#if you ever read any of these be sure to let me know !! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterforme · 2 days

Text

Aim for the Sky Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After weeks of looking forward to a quiet day with you and Rose, Bradley almost messes up his own Father's Day celebration. He's lucky you're quick to forgive him. Every day with his daughter is a collection of moments he wants to commit to memory. Every day with you makes him fall more in love.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, blowjob, DILF Roo

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Do you have any big plans for Sunday? For Bradley's first Father's Day?"

You looked up from your computer when you realized Cat was talking to you. Truthfully, you did have plans, but they weren't big at all. Your husband just kept telling you that all he wanted was to spend the day with just the three of you.

"Isn't it kind of Jake's first Father's Day, too?" you countered with a grin. When Cat sputtered instead of actually answering, you felt like you'd won this wrong of proverbial chess against a master. "It's okay... you don't have to admit it out loud, but I just know Jake is exceeding all of your expectations."

She dropped down into the seat next to you and leaned in like she was afraid someone else might be listening. "He took Jer to the park with Bradley and Rose the other evening."

"I know," you replied with a laugh. "I needed to clean my house, so I kicked Bradley out and told him to call his bestie, Jake."

Cat looked a little panicked now. "No, you don't understand. I can trust him to take care of Jeremiah."

"Yeah... that's good, right?"

"I don't know!" she hissed. "When I moved to California, it was my intention to never ever get involved with a man again. Just me and Jer. And then when he went away to college, I was going to start collecting exotic pets or something."

You tried not to laugh. "Yeah, Jake kind of ruined that agenda for you, huh?" She buried her face in her hands, and to your surprise, she started crying. You glanced around the lab, but Macy wasn't paying any attention as you put your arm around Cat's shoulders. You were very confused as you whispered, "Are you okay?"

Cat's dark eyes were wet with tears as she met your gaze while somehow shaking her head and nodding at the same time. Her voice was raspy and uneven as she said, "He bought an engagement ring."

"Jake proposed?" you gasped, ready to jump out of your seat. You knew for a fact he wanted to, but he kept saying he didn't think the time was exactly right yet.

"No. I found the ring. He's terrible at hiding things."

You sat quietly for a minute while she worked at getting herself under control, but then more questions started to formulate in your mind. "I know this isn't where you saw yourself, Cat. I know trusting Jake after leaving your ex is something you've struggled with, but if you love him, then what's holding you back?"

Her fingertips were pressed to her lips, and her hand was shaking. You weren't sure she had even heard your question as she stared off into space and said, "I can't even accurately describe it, because it was so pretty. The diamond was huge. Absolutely enormous. Obviously expensive." She paused and pulled away from you, opening her computer like she didn't just let herself fall apart on your shoulder. "And I have nothing to offer except a child that isn't biologically his and a crippling amount of debt that I'll probably never see the end of." When you opened your mouth to respond, she slammed her computer shut again and said, "And now I'm late to meet with Bickel," before rushing out of the lab.

You stared at the door for a few seconds before you took your phone out and started to draft up a text for Cat. You didn't see her again for the rest of the day, and you didn't send the text until you got home with Bradley and Rose. But you meant every word of it.

You're tenacious and strong, and that's worth a lot more than money. You're the kind of person someone would want to buy a big diamond for.

------------------------------

"Why is everything so expensive?" Bradley muttered to himself. "Holy hell."

He was trying to plan out the few days he would have alone with you when your parents came out again for Independence Day. Going back to the oceanfront boutique hotel in La Jolla where you and he had celebrated his birthday two years ago was going to cost a fortune over the holiday.

"Rose isn't going to need money for college anyway," he mused, shrugging at his phone before charging the room to his credit card for three nights. His daughter was going to be a genius. She was already so strong, trying her best to roll over and getting better at holding her head up without support. Suddenly he needed to see her.

Bradley tossed his phone aside and headed for the nursery where you were feeding Rose in the glider chair. When you looked up at him expectantly, he said, "I missed you."

Your gaze was soft as he sat down on the floor next to your feet. "We were with you ten minutes ago."

"Ten minutes ago? No wonder I was getting so lonely," he whispered, reaching out to run his finger along the back of Rose's hand. "Hey, Nugget."

She paused, lips pursed, before she continued eating. It was unreal how adorable she was. Bradley could look at his daughter all day long and never grow tired. He could look at your tits dripping milk all day long, too.

"Let me burp her," he said, making grabby hands as soon as she started to slow down. "It's my favorite."

You handed Rose, who was already dressed in her sleeper, to him, kissing him on the cheek as you stood. "Should I just keep these out for you?" The way you gestured at your breasts left a smile on his face.

"Please. I would very much enjoy it if you did."

You stretched your arms over your head and said, "I'll meet you either in the shower or in bed." Then you were gone, and he was excited to burp the baby and then do whatever you let him do to you.

"Let's see if we can get a nice, big burp out of you so you'll sleep for a few hours," he muttered, pulling one of the many storybooks down from the shelf from his spot on the floor. He'd read every book in the room to her multiple times already, and he couldn't wait until she started to have favorites. Tonight he read about a dragon while he patted and rubbed her back, pausing every page or two to kiss her soft cheek.

She was yawning by the last page of the book, and she did indeed burp for him. When he set her gently in her crib, Bradley whispered, "I can't believe I get to be your dad." He stood there, leaning on the side of the crib until he was certain she was asleep, then he headed for his own bedroom, unzipping his pants along the way.

Bradley found you naked in bed, fresh from the shower and rubbing lotion all over your legs. It was such a mundane yet intimate thing for him to watch, and you didn't realize he was in the doorway yet. "Get in bed," you told Tramp, nodding toward the fluffy mat he slept on next to the bathroom door. "You can't play with Rosie any more tonight. I'm sorry, but she needs to go to sleep after Daddy finishes reading to her."

"I'm finished reading to her."

Your gaze met his as your palms went gliding up your thighs, and you smiled a little shyly at him. Then you reached for the sheet like you were going to try to cover yourself, and he headed for the bed.

"Please don't, Baby Girl," he whispered. "I was really enjoying that view."

You paused and let your eyes drift down his body. "Get undressed and come here."

He did not need you to ask him twice. Bradley yanked his jeans off and tossed them aside followed by his tee shirt and his boxer briefs. You giggled when he climbed into bed in just his socks and hovered above you like he was going to do push ups with his hands planted next to your shoulders.

When he lowered himself down to give you a kiss, you raked your fingers through his hair. He knew there was no hiding how hard he was getting, so he didn't bother. He just pressed himself against you while you licked his bottom lip.

"You're really horny, Roo," you murmured, and he simply nodded. You let one hand drift down along his scarred cheek, and then you were touching your tits.

He was salivating immediately. He could practically smell you. White beads of your milk formed on your nipples as you gently squeezed yourself, and he whimpered your name. His cock was tapping against your thigh in excitement as he lowered himself down to kiss your lips again.

"It's okay," you whispered. "I know you want to. Go ahead."

Bradley sighed and came to rest on his elbows, letting his mouth meet your nipples.

-------------------------------

You spent all day Saturday running to three different grocery stores to buy ingredients for Bradley's Father's Day picnic lunch. It cost a small fortune to get everything you needed to make chicken salad sandwiches on homemade bread, a charcuterie board, fruit salad, and brownies. Your plan was to get up very early on Sunday to start making everything, but now Bradley's words made you feel like you were going to cry.

"I'm playing golf in the morning."

He was so nonchalant about it, you thought perhaps he was joking at first. But his expression showed a tiny bit of alarm and remorse, and you knew he was actually ditching you and Rose on Father's Day.

When you spoke, you hated how small your voice sounded. "You said all you wanted was a day with just the three of us."

"I do!" he insisted, reaching for you and pulling you close. "That's all I want. I promise I'll be home by lunchtime."

With that, you excused yourself to go to bed. You didn't bother to set an alarm, because what was the point? Rose would wake you up when she started crying her lungs out to eat, and Bradley would already be gone with Jake, Javy and Reuben. Honestly, you would have thought Jake would want to be home with Cat and Jer, and now you were mad at him, too. You thought about texting him but turned your phone screen side down on your nightstand and tossed your glasses aside instead.

A few minutes later, Bradley climbed in bed as well, and you could feel him trying to coax you closer. "I love you," he whispered, but you stayed curled up in a ball until you fell asleep.

Sure enough, he was gone when you woke up. You didn't even bother changing out of your pajamas to feed Rose. Your plans to wear a cute sundress seemed pointless now as you tried to appease your cranky daughter while you made chicken salad and baked a small loaf of bread.

"You'd probably calm down if your dad were here," you mused, handing her toy after toy only for her to push them all away. Finally Tramp had mercy on you and plopped down next to her on her play mat for a few minutes.

Of course the picnic foods looked absolutely perfect, and you struggled to get Rose burped and down for a late morning nap. "I swear you don't act like this for him," you groaned, fighting the urge to start crying. You'd been feeling better over the past few weeks. Your body was becoming more your own again, even though you were still sharing it with your daughter. The birth control and the healing time were certainly helping, but right now, you and Rose came in second place to a round of golf. On Father's Day.

She spit up all over you before she fell asleep, forcing you to change into your dress anyway. The wrapped present on the coffee table along with the homemade card were enough to make you set a timer for noon. If he wasn't back, you were going to eat the meal yourself. Your stomach was already growling.

But Bradley came through the door at 11:58 wearing gym shorts and a tank top with his aviators low on his nose. "Sweetheart," he said, sounding a little bit out of breath as he headed your way. "You look pretty."

Did he think you were stupid? You got up from the couch and turned off the timer. "Where were you, Bradley? Because you weren't playing golf dressed like that."

His cheeks flushed pink at the same time you noticed something wrapped around his right bicep. When he held his arm out to his side, you gasped.

"Why didn't you just tell me that's where you were going?" you whispered, tears burning your eyes. You felt frustrated and embarrassed that you got upset in the first place.

"I wanted to surprise you," he murmured, wrapping his left arm around your waist. "I've been waiting to do this since you told me you were pregnant." You buried your face against his chest and let yourself cry. "Shit. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said I was golfing. I panicked when they called me back and said they could fit me in this morning. I just really wanted to get my second paper plane as soon as possible."

He held you tight with both arms wrapped around you. "You said you just wanted a day with your girls, and I planned a picnic and got you a present, and then you said you wanted to fucking play golf," you sobbed. "Next time just tell me you're getting another tattoo, okay? Because now when you say you're going golfing, I'm going to think you're getting another one anyway."

"Hey," Bradley rasped, tilting your chin so you were looking up at him. "I'm spending the rest of today with my girls. That really is all I wanted to do today. I'm sorry I lied to you. I feel terrible about it now." His brown eyes were sincere which made you feel a lot better, and now you weren't mad at Jake anymore.

"Can I see it?" you whispered, and he immediately started to unwrap his arm. Right there next to the large paper airplane that had Baby Girl written across it was a smaller one that said Rose in the same script. "God, Roo. It's perfect."

"Just like my girls."

----------------------------

Okay, so he came within an inch of completely fucking things up on Father's Day. It wasn't like he planned it that way. He wasn't even sure why he said he was going to play golf. None of his friends would even make a tee time on Father's Day and include him. Or Jake for that matter. Plus, Bradley was fucking terrible at lying. He felt apprehensive the entire time he was getting the tattoo done.

It didn't even really matter if you knew about it ahead of time, but he wanted it to be a surprise declaration of his love for his family. Instead he made you stress out and cry, because of course you had a whole fucking day planned. You loved him that much.

He was right there with you and Rose for the rest of the afternoon. He changed her diapers and helped you pack up the food along with a bottle of pink champagne that was tucked way back behind everything else in the refrigerator. He carried everything out to the Bronco and got both of you buckled in. Then he started driving where you told him to.

"Are we going to our wedding venue?" he asked after a few minutes, and you started laughing.

"Is that what we're calling the parking lot?"

"Sweetheart. That's our wedding venue." Rose hadn't been to that beach yet, and now he was excited. So excited. "Rosie, we're going to show you where Mommy first kissed me and fell so in love that she's incapable of being mad at me even though I didn't tell her I was going to get tattooed this morning."

Now you were laughing harder, and you turned his playlist up a little louder, and the sun felt a little brighter. When he pulled into the parking lot, he backed into the spot where you became his wife, and then he strapped Rose into her baby carrier against his chest.

Bradley watched you pull Rosie's little sun hat out of the diaper bag, and you kissed her nose before putting it on her head. "Don't want you to get too much sun." Then you led the way down the rocky path to the sand below where you spread out a beach blanket. You tugged Bradley's hand until he was on his knees, and then you kissed his nose as well. "Don't want you getting too much sun either."

When he remembered the sunburn he got the day of Mickey's birthday kegger, he shuddered, but you were already squeezing some sunblock onto your hands and smoothing it along his face. You smiled when you got some in his mustache, and Bradley leaned closer to kiss you, and then he didn't want to stop. You ended up on your back on the blanket with sunblock on your nose while Bradley cradled Rose's head.

"Happy first Father's Day," you whispered, running your fingers up inside his sleeve to touch the wrapping around his bicep. "Rose is lucky you're her daddy."

The lunch you made was absolutely perfect. Bradley couldn't remember ever having homemade bread before, and he ate two sandwiches in a row. You and he drank the champagne from the bottle on the blanket before walking down to the water. Your tipsy giggles as he dipped Rose's toes in the water made him smile.

"She hates it!" you cackled when Rose pulled her legs up and wailed. Bradley lowered her down again when the next wave came in, and she pulled her feet away from the water once again.

"Aww, Daddy's sorry," he said, lifting her up and flying her around in the air like a plane to get her to calm down. "I'll take you to Virginia Beach where the water is warmer," he promised. "And we can go to the cemetery and visit Grampy Goose and Grandma Carole. How does that sound?"

His daughter looked much happier at the prospect of warmer water and more time with grandparents. Even though Bradley was here with his family, he couldn't help but think about everything he missed out on. Everything he was still missing out on.

He never had a dad to fly him around or dip his toes in the water, at least not that he could remember. All he could recall were glimpses of laughter and being lifted out of his crib. He could almost hear a voice, but he wasn't sure if it was even Nick's or if his memory was playing a trick on him.

Bradley held onto Rose a little tighter as you let your head rest on his shoulder. Your voice was soft, barely loud enough for him to hear you over the waves. "I wish I could have met them. I wish they were here to see you with Rose."

He knew one thing for a fact. "They would have loved this little Nugget."

----------------------------

Quite effortlessly, Bradley led you back up the rocks while he carried Rose and all the gear. As soon as the sun started to set, the wind picked up and the air got chilly. Even though you nursed Rose, you knew she was going to need to eat again so she could fall asleep.

"Oh, you still have to unwrap your present," you told Bradley when you got home and walked past the living room table.

"Right now?" he asked with a smirk.

"If you want to."

He started to take your shirt off, and you ducked out of his grasp with a laugh. "Not me!"

"I don't want anything else though," he rasped, still reaching for you, but you pushed him toward Rose on her play mat instead.

"She needs a quick bath while you open your present, and then I'll give you a blowjob after she's in her crib."

"Hell yes," Bradley muttered, scooping up the baby and the wrapped gift and heading for the bathroom. You filled up Rosie's little tub, and he set her down in the water then started unwrapping the present but keeping his attention mostly on his daughter.

"Do you like it?" you asked over your shoulder, and then he realized he was holding a book. A book about him and you and Rose and Tramp.

Bradley flipped through the pages, staring in awe at the cartoon versions of his family. Each of you had been drawn as a superhero, and even the sketched version of Tramp was wearing a little red cape.

"This is the cutest thing I have ever seen. How did you get this?"

"I had it made," you told him. "I sent photos of all of us to a local artist, and she created the book for you."

"Damn," he whispered, tears in his eyes as he looked at each page again. "I'm such a sappy mess now, I swear." Then he sat down on the floor next to you while you rinsed the sand from Rose's tiny feet and started to read the book out loud. "Once upon a time, the Super Bradshaw Family was just about to eat dinner when Super Dad Bradley's phone rang. The city of San Diego needed help, and there was nobody better to turn to."

The story was fun, and the drawings were silly, and he just knew Rose would probably adore this book when she got a little bit older. And he was so lucky he had a wife who did things like turn him into a cartoon superhero for Father's Day and make him a four course picnic lunch.

He also had a wife who dropped to her knees as soon as they were alone. You looked up at him as you pulled his shorts and underwear down to his thighs, kissing his cock as you whispered, "There's my Super Daddy Bradley."

He grinned as he pulled his shirt off as well, enjoying how pretty you looked below his flat abs with your hand cupping his balls. "You absolutely own me, Baby Girl. I'm a fucking wreck for you. I'm all tattooed for my girls now. If you want me to be your Super Daddy, you know I will be."

You licked your lips and parted them, and then Bradley was in heaven.

---------------------------------

I need Jer to have a dad. I need it in my bones. I also need Bradley to have a sensational 38th birthday before he packs his bags and goes to La Jolla with his wife for three days in bed. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

278 notes · View notes

tan1shere · 2 days

Note

I HAVE A..A FUN LITTLE IDEA!

what if sugar mommy billie x sugarbaby reader and like billie loves buying things for reader and loves just buying stuff for her and reader is kinda a bimbo but the public thinks they are polar opposite best friends. not knowing that same night reader put lingerie on that billie bought for her and billie tear it off to eat her out then later fuck her (with strap)

crazy big brain moment when thinking about if i should be a sugar baby or not

A Little Secret

Sugar mommy Billie Eilish x sugar baby fem reader !

A/n: duhrrr omg I adore this, and GURL you're so very real for that last statement 😫 I really hope I did a good job !!!! And that you like it 😊

Summary: it was all top secret what you and billie truly were. Definitely not just friends.

Warnings: Slight age difference ? (B30,R21) fingerings, eating out, let me know if i missed anything !!

Masterlist

You could come out and just say that the two of you are dating. But people would soon realize there was something more going on. So. You both had to keep it as secret as possible. Not to mention how obvious the age gap was.

