in the front, as she led your group of four forward. She came to a stop when a sign that states “TERMINUS” showed up once more. It was your headed path, the sanctuary called Terminus. You personally didn’t trust it, not after the Governor, but you had to find Daryl and the rest of the group. You knew that if any of them were still alive they would’ve gone to Terminus after finding the railway. Which all of them had probably done. Along with finding Daryl you also had to get Tyreese and Judith to safety. Tyreese wasn’t fit to live on the road at the moment, he refused to kill anything that came your way leaving you and Carol to kill stray walkers, or animals for food. Judith, well, she was a baby and sometimes could be screaming all day, she was mostly quiet but the times she did cry was the times walkers got attracted. A baby was no way near fit to be on the road but here you were all of you somehow still alive (except for Lizzie and Mika Samuels, but there was no loss for you over Lizzie that’s for sure).

“We’re close” Carol stated as she saw the sign. “I’m gonna get you all there, make sure you’re safe, but I’m not gonna stay” She saw your face morph into disappointment as you nodded your head, a sad smile on your face. You’d missed her while she was gone and now she would be leaving again, and you didn’t like it, not one bit and you knew Daryl would be sad over it too which didn’t help the matter.

As you heard the rustle of leaves behind you in the forest, you all turned around to see two walkers stalk forward in your direction. Tyreese motioned with his hands to take Judith from you. Judith was carefully switched over to Tyreese and both you and Carol went forward to the walkers. Both of you killed them quickly only to notice the herd that was about to come out of the forest. Carol whispered to Tyreese that more were coming, and so all of you went into the opposite side of the railway. You hid in the forest until the walkers got distracted by shots firing not too far away from all of you.

Tyreese looked worriedly at you as he started to talk. “That gunfire it could’ve been from Terminus”

“Someone was attacking them, or they were attacking someone” Carol responded

“Do we want to find out?”

This time you involved yourself in the conversation, as you believed that you did indeed need to find out. “Yeah, we need to find out, If the others are there they might need help”

With that, and Carol's instruction of walking another track that would get you there as well you all started to walk once more, this time in need to find out the truth.

Your next stop had been outside a small worn out cabin, but it wasn’t the cabin that got your attention. What got your solely attention as you hid in the forest with your companions was the man that talked in a walkie-talkie. He was putting up a bunch of fireworks, no doubt to lead the herd of walkers away from Terminus. You could faintly hear him mention a woman with a sword, and you stopped Carol from going forward. As you continued to listen you heard him mention a kid with a hat and that was all you needed to go on. You didn’t think there were that many women with a sword and kid with a hat together nearby at the same time, so it didn’t take much to know that they were talking about Michonne and Carl. Nor did it take long to realize they had done something to your group, thereby also Daryl. Especially when he mentioned bleeding the kid out.

Carol slowly started to creep up behind the man and you followed not far behind. Tyreese more hesitant but still following. She put her gun toward his head, the young man froze and put his hands up still holding the two way radio. “Keep your finger off the button and drop it”

“Listen, ya’ll don’t have to do this. Whatever you want, we got a place where everyone’s welcome”

“Shut up man” it was what all three of you were thinking but Tyreese was the one to say it.

“Okay”

“We’re friends of the chick with the sword and the kid in the hat” Carol pressed the gun against his head forward, making the man lean forward as the gun touched his head.

It didn’t take long for you and Carol to tie him up and drag him (not so carefully) into the cabin leaning him against one of the walls. Throughout the whole ordeal the man continued to tell the three of you that you didn’t have to do this, that you could all come up with a deal, but he had no luck there.

As Carol made herself ready to scout Terminus out to see what was happening Tyreese continued to hold Judith in a protective embrace. You however had been asking the man questions, finding out that ever since the first questions he had been lying. He told you he only had Carl and Michonne, that they had both attacked them out of nowhere, that they were just protecting themselves. But none of you believed him. Not with the things you heard him talk about before you confronted him.

You would of followed Carol to Terminus had it not been for your will to protect Judith and Tyreese. As much as you loved Tyreese he wasn’t in his right mind. So you stayed to help if anything bad were to happen, to walkers coming your way or your prisoner getting free somehow, it didn’t matter you were there to protect your family. You only hoped Carol wouldn’t need any help.

Talking about your prisoner he was even more shatty when Carol left. Apparently a teenager, a baby and a man who he could clearly see wasn’t going to kill him was no threat to him. It was his undoing in the end. He underestimated you both and it showed in the way he talked to you and Tyreese as you sat by Judith, who’d you made a makeshift bed to.

“She got a name?… Hey, she got a name?”

“No” you answered at the same time Tyreese answered “Judith” you glared at Tyreese as he told the stranger her name, you didn’t want to give him any information, you never knew if it would backfire.

“She your daughter or something?”

“She’s a friend”

“Huh, I don’t have any friends… I mean I know people. They’re just assholes I stay alive with. The other one your friend, the woman” the younger man nodded towards the door that was now closed. Tyreese slowly looked away at the comment being conflicted about his answer. So instead you answered.

“Yes”

The man nodded and his voice that had now started to annoy you filled the room once more. “I used to have them… used to watch football on Sundays. Went to church” he let out a small laugh as if the thought of it was unbelievable. “I know, I did, but I can’t picture it anymore… it’s funny how you don’t even notice the time go by, horrible shit just stacks up day after day, you get used to it”

Tyreese turned his attention towards the man and spoke with distaste laced in his voice. “I haven’t gotten used to it”

"Of course you haven’t, you’re the kind of guy who saves babies, it’s kinda like saving an anchor, when you’re stuck on a boat-“ you had by know decided to drown out his voice as he tried to make justiciable to let him go.

Your thoughts got filled with Daryl like they had for the most time since the prison fell. You missed him. He always looked out for you. Ever since you met you were drawn to each other. Daryl used to pretend he hated you, especially when Merle was around he couldn’t have his brother think he was soft. However everyone knew he had always secretly looked out for you ever since he met you he’d felt the need to protect you. It came to the point that whenever you wanted to go on a run to get new supplies or do anything really you’d always ask Daryl. You had never spoken about it to each other but there was a silent agreement between everyone even you and Daryl that you were his kid and he your father. It might not be by blood but it was how it had come to be. Everytime something happened to you if you got hurt or if you were sad they’d always notify Daryl, but most of the time he already knew and would be with you to try and cheer you up in his own moody way. When you’d been out on the road before you found the prison you’d always sleep next to each other making sure the other one was safe. Even in the prison your cells were next to each other. He always looked out for you. He taught you how to hunt, he taught you how to use his crossbow, and to fight people to be able to protect yourself. Like Judith was “little asskicker”, you were the “big asskicker”. You couldn’t help but to miss him and the thought of him being hurt from the people in Terminus made your stomach hurt. You didn’t really want to voice your thoughts but you needed the reassurance and Tyreese was the only one who knew who Daryl was and could give reassurance. So against the warnings your mind gave you, you voiced your concerns.

“Do you think Daryl’s okay?” Your voice came out quieter than you expected as your mind filled with more scenarios in which Daryl had gotten hurt in.

Tyreese turned from Judith to look at you. He tried to give a reassuring look on his face as he answered. “I’m sure he’s fine Y/N”

”So Daryl’s your dad, maybe boyfriend” he continued to gues what Daryl was as you made no indication of actually giving anything away to him. After a while he stopped, he wouldn’t get anywhere with you, but he was still confident that if he talked enough to Tyreese would let him go.

“See, you’re a good guy, saving babies and teenagers.

“You have no idea about the things I’ve done”

“You’re a good guy, that’s why you gonna die today, it’s why the baby is going to die, why the Y/N is going to die” both you and Tyreese stood up taking an intimidating step towards the man, your knife pointed at him. “Or… you can get in that car, get out of here, keep on being lucky.”

“You think you’re gonna kill me?”

The man turned his sole attention to Tyreese as he answered him. “Why haven’t you killed me? How does having me alive help you? Why the hell are you even talking to me? Take the kids, take the car and go, I don’t want to do this today”

“For your information we could always use you to get more information or w e could kill you know, like you said we have-“ you got cut off by an explosion going off. Tyreese rushed to the window to see what was happening and saw the smoke over the forest.

“Is that Terminus?” The man moved forward as if trying to see out through the window but he had no luck in that department as he slouched back towards the wall.

“Yeah, probably”

“Maybe you’re gonna win this, maybe your friend, I mean maybe that woman just got capped, maybe I’m gonna be the one who gets capped when she comes back”

“Nobody’s got to die today”

“Man if you believe that… the it’s definitely gonna be you and the kids, even if the place is burning to the ground”

“Man maybe you can shut up and stop talking before I kill you myself” the man took his eyes of Tyreese to look at you as you had your knife pointed at him an annoyed look on your face. He didn’t believe for a moment that a teenager would be able to kill him, nor win in a fight against him. He had a way to high ego to think that you would be able to do any harm to him, he underestimated both you and Tyreese and when he heard as well as saw Tyreese look out at the walkers coming toward the cabin he moved quickly and soon enough his hands went to hold Judith in a hold that would be easy to break her neck.