And you managed to, it was especially hard when you wanted to post and flaunt all the pretty gifts she'd get you. All you wanted to do was show how thankful you were of her. You wanted to show her off even if the situation wasn't as normal so you two see it. But you both didn't care, you were insanely happy.

One day you were getting ready to go out to the mall. You open your car door to be met with some roses and a prezzie. With a note from Billie saying.

"I wanna be the reason you slightly tilt your phone away from others when you read it" - Have a good day sweet angel ;)

That was a constant thing she'd do, leaving gifts for you, especially with a cheeky note.

"Hey Bub, look what I got." She says with the widest grin. "Whatcha get." You say sitting up from the couch. She had a black handbag in hand, it was beautiful. She turns it around, smirking as your eyes gleam at the designer symbol. You look at her, looking at that sexy smirk of hers, her eyes. You quite literally pounce at her, kissing her lips. "This is gorgeous Bill!" You beamed as you go to grab it, looking at it. The compartments.

"Exactly like you baby." You blush ever so slightly, as you keep looking at it. You were truly mesmerized. "You can use it for our date night tomorrow." She then says leaning on the couch. "Where are we going!?" You had so much enthusiasm she adored it. It made her feel truly happy. "It's a surprise my love." You sit there and think for a moment. "Alright, but I know wherever it is I'll love it." She smiles more. "I know you will."

Tonight was the night, you were currently in the bathroom lining your lips before you put the soft red lipstick on. She comes up behind you, kissing your neck. "You look so good. Smell great too." You giggle as her breath tickles your skin. "So do you!" She soon looks at you through the mirror. "Kinda don't even want to go for food now, I mean. You look pretty tasty." She bites your neck, causing another giggle to rumble from you. "Bill." - "You'll be calling me something completely different by the time I'm done with you."

A blush spreads widely across your cheeks, even more considering the slight blush you already wore. She then turns you around once your lipstick was applied. Grabbing your hand gently and kissing it. "Howd I get so lucky. Daym." You kiss her cheek. "I'm so grateful for you." You say sweetly. "Ready?" You nod as she takes your hand in hers again, taking you to the car.

The place she took you to was beautiful, the building was dimly lit. Only source of light was coming from a few on the ceiling, and the tall, skinny candles on the tables. You and Billie sit down, tucking your feet under the red velvet table cloth. Billie would always make sure the places she took you to were secluded. Just in case any eyes saw. Of course it could've been just two friends. But with the way you two were both dressed, a blind man would spot that from a mile away.

The evening was great, everything so still, calm and quiet. Soaking up the luxury of the building and the atmosphere. When you were both ready to go she grabs your hand leading you out to the car, like always she opens the door for you. Letting you get in before it closes, and she's making her way to the driver's side.

The ride is peaceful you had the window rolled down enjoy the slight breeze. You then get the idea to stick your head out, maneuvering your body out of the seat belt, having your back slightly out of the car. Having it rest there. Your hands grip the upper part of the car, leaning your head back as the wind blows through your hair. But as you got into the position you're in currently. You were unaware of the fact your dress had ridden up ever so slightly. Giving Billie the most perfect view of your black lace underwear.

Specifically the ones she bought you just recently. You hadn't worn them yet so it cones as a surprise to her eyes. She had to stay focused on driving but God how it hugged your pussy so delicately. She couldn't tear her eyes away. She eventually did, knowing you guys were almost home. The things this woman was about to do. She truly wasn't kidding earlier on.

That's exactly how you ended up here, sprawled on the black fuzzy sheets. The softness of the fabric against you skin only adding to Billies actions. Which currently was teasing. Your whine was heard for maybe the 5th time now. But she needed to savor this. Your taste your scent. Her face was right infront of your cunt, having her nose bump your clit purposefully. Sending you absolutely mental.

"Billie-" Your whiney voice echoed throughout her ears, her mind. Her soul. And all movement stops. Her eyes look straight up at you warningly. Your breath only gets caught in your throat, knowing where you fucked up. But too fucked out to correct. Her figure was still as anything, awaiting the propper words. Until you're whining again. Her head just shakes.

"That's no way to talk to me sweetheart." Her finger taps your thigh gently. "Do you not want this?" She knew damn well you did, but she needed you to say the word, needed you to address her properly.

"What do you call me baby. Go on, be good."

A small whimper is heard. Her finger slowly coming in line with your entrance making you snap out of your dazed state.

"Mommy."

"Louder." Her finger slides into you.

"Mommy!" You screech slightly, having your mouth hang open.

"Good. Girl."

She notices your reaction as she kisses around your pussy. "Don't forget to breathe." She whispers sexily, so slow with her words too. Her own breath fanning against the skin of your swollen cunt.

And that's all it took, for her fingers to move so insanely fast inside you. Her mouth coming to suck on your pussy lips, biting just a tiny bit. Your head flew back again, eventually feeling her soft hands move up your torso, so slowly, every action. Reaching a breast and squeezing. Your head starts to spin, her movements rapid.

Everything was happening in the speed of light as your orgasm approaches quick. Sending your head right back into the pillows as her tongue relentlessly moves against your clit. "Mommy, please let me cum.. please." Your breath was nothing but short finding any thought in your brain to be dead. She hums against you the vibrations not helping with the fact you had to hold on, until she grants you that permission you so helplessly need. "Mommy!" You scream out. "Cum." She growls against you.

Billie was so caught up in it she actually hadn't heard your voice asking. Her hands were gripped tightly around your thighs most definitely creating a mark. The way you smelt was like a drug, addictive. And the taste she could already feel on the tip of her tongue. "Need more." She then moans into you, desperate to taste you properly. You hadn't even overcome the last euphoric feeling.

When you feel her tongue stick deep inside you. Your eyes roll all the way back at this new feeling, her tongue was so warm and wet. Mixing with your previous orgasm. The way you tasted makes her own eyes roll back. If anything she was enjoying this more than you. Not to say you weren't, wriggling with pleasure underneath her. "T-too m-uhg!" A moan gets caught along your words as her finger move to spread your folds open, wide. Her tongue moving in and out of you faster. You were so loose currently and she was adoring it.

Loving how easily her tongue was slipping in. Your hole feeling stretched around her tongue. You begin to shake as the second one is coming, her nose bumping your clit as she moves. Making your brain fuzz over with pure pleasure. You gush into her mouth having her drink you like a thirsty dog, your body giving out in the process. She could care less that you didn't ask. Cuz like an addict she's not stopping tonight. Or ever.

She was going to drink you dry.

#billie #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader smut #billie eilish x y/n

255 notes · View notes

lxvsiick · 2 days

Text

KISS ME RIGHT | MYUNG JAEHYUN

PAIRING: down bad! frat boy! myung jaehyun x library worker! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Jaehyung goes to the library everyday to see Y/n even though he's never touched a book in his life.

GENRE: fluff, imagine, frat boy

WORDCOUNT: 2k

WARNING: kissing scene towards the end!

A/N: Inspired by KISS ME RIGHT by Keshi -- the song is finally out! i've been waiting ever since his last tour ,, this song reminds of jaehyun’s flirty personality so ENJOY!

The double doors of the library swung open with an exaggerated flair, and every head inside turned like it was a reflex. There he was again—Jaehyun, in all his glory. Hair tousled like he'd just come from the gym, a hoodie slung over his shoulder, and that ridiculous smile that could charm the paint off the walls. He strutted into the library like it was the hottest club on campus, and not the quietest place within a ten-mile radius.

Whispers buzzed through the aisles.

"Is that Jaehyun again?"

"Does he even know what a book is?"

"Bro, he’s here every day now. Do you think he lost a bet?"

But Jaehyun didn’t care. He barely noticed the stares anymore. All he cared about was making his way to the front desk, where Y/n sat. She looked calm, focused, her fingers flying over the keyboard, the glow from her computer screen highlighting her face. She didn’t even look up as he approached.

Jaehyun cleared his throat a little too loudly, startling a student reading in the corner.

"Yo, uh... hey," he said, trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes rehearsing those two words in his head.

She finally glanced up, her brow furrowed in mild confusion. It was like she was wondering why this human embodiment of a golden retriever was trying to infiltrate her serene library world.

"You’re here again?" she asked, her voice neutral but with a hint of amusement.

Jaehyun rubbed the back of his neck, his usual swagger deflating slightly under her gaze. But he quickly recovered, flashing that winning smile that got him into any party, out of any trouble, and, hopefully, into her good graces.

"Yeah, you know... studying and stuff."

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at the completely empty table he had staked out for himself behind her. No books. No laptop. Not even a notebook. Just him, spinning a pen between his fingers like he was preparing for the next big test in... nothing.

"Studying?" she echoed, clearly unconvinced.

"Yeah, you know... brushing up on... the Dewey Decimal System." He threw in a dramatic wink, like it was the cleverest thing anyone had ever said about libraries.

She didn’t laugh, but there was a tiny, almost imperceptible quirk of her lips. Success.

"Right. Well, let me know if you need help finding a book... or learning how to read." Her voice was dry, and Jaehyun's grin widened.

"Ouch, brutal," he chuckled, his face lighting up like she had just complimented him.

She turned back to her screen, though he could tell she wasn’t entirely brushing him off. That was all the encouragement he needed. Without another word, he made his way to his usual table—smack in the middle of her line of sight. He didn’t sit like a regular person. He flopped down with a dramatic sigh, then spread out across the chair like he was getting ready for a nap, not a study session.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

From her seat, Y/n could feel his presence, like a beam of sunshine she wasn’t sure she needed right now. Every time she glanced up, there he was, pretending to flip through the pages of some random book he’d grabbed. Every few minutes, he'd peek over the top of the pages to check if she was looking.

At one point, Taesan and Leehan walked by and nearly stopped in their tracks when they saw Jaehyun actually holding a book. Leehan nudged Taesan, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Dude, I think he’s... reading?"

Taesan snorted. "Nah, he's definitely planning something. Probably trying to get out of doing chores at the frat house."

Jaehyun pretended not to hear them, but he couldn’t help shooting a quick grin their way. Let them talk. He was on a mission—a mission that involved far more staring at Y/n than reading anything resembling words.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

As the library’s closing time approached, the once-crowded space thinned out. Y/n was busy packing up her things behind the desk, when she noticed Jaehyun still lounging in his seat, scrolling through his phone. Everyone else had left, but he lingered like he had all the time in the world.

She walked over, standing at his table, crossing her arms with a bemused expression. "You know we’re closing, right?"

He glanced up, his puppy-like enthusiasm returning as if she’d just thrown him a bone. "Oh, yeah, totally. Just waiting for the right moment to—" He glanced down at the book in front of him and then looked back up, suddenly sheepish. "—check this out. For... studying. You know, tomorrow."

She shook her head, but this time, the smile she’d been holding back all day finally broke through.

"You’re hopeless."

He stood up, grinning ear-to-ear. "Nah, just... committed."

She raised an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes. "To studying?"

He stepped closer, playful but serious. "To you."

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the quiet, empty library around them. Then she laughed—soft, real. And in that moment, he knew every second of pretending to study had been worth it.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

The bass from the speakers thumped through the walls of the frat house as Jaehyun stood near the kitchen, laughing with his friends. Red Solo cups in hand, they exchanged stories from the week, loud banter filling the air. Jaehyun was mid-sentence when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

Out of the corner of his vision, Y/n stepped through the front door, her figure silhouetted against the dim lights of the hallway. She was wearing a sleek black dress that hugged her frame just right, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders. The noise of the party seemed to dull in his ears. He froze, his eyes locked onto her as if the world had slowed down just for a moment.

His friends continued chatting around him, oblivious to his trance.

"Yo, bro... hello?" Sungho waved a hand in front of his face. Jaehyun blinked but didn’t move.

"Earth to Jaehyun! What are you staring at, man?" Sohee nudged him, noticing where his eyes were glued.

His heart pounded in his chest, his mind still trying to process how she—Y/n—was here, in this chaos of beer pong and blaring music. She didn’t belong here, but she looked so effortlessly out of place, it was almost unfair.

"Bro, you good?" Hanbin laughed, realizing why he was distracted. "Dude’s done for, he’s totally smitten."

Jaehyun shook his head, snapping out of it. He chuckled awkwardly, trying to act nonchalant. "Yeah, uh, I’ll catch you guys later." He set his cup down on the counter and started weaving his way through the crowd toward her, his pulse quickening with every step.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

As he neared her, she looked around the room, clearly unfamiliar with the party vibe. Her eyes landed on him, and she smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He stopped a few feet away, his voice unsteady.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, more confused than anything. "Who invited you?"

She raised an eyebrow at his tone, folding her arms over her chest. "Jake invited me. I thought it might be fun." Her voice was cool, as if his question wasn’t welcome.

A flare of jealousy twisted in his gut, and he frowned, glancing around the room, wondering why Jake had to ask her. "You should’ve said no to him. This isn't your scene." His voice came out sharper than he intended, his frustration laced in every word.

Y/n scoffed, clearly annoyed. "Excuse me? You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do." She took a step closer, her gaze hardening. "I didn’t come here for Jake. I came because I wanted to see you. But if this is how you're gonna act, maybe it was a mistake." Her voice cut through the noise, her disappointment evident.

Before he could even respond, she turned on her heel, moving deeper into the house, disappearing into the crowd of bodies and flashing lights. He stood there, dumbfounded, replaying her words in his head. She came to see him.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

His heart sank. He felt like an idiot. Without wasting another second, he pushed his way through the throng of people, his mind racing. How could he have messed up so badly in just one conversation?

"Hey, have you seen—" he asked one person, cutting himself off as he realized they didn’t know who he was talking about. He scanned the dance floor, the kitchen, even outside by the keg, but she was nowhere in sight. His frustration grew with every passing second.

He was a guy who could read a room, crack a joke, keep the vibe light. But right now? He was frantic. His friends slapped him on the back as he passed, asking him what was up, but he brushed them off. He couldn’t let her leave thinking that was all he had to say—that she wasn’t welcome here, when in reality, she was the only person he wanted to be around.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was really just a few intense minutes, he spotted her standing near the back patio, her arms crossed as she talked with a couple of people. She looked frustrated, her foot tapping lightly against the ground.

Jaehyun took a deep breath, steeling himself, and made his way over to her, determined to make things right.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

Jaehyun took a deep breath, steeling himself, and made his way over to her, determined to make things right.

As he approached, the people around her seemed to sense the tension, exchanging glances before slowly stepping back, leaving the two of them alone in the middle of the patio. The noise around them faded into the background.

Jaehyun opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. Then the words just spilled out.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out earlier. I was just... I don’t know, I saw you in that dress and... and then when you said you came to see me and not because of Jake, I just—" He paused, his hands gesturing wildly as he tried to find the right words. "I got jealous. It was dumb. I shouldn’t have said you shouldn’t be here, because I want you here. Like, I always want you here, not just at parties, but anywhere, and I—" He was rambling now, his thoughts tripping over each other in his rush to explain.

"—I just, I like you. A lot. And I don’t know how to deal with that sometimes. You’re... you’re like this amazing person, and I’m just the guy who’s pretending to study just so I can see you, and that probably sounds stupid, but—" He was talking faster, his words stumbling over each other. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he wasn’t even sure if he was making sense anymore.

Suddenly, Y/n stepped closer, cutting him off mid-sentence. Without saying a word, she stood on her tiptoes, leaning in.

Before he could process what was happening, her lips met his.

Time seemed to stop. His heart did a somersault, and his thoughts went blank. Her kiss was soft, brief, but it left him utterly frozen, like his brain couldn’t catch up with what just happened.

When she pulled back, Jaehyun stood there, completely stunned, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as he tried to make sense of reality. For a moment, it was as though his whole world had paused.

Y/n looked at him and burst into laughter—an easy, melodic sound that broke through the tension. "You should see your face right now," she teased.

Her laughter snapped him out of his trance. His shocked expression melted into a grin, his heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

"Wait, you—" he started, his voice trailing off in disbelief.

She smiled, stepping closer again, her gaze soft but teasing. "Yeah, I like you too. Even if you pretend to read at the library every day." She gave him a playful nudge.

A flood of relief and pure happiness washed over him, and without thinking, he closed the gap between them, gently cupping her face and bringing his lips to hers once more. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of it. He could feel the smile on her lips, and it made him grin into the kiss.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

MASTERLIST

#lxvsiick </3 #kpop #boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #myung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #bnd x reader #bnd imagines #bnd fluff #bnd jaehyun #bnd jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun imagines #myung jaehyun fluff

199 notes · View notes

whytheylosttheirminds · 9 hours

Text

june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous.

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded.

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly.

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket.

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself.

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom.

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed.

You didn’t have to wonder for long.

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support.

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down.

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company.

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder.

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice.

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious.

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms.

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense.

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?”

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head.

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.”

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him.

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything, he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.”

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment.

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission.

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close.

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him.

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding.

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault.

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional.

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

#rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #angst #Rafe cameron angst #obx smut #smut #June gloom #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe obx #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe

111 notes · View notes

veryinnovative · 2 days

Text

microfic based on that one tiktok: the hero's partner always calling at the worst possible time and the villain watching their partner struggle from a random rooftop but make it jeggy. microfic. 1392 words. sfw

A midnight lullaby sung by the city sounds—the gentle rattle of stray cars' exhaust pipes, the fading lights of a slowly dying city life, and the vibrant, flashing neon signs hanging lopsided in front of small, tucked-away corner stores. As the night wears on, the last few indoor lights gradually come to a dim, leaving the rooftops of high-rise apartment complexes and office buildings bathed in the slanted glow of slowly winking starlight.

“Technically, he is on a work trip,” Sirius quips beside him, snorting as he hands over the binoculars, only for James to snatch them with a sudden burst of impatience he seldom displays around anyone else.

The gadget—some stolen thing looted from one of the upper-form security corporations they make a habit of robbing—is blessed with impeccable optical zoom and night vision, giving James a quite defined view of his loving husband, the very one who is hunched over a bomb he and Sirius planted nearly an hour ago, set to detonate in just a couple of minutes.

“His dedication to his job is one of my favorite things about him,” James supplies with a lazy grin, almost swooning when he makes out the annoyed frown creasing the skin between Regulus’ brows.

When the timer reads four minutes, Sirius clears his throat. “Bomb defusing has never been his strongest suit, you know that right?”

“Oh, I know.” That’s no surprise to either of them, given James knows his lover inside out. Though, he doesn’t consider it a flaw but simply an endearing quirk.

“You know,” Sirius deadpans, sporting a look of disapproval that eerily resembles Regulus’ when he’s slightly annoyed. “You know and yet you still let him, I don’t know, try and defuse a bomb that’s set to take the building down?”

“When have you ever doubted Regulus?”

“Well, it’s a bomb. It’s not unusual for me to doubt him when we’re talking explosives.”

“Are you saying my husband is incapable?”

That earns him a punch to the shoulders that’s sure to leave a bruise. “No, I just know my little brother well enough. He’s a little shit at times, but even shittier when it comes to things that blow up, James.”

Maybe. “Would you say he needs a hand, Pads?”

Sirius’ eyebrows fly up at the suggestion, almost blending into his hairline. “Excuse me, what?” He blinks, once, twice, “What do you mean need a hand? You out of all people reached your limit of stupid fucking ideas today, and that’s coming from me.”

In lieu of an explanation, James fishes out the burner phone, which results in much more indignant sputtering and Sirius trying to swat it out of his hands. There’s a lot of “Don’t you dare,” and “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” together with “You’re fucking kidding me—” when Sirius doesn’t quite succeed in disarming him.

“James,” he warns. The name barely comes out, reduced to more of a garble with James having him in a one-arm headlock.

“Sssh,” he hushes as he dials in Regulus’ number.

“Seriously, you’re insane,” Sirius grits out.

“Since when are you against a little bit of fun?

“Fine,” he sharply acquiesces. “Your funeral, but you better fucking keep me out of this.”

There’s peace to be made with that, especially with how Sirius has worked hard to keep this part of his life an ongoing secret from Regulus for a better ten-something years.

Through the binoculars, James can see Regulus with both the cables and a phone he retrieves from his chest pocket, grimace deepening when the device brightens up due to the caller screen. It’s no more than a couple of seconds when he’s greeted by an undoubtedly angelic voice—“James?”

“Hi, baby,” James answers, making sure to sound far more innocent than his current predicament would define him, voice entirely bereft of any hints of evil. “You sound a little bit out of breath, are you okay?”

Three minutes. The great act of fumbling ensues—one in which Regulus has to figure out how to tuck the phone between his shoulder and ear, compose his breathing, and still maintain hawk-sharp focus on the complicated criss-cross mesh of wires that James purposefully left behind in a convoluted tangle. He has to bite down on his tongue when Regulus clears his throat and tries to sound as unruffled as humanly possible in his position, “Fine. Just had to… Run…”

“You and running?”

“I missed the last train.”

“Poor you.” It drawls out, making it all the more pitying, a sure cause for guilt that’s unmistakably bubbling up inside of Regulus. “Waiting on the next one then? I can keep you company if you’d like. I know how much you hate public transport.”

“That’s fine,” Regulus hurriedly answers, now worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “My battery is running very low so we shouldn’t.”

It’s a tempting look this one: the vein protruding against the thin of his skin, that look of concentration. If Sirius hadn’t been there… “Well, you better get to your hotel quickly then,” James murmurs. “I miss you. You’ve been gone for three days now and we haven’t been able to call during the nights before bed. Can I see your face really quick?”

“No!” Regulus almost shouts into the receiver.

“No?” James asks, trying very hard to come across as hurt, even as a grin is currently cleaving his face in half to the point his jaw hurts.

Clock is ticking.

“No—I mean—I miss you too.” Oh, rambling, Regulus is rambling and if that just isn’t the most adorable thing on earth—“It’s just—My battery is really running low, James. Can we call later? I need Google Maps to figure out where I’m going after this train.”

And because James is just downright terrible, “I don’t know, love, almost sounds like you’re hiding something from me.”

“What?” Regulus falters, cursing under his breath when he zaps one of his fingers trying to wedge them between the wires. “What—What would I possibly hide from you?”

One and a half minute. James has to hurry. Too bad, it’s just so much fun.

“A nice gift, maybe? Bunch of flowers? A box of super fancy chocolates you never let me eat in one sitting?”

Utterly exasperated, Regulus accedes, “Sure, yes. I’ll bring you all of them, okay?”

And because he loves pushing his lucky so, “Call me lovebug before you hang up?”

“James —”

Sixty seconds

“You don’t love me anymore?”

Fifty-five seconds. Regulus looks like he is seconds away from jamming a knife into the bomb. “Darling,” he starts, almost breathless. James’ jaws hurt from how much he’s smiling. “Lovebug, I love you so much, but I really—Really need to hang up. Please, I promise I’ll call back in a bit.”

“How much do you love me?”

“So much. I miss you a lot. I hate my job. I want nothing more than to come home and crawl into your arms. In fact, I’m considering finally quitting.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past years, yet you won’t.”

“After tonight, I just might. I love you, James. Please, I’m out of time, my battery is running empty.”

God, James is a man besotten. If not for Sirius jabbing in his side, insistently pointing at the timer and urging him to finally interfere, nothing else would’ve pulled him from the daydream that is Regulus Potter-Black

Six seconds.

“Baby?”

Five seconds.

“James, for the love of—”

Four seconds.

“It’s the green wire.”

Three.

The last thing James sees is Regulus’ eyes blowing wide before he lowers the binoculars and drops the phone onto the ground, smashing it into the concrete beneath his heel.

Two.

One…

“He’s going to kill you.”

No eardrum-shattering explosion echoes from a few rooftops away after Sirius points out the obvious. For good measure, James destroys the remote detonator as well. “Nonsense, I just helped him defuse a bomb.”

Sirius pulls the mask down his face again, voice muffled by the thick fabric when he speaks, “When he finds out you’re the one who planted it, you’re a dead, dead man.”

James shrugs, carding back his curls to pull down his mask as well. “Well, he’s been trying for the past five years. It’s only fair to level the playing fields for a change.”

notable mention <3: @wordsofwilderness @pretentiouswreckingball @shimshimshirrie

#idk my microfic tag anymore #jegulus #jegulus microfic #???#idk man #i finally wrote after x weeks everyone tell me good job #ok now i sleep

106 notes · View notes

aayakashii · 2 days

Note

❤️17 fluffy towa please!!

i LOVEE your fics so muchh keep up the good work!! :D

17❤️ An upside-down "Spider-Man" kiss

21❤️ wildcard

This is very short but I hope you guys like it! It's not proof read, so forgive any grammar mistakes ;w;

You braced yourself as you approached the pathway that led straight to your dorm, holding the straps of your backpack tightly. You breathed deeply and steeled your resolve, gathering all the courage you had in you.

That night, you were going to put an end to that. That night, you wouldn’t get spooked. That night, in fact, you planned to act on your revenge plan once and for all.

You would NOT let Towa jump at you from the tree branches and startle you out of your skin like he had been doing for the past week.

It started innocent, it truly did. The first time he just wanted to show you the tree he loved so much – the one with dimming colored lights.

But apparently, your reaction was so interesting, that Towa simply couldn't have enough of it and what was supposed to be one silly little prank, soon became almost a daily routine.

“Boo!” Towa dropped from the tree, legs firmly holding him on the branch as his upper body was upside down and dangling in front of you.

“WAAH!” you jumped in place, almost colliding with his face.

“Hehehe! Dandelion, your reactions are so cute. I love them!” he said, blushing furiously as all the blood from his body went straight to his head while he dangled in front of you like a Christmas tree ornament.

You tried very hard to look him in his eyes instead of the exposed skin of his tummy. He had a mole right next to his belly button and it took all your self-control not to touch it nor pinch that apparently soft skin.

You put a hand over your racing heart and sighed, shutting your eyes tightly.

“Towa! This is the fourth time in, like, seven days! You're gonna give me a heart attack!”

He quickly sat upright on the branch again and leapt down, walking leisurely towards you as if he didn't just show insane core strength and aerobic prowess.

“I can't help it, you're so cute. I like seeing you surprised.”

You pursed your lips in a thin line. There it was. His flirting. You still weren't used to it after all that time.

“Well it's not that fun for me, you know… I get scared.”

Towa pouted, giving you his killer puppy eyes.

“Awww… but I like it.” He shrugged, completely ignoring your complaints, and grabbed your hand. “Now let's go see the tree!”

It was basically a new routine you'd have to be prepared for at that point: Towa would spook you, grab your hand and pull you towards the tree. Then you two would hug it and lay down to watch the stars until he'd begin to fluster you whenever he hovered a little bit too close for comfort from your lips. And your poor heart would beat faster and faster once again.

You just had to give your frazzled nerves a break.

So, you had planned to knock him off his feet and surprise him just as much.

The problem was, you didn't know when he would show up.

Two days had passed since your last spook and you've been bracing yourself ever since. The anticipation was causing you so much anxiety that you feared this would be his biggest fright yet, since you had been on edge all along.

You walked slowly, giving yourself a pep talk in your mind about how he'd be just as surprised (and probably delighted) with your idea as you were spooked every single time he dropped from one of those trees. You also hoped that would give him time to arrive and act on his little prank.

As you kept on walking, you heard leaves shuffling on the tree a few steps in front of you. It was either him or some of the many cats that lived on campus. You crossed your fingers and moved forward, hoping it was him, so you'd be done with your anxiety.

And sure enough, after you took a few steps, a familiar mop of lavender hair dropped down in front of you.

“Boooo!!!”

“GAAAH!!” you yelled, your voice going up pitches you've never reached before.

“Hahaha!! Dandelion! You yelled so loud today! That was so cute!” Towa reached out his arms towards you and placed them on your shoulders as he giggled uncontrollably, closing his eyes and scrunching his nose, finding your distress absolutely hilarious.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your heart down as much as you could, as you stared straight into his eyes.

At your silence, Towa stopped giggling and opened his eyes. He tilted his head once he saw how serious you looked while you quietly observed him.

“Hm? What's wrong, Dandelion? Did you get too scared?”

You exhaled slowly through your mouth and stepped closer, awkwardly placing your hands on his cheeks. He just tilted his head again, to the other side that time, clearly curious about your weird actions.

“What are you doing, Dandelion? Are you still sc–”

You interrupted his question by hastily crashing your lips on his – his upside-down position making for the weirdest kiss you have ever given in your life. You didn't know what to do nor where to move, so you just held his face tenderly and placed your lips against his as comfortably as you could.

Once you broke the kiss, you breathed deeply once again, heart still racing but mildly satisfied to see his mouth agape and eyes wide open.

“N-now I've surprised you too.” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting.

Towa blinked at your words and, in half a second, he had gotten down the tree and stood straight in front of you.

His cheeks were still flushed while a small smile began tugging at the corner of his lips. His hands rested comfortably on your neck and he leaned forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Can you do that again, Dandelion?” he whispered, voice full of glee.

You gulped before nodding and placing a small peck on his red lips.

Towa licked his lips, eyes closed as if he was savoring the taste of your mouth on his, and you felt a shiver run down your spine while you observed his actions.

He opened his eyes, iris barely visible around his dilated pupils.

“Again.” he whispered, and you complied, lips resting a little longer on his.

“Again.” and you ran your hands through his hair, bringing him closer.

“Again.” he said, diving back into a kiss before you could even register he had whispered that word once more.

“Again. Again… Again, again, again” he kept on whispering, placing a kiss on your lips for every word he repeated.

You turned into a flustered mess in his hands and your heart drummed loudly while he held you tightly and flush against his body, suffocating you with his kisses.

But, this time, you definitely weren't complaining.

#tokyo debunker #ask #drabble event #towa otonashi #tokyo debunker towa otonashi

60 notes · View notes

acesgayhusband · 2 days

Note

Write more Sanji fics or Ace GETS IT (this is a threat)

🍩🔫

Let me get what I want.

Warnings: None I don’t believe? Self deprecating Sanji if you squint. Crybaby reader. Angst to Mild Fluff. I was threatened to make this /j.

AN: sorry for being dead for so long, I had a job and then abruptly didn’t have a job, I went to galaxycon early this year, then a concert, then got into a car accident, then lost my job. So I’ve been struggling! Thank you guys for being so patient with me! I’ll be writing more fanfics soon I promise. Requests are still open! I don’t get nearly enough.

Also this fic is mildly inspired by @onlymurphy ! Their works are fantastic and they write sanji so well!!! Please go read their works if you haven’t already!!

Sanji could hear your feet clacking along the sunny as you began to walk from the deck, where he presumed you were sitting and chatting with Robin and Nami, before you made your way to the kitchen.

He didn’t think it a creepy habit to have memorized your footsteps he did it with everyone’s, yours just stood out the most. But he kept all of that to himself, not wanting to drive you off by knowing you just by the sound of your feet, his heart already racing in his chest well before you opened the door to the kitchen.

“Hi, Sanji.” Your voice was so heavenly, he had to prevent himself from swooning too hard at it. He’d treat you like every other woman he spoke to.

“Hi, [Name]-Swan! Is there anything I can do for a beauty such as yourself.” He said as he turned around, seeing you roll your eyes at him, it made him falter a bit, the smile on his face drooping a bit as you walked over to the cupboard, opening it and grabbing a cup out of it.

“I just needed some water, thanks though.” There was no malice in your tone, perhaps he was reading too much into you? His eyes followed you as you walked to the sink. “Well you know I wouldn’t mind getting you three something to drink.” He walked up behind you and smiled, tapping his fingers along your spine gently, enjoying the slight shiver he felt from you.

“We’re fine, and stop doing that.” Hissing as you swatted his hand away before reaching for the faucet to fill your cup up. He retracted his hand ever so slightly. You’d never been remotely sour to him, nor had you ever swatted him away when he touched you.

“Is everything okay, pretty?” He peaked around to your front to look at you, just to see a scowl on your face. He could feel his heart drop in his chest.

“Yeah! Everything’s great when you don’t constantly have your hands over me and the other girls!” You yelled out, snapping towards him, before turning the water off and storming out of the kitchen, your footsteps stomping back to where you were previously before you came into the kitchen.

Standing there, dumbfounded, he stared out the kitchens door. You’d never shown any distaste for how he treated you? Sure he could be a little handsy but he never took it too far, you weren’t dating, and he never disillusioned himself with the thought you’d want him.

After a moment, he walked to shut the door and pressed his back against it.

Ever since you had joined the crew, he’d been far more infatuated with you than Nami or Robin, you were down right beautiful to him.

You weren’t abrasive, but you weren’t incapable of taking care of yourself. You had a sweet, simple smile on your face most of the time, but you were sensitive. Loudly wailing whenever any one of your crewmates were injured, screaming out for Chopper even if he was no where in sight. Even over a slight cut.

This was so out of character for you, the off chance you were rude, you typically apologized as soon as the words came out of your mouth.

Pushing tears back, Sanji walked back over to the stove and thought about what to make for dinner, hoping to keep the tears away for as long as possible.

“I dunno guys, that felt really mean.” You said as you sat down in your beach chair on the deck of the sunny, right in between Robin and Nami, resting your glass in between your thighs.

Robin didn’t look up at you as she continued to read her book, but Nami looked at you and scooted a little closer. “C’mon. You’ve been complaining to us for months about how he acts, plus, some guys like it when we play hard to get. Maybe it’ll get him to notice you instead of you just going along with whatever he does.” She smiled at you, running her fingers up your spine just like Sanji had done a few minutes prior, in a teasing manner.

But Nami’s fingers didn’t elicit a shiver from you, it just caused you to look down.

“I dunno, maybe? But he seemed kinda upset. I don’t wanna hurt his feelings.”

Nami rolled her eyes at you and put her sunglasses over her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. “You won’t, he probably wasn’t upset. You’re just overthinking it, keep up with it, at the worst maybe he’ll ask you if he did something wrong, he wouldn’t be mean to you.”

Looking down at your reflection in the glass, you sighed. “Okay, I trust you, Nami..”

For the rest of the week you have been unreasonably rude to Sanji- minus to his food, you would never stoop that low- shoving him away when he touched you, ignoring him or snapping at him when he said anything slightly flirty with you. By the fifth day he had completely stopped interacting with you, and that shattered your heart.

Yeah nice going Nami, all that trust down the drain.

During one of your night watches, all of your emotions had finally bubbled up as you looked over the rail at the ocean. Tears streaming down your cheeks as you fall to your knees, your hands gripping onto the rail as you choke back sob after sob. You’ve been hurting him, hurting the man you’ve had feelings for, for so long, he’s done nothing but be gentle with you and you’ve been hurting him.

You don’t have the sixth sense Sanji does with shoes, so when you hear footsteps walk up behind you, you assume it to be Nami, maybe even Robin.

So when you look over your shoulder at the person who came to you, you go wide eyed at the blonde haired cook behind you.

“Pretty? Is everything okay?” You take a moment to examine his face, his eyes seem red and puffy as well. But he’s taking the time to come to you and make sure you’re okay.

Shaking your head, he takes a single step closer before stopping himself. “May I?” He asked as he opens his arms, implying he’s trying to hug you, you nod your head so furiously you think if it wasn’t attached it would have fallen off.

He steps towards you and joins you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you in an almost suffocating hug, you in turn cling to his shirt and wail.

Although he hates to see you cry, apart of him is glad, maybe that means you’re back to your old self. Maybe he won’t have to beat himself up over what he did to hurt you, maybe he didn’t hurt you? But then why would you be so angry with him..

As you cry into his shirt, he can make out some words through your sobs. But not the whole story. Pulling away for a second, he lifts up your chin with his finger and smiles at you. “Hey.. hey- breathe, okay? You can tell me afterwards, alright?”

Nodding as you try to catch your breath, his other arm hasn’t left you. Oh how you missed him, so badly.

Once you calm down, you let out one more hitched breath before gripping his shirt even tighter.