He told you both to drop your weapons and you both did so not wanting him to hurt Judith. As he saw the walkers claw at the windows he looked towards Tyreese telling him to go outside. As Tyreese went outside he went over to you and bound your hands together with some spare rope just like you had done to him earlier. He made sure the knot would hold before he went I’ve r towards the wallow-talkie and tried to connect to the woman (apparently named Cynthia) on the other side.

While he did all that you tried to desperately tie up the knot that held the rope around your wrist together. Right as you were able to get rid of the rope around your wrist (thankful Daryl taught you how to do it) the noise from outside stopped. It became deathly quiet and the man looked towards were the last pounding against the walls had been. He took out his knife and was about to kill Judith when you quietly and quickly grabbed the knife that was laying right were you left it beside you on the floor and you ran over to the man. You saw red as you knocked him over, he had threatened to kill Judith and Tyreese. Threatened your sister and one of your closest friends. You knocked him towards the floor and your hand went into the air as you threw it down onto him repeatedly stabbing the knife in your hand into him. even after he was clearly dead.

Tyreese had to carefully walk over to you as he took the knife away from you. He told you that the man couldn’t hurt them anymore nor the walkers, everything would be okay. You appreciated his comfort as you hyperventilated for a few minutes over the fact that you’d just killed a human. You’d killed walkers before but never a human being. In your mind it was justified as he was about to kill all of you anyway, but you still felt like you’d lost something inside of you.

It was a while later when you glanced out of the window and saw Carol as she walked towards the cabin, Rick not that far behind. You broke out in a relieve laugh as a smile spread briefly over you lips, this made Tyreese glance out towards where you were looking. You booth scurried to get everything as you both wanted to leave the cabin not being comfortable to stay inside any longer than you needed to.

As both you and Tyreese stepped out of the barn you glanced at the people led by Carol. Your eyes scanned the crowd looking for one person in particular.

Daryl stared at you in disbelief he couldn’t believe you were actually alive, he’d seen you get shot, and without medical attention he guessed you’d died. He hadn’t wanted to keep hoping in case he would someday find your corpse rotting away (either as a walker or actually dead).

Daryl took in your bloodied state, you’d no doubt had to fight. Dirt and blood covered most of your clothes, and your face had a few cuts covered in dried blood. Your once white shirt was miss colored and your jeans had been ripped in some places, your jacket had blood stains all over it. Daryl could only guess what you’d gone through to end up looking like that (he didn’t even look that bad). He didn’t like all the blood covering you, he didn’t like not knowing what had happened, he didn’t like being away from you, he needed to protect you, he’d lost Beth to a couple of strangers, he wouldn’t lose you too.

When your eyes finally found Daryl, you had a soft smile on your face as you saw him visibly relax at your eye contact. While Rick and Carl ran towards Judith in Tyreese’s arms, Daryl stumbled forward towards you, dropping his crossbow to the ground. You met him halfway and he engelfulled you in a tight hug. You’d never know nor would anyone else but Daryl let a few tears fall in relief as he hugged you tightly knowing you were still alive, actually alive. As he felt you wrap your arms around him he felt you hug him just as tight, the comforting sensation you both brought each other was all you needed to ground each other and know that either of you were dreaming, this was real and both of you were okay.

As Daryl heard you sniffle he realized you were crying and he hugged you even tighter, taking one hand to your head and petting it softly — not knowing fully how to comfort someone, even now, having comforted you all those times before he still was unsure if he did it right. However he did know that you were crying from relief, because he did the same thing. You had your father back and he had his kid back and knowing that, you both knew that everything would be okay in the end. You were yet to be bested by someone when together, even when apart you always won, always found your way to back to each other. You would beat this world together and that was all that you needed to know, and the fact that neither of you were planning on leaving soon.

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mytemporarycomfort · 1 year

Text

Dearly Devoted

A/N: Thank you all for being patient with me while I was away. I hope you all enjoy

Summary: The Champions reminisce their time with you and they know for sure you are their end game.

Warning:

Champion x Reader

Zelda

The cup of tea managed to refill itself once again.

Zelda was in her study for another long evening and you could tell how drained she was.

No matter how many times she apologized for not spending enough time with you or that you must be stressed from being around her in this state more than anyone else, you always stated "Its my pleasure to help you Zelda. I will be by your side, you are not a burden, you are doing your best. "

She cried when you said that. It felt like a mountain was lifted off her shoulders.

Seeing you asleep in the chaise in the study always left a blush on her face.

Another night of studying means less personal time with you, but she was always grateful to have you near.

After this was all over, she plans to travel with you. She makes that clear to you. Just the both of you, no knights, no books.

Link

Link was behind you on the horse. He held you tight like you might slip away if he loosened up a bit.

You let him rest his head on your chest and your heart beat slows his mind right down.

His duty to Zelda means he isn't always with you. So he gave you one of his shirts.

You wear it whenever you miss him deeply. He came home early one evening and found you cooking some dinner in his shirt.

BOOM bright red.

He snuck behind you and hugged you with a quirked eyebrow.

"I missed you Link, I happened to cook some extra dinner just in case. Want some?"

His heart bursted right out of his chest. Ugh, he is simping.

As you two ate dinner, he noticed, your left hand seems a little empty.

If you would accept, a ring on that hand would suit you nicely,

Urbosa

She saw you getting attacked by some Yiga members and who is she to not help, until she noticed...

You fought back with fire and fury in your eyes.

Despite that, she was not one to let any warrior fight alone if she can help it.

You thanked her. You spoke to her as a person who helped you, not as chief of Gerudo.

She saw you as another Zelda, but also different. You were strong, full of heart, but you were also innocent, naive.

She wanted to help you grow, and grow under her care you did.

Urbosa's softer side became clear to you when she was training with you and her hands guided you unlike the others.

You have grown to be seen as equals yo Urbosa. You can truely handle your own.

Even if it ment you would venture out for your own journey now, you was grateful that you were apart of her story and her yours.

"You have helped me Urbosa. You helped me grow and I hope to continue to be by your side."

She smiled one full of relief. Of course you can stay.

Mipha

You always protected her much like her brother. But you were not her brother so why did you fight so fiercely to protect her.

She always found it strange that you didn't mind all the fighting despite the wounds you got by the end.

She always healed you with no hesitation.

Mipha worried about you quite a bit, and it showed how often she was with you.

She found safety and comfort in your presence. A kind of feeling that made her want to be by your side for as long as fate would allow.

It was common to find you two together. A princess and her protector.

She didn't like not being by your side for long stretched of time. She's afraid of not being there to heal you fast enough if anything happened.

"I will be there for you, like I know you will be there for me. We got this."

You two held each other. This is what safety and comfort is. You two keep each other grounded.

Revali

He looks down at his hammock as you laid there reading your newest book.

Revali is a bit of a brat sometimes and yet here you are still here.

2 years.

You stood by him for two whole years and you're still here.

He was so dedicated to his bow, when you held his hands fot the first time, he stopped breathing.

He looked like he turned into a statue.

Then his feathers puffed up and he frowned.

Whenever you show him affection his feathers would puff up,

He would hide his face in his wings then hug you as tight as possible.

He's still learning to show his emotions in a less agressive way, but you know he means well.

Sometimes he thinks hes too much, he'll accidently push you away.

"I don't regret a thing 'Vali. I love you regardless of your little quirks, you know that right?." You told him after a long day of making you watch him in the target range.

He loves you so much. He puts his beak on the top of your head. This was the most gentle he's been with you.

Daruk

You are so soft, this man is crying

He remembers his first sleep over at your house, boy was nervous! Your house is so cozy!

He enjoyed his time at your place, hopefully like you enjoyed his.

He was so happy when he saw that you kept all the little gems he gave you, but why wouldn't you?

He wants to spend so much time at your place. He might as well move all the Gorons over to your little town. JK....but what if?

He just doesnt want to hurt you by being so big.

"I feel so safe around you" You told him after you two returned. to death mountain after his stay at your place.

He's keeping you safe then. He decided.

He doesn't know all the details yet but that is sure.

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koisuko · 4 months

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Could I request the Lin Kuei Trio with a God reader? For more context, Reader is the god of the moon and the Lin Kuei could be a clan who worshipped them? And one day, reader decides to descend to aid Liu Kang for something and the boys end up meeting the god they worship

This took way too long, couldn’t find the motivation. It’s 1 am and suddenly it hit me >:)

Tw: none, fluff, these boys are smitten on sight, gn

It had long been known, for centuries the Lin Kuei worshipped the god of the moon, the night, and the sign of change. The god represented the ways of the Lin Kuei, how day by day they served their purpose with grace and power, never once failing a task. The clan never knew, but the god was watching them, a smile on their face as they heard their prayers.

You watched for centuries as the clan grew, in number and in strength, serving alongside Liu Kang in the protection of Earthrealm. You offered help where you could, assisting from the background and keeping your distance from the mortals themselves. You knew all to well how easily corrupt mortals could become, fearing your reveal could lead to a catastrophic end to the clan.

A gentle voice rang in your ears, an all too familiar god of fire sending a prayer for your assistance. Knowing Liu Kang, he would only request direct help from you if the need was drastic. He was capable of doing many things on his own, but required your aid on rare occasion.

You swiftly left the safety of your temple. Your attire flowing elegantly on the ground behind you, cascading down your back in a watery display of silk. You felt the rays of the moon touch your porcelain skin, fueling the ethereal glow in the intricate patterns imbedded into your arms, a visible representation of your power displayed in inky artistry.

Two pillars stood before you, orbs sat atop the pillars illuminating the room in a dim white radiance, resembling the moon itself. You wave your hands, moonlight rays flow from your fingers, forming a bright portal between the pillars, swirling in a mesmerizing display and humming a song of the night.

Stepping through, you were greeted with a familiar smile, "Lord Liu Kang, it's a pleasure to see you old friend." He tipped his head as a sign of respect and greeting, causing you to mirror his welcoming gesture. "y/n, I truly appreciate your aid in my cause, shall we discuss?" He moved to the side, sweeping his hand and gesturing to the academy behind him.

Upon entering, the ground once bustling with activity, now fell silent as you and Liu Kang walked side by side. The monks pause their training, turning to pay respects to your presence with a bow. "There are a few who wish to meet you." He kept the comforting smile on his face, his eyes directed in front of him as we neared the main temple, "I look forward to it, Liu Kang."

The grand doors of the temple creaked open, behind it revealing the familiar faces of the Lin Kuei. The sudden thump of your heart hammered against your chest, worry masked by a calm and stoic expression. That fear of corruption once again lurked in the back of your mind, shadowing the confidence you harbored for the future. “Bi-han, Kuai Liang, Tomas,” Liu Kang gestures to each man before you as he spoke, “this is y/n, the god of the moon.” You watched each of their reactions individually, carefully studying the surprise and awe in their eyes.

You could see the excitement masked by their need to remain professional. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” you placed a hand over your heart, bowing your head slowly. When you lifted your head back up, you were met with the three of them knelt on one knee, with their heads low in respect. Of the three, it was a surprise to see Bi-han so quick to kneel before someone with no sign of reluctance. “Please, there is no need,” your voice rang in their ears like wind chimes. They were sure to remember your face, your beauty and elegance.

As they all rose, all except one gave a stoic stare. Tomas, his eyes averted elsewhere, darting around rapidly to avoid eye contact. His features were graced with the hues of a blush. It made you giggle, causing him to blush even deeper.

Clasping your hands in front of you, you sighed, breathing in the comfortable silence. “Now,” Liu Kang suddenly cut in, “shall we continue?”

Note: apologies if this is short, it’s been in my drafts for ages and I wanted to finish it the best I can despite losing motivation for it.

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narayanamepblr · 4 months

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vampyrsm · 1 year

Text

warnings; mentions of death (not bakugou or reader), injuries mention, blood mention, teeny tiny bit of angst that turns into fluffy comfort, baby used as a pet name.

There's a buzz of your phone on the kitchen table at 8:32pm, you don't make a quick dash to get it - already cooking dinner for when your husband gets home later that night.

Another 15 minutes pass, and there's no more buzz which can only mean it's one thing. Katsuki tried to call you. He's never one for calling twice, he likes to be quick and precise. If you're busy, he gets it. He doesn't pester. You love that about him, he respects your space because you respect the time he takes for his job.

Finally meandering over to your phone, you're not surprised to see the (1) New Voice Message! on your screen. You press it, going through the motions of pressing 2, then 3, and finally it starts to play.

There's some sort of background noise, maybe just the busy street he's currently patrolling. It's awkwardly quiet at first, always is with Katsuki on the phone. A man who prefers a face-to-face conversation.

"Hi, I was just callin' to uh—" He clears his throat, and there's a scuff of his boots on the concrete. "Just callin' to tell you how much I love ya, you mean the fuckin' world to me and—...yeah, I love you."

It's uncharacteristically sweet, so to say, for Katsuki. He only reserves that kind of adoration when he's in the safety and comfort of your arms in bed, or when you both share a late-night glass of wine on his weekends off.

It makes your stomach drop. There's something in his tone, he sounds sad. Something Bakugou Katsuki is not known for. He's known to be brimstone and fire, with sharp edges and mean scowls to anyone who doesn't know him.

Something just isn't right.

It's around 11:12pm when Bakugou finally gets back to the agency, his shoulders ache and his neck burns something fierce from holding up the weight of his gauntlets all evening. He rubs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face when graced with the beautiful blast of the A/C when he crosses through the threshold.

The agency is quiet at this time of the night, something he's thankful for. The receptionist is usually gone by now, and only the night shift sidekicks should be on the 14th floor where they get ready for a long night of chasing villains.

He's a bit late returning from the end of his patrol; some fucking idiot trying to mug an elderly man on his patrol route. It should've only taken him five minutes tops but the guy had some sort of slime quirk, aka ridiculously difficult to get a hold of.

But he did it, and now he's back in the safe confines of his agency. He can shower when he gets home he reasons, he doesn't want to be apart from you any longer than necessary.

Today was... rough. To say the least, one of the first cases he has to take point on was difficult. Not in the sense that it was a skill issue on his end, he's a well-seasoned pro. Instead, this was because of the parties involved. There was a woman, a fiancée. Bakugou had arrived at the scene midway through, a call from another hero requesting backup. It wasn't on his usual route but it wasn't too far.

Anyway, once he got there he was confronted with something that had his heart genuinely aching. The woman mentioned before, was covered in soot and ash, the colour of her hair a muted dusty grey from what must've been from the concrete walls next to her that had been blown open.

But the most damning thing was the blood coating her face, and her hands and she was crying. God was she crying, it took everything in Bakugou to focus on the part of his training he had to take over and over as an up-and-coming pro. He had to be supportive, he managed to wrangle the woman down from near hysteria until she was crumpling in on herself as he held her whilst waiting for the ambulance.

The words she spoke stuck with him the most, she had mentioned the blood wasn't hers. Nor was it the suspects. It was her fiancé's. She said that she was just meeting up with him, that he had been away for a few days at work and they were going to go for a nice lunch together.

But it never happened, the wall of the shop next to them crushed him on impact leaving her standing in the aftermath.

"I never got to tell him I loved him today, I was—I was so busy with work. I, I thought I'd wait until I saw him. To kiss him, tell him I love him but I—I never got to."

It fucking made Bakugou sick. The thought of you being wiped away just like that made him uneasy, you both knew it was possible but he did his hardest to ensure it never fucking happened.

Because Bakugou doesn't know what he'd do without you.

So he left that voicemail, he wanted to actually speak to you but he was just starting his shift and he knew you'd be busy. He didn't think much about what he said, nor did he think that it'd get him into so much trouble the second he stepped into his office.

Immediately, he freezes at what he sees.

Eijirou is comforting you. Now, Bakugou isn't a jealous man and he doesn't make assumptions. But he is confused as to just why Eijirou is comforting you, and why are you crying?

He doesn't get the chance to speak though. You practically leap out of Kirishima's arms, the redhead startled enough to actually let you go and he wishes he doesn't when he sees you lunge for Bakugou.

But he relaxes, a bit, when you glue yourself to Bakugou's front with your arms tight around his neck to pull him a little more down to your level.

"Baby, wha—"

"You! You motherfucker!" You all but hoarsely yell, your eyes are all puffy and red from crying and he can't fucking think what the fuck he's done wrong to be called a motherfucker whilst also being hugged by you. Just what the fuck is going on?

"I thought you were dead!" Now he's even more confused! His eyebrows furrow, lips parting as if to silently ask what you mean but you continue anyway. "Never, ever, send me a voicemail like that again. I thought it was your dying declaration or something!"

Ah. He gets it now. He did send that voicemail right after he was free to leave the scene, he didn't realise his emotions were so visible when he sent that voicemail.

His face softens, tired arms wrapping around you until you're crushed against him. Bakugou presses his forehead to yours, taking a deep breath in to be washed over by the soft scent of your body wash.

"'M so sorry baby, just... Just had a rough day, really needed you to know how much you mean to me."

"You're so stupid, you know that? Of course I know you lov—" He cuts you off with a shake of his head, quietly asking you to not fight him on this. So you don't. You just let him hold you, let him kiss your cheek - your nose, and finally your lips.

Kirishima awkwardly clears his throat causing Bakugou to uncurl himself from you. Kirishima only offers him a wobbly smile, something Bakugou knows as Ei trying his hardest to not cry about how 'manly' it is to say how much you love your partner.

"You should check your phone more man. I was two seconds away from sending out a search party to find Dynamight." Kirishima is always one to continue a conversation, easing it away from the sad atmosphere that developed.

Bakugou scoffs, cocking an eyebrow. "Two seconds? Why hesitate, Ei? You want my spot that bad?"

Now it's Kirishima's turn to splutter, scoffing in disbelief but Bakugou can't focus on whatever Kirishima might be saying in response when he hears your soft laughter.