“I’m.. I’m so sorry, ‘Ji. Nami told me maybe if I was mean to you maybe you’d stop flirting with everyone, maybe you’d truly… pay attention to me..” you mumbled as you looked down at the wood on the deck, using one of your fingers to trace against the grain.

Sanji swears in that moment god looked down on him and blessed him, you could hear his heart racing in his chest in that moment, even inches away.

He lifted your chin up once more. “Pretty, I do pay attention to you, far more than anyone else.” Smiling down at you as he saw your cheeks flare up.

“So you’re telling me, not only did I do the exact opposite of what I wanted, but you… actually like..” you motion your fingers between to two of you, Sanji chuckles a little bit and nods.

“I’m so sorry!” You wail out again as you throw yourself on top of him, suffocating him in the tightest hug you can manage, also probably waking up the rest of the crew in the process.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! I’m just glad you’re back to normal, pretty.” You look up at him and see the widest grin across his face, all you can manage back is a weak, not nearly as strong, smile, as he leans down to give you a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll sit with you the rest of you watch if you’d like.”

“I’d like that a lot, thank you, ‘Ji.”

“No need to thank me.”

#x reader #sanji vinsmoke #sanji #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #one piece x reader #one piece

57 notes · View notes

inawickedlittletown · 1 day

Text

Just Let Me Adore You (BuckTommy) - 1/4

Summary: What if…instead of Chimney taking the role of interim Captain of the 118, Tommy is asked to take on the role.

Or, what happens when Buck meets Tommy in S2

Words: 3.6k

Notes: Title from Adore You by Harry Styles

Read on Ao3

Part One

“Tommy! Hey, man, what are you doing here?” Chim called out.

Buck followed his line of sight. He didn’t know the man standing up on the loft, hands resting on the railing, already in uniform. He also didn’t understand why Bobby was coming up behind him still in jeans and a button down. Neither of them said a word, but the guy — Tommy — offered them a nod.

“Hey, who is that?” Buck asked as he and Chim made it into the locker room.

“Tommy? He used to work here, transferred to the 217 a few years ago right before you started. Come to think of it, I guess you replaced him,” Chim said.

“And now he’s back?”

Chim shrugged his shoulders and Buck settled for getting out of his street clothes and into his uniform quickly. Eddie ran in looking confused too. After the week they’d had they had all been looking forward to things going back to normal. No heists, no police raiding their homes, and no more questions from detectives.

They made it up just in time to join Hen and a few of the others. Bobby had them gather around the table with Tommy standing somewhere behind him. It seemed it was more than just Chim that knew him going by the fist bumps and high fives and nods and smiles exchanged. Buck couldn’t keep his eyes from straying towards Tommy because there was something so absolutely captivating and Buck couldn’t put his finger on it other than to acknowledge that yes Tommy was one of the most beautiful men that Buck had ever seen.

And then, Bobby told them he was being investigated. He was suspended pending the investigation and Tommy Kinard was taking over as Captain for the time being. Bobby seemed resigned more than anything and behind him Tommy just stood silently as they all tried to argue that Bobby shouldn’t be investigated for something he’d more than atoned for. Buck was the one that walked Bobby out to his car.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Bobby said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if this is the way it goes this is the way it goes.”

“Is there anything I can do? Anything any of us can do?”

Bobby smiled at him. He pat his shoulder. “Not at the moment. Just gotta wait and see.”

“How are you this calm?”

“I always knew it was a possibility. You should get back in there. New Captain and all.”

Buck grabbed Bobby’s arm. “Wait, who is that guy?”

“Tommy? He’s good people. It was going to be Chim, but Tommy was available and the Chief decided Tommy could do it. Not permanently—”

“Because you’ll be back in no time,” Buck said.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “We don’t know that. For now he’s your Captain, don’t make things any harder than they need to be.”

“Sure. Sure.”

“I mean it, Buck.”

He headed back in and found Chim, Hen, Eddie, and their new interim Captain in the kitchen.

His eyes found Tommy and it was hard to look away, especially when he was smiling. His teeth were just so white and the skin on the edges of his eyes crinkled. His jaw was defined, sharp as can be and his chin had a cleft. He was captivating.

“Buck, come over here and meet Tommy,” Chim called out, motioning for him. “Tommy, this is Buck.”

“Buckley,” Tommy said. “Your name isn’t Buck Buckley is it?”

There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. Buck was struck by Tommy’s gaze. His eyes were blue and piercing, it was as if he were looking right through Buck to his very soul.

“Uh, Evan,” Buck said.

“Evan,” Tommy said and he said it like it was important, like Buck was important.

—

Tommy wasn’t happy about the placement. It felt like a punishment, especially for someone like him. Of course, it was better than the alternative. He was grounded. No flying for him. Captain Reid had given him a choice and as dumb as the whole situation was, he supposed that being at the 118 as acting Captain was better than having to sit out on air support calls at the 217 and watching everyone else get to climb into the helicopters and go up leaving him to respond with the ground crew. He’d see the judgment from some and the pity from others. So, no thank you.

Of course, going back to the 118 meant that he’d be facing his past and that…well, that could go wrong if Tommy let it.

The timing had just happened to work out and though Tommy wasn’t privy to why Captain Nash was getting investigated, he just knew that it would blow over. There was no way they had anything on him that would lose the man his job. The short time that Tommy had worked with him, he’d been impressed and if it hadn’t been for the opportunity to get back in the air, he would have stuck around. Maybe he would have even managed to tell them all the truth. Or maybe, he never would have built up the nerve.

The moment he stepped into the 118 again it felt like going back in time. His bag was slung over his shoulder as he walked past the trucks and he found Captain Nash regarding the trucks. He looked mostly resigned.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Tommy said. “Can I ask what happened?”

“I wanted to tell them myself. It’s my past catching up with me. I always knew it could be a possibility,” Bobby said. “I’m sure you heard about the bank heist we almost got framed for?”

Tommy chuckled, bemused. “What? No. I didn’t.”

He’d been a little too busy dealing with his own shit to pay attention to something like that.

Bobby chuckled in response. “It was a long week,” he said.

“The Chief didn’t say much,” Tommy said.

“Well, we had a call to a bank and afterwards money and diamonds were missing. Someone put the cash on the truck, so they looked into all of us pretty deeply. They found stuff about my transfer and here we are.”

“I’m sure this will all get cleared up,” Tommy said. “There have been worse people that managed to keep their jobs in the LAFD.”

He could tell that Bobby wasn’t convinced as he walked past him to the familiar locker room. Tommy had loved this place once, had thought that he’d found where he belonged. Of course, it had also meant compromising who he really was. He’d been so deep in that closet, but it was entirely about self-preservation. Leaving the 118 as much as it had been about flying, had been about being ready to embrace who he was. It had been about telling the truth.

Returning to the 118 felt like falling backwards. Back into the lies. Back into the closet. Back into the mindset that he had to build up a wall to keep himself safe. Except that…he could choose differently. He didn’t need to lie. He was the Captain, they didn’t need to know anything about his personal life. If they asked, Tommy wouldn’t lie. He wasn’t going backwards.

He met back up with Bobby at the loft. It still looked the same as when he’d left.

“Circumstances aside, how do you feel about being back here?” Bobby asked. “I know this wasn’t your first choice.”

“It was my only choice,” Tommy said. “I’m excited to work with Chimney and Hen again. Timing worked out, I guess. Who would they have gotten the position otherwise?”

“Chim,” Bobby said. “But once the Chief mentioned you might be up for it, I figured that worked just as well. You know this house and you know the job.”

Tommy ducked his head. “And I’m rooting for you to be back as soon as possible,” Tommy added.

“There’s that, too.”

“Chim would have made a good Captain,” Tommy said.

“Yes. I just don’t think he would have liked it.”

He could tell that Bobby hadn’t been told why Tommy was available, and Tommy didn’t offer the information. He wondered if Bobby would be alright with him taking his spot if he knew? Somehow, he did think that Bobby would be on his side. Hell, even Captain Reid was on his side even if his hands were tied. He thought that Bobby was about to ask, but Bobby was too professional to ask even if he did look curious.

Bobby took him through a few things back in his office — the office Tommy would be taking over. He was warned about the paperwork, but Tommy already did more than his share of paperwork back at the 217.

It had never been a goal of his to make it to Captain. He wondered if giving Sal a call as the acting Captain of the 118 might be warranted. He’d wanted it so badly back then and now it was Tommy in the position even if temporary. Sal might get a laugh out of that. He could send Gerrard a postcard too with just two words on it “Fuck-You”. Tommy never said he couldn’t be petty. All things considered, it was nice to think of doing things like that, but Tommy wouldn’t. He and Sal had lost touch a while back a little bit on purpose and Tommy hoped to never have to see Gerrard ever again.

By the time that they heard the A-shift getting in, Tommy was as prepared as could be. He wouldn’t live up to what Bobby was as a Captain, but he would try his best and rely on having good people working under him. If nothing else, Tommy had time and experience on his hands and he was a damn good firefighter. A pilot too.

What Tommy was not expecting was the gorgeous man walking in with Howie. So maybe, it’d be a little more complicated than he’d expected.

So maybe he checked out a guy every once in a while. Buck was appreciative of the human form and sometimes those forms were male. It was normal. Completely and absolutely normal and everyone did that right? He had never really thought about it, but could easily admit to himself that Tommy Kinard was a beautiful man.

Throughout that first shift with Captain Kinard in command, Buck might have let his eyes linger on the man more than should be normal, he just couldn’t help himself. It didn’t help that Tommy was competent too. No one could ever replace Bobby, but he could admit that Tommy knew what he was doing. Within a few calls, he seemed to know who worked well together and who did what best. He was creative, too, and open to suggestions.

The one weird thing was that Tommy insisted on calling him Evan. Not in a condescending way or anything, but just because that’s the name that he felt like using. Stranger still was how much Buck liked it, it was why he didn’t correct him, not even when Chim made a face at him.

“Evan, get the jaws,” Tommy ordered. “Hen, how’s it looking in there?”

The car accident wasn’t major, luckily. The girl inside couldn’t have been more than seventeen and she’d been panicking ever since the shock wore off.

Buck returned with the jaws just in time to see Tommy lean to speak to the girl from the passenger side. His voice was calm and reassuring. It was so smooth and was it bad that Buck wanted to just listen to him speak forever? Could he narrate every book that Buck wanted to read? Or start a podcast?

“Buck, what’s the hold up?” Hen asked.

He blinked and rushed forward. “Sorry.”

He thought he saw Tommy quirk an eyebrow.

With help from Eddie, he got the door open and removed. Hen did a more thorough check up and Tommy stayed nearby. The girl seemed awed by him and Buck didn’t blame her one bit.

A couple rushed towards them, escorted by Athena.

“Amelia!” the woman shouted.

“Parents,” Athena said. Before any of them could move, Tommy got to them.

“Your daughter is fine,” Tommy told them. “Just give my paramedic time to check her over. We don’t even think she’ll need to go to the hospital.”

On their way back to the station, they started discussing their dinner options. Buck was sure that if a few of them — not Eddie — got into the kitchen they could come up with enough edible food. Nothing on par with Bobby’s cooking but edible, Buck had picked up enough over the years. Tommy didn’t seem to trust that.

“Maybe we’ll attempt that another day,” Tommy said to Evan.

“Pizza it is,” Chim said. “You know, Cap is the one usually doing the cooking. You don’t want to give it whirl, Tommy?”

Tommy laughed. Hen joined in.

“If you want to get food poisoning.”

“You can’t cook?” Buck asked. “Can’t be worse than Eddie.”

“Hey, I can microwave stuff,” Eddie said.

They all burst into laughter.

When they got back to the station, Buck somehow found himself on his own with Tommy. Chim had been tasked with ordering the food and Hen had gone with him to make sure he got it right. Eddie was already on the phone with Shannon which was the norm for him since they’d reconnected. Buck thought that Eddie was looking a lot happier, as complicated as it all seemed to be.

“How do you think I’m doing on my first day?”

“Uh…you want my opinion?” Buck asked. “I’m…I mean you’re doing good. You cl-clearly know what you’re doing.”

Tommy stared at him and then gave a nod. “Thanks, Evan.”

Buck didn’t want him to walk away. He still knew very little about Tommy. Just that he’d transferred out of the 118 right before Buck arrived as a probie and now he was back to his old house. He’d also been a firefighter longer than any of them, going by how he’d talked about Chim’s first day as a probie.

“Hey, so how come you left the 118?” Buck asked.

“It was time. And I wanted to get back in the air,” Tommy said.

Buck lost a step, but caught up to Tommy’s strides. “Wait, the air? So you’re air support? Like planes? Or helicopters?”

“Both. But mostly helicopters,” Tommy confirmed.

It only made Tommy that much hotter. And wait…since when did Buck think that men were hot? Maybe not like in general, but Tommy was…if you had eyes there was no way to miss that he was hot.

“You were the one Chim called that time at that fire. Saved Eddie’s life…well, Eddie and the kid he was rescuing.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said with a chuckle.

“That’s really cool. So why — why give that up to come and boss us around?”

At that, Tommy lost the smile. The crinkles around his eyes went away, replaced by frown lines on his forehead.

“I should go fill out some reports,” Tommy said and walked away.

“Touchy subject, I guess,” Buck said and watched as Tommy walked away from him, unable to tear his eyes from his back and yes, maybe checking him out just a little. Was it his fault that Tommy’s ass filled out his uniform really well?

—

They really were a family. It wasn’t shocking to him, but it still left him feeling more than a little jealous because this is the thing that Tommy had always wanted. He’d thought he would find it in the Army and then he thought he would find that as a firefighter, and then his expectations had been lower when he transferred to Harbor and as much as he liked it there, it wasn’t a family. They were co-workers and some were friendlier than others, but it was nothing like whatever was happening at the 118.

He watched them banter throughout the day, and as welcoming as they were, he didn’t quite fit. They had inside jokes and a way of communicating that made their work quick and efficient. Tommy wasn’t supposed to be their friend, that kept him outside of it too. He didn’t know how Bobby had managed to balance it all.

“Tommy, you joining us?” Hen asked. “You know we all eat together around here.”

Tommy let out a breath. “I’ll be right there.”

“How are you holding up?” Hen asked, always perceptive. “Being the Captain?”

“I have a good team. It’s not too bad,” Tommy said. “Different, I guess. I haven’t been on this many ground calls in a while.”

She asked him about Harbor and as long as Tommy didn’t have to talk about the events of a week ago, he could discuss it. He could see Evan and Eddie listening in, but other than Chim, no one chimed in.

After dinner they had a call out to an attempted suicide. He stood back and watched as Hen and Chim worked to get the guy out of the car he’d landed on after jumping off a building. His gaze then found Evan.

Evan who was helping with the gurney and talking to the owner of the car. Evan who was capable and well meaning and who had been his replacement when he transferred. It would have been easier if Evan was less interesting and less adorable. He was straight, though, and there had been mention of a girlfriend. Tommy had crushed on enough straight guys to know how it went, but there was just something about Evan. Maybe it was the happy-go-lucky attitude, or how confident he was out on calls. Or maybe it was just how good he looked while wearing turnouts.

By the time their shift ended, Tommy had been cajoled into joining them out for a drink. Eddie turned them down because he had a date with his wife. He almost expected Evan to excuse himself too in favor of spending time with his girlfriend, but instead he was happy to have an excuse not to go home.

“You don’t have a home,” Chim said.

Tommy looked between them.

“Just because I’m staying with Maddie, doesn’t mean I don’t have a home,” Evan threw back. Turning to Tommy, he said, “I’ve started searching for my own place. It’s just hard.”

Hen didn’t comment, but she shook her head and pat Evan’s arm. Tommy found all of it curious.

At the bar, Tommy found himself in the booth with Evan to his left and as the night went on he felt like Evan had gotten closer and closer to him. He didn’t mind, liked the line of his warmth, and liked how every time Evan moved, he brushed up against him. It was dangerous, though, and Tommy couldn’t let this infatuation grow.

“So, Tommy, you seeing anyone?” Hen asked.

Tommy shook his head. “Not at the moment,” he said and this was his moment. It was presented to him perfectly. He just needed to say it.

It was the time to tell them he dated men and that to be entirely clear they were first dates or hookups because Tommy was not luckily enough to find someone that wanted something deeper with him. Everytime he tried…well, Tommy just wasn’t lucky enough to find someone that fit.

On apps they were all interested because of what he looked like and then he took the time to set up a date and then he was disappointed because those guys wanted to sleep with him and weren’t actually interested in getting to know him. Half the time they didn’t even want to go on a date as much as meet up for a romp in the sheets. The same thing happened at bars. He’d be approached, sure, but nothing ever actually went anywhere. Tommy was actually getting sick of trying.

“Really?” Evan said. “But you’re so…I mean, who wouldn’t want to date you.”

And then, Evan reached over and felt up his arm. His fingers lingered and Tommy glanced down at Evan’s hand and then back at Evan. Evan went pink and he dropped his hand to his lap as if he’d had no control over his hand. He coughed.

“Sorry.”

“That’s precisely why,” Tommy said. “Seems all anyone sees is the muscles.”

“Their loss,” Evan said, staring at him. “You are definitely more than just brawn.”

When he met Hen’s eyes, she looked like she was squinting at him. Tommy decided it was time he get their next round. He was surprised when Evan bumped his shoulder a moment later.

“Wanted to help you carry,” Evan said, but he looked like it was actually more than that.

“What is it, Evan?”

Evan shifted on his feet. “I just…I wanted to say that I get it. Not, uh, not being seen for more than one aspect of who you are. I only met you today and I’m…I mean, you’re impressive.”

“Impressive, huh?” Tommy asked, looking at him, askance.

Evan was…was he blushing? Because the pink on his cheeks was definitely more than a result of the beers he’d drunk.

“You fly helicopters,” Evan responded and seemed on the verge of listing other things, except the bartender arrived with the four beers he’d asked for.

Tommy could have carried them on his own, but he let Evan grab two of them. When they got back in the booth, he tried to keep some space between them, but it didn’t matter for long.

“Buck, you haven’t talked about Ali lately,” Hen said and it felt pointed even if Hen wasn’t looking at him.