A reminder that you're right here with him, in his arms, and that you know just how deep his love runs for you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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puzzled-pegasus · 5 months

Text

wof headcanons but theyre oddly food and substance related for some reason

Although I understand why Tui didn't include very much info abt alchohol or drugs in a kids book there is an extreme lack of culinary related world building so here are some ideas I had while on this train of thought :)

SeaWings tend to be foodies and are generally given cooking classes in school. Which if you think about it, is rather important, because like 60 percent of the creatures in the ocean are poisonous and the rest have parasites and nasty germs so they need to know whats up when it comes to food safety.

SeaWings use a lot of citrus in their food and drinks and they also use it for fragrances and stuff they just really like it

SeaWing nobles commonly eat fugu and there have been assassinations where a chef was bribed to not properly take out the poison so the dragon eating it would die

SeaWings drink to taste. SkyWings drink to forget what century it is.

SkyWings typically eat their meat raw but on special occasions they will barbecue it and put some spices n stuff on it. They don't eat much else besides meat but they do like spicy things like peppers and they also like strong onion or garlic flavors. The little masochists. Anyway,

SkyWings don't really like sweet things and many of them can't even taste them so they're like wtf is a dessert

man do they love them some olives tho. Olives everywhere. In their drink. Out of the jar. On their meat. Oil on their scales. Oil in their hygiene products. They started trading them from the Sand and SeaWings millennia ago but theyve selectively bred ones that grow in the mountains

This one's more drugs than food but SkyWings will sometimes take some kind of stimulant before battle like a beserker so they're all fired up heheh

MudWings are excellent meal preparers and sibs like to all cook together so they'll make a big pot of stew or something

They like bread and desserts, they have easy access to sugar cane being along the east coast and they also use a lot of honey. They're re into canning stuff too, they have a lot of raspberries and blackberries and strawberries in their temperate forest areas and they grow them to make jam and wine and they use honey to make mead

basically they are Cottagecore(TM) and I love them

They also eat lots of freshwater fish and crawfish and whatnot

And they also eat a lot of tatoes

Vanilla grows in the swamps, they use that in their cakes

MudWings deserve some appreciation goddamnit their kingdom is biologically diverse and beautiful

SandWings have tequila because. Yknow. Cactus.

They eat a lot of bugs and lizards, they don't really need to eat every day so it's not a huge deal

they do like coconuts tho and they use coconut oil in a lot of their hygiene products as well as in their cooking

They deep fry a lot of shit. Idk where i got this but trust me. They love things with lots of fat in it bc they need all they can get

Really sticky sweet desserts and candy; enjoyers of those one lollipops with the mealworms or whatever tf in them

also canning stuff like bone broth is very important

pickled cactus as well

rhey probably have a festival when cactus fruit goes in season

what even is IceWing cuisine.

Well way up north where there's nothing but ice it's pretty bad and the dragons have to eat just plain ass meat and seafood, but down into the tundras there's some pretty good stuff like cinnamon, pines for tea, honey berries, and other foraging as well as more diversity of meats

They would probably eat sushi

All the other tribes like to make fun of them and rightfully so bc their food is so plain

they make good honey berry wine tho

Maube that's why theyre so damn grumpy

RainWings are expert foragers ofc but they don't really feel the need to prepare their food in any way

They are, however, in constant dire need of sodium because they get absolutely none from their fruit

So anything salty is wow

Maybe rhey have a place near the mud kingdom border where they can grow some asparagus for salt

they are also the only tribe besides Night that can eat chocolate but forgor 💀 how to make it so the NightWings and them have to re figure it out together

Salted dark chocolate bing bang boom instant delicacy

NightWings used to be able to cook really well, especially desserts and pastry, but they forgor while they were trying to not die on the volcano

#wof #wings of fire #wof headcanons #this one is really long im sorry #food #alcohol #tw drug mention

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lunarw0rks · 11 months

Text

Old Bones | Chapter Three

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): strong language, suggestive language, guns/gun violence, death, gore/medical gore, blood, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I think this is my fav chapter so far, lemme know what y'all think... sorry if it's medically inaccurate but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ also the bastard finally has a name !!

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ♡¸.•*' ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter | playlist | ao3 ver. ꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST

Vaded

“Squeeze trigger slow, don’t forget to breathe.” His fingers are overtaking yours, contorting yours so they’re using the proper form.

Even if you wanted to make a mistake, his frame was caging you in, stomach pressed deeply into the curve of your back. You do just that, firing at the glass jars lined up several feet away. Not a solid hit, but closer than the others.

Simon steps back, lowering the cock of the weapon for you. “You’re hesitating. There’s no time to hesitate or you’re dead.”

“I know that.” You spit back. The fluster of continually missing, as well as being dragged out here nearly every day was getting to you. Not to mention the heat of the sun beating down on you, successfully blinding any shot you take.

“Then do it properly,” He stands near the jars in front of you now, crossing his arms over his chest in impatience. “You think I have time to ponder when I’m holding a gun to someone’s head? I don’t. I shoot first.”

Such a prick—an insufferable prick at that. His words only escalated the sour mood you’d had during this whole morning of make-shift boot camp.

You raise the pistol again, lining up the sights and tracing along his figure being outlined by the rays of sunshine. You exhale like you’d been coached, jerking the sights to the jar closest to him and squeezing the trigger.

The mason jar explodes, laying askew on the pallets he’d set them up on. He doesn’t jump in surprise, or lose his composure.

“Better. You might actually have a chance… If he’s a statue.” His lack of reaction only pissed you off more, practically wiping any form of a smirk you had after your first lucky bullet. You switch the safety back on, for his well-being as much as your own, and toss the iron to him.

He catches it without a second thought, returning it to the sack of weapons he’d brought to train with. A week, and you’d just barely made it to pistols. Not to mention, on your toes the entire time because there’s been nothing but radio silence on your spouse. Not a letter, not a piece of mail, no sign of a tail—nothing.

He begins the drive back from the countryside, somewhere about an hour out of town where none of the trigger pulls would be heard. His eyes are glued to the unpaved road in front of him, as usual. One hand on the top of the wheel, and the other taking up the entirety of his center console, leaving you little room to breathe.

“I’d say, you’re ready to carry one.” Simon’s words nab your attention. “Just don’t shoot at me again, or you’re shit out of luck.”

You don’t doubt the power of carrying, but it’s new nonetheless.

Perhaps his harsh feedback held weight, and you ‘might’ have a chance in hell of defending yourself. Might—as in, nearly none at all.

Thank the stars for that insufferable prick, then, because whether you want to admit it or not, his services are needed.

—

The weight of the piece is something you’ll have to get used to.

You refused the hip holster, to Simon’s annoyance, of course. Instead, it’s going to remain tucked into your waistband, the icy metal of the .38 revolver digging into the soft flesh of your tailbone.

He’s in the shower now, where he usually spends about two minutes anyways, despite you packing now. Bullets were your words now, if necessary. This situation was past legalities, or forms, or numbing and intrusive questions in the courtroom.

Three sharp pounds on the front door, and you’re already at your feet. The shower shuts off, and Simon has walked out with a towel concealing his waist and already started for the door.

“Wait.” You’re looking through the peephole only greeted with the sight of a badge and an impatient officer. Simon steps back a bit, watching the encounter from the hallway as droplets run down his frame.

Once you’ve opened the door, the officer holds out some sort of form. The prospect of an officer at your door has prevented you from hearing his introduction or caring to take a look at the badge. The only words that find you are ‘husband’ and ‘defamation’.

He doesn’t bother to let you respond, just shoves the form onto the entry table and gives Simon a sickened glare. At first glance, probably thinking Simon is your side piece showering off after a night of adultery.

The officer has retreated down the steps of the complex, leaving you unable to process anything. Simon doesn’t say a word, just retreats to his room to finish dressing, as if there wasn’t almost a dead cop laying in the foyer.

Your hands shiver as you skim through the document, seated at the kitchen table. You couldn’t believe the bastard—cops and judges already on his payroll, coming up with some bogus claim of defamation—all while you’re left with no evidence of the latter.

He’s returned quickly, resting his palms on the table as he soaks in the information. “You’re not going to that trial.” The paper is taken from your fingers, forcing you out of your discomposure.

“I’ll go to prison if I don’t show, Simon.” You respond quickly, wondering what the hell he’s getting you roped into.

“No, you’ll be dead.” He leads, the palms on the table turning to tight fits. “Once you’re in the courtroom, he’ll have access to you, or whatever shitty motel you’ll be staying in for months. You’re not going.” His commands are nearing that of a hardened soldier.

“This is my life you’re talking about. I can’t just pack up and run from the federal government. He’s not going to kill me, he’s going to try and put me in jail, then throw away the key.” Your tone has heightened, but his hasn’t.

He takes a few steps back from the table as if trying not to blow his top. “You’re hiding out in a shitty apartment, sobbing in the middle of supermarkets, and you’re confident in that assessment?”

“If he wanted you in jail, he would’ve planted evidence on you. I’ll repeat myself. You’re not going.” Simon sighs sharply, trying to calm himself again. “We need to get out of this apartment for now, before more police poke around and find you packing heat.”

The lack of decor, luggage still in the corner, non-perishables you’d bought—all for the inevitable moment he finds you. That moment was here, and now you were packing it all away. Somehow the place looked less pitiful with it all packed away and stuffed into his backseat.