Evan leaned back. “She’s in Seattle for a few days,” he informed them. “Not much to say when I haven’t seen her in a while.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Looking at Evan, Tommy couldn’t tell if that bothered him or not. He did see Hen and Chim share a look that Evan missed. Was there a story there? If there was, no one was willing to tell him.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #buck x tommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc #911 fic #tevan #kinley

52 notes · View notes

jetii · 2 days

Text

Event Horizon

Chapter Ten: Truth

Chapter WC: 8,808

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: Checked the wordcount on the completed chapters doc today and it's over 100k already?? anyway the next few chapters are for real my fav. i live for the drama

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Coruscant, 21 BBY

"I can't believe they gave me Archive duty," Ahsoka groans, rolling her eyes.

You smirk, turning the page of the dusty tomb lying in front of you. You had managed to escape the ire of the Council thanks to Obi-Wan, but Ahsoka was not so lucky. She was sentenced to "volunteer work" at the Temple Archives indefinitely, a punishment that she seemed to take very personally.

You had offered to keep her company while you were still recovering, and you had to admit, when you weren’t forced to be here, it was kind of fun. There was something calming about the Archives, the smell of old paper and leather, the dim light, the quiet.

You'd spent more time here than most other Jedi, and even though the work was often tedious, it was something you found peace in. Ahsoka didn't seem to feel the same.

"It's not that bad," you say, your eyes scanning the page. "Besides, if you hadn't disobeyed Anakin, this wouldn't have happened."

"Well, maybe, if he hadn't given the order in the first place—"

"Ahsoka."

"I know, I know," she sighs, her shoulders slumping. She pushes the crate she was organizing to the side and collapses on a nearby bench, her arms crossed. "He's just...so frustrating sometimes."

"Yeah," you chuckle. “He is.”

“Did you ever feel that way about Master Yaddle?"

"Sometimes," you reply. You glance up from your reading and smile at her. "But I’m sure I frustrated her much more. I’m still not sure why she took me as her Padawan, honestly."

"Because you're a great Jedi," Ahsoka points out. She grins and leans forward, her chin resting on her hands. "And, because, despite what you say, you're actually pretty nice."

"Nice?"

"Yeah," she laughs. "You're one of the few Jedi I can talk to about things. You listen. Not everyone does."

"You could talk to Master Plo, or Anakin, or even Obi-Wan," you say, closing the book. You look at her, a frown on your face. "There's a lot more Jedi in the Temple."

"I know, but..." Her voice trails off, and her expression grows sad, the humor fading. “You’re the only one who’s not trying to teach me some kind of lesson. Who isn’t expecting something from me. You don't care that I'm young, or that I'm not a real Jedi yet, or—"

"You are a real Jedi," you interrupt. You stand and walk over to her, taking a seat beside her, your hands resting on your knees. "Don't ever doubt that. I don't. I know how strong you are, and I know what you're capable of. And, so does Anakin. Don't let this one mistake define you."

She sighs and rests her elbows on her thighs, her chin cupped in her palms. "I know, but it's hard," she says quietly. "Everyone has an opinion, and they're all just waiting for me to mess up again. To prove that I'm not fit to be a Jedi."

"That's not true," you tell her. "The Council might be a little disappointed with your actions, but no one doubts that you belong here, Ahsoka. No one."

She doesn't respond.

You watch her carefully, your brow furrowed. It isn’t lost on you how similar her words are to your own internal monologue, and how often she mirrors your own thoughts and fears. She’s just a kid, and you remember being her age, the pressure, the weight of expectation, and the struggle to be enough.

While you doubt you’ll ever feel like you measure up, or will ever stop feeling like an outsider, you know, deep down, that no matter what happens, the Order is where you belong. You belong with the Jedi. There is no other place for you than here.

"If it makes you feel any better," you say, trying to lighten the mood. You nudge her shoulder. “You’re only continuing the tradition of disobedience set by your Masters before you. Anakin, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon—“ you pause and let out a sharp breath before continuing “—and his master have all done their time here. Practically a rite of passage, I’d say.”

She rolls her eyes and nudges you back. "You're not funny."

"Sure I am."

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe Master Kenobi ever had to do this," she scoffs. "I mean, he's like, the perfect Jedi."

"Ha! Well, I guess you'd be surprised."

You smirk, remembering the many times Obi-Wan had come to your aid during your years as younglings, covering for you and, often, getting himself into just as much trouble as you.

It was always Obi-Wan, with his clever words and quick wit, who got the two of you out of hot water, and you always found it amusing how no one seemed to realize it was him who had started the whole thing. It was like people couldn’t see past the image they had of him, or their assumptions, and it made him the perfect accomplice.

"We caused plenty of chaos back in the day,” you add with a fond smile. "I can't even begin to tell you all the stories I could share. I have years worth of them."

"Oh really?"

"Yep," you confirm. "Obi-Wan was a terror."

Ahsoka snorts and raises an eyebrow. "Now I know you're lying."

"It's true. He was a troublemaker. Still is, if I'm being honest,” you laugh. "We were the worst influences on each other. That's probably why we became such good friends."

"I can't imagine Master Obi-Wan doing anything even close to disobeying the rules," Ahsoka says. She leans forward, her chin in her palms, a mischievous grin on her face. You smile back and cross your legs, settling into the bench. "I'm going to need proof, or a story. Either will do."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Something crazy," she prompts. "Something he would never tell me. Something wild. And then I'll believe it."

You chuckle and lean back against the wall, your eyes drifting, the memories filling your mind. You could think of a hundred different tales, many of them far too embarrassing to repeat, and most of them you doubted would be appropriate to tell an impressionable teenager. You were not the best storyteller, but if Ahsoka wanted entertainment, you could oblige. If only a little.

"Okay, okay, let's see..." you muse, thinking. "Okay, here's one. When I was thirteen years old, Obi-Wan was a newly made Padawan, and I was still a youngling. One day, we had a day off from training, and, well, let's just say, we weren't exactly sticking around the Temple."

"Where did you go?"

"Well, Obi-Wan had heard about this place," you continue, smiling. "Apparently, there was this abandoned warehouse deep in the lower levels, converted it into a kind of club. It was the coolest thing we had ever seen, and we were determined to get in. Only problem was, we were a bit too young. Not that that stopped us. We had been going to this club, sneaking out, for about a week, before a member of the Jedi Council caught us."

"Which one?"

"Master Plo, actually,” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips. "We got lucky. I think he was more impressed than upset."

Ahsoka lets out a snort and covers her mouth. "No."

"Yes," you insist. "He caught us sneaking out of the Temple and followed us. We made it all the way to the warehouse before we realized he was right behind us."

"How did you get away with it?"

"We didn't," you chuckle. "I think we had a few choice words with the Council that night. But we got to go back to the club a few more times before we were caught again. Obi-Wan managed to get himself banned a few months later, though. Something about trying to fight a guy over a girl."

You look away, biting your cheek. Ahsoka didn't need to know that you were the girl. That it was the first, and the only time that the two of you had kissed. You were both so young, and it was nothing more than a childish attempt at romance. It was a bittersweet memory, tinged with a touch of guilt, and you had long ago buried it.

"I'll have to ask him about that," she teases. "I bet there's a lot more stories he'd never tell me."

"You can try," you challenge. "Good luck."

"What was he like?" Ahsoka asks. She shifts on the bench, turning her body toward you, her eyes sparkling. "Before he was a Knight, or a Master, or...all that. What was he like back then?"

"He was different," you tell her. You hesitate, your brow furrowing, and you shrug. "He was...happier. More carefree. He didn't take things as seriously as he does now."

"He's still pretty carefree," Ahsoka points out. She tilts her head, her gaze growing thoughtful, and a small frown tugs at her lips. "I've never really seen him angry, or upset. Except for when you were in the bacta tank."

You pause. You hadn't thought much about Obi-Wan while you were recovering. Your mind had been a bit preoccupied with other matters, but now, looking back, you had noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders, and the way his jaw clenched every time someone brought up the battle. It had only been a week since your return, and yet, he seemed to have aged ten years, and the worry was still plain on his face.

Even now, there was still a distance, a coldness, between the two of you. He hadn't been by the Healers Ward again, and he'd avoided you at the debriefing with the Council even though he'd spoken in your favor.

"He was worried," you say simply. You glance down at your hands and twist your fingers, swallowing the sudden tightness in your throat.

"I’m sure you’ve noticed that we share a bond. Something like a Master and Padawan bond. It's stronger, because we were raised together, and because our abilities complement each other, and, well, because we've spent our whole lives together."

"What is it like?" she asks. Her eyes are wide, and she's listening intently, her attention focused on you. "Having a bond with someone? Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," you confess. You let out a heavy sigh, and you look down, your expression troubled. "When the other person is in danger, or suffering, it can be difficult to deal with. And, sometimes, it can be overwhelming. Obi-Wan is quite skilled at shielding, but...I’m not so fortunate. I’m sure feeling my pain was not easy for him."

It’s an excuse, and you know it. But the truth was much harder to admit. Obi-Wan being upset enough at your injuries that Ahsoka had picked up on it was an uncomfortable thought. The reality of how deeply you had hurt him, and the fact that you hadn’t even considered how he would feel, was not something you were prepared to deal with. Not right now. Perhaps not ever.

"You're close," she comments, her voice soft. She hesitates, and she gives you a sad smile, her eyes searching yours. "I...I don't have a bond with Anakin. Not like you and Master Kenobi. I've always wondered what it would be like."

"It's strange," you reply slowly. You shrug and give her a rueful smile. "It’s been this way for so long, and I just...I don't know. I don't know what it's like not to have it. The closest we ever came to losing it completely was after..."

You trail off, your smile fading, and you turn away, unable to meet her eyes. "After the Naboo incident. Things were never the same, after that."

Ahsoka doesn't say anything.

You can't blame her. You don't have the words. There's so much left unsaid, so much you could tell her, but you know you won't. It's not the right time. Perhaps it will never be the right time. And so, instead, you change the subject, pushing the pain and the regret away, burying it under the weight of a smile.

"What else do you want to know?"

Ahsoka's gaze grows thoughtful, and she leans back, resting her head against the wall, her brow furrowed. She looks up, and her lips purse, her fingers tapping against her thighs.

Finally, she smiles, a wicked glint in her eyes. "What about Rex?"

Your eyes widen, and you can feel the color draining from your face, the shock making you speechless. You hadn't expected that question, and it takes a moment for you to regain your composure, your mind scrambling to think of a response. But Ahsoka doesn't wait.

Instead, she keeps talking, the grin growing. "Rex told Anakin that you had saved his life."

"Yes," you say cautiously. You frown, and you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "And?"

"Well," she draws the word out, and she sits up, her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped. "Anakin said he'd never seen you act like that before."

You open your mouth to respond, and then close it, unsure of what to say.

"So," she presses. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Friends."

"Yes," you snap. "Of course we're friends. He's a friend. We're friends. Is that a problem?"

"No, no," she replies quickly. "Of course not."

"Good."

"But—"

"Ahsoka," you interrupt, and you let out a sharp breath, your fingers rubbing your temples. "There is no but. Rex is a friend. I saved his life. End of story."

"Sure," she agrees. Her expression is far too innocent, and you're not going to play into whatever she's thinking. You stand and return to the table, picking up the book, and Ahsoka follows, sitting down next to you. "I just thought, maybe, there was something else."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," she says, feigning nonchalance. She pulls another book off the pile and begins leafing through the pages, a casual, carefree tone to her voice. "He's been asking about you."

Your head snaps up, and you stare at her, the shock giving way to surprise, and then hope, the flutter in your chest returning. "He has?"

Realizing your mistake, you bite your cheek and look back down at the book, your heart pounding, and your throat suddenly dry. You swallow, and you try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks,and the feeling in your chest.

Rex had been asking about you. He had talked to Anakin about you. Those were perfectly normal, innocent, things for him to do. Nothing strange. Nothing to indicate anything more.

"Mmhmm," Ahsoka hums, her eyes flicking up, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. She looks back down, the grin growing, and she nudges your shoulder. "He was worried the Council was going to punish you for saving him."

"That's it?"

"I'm not sure," she muses. She tilts her head, her fingers drumming against the book, her expression thoughtful. "He seemed pretty concerned. More than he normally is."

You shake your head and lean forward, pretending to be engrossed in the text.

"I'm sure he was just being polite," you mumble. You keep your eyes on the page, but your mind is elsewhere, and the words blur before your eyes. You force yourself to keep reading, not daring to look up. "I doubt he was all that worried."

"Hm," Ahsoka says.

You wait a few more moments, and then, when Ahsoka doesn't speak, you glance over at her. She's looking at you, her lips pursed, a knowing smile on her face. You stare at her, and she stares back, and finally, you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh.

"Fine," you grumble. You shut the book and shove it away, leaning back in the chair, your arms crossed. "We are friends, and I enjoy his company. Is that what you want to hear?"

Ahsoka shrugs and grins, and you can't help the smile tugging at your lips.

"He's a good person," she says. She's not looking at you anymore, but she's smiling, and you can tell she's holding back a laugh. "Very loyal."

"Yes, he is," you agree. You look away, a frown forming, and your voice drops. "And a good soldier."

There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, a heaviness, a sudden sadness that you hadn't expected. You're not sure what brought it on, but it's there, a reminder of the truth, of the reality. You swallow the lump in your throat, and you glance down, your fingers tracing the cover of the book, a strange numbness settling in.

"Yeah." Ahsoka looks at you, and her brow furrows, the teasing tone gone. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you lie. You force a smile and shrug. "Everything's fine."

"You're sure?" she asks. She looks skeptical, her head tilted, and she frowns. "You look...upset."

"I'm not."

"You don't have to lie," she says. She shifts in her chair, and she turns to face you, her hand resting on your arm, her expression earnest. "If there's something wrong, you can tell me. I won't judge."

"I know," you reply softly. "But there's nothing to tell. I'm fine."

She doesn't believe you. You can tell by the way she's looking at you, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed. Ahsoka doesn't press the issue, though, and you're grateful for that. You don't want to talk about it, and, honestly, you're not sure if you can. Or, if, when the words come out, they'll sound as stupid as they do in your head.

"Now," you say, and you push yourself up, grabbing a crate. You walk over to the other side of the room and begin sorting through the books, setting them on the shelves. "Let's get back to work."

"Ugh, not more sorting."

"It's your punishment," you point out. "Besides, I've had enough excitement for one day. I could use some boring, manual labor."

"I guess," Ahsoka mutters.

You laugh, and you return to your task, the quiet settling over the room. Ahsoka sighs and does the same, and the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in silence, only occasionally exchanging a few words.

The sun begins to set, and the shadows grow, and soon, the entire room is bathed in the orange glow of the sunset, the warmth filling the air. It's peaceful, and comfortable, and it's exactly what you need. No drama. No complications. No one trying to get into your head, or telling you how to live your life. It's the kind of solitude you haven't had in a long time, and, even if you can't enjoy it for long, it's a nice respite from the chaos.

You're not sure how much time has passed, or how long the two of you have been working, but the silence is broken when the door slides open. You turn and watch as Obi-Wan enters the room, a smile on his face, his hands tucked in his sleeves. He greets the both of you and comes to stand beside the table, his attention focused on you. His expression is serious, his eyes searching, and you avoid his gaze.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, his voice polite, and his words carefully chosen. You can tell he's uncomfortable, and it makes you uneasy. "I was hoping I might have a word with you, if you're not too busy."

"Of course," you reply.

You look over at Ahsoka, who’s staring at the two of you, her gaze flicking between you, and she smirks, standing and grabbing the crate she had been organizing. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Thank you."

She leaves the room, leaving you and Obi-Wan alone, the quiet a heavy, uncomfortable, thing. You don't know what to say, or what to do, and it's an awkward few moments before he breaks the silence, clearing his throat, his hands moving to clasp behind his back.

"I was wondering how you were," he says. He takes a step toward you, and he hesitates, his eyes dropping. "I haven't seen much of you these past few days."

"Yes," you mumble. You cross your arms and shrug, avoiding his gaze. "I've been, um, busy. You know. Helping with the Archives. And healing."

"I see."

There's another pause.

"So," he says. "Are you feeling better? Has the Healers Ward released you yet?"

"They released me a few days ago," you tell him as you turn, walking over to the window, your fingers brushing along the ledge. "They were quite happy with my recovery. It didn't take long for me to heal."

"That's good."

"And, I feel fine," you add, turning to look at him. "I've been back in training for a few days now."

"Good."

"Well," he says. He steps forward and stops, his hand on the back of a chair, his expression guarded. "I'm glad you're back on your feet."

"Yes," you murmur. "It's, uh, it's good to be back."

He gives you a curt nod, and you nod back, and then there's another long, agonizing, silence. You look at him, and he looks at you, and when it becomes too much, you turn away, your fingers tracing the window frame, the metal cool beneath your fingertips.

"You said you wanted to speak with me?" you ask the window.

"Yes."

You hear him take a deep breath, and when you look over your shoulder, he's staring at the floor, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. It's strange to see him so...distraught. So unsure of himself.

"I came to apologize," he says quietly. He crosses his arms, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "For my actions the other day. I was not myself, and I should not have acted as I did."

"Oh," you murmur.

"I was...wrong to have treated you as I did. You didn't deserve it. And I was out of line."

You let out a sigh and close your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."

"Please," he interrupts, and his tone is pleading, and it stops you. "I need to say this."

"Alright," you say. You move away from the window, and you lean against the table, your arms crossed and your brow furrowed. "Say what you need to."

"I was angry," he admits, and the words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. He pauses and takes a breath, and you can tell he's choosing his words carefully. "I was upset. You have no idea how much it hurt, seeing you like that. Lying there, unconscious. Not knowing if you would make it. I..."

He trails off, and he looks away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"And I know," he continues. He looks back up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can't help but see the pain, the hurt, the desperation. "I know that you would do it again, if given the choice. And I can't blame you for it. But it doesn't make it any easier."

"Obi-Wan," you murmur. You can feel your eyes burning, and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I know," he says. "I know."