—

You were somewhere in the countryside, only in the opposite direction of the shooting range you were at that morning. He hadn’t stopped once during the long ride and wasn’t planning to. You were in a small town before you knew it—someplace you’d never heard of, and probably with a population that doesn’t reach triple digits.

The barren landscape you were passing in the near forties seemed to continue forever. The endless crop and winding paths would provide cover, but the scenarios playing in your head depicted worse.

The entirety of the town was in a cluster—a few gas pumps, a motel, a pharmacy, and a diner—all of which much older than you’d been alive, visibly decaying under years of neglect.

His truck rolled to a stop, parking in the empty lot of the motel. You two seemed to be the only ones rooming in this apocalyptic townlet, and you were grateful for that, at least. He retreated into the office and returned holding a key to your room.

You climbed out, retrieving the duffel that had your entire life packed into it. His bag of weapons was slung over his shoulder, and he carried it as if the weight had no effect. He’d stayed quiet the whole trip, and it continued well into entering the shared space.

Two beds, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. Nicer than you expected, albeit the exterior painted a different picture earlier.

Your stiff limbs freed themselves when you sprawled out on the bed you claimed, remaining in disbelief of the situation at hand. You were on the run again, but this time not from him—from the law. How long could this go on? Living in motels, with an overbearing male roommate? Especially one without a sense of humor; the spiteful cherry on top.

He closed the curtains with a jerk, forcing you to stare at the dated floral pattern they had, instead of the secluded view outside. There was no time for error, especially when it was someone other than the law to figure out you’d skipped town.

Just when you’ve begun to close your eyes, he’s loudly rifling through the luggage sitting on the floor, muttering curses under his breath. You sit up in bed in a huff, glaring into his back. Finally, he pulls out the bottle of Kentucky, pouring himself a generous glass, before thumping it down onto the faux-granite counter.

“Seriously?” You sigh, sitting yourself up on your arms.

He takes a few seconds, savoring the burn running down his throat. “Gonna need it. Helps me focus.”

“We’ll need to pick up a few things at that pharmacy, so get up.” There’s no chance in hell he’s leaving you here alone, despite the store only being a few blocks away. Bickering only greeted you with an icy glare, so you grumbled to your feet, slipping into the jacket you’d removed only minutes before.

In usual fashion, he’s a few steps behind you, watching the few people that are out and about at the moment, most of which are retirement age.

You’re inside the pharmacy now, practically tapping your foot at him as he grabs the supplies you two might need. More non-perishables as well as a small kit used for camping. It was clear to you this little “road trip” wasn’t going to end soon—and he was quite used to being on the run.

As soon as he’s placed the bills on the checkout counter, you’ve exited the store, nearly skipping back to his truck. He begins the short drive back, but his eyes keep darting between the rearview mirror and over his shoulder.

“We have a tail.” He snarls, continuing to divert further from town. “I’m gonna make sure we lose it.”

His words make your hairs stand, whatever the hell he meant by that was nothing pretty. He was getting further from town, so whatever his plans were needed absolutely no witnesses.

“Gun?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at the black Mercedes creeping closer.

He nods, still frantically assessing his four corners. The road signs have disappeared again, and you’re back to crops and trucking warehouses. You lift yourself off the seat a bit, retrieving the revolver you previously had tucked away. You check the cylinder, indeed seeing six bullets loaded inside—bullets he’d filed X’s into the tips himself—they “blew a nastier hole” that way, according to him.

It’s in your lap now, as you bounce around from his speed increase. The tail does the same, nearly bumper to bumper with his trunk now. Simon diverts, trying to ensure it can’t clip it, but the unpaved road before you is already unsteady enough when you’re going straight.

The Mercedes clips into the side of his truck, but the size difference between the cars only causes it to swerve. Simon turns abruptly, making the tail believe he’s taking a right. In reality, he swerves left, causing the confused driver to go straight into the metal fence lining the road.

You only see the wreckage briefly; crushed hood, steam rising from the hood, and no further movement from the driver.

He slams the brakes, pulling off to the side. He pulls out his much larger caliber pistol, slamming the truck door behind him. He’s gone to make sure he finishes the job.

Your fingers find the lock button, about to hear that click, when the passenger door is whipped open, and you’re face down in the gravel before you know it. Your gun is askew somewhere, having been ripped from your hands.

The assailant's fingers dig into your scalp, forcing you to kneel on the sharp pebbles. He’s surely one of the men your husband hired. His nose is busted, and there are small shards of glass embedded in his face that he’s too determined to mind.

This was the moment fate caught up with you, just like you’d thought it would. Either with you dead in your apartment, or staring down the barrel of a gun like you are now—disarmed and on your knees execution-style.

He cocks it, pressing the metal into your temple.

The unmistakable crack of a gunshot echoes through the countryside, causing both of you to jump in surprise. Had Simon been ambushed? Was he already bleeding out in the dirt?

He seems to think the same, a lordly smirk spreading, revealing his bloodied teeth. You snap your eyes to the stars above you. His leer is not going to be the last thing you see—the night sky would be.

The ring in your ears is louder than the gunshot itself. Warm sprinkles have splattered across you now, dripping down your neck. But you’re not dead. Not clenching a bullet hole either. You have to look down to be sure, examining your body with sanguine hands.

Instead, it’s the man with a hole in his head crumbled in front of you, still your pistol in his dead fingers. The ringing subsides, but your eardrums are muffled slightly like you’ve just had your head underwater.

“Bastard got me,” Simon stumbles back, making you sigh in relief, “—came out of the fuckin’ backseat, didn’t see him.” He’s sputtering, putting a flat palm against the stab wounds on his stomach, while the other is against the door of the truck.

You use the truck for support as well, feeling the stray pebbles that were still digging into your knees, not to mention the crimson seeping into the fabric of your clothes, sticking to you. You snatch your pistol back, stuffing it back into your waistband.

He’s barely upright now. An uncanny sight at best, seeing him struggle to hold his own weight.

“We need to… Clean this up…” He takes his palm off the truck, but it’s returned when he nearly stumbles again. He’s fighting himself, forcing himself to be the one in charge here. Simon glowers down at his abdomen, lifting the saturated fabric. It’s worse than you expected, not in the deepness of the punctures, but how much blood he lost in the scuffle.

You can tell he wants to speak, to give you some sort of instruction, but the pants coming from him are too severe. He slides down the truck, leaning against the large tire for support. He’s gone even paler than usual—you can tell through the eyes of his mask.

His chest is rising and falling rapidly, at least. But it won’t be soon if you don’t do something.

It’s a blur; grunting and using all your might to put the dead man into the bed of the truck. You open the door to the backseat, finding the foil blanket in the camping kit Simon bought. You cover the bed, so his corpse looks like nothing more than a lump of firewood, or hay, or something other than what it is.

The skinny flashlight finds its way between your teeth, as you scoop and kick the dirt around to cover up the blood. The storm clouds forming are your only hope of washing away any evidence of this bloodbath. You shine the light on the side of the car, where some of the splatter had cast. You wipe it away with your sleeve, leaving only small traces of it.

Finally, it shined on him. A half-conscious Simon, who you can barely lift into the truck. He gives a little way, but your arms are putty by the end of the ordeal. He’s slumped in the seat, and you haven’t bothered to buckle him in.

You climb inside the driver’s seat, reversing quickly to make it back to the motel. The lack of guests will make patching him up easier, but the prospect of what unfolded is not providing much comfort. You’re speeding down the strip of unpaved road, eventually greeted by the few street lights illuminating the town.

You slow when you reach the parking space, claiming the one directly across from your room, so transporting Simon is easier. Luckily, the few residents that live there have retreated in for the night, leaving no prying eyes around.

You palm his pockets, locating the room key. There’s no time for slippery fingers or trembling hands. You make way for yourself and him by opening the door first, then pulling him out of the truck. He’s putting as much weight on himself as he can, but you’re left to do most of the literal heavy lifting.

Simon was otiosely dropped onto his bed, left to writhe only for a few seconds while you grabbed the rest of the camping kit from the backseat. When you return and lock the doors behind you, you’re quick to dig through the luggage for pieces of clothing. Ones you can put underneath his torso to prevent the mess his wounds are going to make.

You fish the knife he kept in his pocket out, cutting through the soaked t-shirt fabric. It glides off easily, allowing your amateur eyes to feast on the punctures. They aren’t deep, clearly not done with enough force to do serious internal damage, but there’s enough for the blood loss to be his biggest problem.

Simon must’ve finished him off before he could rough him up more—you could tell by how jagged the last stab was—like the man’s blade had been ripped away hastily.

“The bourbon…” He murmurs, bringing the bottle to your attention. Something you’ll be able to use. The self-medication that was slowly killing him might just be his saving grace.

You zip to the counter, unscrewing the cap from the bottle. He nods his head, bracing himself like he’s been through his a hundred times. He probably has, for all you know. The fawn-tinted liquid sizzles at his wounds, both disinfecting and irritating the reddened, puffy flesh.

He’s gritting his teeth under the mask, clenching one of the towels you laid out for dear life. Still, handling the pain better than you expected. You, on the other hand, were minutes from spewing.

The blood was coming out faster than you could keep up with, and no matter how many times you dug through that camping kit, it was only small bandages and ointment. You had no choice, you had to get to that pharmacy.

First, you’re hunched over the sink, scrubbing away the crimson coating you. You take off your jacket, ridding yourself of your bloodied clothes. One of his hoodies will have to do, and it will cover the remnants remaining in your hair. From how squeamish the sight was making you, you could swear you were paler than the man actively bleeding out.

Next, you’re out the door again, darting down the slick streets. Those storm clouds you saw earlier had begun to rain down on you. Good for the crime scene miles away, but not for your joints. That taste of blood, pinching in your side as you forced yourself to keep going, closing in on the pharmacy eventually.

Heaving in the first-aid aisle, grabbing any sterile gauze you see, then a box of gloves. Of course, the selection is limited. The townsfolk probably aren’t playing mob doctor like you are right now.

Once you’ve made uneducated guesses on what to get, it’s like you’re reminded of the dying man in your hotel room. There’s no time to pay, and no active cameras—no time to question the logistics of it all. Besides, the geriatric clerk barely gave you a passing glance when you stormed inside.

You’re out the back door, looping around the building until you’re back on the sidewalk again, racing with the supplies hooked under your arm. You’ve only been away minutes, but those were precious minutes where he could’ve hemorrhaged even more.

The rain putters heavily, coating your lashes like it did in the parking lot of the supermarket, daring you to stumble in disorientation.

You fiddle with the key, nearly kicking the door down when it struggles. It gives way eventually, and you’ve slammed it, already sitting on the edge of the bed. He kept a hand on his wounds while you were away, luckily, but he’s starting to slip again.

You peel Simon’s large fingers away, then look at the supplies before you. You rush to the sink and sterilize your fingers, darting your gaze from the sink back to him.

You look down at it—the engagement ring you haven’t been able to take off all this time.

“Fuck it.” You mutter, tearing it off your finger. It clatters somewhere in the sink, and you leave it there to get back to Simon. You tear the cardboard encasing the gloves, slipping them onto your trembling fingers—partially from the cold rain, as well as the know-nothing decisions you’re going to make to treat him.

Stitches are out of the question, so you’re going to have to pack the wounds—something you've seen on a medical show once. You unravel the roll of gauze, cutting off small sections of it with the knife, and then get to work.

He’s lucky he’s knocked out because he’d probably cringing right now—from your medical care, not your fingers digging around at his wounds.

You loop the bandage around your index finger, trying to recall the steps. You push it deep enough to prevent it from bleeding through, stuffing the gashes in a zig-zag pattern. One by one, you move to the next wound until they’re all packed.

If these stabs had been any deeper, there would be two bodies in the bed of the truck right now—one of which would be the owner. Opportunely, they hadn’t bled through the gauze so far.

The exhaustion caught up with you quickly, but you were determined to keep an eye on him. Without him, you were screwed, plain and simple. He wasn’t going to die and leave you with this unexplainable mess, one that he got you into when he took you on this hellacious joyride.

—

You must’ve dozed sometime in the night because the sunrise was peaking through the gaps of the curtains when your eyes opened. Not to mention, Simon was shoving you away from him, grunting as he was finally able to sit up.

He peered down at the evidence of the unpractised medical attention you’d given him. His fingers found the bottle of Kentucky still on the nightstand, and he took a slug from it, feeling the tension release a little bit.

The sight of the room surprised him a bit—the medical supplies and luggage thrown around, the clothing laid out below him, and not to mention the blood still dried on your fingers.

He finds his footing, despite the frazzled expression you’re maintaining. He’s been here before, in fact, been closer to death many times. This was nothing to Simon—“just a scratch” as he’d say. He grabs one of the only clean shirts left, slipping it on to cover himself.

After he’s taken another drink, he turns to you, standing above you with authority. This was no longer a game of cat and mouse, it was past that now. He had bigger problems, like the corpse in the bed of his truck, and the prospect of more of those men coming.

He finally finds the words when he sees you’re no longer wearing your ring. “What’s this bloke's name, the one who sent his dogs on us?”

You shake your head in confusion, but his clenched jaw is persistent and only going tighter. You’re forced to swallow the lump forming in your throat. You, too, can tell things are changing, and it’s become more personal for Simon than he’d like to admit.

You utter his name, as he’s forced you to reveal it. “Cal. His name is Cal.”

He takes a sharp inhale, taking in the information. The hands that were resting at his sides have now turned to fits. “After we take care of that problem in the back of my truck, we’re gonna find this bastard.” You could swear steam would be coming out of his ears by now.

He grabs his truck keys off the table and starts towards the door, growling something under his breath that you didn’t make out,

“I’m gonna find this bastard…”

TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011

#mw2 fanfic #mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty #ghost mw2 #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

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xo-urban · 2 years

Note

ehe may I request an x male reader for Ghost?

Ghost x Male reader where male reader is a medic who is really gentle with people's wounds and quick on his feet, but is secretly hella aggressive?

One day the team is compromised when a mission fails and are surprised to see their medic rawdogging the enemies with just a knife and a pistol.

Had fun writing this! First ghost fic, enjoy! 🫶

Surprise Me, Pretty Boy

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Medic!Male Reader

Summary: Everyone knows that gentle you patching people up after getting hurt, but desperate times call for desperate measures and you have chosen violence.

Warnings: Violence

Word count: 412

You were Task Force 141’s medic, you were like a walking first aid kit, trained to work on the battlefield with chaos all around you. You had this gentle touch when helping others, yet you worked quickly and efficiently. It's what you’ve been trained to do from the day you joined the military.

Right now you were patching Ghost up after the two of you barely made it out alive from Grave’s men. You worked quietly, cleaning up Ghosts scratches and minor wounds.

“You aren’t doing too hot doc.” Ghost murmured lowly, watching you work for a bit, glancing back at the environment that surrounded the both of you in a bog of darkness. “Tired and winded, but I’ll make it out alive” You reassured in a soft whisper.

Ghost nodded, eyes widening at the snap of branch ruined your moment. You both tensed when you heard more than just one pair of footsteps heading towards your direction from all around. “Shit!” You cursed, finishing up Ghost’s last wound that you were tending, “Let those bullets fly Ghost!” You stood quickly, pulling him up as he grabbed his rifle with a huff, shooting as many enemies he could as they came into view.

“Keep them off our trail!” You commanded, pulling a pistol out of its holster, clicking the safety off as you unpocketed your beautiful knife in all of its glory. You were never known for violence, but desperate times need some way out.

You saw them approach, aiming their guns at you. You fired your gun, emptying bullets to their skulls with a damn near perfect aim. You threw your knife at a man, going straight into his throat, blood spurting from his mouth as you reloaded your gun in the process. You tossed the empty round to the ground, sliding over to the corpse you just killed, grabbing your knife from his throat as you kept on running, clearing a path between the enemies and bodies.

“Here!” You called as Ghost quickly followed you into a truck. You both hopped in, Ghost settling in the driver's seat. “You are full of surprises.” Ghost chuckled as he began to drive as the truck roared to life. “Expect to see more in the future darling” You smirked, “I’ll be waiting any day love” Ghost spoke, tone light and easy. You looked over at him, his eyes scrunched up like a soft smile was formed under that mask.

“Surprise me, pretty boy.”

#simon ghost riley x male reader #ghost x male reader #male reader #modern warefare 2 #fanfic #fanfiction #ghost x reader

2K notes · View notes

fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

Two Lines, Two Idiots Chapter Seven: Stare Down With the Devil

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maybank!reader, Twin!JJ Maybank x reader

TW: trauma and abuse, so much angst, fluff, mentions of panic and trauma response, fluff, I think thats it

Summary: Your past comes back to confront you.

Word count:4.3k

Your body practically floats across the yard toward the truck, an effervescent glow radiating directly from your soul. Happiness seeps out of your pores as your hand rests on your protruding belly, now nearly 20 weeks pregnant.

The sun's rays warm your skin and reflect off the light sheen of sweat caused by the unforgiving summer heat, glittering like the ocean on a calm serene day. You're humming along to a song as you walk, your head bobbing as an occasional lyric slips past your cherry-flavored lips.

Suddenly, the peach fuzz on the back of your neck stands at attention and you freeze mid-stride. The air has shifted, light and salty sea breeze giving way to a thick and suffocating energy; a heavy atmosphere that you know all too well.

The earth seems to catch on as it stops on its axis, the birds silent so as not to alert the lurking predator. It's eerily quiet in a way that forebodes tragedy and causes your stomach to sink; the calm before the storm.

You smell him before you see him; the pungent aroma of Marlboro reds and stale Pabst Blue Ribbon assaulting your nostrils. It's the worst kind of nostalgia washing over you like waves of ice water, and you feel like you've been doused in kerosene with a match flickering dangerously close to your flesh.

You're acutely aware of every cell that's working overtime in your body, seemingly all uniting with one glaring message. Run. It's as if you're inherently trained to identify the threat that is your father, and you suppose that makes sense after years of tending to your wounds.