"I wasn't thinking. I was acting on instinct, and—"

"I know," he repeats, his voice gentle. "It was not your fault. You did what was right, and, had it been anyone else, I would have been proud. You saved a life. That is something to be celebrated. But...you're not just anyone."

"I can't promise that I won't do it again," you tell him. "If the situation arises, I won't hesitate to save another soldier. Even if they're not a Jedi. Or a friend."

He smiles, a small, sad thing, and he nods.

"I wouldn't expect any less," he says. He steps toward you, and he takes your hand, squeezing gently. "It is, after all, one of the many reasons I admire you."

You can't help the smirk tugging at your lips. "Well, that, and dazzling personality and my good looks, right?"

"Among others," he teases. His expression grows solemn, and he glances down, his thumb running over your knuckles. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sure the last thing you need is for me to be acting as I was."

"Well, with the amount of tantrums Anakin and I have thrown over the years, it's only fair that you get to have one every once in a while."

Obi-Wan grimaces and shakes his head "Please, don't remind me."

"You're not still mad, are you?" you ask. He tilts his head, a faint frown pulling at his lips. "I mean, you're not going to lecture me again, are you?"

"No," he replies, his tone wry. "Not today."

"Good."

"You're not completely forgiven, though."

"What?"

"I'm afraid that, if we're ever in a similar situation," he continues, his voice casual, his eyes narrowing, "and if you ever make me think you're dying again, I will be forced to have a very stern conversation with you."

You roll your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."

"I mean it," he insists. "I'll have no choice."

"Well," you drawl. You pull your hand free and push yourself away from the table, crossing your arms. "If I die, and you feel the need to lecture my corpse, by all means, go right ahead. I won't stop you."

He gives you a flat look, and you hold back a smile, raising an eyebrow.

"We'll see," he says finally. His lips twitch, and he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "In all seriousness, though, I am sorry. For everything. I was unfair, and I shouldn't have blamed you. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you."

"No," you agree softly. "You shouldn't have."

"I know," he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to grasp your elbow, his touch gentle. "I don't want us to be like this. We've fought enough over the years. I want you to know that I trust you, and despite my fears, and the concerns I have, I will always support you. Whatever decisions you make."

You let out a breath, and his hand moves, sliding up your arm, coming to rest on the back of your neck. He gives you a smile, and there's a flicker of regret and sorrow before he pulls you forward, his forehead resting against yours. His grip tightens, and you put your hands on his waist, holding onto him.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"I'll always be here for you," he says softly. "Whenever you need me."

You smile and lift your chin, brushing your lips across his cheek, a fleeting, brief, touch. "And I'll always be here for you. Whatever you need."

He chuckles and squeezes your neck, his breath warm on your skin. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"Now," you murmur, and you pull away, your hands moving to rest on his chest. "What I really need right now is a stiff drink."

He raises an eyebrow. "That is not what you need right now."

"But it would help," you insist. "A lot."

"No."

"C'mon," you beg, your hands curling in the fabric of his tunic. You give him a pout, and he groans, his eyes closing. "It'll be fun. Just like old times."

"You are not getting me into any more trouble than I'm already in," he says. He pulls your hands off of him, and he holds them in his, a stern look on his face. "The Council has already spoken to me about your reckless behavior. I'd prefer not to give them more reason to doubt me."

"They won't know," you promise. You squeeze his hands, your eyes bright. "We'll be careful."

"You don't know how to be careful."

"Then teach me," you counter, a smirk playing on your lips.

He lets out a sigh, and his brow furrows, his mouth twisting. You can see the temptation in his eyes, the desire to give in, and it's only a matter of time before you convince him. He hesitates, glancing over at the door. "It is late. Most people should be gone by now."

"See?" you say. "Easy. Quick drink. No one will see."

"Fine," he concedes. "But we will not be staying long."

"Thank you."

You release his hands and step back, your fingers lacing together, your grin widening. Obi-Wan gives you an exasperated look and gestures for you to go, and you laugh and start to back away.

"I'll meet you at the usual place," you tell him. You turn and head for the door, calling over your shoulder. "Don't keep me waiting."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" he calls out, his tone amused. "Just...don't get us caught."

"Never," you promise.

You're through the door and gone before he can say anything else, and the moment you're alone, you take a deep breath and run a hand through your hair. It's not until you're nearly to your quarters that the nerves begin to settle in, and the excitement gives way to apprehension, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You're still a bit wary of Obi-Wan's sudden change in mood. It's unlike him to act like he did, and to be so openly hostile. And, as much as you'd like to believe that everything is alright, that things were fine, there was still something gnawing at the back of your mind.

The look on his face when you told him how you saved Rex's life was burned into your memory. You couldn't help but be reminded of how he looked at you the day after your knighting, when you'd told him your plan to find Yaddle's killer, and he'd treated you like a child.

It was the same, the same disdain and anger, the same look of disappointment, and the same, cold, distance. The only difference was, this time, you hadn't done anything wrong. You had saved a life. There was nothing for him to be disappointed about.

But the look was there, the same unspoken accusation. And it stung.

It’s only then that you realize he’d neglected to let his walls down during the conversation. There had been no opening, no chance to see into his mind. No moment of vulnerability. You hadn’t noticed, and now, you couldn’t understand why. It didn't make sense.

Obi-Wan had never kept his thoughts and feelings hidden from you before. He had never been afraid to show his emotions, or his pain. It was always you who'd had trouble with it, who'd struggled with letting him see the truth. He was the one who always opened up.

And now, he wasn't.

You shake the thought from your mind and continue on, ignoring the unease growing in your chest. He'd apologized then, and he apologized now, and he meant it. You didn't need the Force to know that. And he'd agreed to sneak out with you, which was more than he would have done if he was truly upset with you.

You would have a nice evening, and nothing else would happen. And tomorrow, the two of you would move on. Everything would go back to normal.

You reach your quarters, and you let yourself in, making a beeline for the fresher. You don't waste any time and strip out of your robes, stepping under the hot spray, and you wash quickly, rinsing the day's grime and sweat off. The water cascades down your body, washing the tension away, the warmth enveloping you, and for the first time in days, you can breathe, the knot in your chest loosening.

Once you're finished, you dry yourself and step back into the room, rummaging through the pile of clothes haphazardly thrown in your dresser. You pull out a simple shirt and a pair of pants, and you dress, slipping on a pair of boots and a cropped leather jacket. It's been too long since you've dressed so casually, and it feels odd, like you're not yourself. But, it's also a refreshing change from stifling robes.

You comb your hair, pulling the wet strands back into a loose braid, and you're ready. You check the time and grab a few credits from the dresser, shoving them into your pocket, and you're out the door.

You arrive at the bar a short while later, and you spot Obi-Wan sitting in the corner, a glass in his hand and his attention on the crowd. He sees you and smiles, and you make your way through the room, the noise and the heat hitting you. He's wearing civilian clothes, his hair loose around his face, his beard trimmed, and he looks almost relaxed. Almost.

You reach the table and slide into the seat across from him, his gaze appraising. You can't help but blush, and you cross your arms, giving him a look.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he replies. His eyes linger on yours for a moment longer, and then they trail over the rest of your body, his lips quirking. "It's just been a while since I've seen you like this. It's...refreshing."

"Well," you say, leaning forward. You lower your voice, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "I wouldn't want to draw any attention to myself."

He chuckles, and his eyes sparkle with amusement, a glint of something else in their depths. "I appreciate the effort."

You smile and reach over, plucking his glass from his hand. He doesn't protest, and you take a sip, the liquor burning as it goes down. You set the glass back on the table, and his gaze lingers, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You raise an eyebrow and stare at him, and he shakes his head, pushing himself up.

"I'm going to get another drink," he says. He nods his head towards the bar. "Would you like one?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll be right back."

He leaves, and you watch him walk away, and the moment he's out of earshot, you groan, the realization of what you'd done, and where you were, setting in. It was bad enough that the two of you had snuck off to a cantina together, and were dressed like this, but it was even worse that it felt...odd. Strange. And you weren't sure why. It was the same as every other time you'd met him for drinks, and yet, it wasn't.

There was something different. Something...off. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it was there, and it made you uneasy. Like the calm before a storm.

"Hey," someone says.

You turn and see a man standing next to the table, a bottle of something in his hand, his smile friendly. You can't help the sigh that escapes you. It was going to be one of those nights.

"Hey," you reply. Your eyes drop, and you frown, the words on the bottle blurring. It's some sort of liquor, and a cheap one at that. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm hoping I could buy a beautiful woman a drink," he says. He sets the bottle down and pulls out the chair, sitting. You glance around the room, looking for Obi-Wan. There's no sign of him. "And, maybe, have a chat. Get to know each other."

"Look," you begin, and your voice is strained, the exhaustion starting to creep in. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not—"

"C'mon," he insists. He grabs the bottle and opens it, pouring a shot. He pushes it towards you, a grin on his face. "Just one drink."

"No, thank you."

“You won’t regret it.”

“No.”

"One drink," he repeats. He lifts the glass and nods, and when you don't move, his smile fades. "Don't be rude."

"Oh, I'm being rude?" you snap. You stand, and you tower over him, your hand on the table. He stares up at you, his mouth hanging open. "I've had a long week, and I'm not in the mood. Now, leave me alone."

"Alright, alright," he mutters. He stands and picks up the bottle, backing away. "You don't have to get so upset."

You don't reply, and he turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd. You let out a breath and slump back into the chair, rubbing your forehead. It's not long before you're joined again, but this time, it's Obi-Wan who slides into the seat, a bottle and two glasses in his hand. He notices the look on your face, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Another admirer?"

"Yes," you mutter. You take the glass he offers and down it, and he stares at you, concern flickering across his features. "I guess I'm not used to the attention anymore."

"Hm," he hums. He takes the glass from you and refills it, his brow furrowing. "You shouldn't be out here like this. You're too..."

"What?"

"I just..." he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He looks down and frowns. "I worry."

"Obi-Wan, I'm not made of glass," you snap. "And I'm not some defenseless child. I'm not going to shatter because some idiot tries to hit on me."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

He looks at you, and he sighs, his eyes searching yours. He opens his mouth to speak, and you brace yourself for whatever he's going to say, knowing that it's going to be a lecture, or a reminder of why you shouldn't be out here. Of why you shouldn't be with him. That it's not safe. That it's a risk.

But, he doesn't say any of those things. Instead, his eyes drop, and his jaw clenches, and when he finally speaks, it's a whisper, the words soft and gentle.

"You're a beautiful woman. A powerful, intelligent, wonderful, woman," he says. He looks at you, his expression open, and you can't help the way your heart leaps into your throat. "You have an air of confidence and determination, and...you're breathtaking. It's impossible not to notice you. Especially here."

You gape at him, and his lips twitch, his eyes darkening, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "I can't blame him for trying. I would, too, if I were him."

You can feel the heat spreading across your cheeks, the flush creeping up your neck. He's always been honest with you, and open, but this is different. He's never said anything like this before. You feel yourself scrambling, trying to regain your composure, and when you do, you let out a shaky laugh.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," you say. You lean forward, your arms resting on the table, a smirk playing on your lips. "Is that jealousy I hear?"

"Not at all," he assures you, and the sincerity is almost believable. He leans closer, and his gaze drops, his voice low. "If anyone is jealous, it's him. He'll never have you. Not the way I do."

Your smirk widens, and you laugh, taking the bottle from his hand and pouring another shot. "Well, you have nothing to worry about. I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are."

You hold his gaze, and you down the shot, the alcohol burning. It's a dangerous game, and the both of you know it, and, as much as you want to keep pushing, and prodding, and testing his limits, you know better. It's best to let it go. It's best to move on. Besides, this was supposed to be fun.

"So," you say, pushing the bottle away, a small smile on your face. "Now that you're done worrying about me, can we finally have some fun? I didn't come here to sit and mope."

"Of course." He raises his glass and tilts his head. "To us."

"To us."

The rest of the evening is a blur. It passes in a haze of alcohol and laughter, the conversation turning to trivial things. There's no mention of the war, or Felucia, or the Council, and you're glad. You need a night off, and a break from everything, and you know Obi-Wan does too. The two of you have had so few chances to relax, and even fewer to spend time together.

You find yourselves falling back into the routine of years past, and, as the evening wears on, the two of you become more and more carefree. You're laughing and teasing, and Obi-Wan's telling stories about his adventures as a young padawan, and your memories of the past come flooding back. The times the two of you have snuck off, and the things you've done, and the trouble you've gotten into. And it's nice. Comforting. To be with him, and to enjoy his company. Even if you know it can't last.

You've managed to drag Obi-Wan out onto the balcony, and the two of you are leaning against the railing, watching the people below, the wind ruffling your hair. You can feel his warmth, and his arm is pressing into yours, and the alcohol has left a pleasant buzz in your head. You're not quite drunk, but, judging by the flush in Obi-Wan's cheeks, he's further along than you are.

"I have a confession," he mutters. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked smile. "I've missed this. Missed...us. Doing this. Being here."

"Yeah," you murmur. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze, his eyes bright. "I've missed this too."

"We should do it more often," he says. He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, his touch lingering, his thumb stroking your skin. "Spend time together. Outside the Temple."

"Obi-Wan."

"What?"

"Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything," he counters. He turns to face you, his expression earnest, his voice soft. "I'm not saying that we should be together. Or that we should..." He trails off, and his eyes flick down, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. "But, I've missed this. And, I think you have too."

"Obi-Wan..." You let out a breath and run a hand through your hair, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're...different," you explain. You shrug and turn away, looking out over the city. "It's not just tonight. You've been acting strange for weeks. Ever since Felucia. I just..." You shake your head sigh, glancing over at him. "Are you sure you're alright? That everything is okay?"

"Yes," he replies, and the reply is quick, and curt, and too easy. You stare at him, and he shrugs, a frown tugging at his lips. "I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You tell me," you snap. You turn and lean against the railing, crossing your arms, your glare hard. "Because, one minute, you're angry with me, and the next, you're...this. Tell me what's going on."

He holds your gaze for a moment, and then his eyes drop, his hand coming up to cover his face as a low groan escapes him.

"I don't know," he mutters. He takes a step closer and leans against the railing, his arm brushing against yours. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Obi-Wan..."

"I'm tired," he whispers. He looks over at you, his eyes sad, his voice hollow. "I'm tired of the war. I'm tired of the fighting. I'm tired of losing people. And...I'm tired of having to pretend."

"Pretend what?"

"Everything," he answers. His hand drops to the railing, his fingers curling around the metal, his grip tight. "Who I am. How I feel. What I'm thinking. What I want." He turns and looks at you, his eyes meeting yours, a flicker of emotion crossing his features. "What I want with you."

"And, how do you feel?" you ask softly. "What do you want with me?"

He swallows and turns away, his eyes focused on the skyline, and you can see the struggle in his face. He doesn't speak, and the silence grows heavy, and uncomfortable, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

"Obi-Wan—"

"I care for you. I have always cared for you. More than I should. More than is right."

He turns to face you, and there's a desperation in his eyes, and a longing, and you know where this is going. You know what he wants to say.

But, he doesn't. Instead, he sighs, his shoulders slumping, and he shakes his head.

"You mean the world to me, and I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me."

"You don't know that," he insists. He takes a step closer, and his hands are on your waist, his touch light, his gaze searching yours. "I'm not the only one who has changed."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're different, too," he says. His hands move, and they slide up your back, his thumbs brushing along your cheek. "The last few months have changed you. And I'm afraid of what will happen. What will change."

"Nothing's going to change," you promise, and your voice is low, and soft. "We're the same. We're just older. And wiser. And maybe a little more jaded. But, we're still the same. You're still the same man who was my first love, and I'm still the same girl who fell for him."

He smiles, a small, sad, thing, and he lets out a breath, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes close, and your hands move to his chest, the fabric warm and soft beneath your fingers, his heart beating steadily beneath your palm.

The tension in his body melts away, and his touch is gentle, his thumb stroking your cheek. You can't help but press closer, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight.

"I don't know what I would do without you," he murmurs. He lets out a shaky breath, and you can feel him trembling, the weight of the world, the pain and the fear, bearing down on him. "If anything happened to you, if I lost you..."

"You're not going to lose me," you repeat. You reach up and cup his cheek, your thumb running over his stubble, his beard rough against your skin. "I promise."

Obi-Wan doesn't say anything. Instead, he lets out a quiet, strangled, noise, and his lips are on yours, soft and warm and familiar.

It's a desperate, needy, kiss, and it's all too easy to give in, to let yourself melt into him, his hands on your face and his mouth moving against yours. You haven't been kissed in years, and you haven't kissed him in even longer, and, despite your best efforts, you can't help but respond, your fingers sliding through his hair, a low moan escaping you.

His grip tightens, and his tongue is in your mouth, his body pressing against yours. You can't think, and you can't breathe, and you can feel his need, his desire, the emotions, raw and unguarded, spilling over. He's shaking, and his lips are insistent, and when he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark.

The two of you stare at each other, the silence stretching between you, and the gravity of the situation hits you. You've been friends for years, and you've been lovers, and now, here you are, on the precipice, and you're teetering on the edge. One more step, and there's no going back. One more step, and everything will change.

A sinking stone settles in the pit of your stomach, the fog of alcohol fleeing, and a wave of regret and shame crashing down. You can't believe what you've done. How far you've fallen. And how easily. After all the years you've spent avoiding each other, and trying to be friends, and now, here you are.

"We shouldn't have done that," you whisper. You push him away and take a step back, and he reaches out, his hand on your elbow. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"You're right," he says. His hand falls, and he looks away, a frown tugging at his lips. "We shouldn't have."

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, his eyes closing, and he lets out a long breath. When he looks at you again, the guilt and the sadness in his eyes is gone, replaced by resignation. He reaches over and gives your shoulder a squeeze, his tone gentle. "Come on, let's go home."

You nod, and he releases you, stepping back. You can't meet his gaze, and you turn, your eyes fixed on the ground, the two of you making your way across the balcony. He keeps his distance, and you keep yours, the silence between you tense and heavy.