A fear that you've come to associate with the man crawls up your spine, plucking at each individual nerve ending along the way. It feels as though you're tuned into even the smallest functions of your body as adrenaline floods your nervous system.

Your focus seems to zoom in on a thousand things at once. A bead of sweat tickles the column of your throat as it slowly inches toward your chest; a sensation that feels all wrong compared to Rafe's soft lips that can be found following the same path anytime he's near you.

The band of your bikini top digs into your ribs with enough force to leave nasty red marks that will no doubt make Rafe's eyebrows furrow; you can already hear him whispering that looks painful while his hands soothe the ache.

Blood rushes in your ears with each thump of your battered heart, and if you really focus you're certain you can feel each and every one of your brain synapses firing.

Your body goes rigid, your frame instinctively shrinking the way it did when you were a kid. Call it an old survival habit; a learned behavior that you adopted after one too fists to the cheek.

It's a feeble attempt to make yourself less of a target, a desperate hope that if you become smaller he won't see you and you'll make it out alive.

"Hey, cupcake."

The familiar rasp of his voice seeps into the air, leeching into your spasming lungs before snaking its way around your throat. The nickname forces your shoulders back, anger overpowering your fear as it registers in your clouded mind.

It's the one good thing JJ picked up from your father, an old moniker you earned as a child after getting sick on the sugary treat. Your brother refused to let Luke ruin it, and usually it blankets you in a sticky sweetness that makes your heart swell.

Hearing it drip from your father's tongue is like swallowing bitter cough medicine that makes you gag, and it feels like barbed wire is wrapped around your chest. You whip around with enough ferocity for stiff joints to crack, and glare at the man.

"Don't call me that." You snap, automatically taking a step back; away from the safety of the house. Away from Rafe, whose sitting inside surely wondering what's taking you so long.

Your father ignores you, his eyes focused on your bump.

"I'll be damned. So it is true. Is that Cameron boy really the father?"

He looks up through his lashes, a disgusting grin bearing his stained teeth. You don't respond and he takes that as your answer, letting out a low whistle.

"I knew you were my kid. Us Maybanks are always conmen in the end. You're gonna be swimming in dough. Twins mean double the child support."

His dirt-covered hands reach out to touch the swollen mound where your children rest, and you swat him away before you can think better of it.

"Don't fucking touch me. My kids are not cash cows that you can rob like me and JJ."

He raises his eyebrows and you stand taller, a silent slap in the face that says I'm not afraid of you. It doesn't matter that you're pushing down full-blown panic, or that you feel like the same powerless child you were all those years ago.

He doesn't need to know that.

"I didn't rob you and that boy. I had a right to anything you brought home, I'm your father."

You suck your teeth and give a short nod, briefly biting your top lip before releasing it. The way he refers to his own flesh as 'that boy' rubs you the wrong way, but you let it slide.

"Right, whatever. When did you get back anyway?"

It's the question that's been nagging at you since the beginning of the interaction. The last time you saw him was when JJ almost took a wrench to his skull, and a few days later your brother told you he was gone for good.

At the time you had pestered him for more details, terrified that he had done something stupid. He'd spent hours reassuring you under the moon's beams, swearing that Luke had run off in search of a new life.

"Few days ago. Started working out a way to get here as soon as I heard I'm gonna be a grandpa."

The smile he flashes is with practiced ease, and it would fool you if you were anyone else. You know there's something sinister simmering under the surface; a nuclear bomb just waiting to be detonated.

Against your better judgment, you laugh in his face. A full belly-shaking laugh that causes you to hunch over slightly.

"You're even more delusional than I thought if you really believe that. You're not going to be within a hundred miles of them, and you're sure as shit not family."

Your roaring laughter ceases when you see a familiar flash in the eyes that your brothers shares, and fight or flight takes the reigns. Your hearing muffles as the color drains from your face, the sound of your voice is foreign to you as you scream out.

"Rafe!"

Your father falters for a moment, not expecting your boyfriend to be here. It occurs to you then that he had mentioned child support, and you realize that whoever told him had left out the bit of information about your relationship.

Your blood-curdling shriek has Rafe sprinting in your direction, the sound a stark contrast to your saccharine voice that reminds him of ice cream on a scorching afternoon.

A nauseating sense of dread pushes him forward as he stands on the porch, his eyes wild as they frantically search for you. There's only one thing he can think of that would illicit such raw and primal emotion from you.

He figures he must have truly taken a nose dive off the deep end for a moment because there's no feasible way that could be what's happening. He watches as Luke takes a step toward you, and bounds down the steps of the chateau.

Your panicked eyes dart to look over Luke's head, and the animalistic urge to protect his family consumes Rafe whole. Bile rises in his throat at the site of you so distraught, and he races to close the distance separating the two of you.

Luke notices you looking at something and stops; he may be an asshole but he's not stupid. He slowly turns around just before your boyfriend reaches him, and subtly cowers back.

There Rafe stands, all six foot two of rugged muscle pulled taut as he looms over the first man to break your heart. His lips turn down into an angry frown, the gleaming smile that usually displays his adoration for you nowhere to be found.

His eyes have adopted a steely glare, dark and narrow in a way that reminds you of a snake ready to strike its prey. Your gaze lingers on his hands, locked firmly at his sides as his fingers flex; brutality begging to be released.

His jaw ripples with tension as he clenches his teeth, hateful words filled with venom ready to fly freely like hollow point bullets designed to kill. He glances over at you, the urge to scan your body for the tiniest scratch clawing at his chest; demanding to know that you're safe.

A hot tear burns your cheek, and Rafe's eyes trace its trail until it falls off your chin. He's laser-focused on that singular glistening sign of your anguish; ironclad proof that you are in fact not okay.

It ignites a blazing inferno within him; a new feeling that makes his usual temper look like a dying flame way off in the distance. It feels as though live wires are buzzing beneath his tan skin, sending shock waves from the tips of his fingers all the way to his toes.

The entire purpose of his existence pivots, and there's a blaring alarm going off that screams kill, kill, kill.

"I will cut your hand off and shove it down your fucking throat before I let you lay a finger on her ever again. So if you're wanting to hit someone, hit me."

The low register of his voice settles deep in your bones, his raspy timbre somehow a few octaves deeper than usual. He says it so calmly, like it's the most casual statement he's ever made, and your eyes widen.

It's no secret Rafe can be explosive, the shrapnel of his outbursts embedding in anyone within earshot. The man speaking now is someone else entirely; cold and calculated, completely in control of the situation.

Luke goes to argue, and you catch the exact moment the thread inside of Rafe snaps. The thick vein on the side of his neck threatens to burst free as his face burns red, and his nostrils flare. He takes a step forward, his scream reverberating off the water and trees as he unleashes a wrath that rivals God.

"Go on, hit me. Hit me like you hit her!"

His index finger jabs his diaphragm as he accentuates his words, and more tears blur your vision. There's an emotion deeper than anger hidden in his tone; something akin to despair and disgust.

Rafe means every single word. He wants your father to hit him. He wants to know what his fist feels like as it makes contact. He needs to know what you felt.

He needs to know how far the ache spreads from the point of impact, how big the bruise is, how long it takes it to bloom, and what shades of brown and yellow it fades to as it heals.

Luke squares his shoulders and Rafe takes a step forward. He glowers down at your father, silently daring him to make a move.

JJ and the pogues watch from the porch, having come out after hearing your shout. JJ stands frozen in place as the scene unfolds, his mind racing a million miles an hour. It's when he sees the two men having their stand-off that he finally kicks into gear, making a beeline for you while telling his friends not to move.

You feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you back, and try to figure out when the hell he even showed up. He's whispering quiet reassurances in your ears while he tries to turn you away to put your face in his neck, but you don't budge.

Your bloodshot eyes are fixed on Rafe, too afraid to blink. The world seems to move in slow motion. Your father laughs. Rafe's arm twitches. Your breaths come out in quick short pants. Rafe inhales slowly. Every move is premeditated and deliberate.

JJ starts to panic behind you. He's powerless in this moment. He can't control a single circumstance. Rafe's knuckles turn white in a clenched fist. He's decided to end it all right here.

You know this. You can see it in his eyes.

"Rafe, stop!"

You shout just in time and he looks at you with his arm frozen mid-swing. Luke turns to the side and glances between the two of you, Rafe's eyes soften upon seeing yours glassed over and pleading.

Your father shakes his head in disbelief and chuckles cruelly before peering at Rafe.

"She's really got you fooled, huh? Hungry dogs are never loyal. She's a Maybank, she'll bolt as soon as there's a better opportunity. Its runs in the family."

Rafe starts to lunge, completely forgetting your command. He can beg for forgiveness later.

"This is where it runs out."

Your voice rings out, wobbly but forceful as Rafe stares at you.

JJ's in front of you now, creating a barrier between you and the man. If Luke wants to get to you, hell have to get through him first. That is Rafe even lets him get that far.

Your boyfriend senses the shift; sees the gears turning in your head as an entire lifetime of unspoken words threatens to pour out. He moves forward and stands behind you with one arm wrapped just below your collarbones and his other hand rubs comforting shapes on your stomach.

Luke falters, his cold glare darting between his two kids. JJ moves to stand next to Rafe and allows you to set your sights on the man that terrorized you.

How can you have matching smiles and the same mannerisms, but be so different? You and your father are intricately intwined, sharing so many little traits. somehow you look exactly like him, yet bear no resemblance at all.

You're exactly the same and nothing alike, a mind boggling paradox. The same temper and sharp tongue, yet a different heart altogether.

Your fingers come up to wrap around Rafe's forearm while you let him ground you, and the fog starts to clear. You know you're safe, and for the first time in your life you can speak your mind.

Your head shakes from side to side slowly, your chest torn open as your beating heart is put on display.

"Please just tell me why. Why're you doing this to us? You don't have to do this. You didn't have to do any of it."

Rafe's arm tightens, and he ignores the burning sting of your nails as they nearly break his skin.

"Y/N, don't. It's not worth it."

JJ's hand is on your shoulder as he takes a step forward, and he stares at the side of your face.

Isn't it though? Don't the two of you deserve some sort of closure?

"Stop waiting for an apology you'll never get. It wouldn't make a difference anyway."

On a certain level, you know your brother is right. Still, you can't for the life of you bring yourself to tear your eyes away from your father's. In this moment it's not a grown woman staring back at him; it's a hurt little girl who just wants her dad.

Luke doesn't say anything, and his silence is like a serrated knife to your windpipe.

"Do you even regret what you did to us?"

It's a quick flash, impossible to notice if you weren't holding such intense eye contact, but you see a flicker of emotion in his usually blank eyes. You know he won't acknowledge the pain he caused, yet you continue anyway.

"You made our lives a living hell. You blamed us for everything and gave us scars that will never fully fade. You wanna know what the worst part is? What's absolutely fucked? If you asked me to forgive you, I would. Despite everything, I still love you and I hate it. That's the person I am. You didn't break me."

He casts his eyes toward the ground, focusing on the crumpled grass in the shape of your feet.

Your desolation is slowly being overtaken by resentment, and a fire that bears a striking resemblance to that of the man in front of you dances in your eyes.

You've spent your entire life trying not to be like him, but that doesn't mean you didn't inherit his vicious temper and ability to be cold-hearted. You just learned to control it.

"I wanted to be soft and kind. I wanted to frolic in the waves and go to daddy-daughter dances and be proud of you, even once. I wanted to be a kid, and you turned me into a fucking soldier. The war is over and yet I'm still fighting like I'm in the middle of the battlefield that was supposed to be our home."

If Rafe was ever curious to know what it feels like to have his heart ripped out through his rib cage, he doesn't have to wonder anymore. The grief and vulnerability in your voice nearly bring him to his knees, and he gently spins you around so you're facing him.

His rough hands find purchase on your neck, large thumbs rubbing along your cheekbones in soothing motions.

He tilts your head to look at him and your eyes flutter closed, your lower lip trembling as you inhale a sharp breath; a futile attempt to withhold your swirling emotions as the shackles around your heart weaken.

Rafe leans down, his own eyes squeezed shut when he rests his forehead against yours. He chooses his words carefully; part of him knows this is a defining moment that has the power to either help heal you or solidify the damage.

His voice is soft like spring showers as it rains down on you; soaking through your armor and forcing it to slip away.

"Lay down your sword. You won, there doesn't have to be any more bloodshed."

It sends you over the edge and you crumple in his arms. He catches you with ease, his hand smoothing down your hair as he shushes you.

JJ's eyes sting with tears at the sight of you finally falling apart after years of holding it together, and he looks at his father.

"Dad, please. Just let us go. Let us go."

Your father takes one last look at you and turns on his heel. JJ breathes a sigh of relief, and the rest of the group slowly approaches as the elder Maybank disappears. John B has always had an inkling about the reality of your home life, but nothing was ever confirmed.

The rest of them are completely in the dark. They knew that you and JJ didn't like to go home, and of course they knew that Luke is a piece of shit. Anything further than that was kept hidden.

Rafe's heart shatters as he holds your trembling figure, wails unlike anything he's ever heard ripping from your throat. All he can feel is melancholia.

How could he feel anything else? His sweet girl that would do anything to make someone smile, that wakes up every day and chases away the darkness that looms over him just by existing, that sees the misery in the world and decides to sprinkle in a little goodness, beaten and broken down by the one person that was supposed to protect her. Of course it fills him with sorrow.

Rafe locks eyes with JJ, unsure what else to do besides let you openly weep. Your brother nods toward the house, and your sweet boyfriend bends down to press his lips to the shell of your ear.

"Let's go inside, yeah?"

You don't protest, and he gently guides you toward the house while your brother and friends look on. Kie and Sarah are crying now too, devastated to see you see the truth beneath your bubbly personality.

"What the hell was that all about?"

John B has to look away lest his emotions get the best of him and focuses on JJ.

"Nothing."

JJ's tone is defensive as he rips his backward cap off and wrings it between his hands.

"Didn't look like nothing."

Your brother's hair flops against his forehead as he shakes his head and starts toward his bike.

"Doesn't matter, okay? It's all over for good now. Just drop it."

Everyone looks at each other as he speeds off without another word, and JB blows out a long breath.

"What the fuck?"

Inside, Rafe is kneeling in front of you as you sit on the bathtub, doing his best to calm you down. Two decades worth of pain is being released, and it seems like nothing can quell the ache in your chest.

Your father's words about being a Mayabnk bounce around your head, and it only makes you bawl harder. Rafe's eyes widen when you start heaving from the force of your sobs and he considers calling JJ.

"Can you try and breathe for me baby? This isn't good for our little ones."

He immediately regrets his words when your lips turn downward and you whimper, guilt now eating at you along with everything else.

"Maybe my dad was right. Maybe I am a Mayabnk through and through. I mean, I've done a lot of shit over the years. I've hurt a lot of people and caused a lot of trouble."

Rafe frowns, his fingers squeezing your thighs where they rest to get your attention.

"People do bad things when they're trying to survive. It doesn't make you a bad person. I hope you know I'm proud of you. I see how hard you're fighting, and you've come so far. You might feel stuck, but you're not."

Another tear cascades down your cheek as you blink at him and he gives you a small smile.

"When I told you I loved you, you know I meant it right? I'm not just talking about all those warm feelings. I'm talking about putting in the work. I'm here to stay for the hard parts, not just the pretty ones."

Your hand comes to rest on his cheek and Rafe leans into your touch, trying to portray just how much he means it.

"I don't deserve you. I don't deserve this type of love."

Rafe has genuinely never felt such agony as your words seep into his soul, and he shakes his head.

"Don't say that. It's not about what you think you do or don't deserve. I get to choose who to love. I'm an adult, and I can make that decision. I love you on purpose. So I'm here to stay. I'm in this."

His lips press to yours so delicately, as if you'll disintegrate under his touch while he tries to make you feel his love. You're interrupted by a knock at the door and he pulls back, pushing a stray hair behind your ear as he answers.

"Come in."

JJ peeks his head through the door, a timid smile making his dimples pop out. He returned shortly after he left, concern for your well-being overtaking him.

"How goes it?"

There's a beat of silence as the two of you stare at each other, both your faces splotchy as dried tears make the tight skin itch. The two of you look a mess, hair ruffled and runny noses telltale signs of your distress.

JJ's lip quivers and that's all it takes for the two of you to burst out laughing. Rafe looks at you like you've grown a second head, genuinely baffled at what could possibly be funny. It dies down to giggles after a minute and you wipe your face with the back of your hand.

"It was always going to end like this, wasn't it?"

JJ shoots you a sad smile, his eyes zeroed in on a bottle of shampoo.

"Yeah, I think so, cupcake."

You purse your lips and nod, the truth a nasty pill to swallow. Suddenly, JJ's raw voice fills the air and Rafe looks up at him.

"Can I talk to you outside for a second, bro?"

Your boyfriend pecks your forehead and stands, following your brother out to the screened-in porch. He waits patiently, letting the blonde gather his thoughts.

"Thank you for what you did back there. She feels safe with you, and I think she's been needing to get that shit off her chest for a long time. You gave her the strength, and I just want you to know I'm grateful. It helps me sleep to know she's with someone that I can trust to protect her."

Rafe's hand rubs the back of his neck, not used to your brother being so candid. If you had told him a year ago that JJ Maybank would use his name and the word trust in the same sentence, he would've called you crazy.

"Of course, man. I care about her more than I care about myself and there's nothing I wouldn't do for her. Whatever she needs, I'm there."

JJ pulls him into a half hug and slaps him on the back before leaving to go back inside. Rafe just stands there for a moment, taking deep breaths and trying to regain his composure.

When he's confident he's got it under control, he returns to find you cuddled up on the couch watching reruns of Spongebob. A smile tugs at his lips as he joins you, his hands coming to rest on your belly out of habit.

"It's going to be okay, right?"

Your voice is small as you whisper the question, and Rafe shifts to look down at you.

"One day it's going to be great. All of the hardships will be distant memories and you'll be in love with your life. I promise."

Your face nuzzles into his shoulder and he kisses the top of your head. As long as you have each other, everything will always turn out okay.

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