You're both back in the Temple a short while later, and Obi-Wan leads you back to your room, his pace quick. He stops outside the door, and his eyes meet yours.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you mutter. You can't meet his gaze, and you fidget, your eyes on the floor.

He sighs and lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Look," he says softly. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," you say. "I...shouldn't have let that happen."

"It's not your fault," he assures you. His thumb brushes across your cheek, and he gives you a smile. "We both let it get out of hand."

"Still, we shouldn't have..."

"No," he agrees. His hand falls, and he steps back, his smile turning wry. "We definitely shouldn't have."

You manage a weak smile, and his eyes soften.

"I meant to say this before," he starts. "I didn't want to interrupt the moment. But, I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"What I said earlier," he clarifies. He clears his throat and looks down, his gaze fixed on his shoes, his words hesitant. "I...don't want to lose you. I don't think I could bear it. And...I'll do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You're not going to lose me," you promise. You smile and grab his hand, squeezing his fingers, your voice soft. "I'll always be here."

He squeezes back, his eyes soft. "I know you're still struggling with Master Yaddle's death, and everything that's happened, and, well, I'm here. It's not much, but my clearance can help. If there's something you need, if there's something that would aid you in your search, let me know. I'm not going to ask questions. Just...if there's anything that can give you closure, I'll get it for you."

"I appreciate the offer," you reply. "But, I don't think the Council would take too kindly to you helping me. Especially after what happened. They're probably going to be watching us both like hawks for a while."

"Right." He sighs.

"However," you continue. "I'd appreciate it if you could pull any records regarding the last few months she was alive. Missions. Debriefings. Anything."

"Consider it done," he promises.

"Thank you."

"Of course," he says. "Anything else?"

"Actually, yes," you say. "There is something else."

"Yes?"

You step forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him, and he hugs you back, his cheek resting against your head. You hold him close, breathing in his scent, his warmth surrounding you, his arms tight around your waist. There's so much you want to say, and so many things you want to tell him, but none of it feels right. Not after what's happened, and the choices the two of you have made. And, for a moment, you just let yourself be, his heartbeat steady against your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest calming.

"I love you, you know that, right?" you say quietly as you pull away.

He chuckles and brushes a stray hair from your forehead. "Yes, I do."

"Good." You step back and turn toward your door, looking over your shoulder at him. "Now, go. Get some sleep."

"You too," he says, his lips quirking. You can't help but return his smile, and he turns, heading for his room. He glances over his shoulder, and he winks. "Good night, darling."

"Good night," you call out.

He vanishes around the corner, and you turn and open the door, stepping into your room. The door slides shut, and you're greeted by the empty, familiar, sight of your quarters. The walls are bare, the windows are uncovered, and the floors are cold. It's not a welcoming space, and it never has been, but tonight, the silence feels particularly loud. You're used to being alone, but, right now, the loneliness is almost overwhelming.

You're not sure why.

Or, perhaps, you don't want to admit why.

Either way, the ache in your chest is still there, the emptiness still lingers, and you know it's not just from the alcohol. You try to ignore the feeling, and instead you settle on the floor to meditate, focusing on the Force and letting the energy flow through you.

It doesn't work, and you know it won't. But, you have to try. The alternative is too much to bear. You sit for a few hours, your eyes closed, and your hands resting on your knees, until, eventually, sleep pulls you under.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @aynavaano

@ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon

@heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bimboshaggy @bunny7567

@lostqueenofegypt @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay

@callsign-denmark @julli-bee @moonychicky @captn-trex @feral-ferrule

@webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino

@silly-starfish

#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #obi wan x reader #roy writes #aka two emotionally stunted people do everything in their power to not talk about their feelings #also shout out to ahsoka thanks for being such a good plot device

35 notes · View notes

nocturnesanomaly · 2 days

Text

Chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

Wordcount: 6.4k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, Implied sexual assault/rape, non-consensual drug use,

Description: You follow up on your own lead, convinced it's the only way, leading the rest of the 141 on a hunt to find you.

A/N: Not sure I got all the typos, let me know if you find any <3

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

If Price was ever going to grant any of their wishes, Johnny prayed to the lord that it would be to get better beds. Even if he and the taskforce had slept in worse places than this, on the ground in half fallen buildings, in bundles of hay or random items, it didn't keep Johnny from being grumpy about the lack of space and stiff mattresses.

He wasn't sure why Laswell hadn't accounted for the one missing bed. Sometimes he thought that she expected one of them to take the janky couch, but she couldn't really, could she? It was what Simon did most nights, or at least Johnny was pretty sure he did. He typically didn't come into the room during nights, letting Johnny snore away on the little space there already was. Then again, that man never truly slept much on missions.

Simon got the optimal amount of sleep he needed to function for a day, and not a second longer. It was a habit that was hard to coax him out of when he and Johnny went back home. When they had first bought an apartment together, it even took a few weeks before Johnny managed to get Simon into a somewhat normal sleep rhythm.

One thing he found that worked, was letting Simon listen to his heartbeat. It seemed to calm the man for whatever reason. Johnny supposed he understood, it was something consistent, a lifeline in the most literal sense. It assured someone that the other was still alive, that their heart was still beating and their lungs still breathing.

They had both spend a lot of long nights like that. Nights after missions with too close calls, nights fuelled with terrors and horrid images on their minds, nights where it was as simple as the fact that one of them couldn't fall asleep.

Johnny didn't know when Simon had moved from the couch to laying on top of him and squeezing half the air out of his lungs, but he was sure woken up by it. The first rays of the morning sun peeked through the blinds of the window, and highlighted the dust particles floating around in the room.

Simon was a steady weight on top of him. His breathing the only thing inconsistent from his otherwise still form. He reached out, smoothing his hands over the muscles of Simon's back, feeling him sigh further into his hold.

He was still awake then.

"Mornin' wee lad," Johnny whispered teasingly into Simon's ear, conveniently placed right next to him from how he was hiding his face in his neck.

Simon grumbled something unintelligible against Johnny's skin. "Shut it MacTavish..." was about the only thing he could make out of it. It was enough to incite a round of his personal infectious laughter.

The sheets were jumbled between both of their legs, creating an odd display of tangled limbs probably resembling some deformed eldritch horror from an outsider’s perspective.

"Didn't think ye would actually join me...thought ye didn't want affection when spider's around," Johnny mumbles cheekily yet still pulls the massive man even closer. He closes his eyes again, enjoying the weight on his chest, the comforting assurance he'd been craving for all too long.

"They're not here..."

Groggily, Johnny opens his eyes again to catch a peek of the other bed. Surely enough there was no form occupying it, the bed made with military precision. "Mh...got an early start then..." a way too early start even for his own standard.

"They barely sleep..." Simon grumbles and let's out a long huff, resigning to the fact he isn't falling back asleep anytime soon.

"Ye alright love...?" Johnny reaches up to rub his hand through Simon's short hair. A rare occasion for him to take off his mask, even here. Johnny would enjoy every second of it. With gentle movements he guides Simon's head a bit further up so he can place soft kisses to his face. Over his scars, his nose, his cheeks, his lips.

Simon let's out a sigh, lazily kissing him back. "M'fine...jus' exhausted," he did sound it.

Johnny nods quietly, pressing another kiss to his forehead. It had been a long time since they'd taken time just for themselves, their apartment was practically just sitting back collecting dust from how little they managed to actually use it.

"We should take a vacation when we're done here," Johnny suggests.

Simon doesn't get any time to reply before the door is thrown open. Johnny shoots an arm over his shoulders, to shield his face with his arm just in case. The both of them relax seeing Kyle's face linger in the doorway, he looked around the room settling on the two in a pile with a sigh.

"Would you two lovebirds get a move on," Kyle huffs and crosses his arms.

Johnny groans dramatically, making a show of how exhausting Kyle's request really is. "You could always just join us Garrick," he suggests instead, wiggling his eyebrows long enough to make both men groan.

"I'm good," Kyle shakes his head but can hardly hide the smile on his face, "any of you seen Spider? We can't find 'em."

"The fuck do ye mean ye can't find 'em, they can't have gotten that far out," Johnny paces around in the kitchen. His usual energy spiking at the odd occurrence of an unpredictable event. The facts were staring him the face. You were nowhere in the house, nowhere around the house, told nobody and left no note. You were just gone.

You wouldn't just have run away, would you?

He looks over at Simon. He'd put his mask back on, his eyes closed behind it. He still seemed half asleep, nursing a cup of hot tea in his hands.

"They could have gone to town, taking a look around and forgot to tell anyone?" Kyle throws one option on the table. He'd prepared breakfast for himself, sitting opposite of Simon munching down on it.

"We need tae go find them," Johnny says and rubs his nose. There's something uneasy settling in his system, not knowing where you are, what you were up to. He was sure you were capable, that you knew what you were doing, but you had told no one. Even if you were fine, there had to be some stern talk to make sure you wouldn't pull a stunt like this again. Not even Price was liking this at all.

And speaking of Price. Johnny's attention sharpens when the captain comes back into the kitchen. "Laswell heard nothing either, but she mentioned they talked of the mountains" Price shakes his head lightly. "They likely went for them, but we have the town to look into as well."

"We'll split up, cover more ground, they are likely fine on their own but I’d like to have a talk with them so bring them back. Ghost, Soap you take the surrounding area, follow the trail towards the foot of the mountains. Me and Gaz will take a visit to the town, sniff around and see what else we can figure out about this community."

Simon is already on the move, abandoning his still steaming tea at the table. Johnny is hot on his heels, refusing to let him go and make some stupid choice in the heat of it. He still didn't fully understand it. The lingering connection between the two of you, but he knew that it was important. He wasn't going to let him down.

"Listen up My Angel, this is one our newest members. My very own brother, Graham," The Father introduces you to the buffer man standing in front of you. He's taller than him, keeps a short buzzcut you've come to expect from anybody here. It didn't take long before it was enforced on both the men and women, didn't matter what anybody said to it.

The collective has grown significantly and fast. Michael even insisted on being called The Father. You didn't quite understand why. He never explained himself, merely enforced it like he enforced the haircuts. You guessed it was to keep a resemblance between him and God, but you found it more creepy than holy.

His connections expanded a lot more over a very short time. People from far and wide was informed about what you all did here, and they travelled all the way to join you. It was a great feeling. You quickly received a lot more responsibilities for the younger sheep, but you found a lot of the exercises were more cathartic than anything.

"It's good to meet you," Graham speaks your name with a cold indifference. He wasn't very interested in anything that wasn't his brother. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked expectantly at The Father.

You're distracted. That much is obvious to both men on either side of you. Despite doing your best to keep your focus, you keep drifting towards different thoughts. Your gaze continuously looking towards the gate where the mail picked up from town would usually come through.

It's been several weeks, almost two months.

Simon still hasn't answered you.

You felt The Fathers hand gently push against your back, guiding you forward. "Graham trains more unorthodox K9's," he explains while making sure to place you between the both of them, "he specialized in dogs and wolves before he transferred here."

"Don't oversell it Michael," Graham grumbles. He looks off to the side, observing the newer recruits running drills around a makeshift obstacle course.

The Father clears his throat. In all the time you've known him, you've never seen him even close to nervous. "Point remaining...he's going to...train you...afterwards you're going to help him train up the rest," he sounds as if he isn't sure. The final details not yet decided.

Your eyebrows furrow at that. You already have the formal training; you're learning rapidly from shadowing The Father and you don't think you're doing half bad. Still, you needed more training? What else did you have to learn?

"Don't worry your pretty head angel," his hand finds a firm grip on the back on your neck, "just be good, follow orders and everything will turn out just fine."

"Good, again."

Your head was spinning from the pain. He'd had you going for hours at a time, didn't let you stop till you lost consciousness. Your thighs ached, your heart pounding out of your chest. The objective was simple. Shoot the targets he'd set up.

You'd finally completed a full round, and Graham's expression hadn't even changed a bit. He didn't care.

It's not like he was making it any easier on you. Whatever medicine he'd shot into your blood at the start was starting to make your head throb. You could still see the broken glass of the syringe laying amidst the sand and dirt. It glinted in the lowering sunlight.

The wooden targets were starting to get this bad habit of taking form, of looking more and more like moving people. People with angry faces, people with hurtful words, people with guns and ill intent. Around them the shadows crept, licking up against the figures and swallowing them hole. You weren't given much time to question as you were flung through the obstacle course another time.

In the beginning he put on a song on a speaker. An older one, slow and rather beautiful, a love song you think.

It's been on loop ever since. He seems obsessed with it, humming along with the tune for the hundred time as you run through the course. You hit your targets with a shake in your arm, making you miss a few a couple of times. It staggers your progress, and it's like you can feel his displeased look in the back of your neck.

You keep going, shooting at the shadowy figures that remain stationary. He's not saying anything you don't think, but still, you can hear his comments in your ears.

Do better

You're better than this

Wrong

Follow my orders

You miss the last target, by a stroke of bad luck. The ground comes closer all too rapidly when your body decides to give out. It refused to remain standing, to continue the strain that could no longer be received properly.

You heave for air, your grip on the gun all too lose. It falls to the ground and you just manage to push it out of the way before you collapse all the way onto your back. The air is too warm for this, your body already drenched in sweat.

He comes to hover above you.

You don't have time to squirm away.

Graham pulls up your shirt, takes his knife and adds another cut next to the other five. Your scream falls on deaf ears. He was ruthless in his violence. He knew exactly where to cut, knew exactly how deep to make it so you'd lose blood without dying. He timed the seconds in your blood loss, he kept an obsessive eye on your movements, your expressions, until he knew your tells better than you did.

He was lethally precise.

Graham hauls you back up to your feet, shoving the gun back in your hand and turns you back to the obstacle course.

"Cull the herd."

Somewhere along the way, the vials became less mandatory. Mr. Graham stopped forcing them on you one random night. It should've relieved you, no longer being woken up before you normally did with violent movements and a syringe pressed into your skin, but the abrupt change dysregulates you.

You still didn't sleep easy, expecting to be unnaturally woken up by either Mr. Graham or The Father with whatever they had decided they needed from you. Not having the altering substance in your system started feeling weird. You began to crave it again, the precision you had with it, the strength and clearness in your mind. You missed how clearly your targets would be highlighted for you.

So, you started injecting it on your own.

Mr. Graham never objected to it. He supplied you whenever you were low with nothing more than a knowing smile and a strong hand on your shoulder. Whether he ever regretted it, he never told you, but he did notice the change in your mental state. The rapid decline like falling down a ladder, you'd grab unto it, try to save yourself, only for it throw you off once again.

At first, he didn't mind it, even gave you an extra length of patience whenever you'd start to space out outside of fighting, or when you'd take longer to process his words when things were too calm for you.

But then you started to get snappy, too eager for the fight your body ached for.

You hadn't even realized it was the wrong thing before you had done it. Maybe the day had been too long, maybe you were overworked, too tired. It didn't matter, it was you that fired the shot. You had taken the injection earlier than usual, double the dose so it would last until training.

As always, Mr. Graham had met you on the field but he wasn't alone this time. The Father, being ever so gracious, decided to observe you both this time. You had stood dutifully next to Mr. Graham, your head bowed, posture straight, your mind a strange mix of muddy and sharp. Shadows crept at the corner of your vision, making you twitch.

You felt unsteady. Your trigger finger twitching with an odd need to hunt, to expel the uncomfortable energy swirling in you, an energy that needed to be used. All the excess adrenaline seemed to even be noticed by The Father.

"Are you alright, My Angel?"

Mr. Graham gives you a look that's hard to discern. Like he's trying to figure out where on the scale you are from collapsing and going rabid. He gets his answer in the worst way he'd have wanted it.

Something too real moves in your vision, rounding the corner of a building. A small shadowed figure, too stark in the contrast of the white wall. It smiled cruelly, moved erratically and it triggered every sensor in your brain. You act without thinking.

A loud squeaking sound comes from the creature. It collapses to the ground like a dying animal. The shadows slink away revealing the silhouette of a dog, laying gasping on the ground, whimpering and clinging to the life you took from it.

None of them react at first.

Three pairs of eyes watching the life drain. One shocked, one calm, one furious.

You don't even hear the angry words coming out of Mr. Graham's mouth. Your world is spinning, your head is buzzing and you still haven't quite recognized what you had just done. Which of them you had just killed.

He grabs your arm, drags you along to no protest from The Father. You don't remember the way, or where he took you. You only remember the pain of being thrown into the dark room of stone walls. There's no window, no light, and nobody else.

"I'll come get you once you've learned to calm the fuck down."

Those words are all he leaves you with before closing the door. Your breathing is unsteady when you lean against the cold wall and slowly lower yourself to the ground. It's unnerving. You know they're there. They're always there. Watching you, taunting you, baiting you into doing something.

They didn't make noise before; they didn't talk before but now in the darkness they still feel the need to make their presence known.

Calm down calm down calm down

You don't know whether it's you or something else that keeps repeating it. Your heart rate elevates, your body starts to shake. You try to scream out for help but your lips don't move. You don't even hear the little whimpers coming from your throat.

They creep around in the dark. They inch closer. They caress your skin. They fester inside your head.

Spider?

You freeze up in your corner at the familiar voice inside your mind. You don't want to look because you know who you'll see.

"No no no no no no."

Your hands clutch around your head, pulling at your hair.

"Go away!"

I brought food

"No go away! Please! Don't- don't do this."

Go on, I could hear your growling stomach from the gate

"Please!"

I made it

"You're not- you're- not- not-"

Did you hurt yourself?

"Leave me alone! You're not real!"

Whenever you're ready, little Spider

The snow has a blinding purity that's always mesmerized you. It stains so easily, the slightest touch disturbs the perfectly laid coat, creating chaos in the pillows of comfort and sanity. You'd spent most of the morning, most of the day, trekking through that purity and soiling it with the dirt underneath your boots.

There had always been a specific kind of thrill in your chest when you defied orders directly given. A small part of you taken back in your own hands, for better or for worse. You used to thrive so well under watch and order. Even if that's not the case anymore, you'd really ought to listen to the words of your betters.

At least then maybe you wouldn't be here. Standing as still as a statue, having a staring contest with a wolf and its red eyes. They're terribly vibrant. Reminiscent of the blood you could spill now.

Your hand clutched around your gun, ready to move at the order of a split-second decision. You're not here to hunt, you have to remind yourself. Never mind the wolf, never mind your thoughts. It doesn't matter that you used to hunt with them, that they used to sniff out your target for you.

It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter it does-

The thing isn't even full grown. You'd have been more inclined to leave it alone if it wasn't for the bleeding cross running down it's snout. The red mixed with its fur in a beautiful symmetry. It's growling at you, you think. It makes you wonder if this is what your old targets used to feel when the wolves would corner them. Unlikely. They usually kept a face mixed with fear and hopelessness. Runaway members of the collective never lasted long under the knife.

There's a part of you that doesn't dare look away from it. The fatigue in your eyes almost do it for you, the snow around the creature makes it melt into the surroundings. The wolf was too focused, too interested in the way you looked, in the way you smelled.

He's still training them

They were likely right. If Mr. Graham was still alive, still with the collective, he'd be doing what he'd always been doing.

Cull the herd

Be the guide, the cold example

Cull the herd

And if that was the case, it wouldn't only be wolves lurking around out here. You'd need to relay this to Price, or Laswell, without rousing too much suspicion. It was a mere hunch, a feeling in your gut, but one you'd learnt to trust long ago.

You start to slowly move backwards, if you were tactical about it, you could still come out of this unscathed. Something flickers in the corner of your vision. All it takes is a moments distraction and the creature lunges at you.

The gunshot echoes in your ears. Your instincts took over, fired for you, and in a rare moment of luck you actually manage to hit. The wolf falls to the snow, its left eye is half gone and blood oozes out of it. The snow becomes dirty in its blood.

You take a step closer to it, observing the dead creature. The cross is gone. Something else flickers in the corner of your vision, something bigger and a lot faster. Luck doesn't strike twice, favouring others in a moment of misfortune.

Sharp teeth sink into your shin. You cry out, despite the second wolf only managing to hang onto more clothes than skin, it still penetrates. Scalding pain shoots up your leg. A second gunshot sounding out. You're not sure how you managed to hit it properly this close, but the wolf falls to the ground next to its mate.

You sink to the ground next to them, breathing heavily as if you'd run half a marathon. Your brain runs loops around itself trying to understand what had happened, why both of them had attacked like that, and why the bleeding crosses on their heads were no longer there.

Was it a trick from him? A trick of your mind?

It would take a lot for you to even attempt to call yourself sane any longer but this felt out of hand. Despite your own distorted reality, when it came to the cult you could usually rely on the rampant voices in your head. Were you really turning this paranoid?

With groans and sputters, you manage to move yourself around enough to take a look at your leg. It could've been worse; the damage wasn't deep but you wouldn't be making it to the mountains like this. You let out a curse to the heavens. You'd been so close to achieving your goal before somebody came looking for you, and now you'd have to backtrack.

You had the two options, and you knew you had to choose the boring one.

A higher pitched scream in the distance catches your attention, followed along with a loud splash and arguing not that far from you. The snow carried the sound a bit further than normal but it wouldn't be more than a minute’s walk from your location.

And just when you thought you could make your way back with no complications.

You hoist yourself back on your feet, letting out a hiss as your leg protests to the movement with more pain shot up all the way to your thigh. You lean on a nearby tree, perking your ears to listen to the nearby voices.

At first you can't make out what they're saying but...they're familiar.

Simon and Soap.

Your stomach drops.

Price must have sent them out to look for you. Part of you scolds yourself for not leaving some sort of note or message. No matter how elusive. At least then they might not have come out for you. You could've gotten further, if it hadn't been for the sake of those pesky wolves.

You run a hand over your face, the gloves taking some of the fallen snow off your eyebrows. You walk in the direction of their voices, using their argument to steer you in the right direction.

There was safety in numbers now that they were out here. You weren't keen on being mauled over by another pack of wolves.

"For fucks sake Johnny, I told you to watch where you're placing those feet of yours!"

"Not my fault the bloody stones are so slippery in this weather!"

"Bloody hell just get your arse up!"

You peek out between a set of bushes, the thicket giving you enough cover to observe the situation before you approached them. You tilt your head, your eyebrows turning a bit up in surprise at the sight.

Soap, coming out the water from one of the deeper creeks, completely wet.

Your lip twitches, and you feel the urge to bubble up with laughter. You don't know how he fell in, and you don't really need to know to see the entire event as hilarious.

"Bloody river, stupid weather, stupid snow" he grumbles angrily as he tries to dust off the water like it was a simple speck of dirt.

Simon sighs heavily, his entire gear moving along up and down with him. "You need to go back, gonna get hypothermia if you stay out here," he says sternly. There's concern laced in the order, but it's an undeniable order nonetheless.

"No way...am not letting you stay out here alone, Price told us tae look for 'em together," Soap protests.

"Don't need to look much further," you sigh and speak up.

You emerge from the thicket, startling the both of them at the same time. They're drawn guns are trained on you in an instant, and in return your own gun is trained on Soap. Force of habit and all that.

Simon relaxes when he gets a proper look at you. Soap following soon after.

"Good, you're not dead then" he speaks in a relieved manner. Did he really think you'd act that recklessly? Probably.

"You really think I'd let myself get killed over something that idiotic?"

He looks at you for a moment, but not because he needed to give it any thought. No, his eyes aren't displaying a complex need for that, because he knows the answer. He's giving you the chance to take it back, to explain the limp in your walk. You don't.

"No," he says just as sternly in the crass voice of his.

"Ghost is right," you say and turn towards soap and his half assed attempt at squeezing water out of his gear, "we need to get you back home...get you warmed up."

"Aye."

The entirety of the town is already giving Price the creeps. He's seen his fair share of things in his time, the awful, the creepy, the monstrous. But the feeling this town gives him? Unlike most things he's encountered.

There's no hostility, nothing but the purest of hospitality even for mere tourists. There's something wrong with the smiles, their incessant need to accommodate practically anything he asks for.

He opens the door to the car, holding the two coffee cups against his chest. Garrick reaches over, takes them from him when he gets himself comfortable in the front seat. "I think I got your order right...don't kill me if it isn't, got a bit distracted in line," Price grumbles and leans back in his seat.

Garrick takes a sip of his own, then handing back Price's cup to him. "It's just fine cap, thanks" he mumbles and drinks some more. He let's out a satisfied groan and relaxes back into the seat. "Despite how weird this place is, at least they know how to make coffee."

"Hm that we can agree on," Price takes a sip of his. It's not bad, but he's definitely had better. The shop he went to would do better serving tea on the menu as well.

He'd parked the car in one of the open parking lots, not many seemed to come here. Most of the day it remained practically empty except for the few people coming to and from town. They'd spent the last two hours walking through town, posing as the tourists they undeniable were today. They hadn't learnt much, except for the fact the locals remembered faces too well for comfort.

Though it was to be expected, the town wasn't too big.

"Walked by the church..." Price says with a sigh, "struck up conversation with a few of the locals changing up the sign outside."

"Got anything useful out of them?" Garrick asks as if he'd conducted a whole interrogation.

"They've got daily mass...but most people come on Sundays as to be expected," he tells him before taking another sip, "a few of us should attend on Sunday."

Garrick let's out a louder groan, likely already picking up what he's putting down. The man clearly didn't want to, but like anything else they'd do here in this town, it was all work. Just work.

Price takes another long gulp of his coffee. The energy barely ever worked for him these days, the stress getting to his bones. He looks out towards the bustling little market a bit further up the long road. There wasn't many, but most of them would come through the market at least once a day. Garrick had mentioned a few familiar faces he'd spoken to in his other trips to town.

"Captain, do you think they'll...." he goes quiet, hesitating to finish his question.

"They'll find them," Price says assuredly.

"That's not..."

The captain doesn't bother looking at him, gives him a moment to think his question through. "Speak your mind, Garrick," he urges.

"How much do we actually know about them?" he knows why he's asking. Price had his own doubts, his own concerns, when Laswell first presented your file on his desk and insisted this was the only way.

He hadn't fully shed his doubts yet.

"We know enough, sergeant" it's not the answer he wants nor the answer he needs but it's the answer Price has for him. He'd have to do more digging, for the safety of the team, for the prosperity of the mission itself. You were too big a mystery, one where the only thing he could rely on was Laswell's word.

"They've been helpful, they'll continue to be helpful, it'll have to be enough for now." Price adds on shortly after.

Garrick says nothing in return, simply continues to drink his coffee dissatisfied.

Price starts up the car, intending to have the rest of the way home in silence. And it was, much to his admiration. The sergeant could have a talkative tongue when he got excited about something, he'd think this whole situation would give him a few things to say.

Instead, it leaves him a quiet contemplating mess. Much like the rest of them.

He only ever speaks up in a low grumble when he sees the tip of the house revealing itself in the distance, only to render himself quiet once again.

The silence stretches on until Kyle sees the three figures bickering at the front door. "Isn't that..." he trails out as he realizes they probably don't have the key for the home. He does his best at holding back his laughter. It earns him a side glare from Price.

"Seems like they found 'em."

Price turns the car around and parks it in its usual spot next to the temporary home. "The fuck happened to you?!" Garrick says bemused by the sight of Soap.

Price does raise a questioning brow as he exits the car after Garrick. They were only supposed to go get Spider, why the man was wet as a dog was lost on him.

"Fell in the river..." Soap grumbles.

Garrick fails to hold in his laughter this time around, snorting on the spot. "I know you like water but maybe you should stay away from the literal ice water mate," he claps Soap on the back a few times.

Soap pushes him away annoyed, "agh away n' bile yer heid!"

Price rolls his eyes, pushing past the two to unlock the front door. As soon as it's open, you dart past him to head inside in the warmth with a surprising urgency. He looks to Simon, coming to stand beside him to move inside as well.

"They're fine...mostly fine...we're all fine," he assures him.

He eyes you suspiciously. His boys might've said you were fine, you might've said you were fine to them. Little observation told him that your limping leg wasn't all that fucking fine.

He followed you out back, the rest remaining in the living room to keep MacTavish warm. "Spider, slow it up" he spoke up causing you to freeze in place. He walked with steady steps until he could place himself in front of you.

"Come, I need to talk to you, and we need to take a look at that," he gestures to the leg that has a stained pantleg. He turns back around to walk to his and Garrick's room. He doesn't bother looking back to see if you're following, he has a deep-rooted feeling that you will.

You may be a rulebreaker when you get the confidence, but there's still obedience in you. From where he doesn't understand just yet, but it doesn't take all of his wisdom to gather a lot went down when you were hunting the cult on your own.

He holds the door open for you. Your eyes meet as you make your way inside, there's that stubbornness he's used to seeing in Simon. "Sit," he points to one of the beds pressed into the corner while he closes the door.

You do as he says, your voice stuck in your throat. He rummages through the cabinets, finds the first aid kit he always saved a few of. He didn't even need to tell you to roll up your pantleg, you'd taken the hint way before.

The wounds weren't deep, but whatever you'd been bitten by had been out to be vicious. "You'll need to get a doctor to look at this...lucky for you the town's got a local practice."

You tense up at that, dodge his touch as he tries to keep your leg steady enough to clean. "It's fine..." you say hastily, "It just needs to be cleaned I don't need to see anyone."

"Yes you do and that's an order," Price is stern in his voice.

One thing was to go out of your way to disobey the laid-out deal between the two of you, to run away to look for clues on your own, but this? He wasn't about to let you walk about with an injury that'll make you hurt yourself even more.

You go quiet at that. It's enough for him to grab your calf and put a wet rag against your wound. You flinch but make no sound. Your muscles are tense under his grip and your eyes shut tight.

He allows you the moment of silence, understanding the discomfort of it. He doubted you'd be able to answer anything if he even asked you right now. He cleans off the excess blood, checking the toughness of the teeth punctures. It wasn't as serious as it looked, but you still needed a checkup, he wasn't changing his mind about that.

He removes the rag, and binds the wound. "Did you find anything?" he doesn't look at you as he asks, merely focusing on cleaning up the opened supplies.

"No..." you speak in a low whisper; he wouldn't have heard unless he was this close.

You don't elaborate, and he doesn't find the energy in him to ask.

"Next time you want to go on an adventure like that you take someone with you, or at the very least inform me," he's back to speaking sternly, the voice of a captain that's been carefully crafted over the years in service.

"I can't have rogue soldiers running around, is that understood?" he looks up to catch your eyes.

You hold his stare with an uncomfortable intensity, trying to be as intimidating as he is.

"Yes sir."

He pats your calf, tugging down your pant leg once again. That time you held back your flinch, but it was obvious in your eyes to him. He takes a moment to observe you, trying to dig through your rougher exterior, to see if you were really softer under in it all.

Had you been soft once?

He calls your name in a quiet voice, makes a point to use a softer voice with rounder edges.

"There's parts of your file not even I have access to," he starts slow, careful, then pauses. You're wary of him, more than the others. He chalks it up to his authority over you, the one you can't quite find your place underneath.

"What's haunting you that much...that you won't even let me in on surprise plans...we're all a team here we-"

You rise from your seat with no warning. You're quick to make your way around him, careful to not step on any of the scattered things on the floor. He doesn't stop you nor does he continue what he was about to pry out of you.

He understands in some underhanded way. He'd dealt with Simon a lot longer than he'd dealt with you. There were undeniable similarities yet still something entirely different between the two.

"You'll go to town first thing tomorrow morning, I'll get Ghost to take you" he speaks up from his seat on the floor. You stop somewhere close to the door, listening to his words, his order. You don't answer him, but he knows you heard him, that you'll heed him this once.

You leave the room, closing the door with a care for potential noise.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @lilynotdilly @spicyspicyliving @kaoyamamegami @ellabellabunny123 @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @haipasa

27 notes · View notes

lemotmo · 3 days

Note

I'm not sure how you feel about getting these anymore but I thought this was hilarious so wanted to share for you at least to read even if you don't want to post. 😊

Q. I really was trying to hold onto the belief that the show wasn't going to make Eddie gay but it's really hard to see what other storyline is possible given those latest Ryan interviews. I would love to say gay or not the show would just keep Buck and Eddie as platonic best friends but there is zero chance of the show not pairing them together. They really did just use my man as filler until they were ready to tell the Eddie story. That's so gross.

A. Well, anon that's the point of a plot device. Their only reason for being is to move a larger story forward. By definition their filler characters. They have no individual significance or purpose. Their purpose is the story they're being used in. I've been telling you this for months now. Many of us have. He was never going to be anything more than a plot device. The show wasn't subtle about it either. It's been pretty much a connect the dots picture of plot device usage. Go back and watch his scenes in season 7 with this new found realization and I promise it will not be hard to see. And I agree, especially with the context the latest Ryan interviews gave, there's really not any other story it could be. He also confirmed they're not turning him into the new Bobby, and he's not siding with Gerard. So it was nice of him to debunk the latest round of ridiculous takes during the interview. If I could offer you a suggestion though I would encourage you to give the story a chance. If you pay attention to Eddie, and not your fandom people telling you to hate him, you will like him. After all there's a reason you all tried to hijack his entire backstory and history for Tommy. Let yourself enjoy the character those things actually belong too. Let yourself enjoy the actual story.

Oh Nonny! I feel joyous and happy whenever I get another of these posts in my ask box. While I'm asking people to not ask Ali any questions through my blog, I'm still perfectly happy posting her asks here. 😋

Especially since, for most of us, this is the only way to read Ali's posts and we do love her posts very much. So don't hesitate to drop something in my ask box. The only things I don't post about are the direct posts about the BT fandom, but Ali has told me she isn't replying to those posts anymore anyway, so that eliminates that problem.

As for the ask itself...

Yeah, so many of us have been saying this since day one. Tommy was only ever there to help Buck out of that closet. He was never really meant to be anything more than that. Sure, the change of the storyline because of the early renewal, gave Tommy some more time on the show, but that's where it ends.

So yeah, going back to rewatch the previous seasons, knowing what you know now? It will change the way you see Eddie and Eddie and Buck's friendship and maybe you'll find some joy in them. Just let it happen.

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

#anonymous blog I love #Ali's nonnies #season 8 speculation #911 speculation #eddie diaz speculation #buddie speculation #nonnies galore

28 notes · View notes

lousypotatoes · 2 days

Text

I've Got A Smile On My Face

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10 Pt. 11

Song Recommendation:

Always - Irving Berlin

Warning! This chapter contains depictions of panic attacks, and graphic violence! If this triggers you or makes you uncomfy in any way shape or form, please read with caution.

90 years ago...

It had been six months since Alastor kissed Y/N on her front porch. As expected, the two of them were now an item.

During the span of those six months, everything was absolutely perfect. The flower shop was thriving, Alastor's radio show was more popular than ever, Jasper didn't come by the shop since their interaction, and most importantly, Alastor and Y/N were so very much in love, Y/N felt that she fell more in love with him every time she saw him.

The only thing she didn't like about their relationship was the big secret she had to keep from him.

There were times that she oh so badly wanted to tell Alastor that her real job was killing people, and that running the flower shop was a cover up, but she was terrified that he was going to be disgusted with her, and leave her.

And Y/N didn't know what she would do if Alastor left.

It was mid afternoon, almost noon. The weather outside was very rainy and very stormy. Y/N was arranging the shelves, making sure the flower buds were facing the front.

It always annoyed her when customers would look at flowers and not put them back the correct way.

When she was done, she walked to the register and counted the money.

She sighed. Business was very slow that day, obviously because of the rain. She had almost considered closing the shop up early and going home, but felt it was better to just stay, just in case any customers came in after the rain cleared up.

Sitting down the chair behind the counter, Y/N put her head in her hands, bored as ever.

Hopefully Alastor would come and visit her. He always did, but Y/N thought he might not today obviously because of the stormy weather.

To her surprise and delight, she heard the bell ring, signaling that there was a customer.

"Hello can I help yo-Alastor!"

"Hello, my love," Alastor said, swooping down to catch Y/N in a kiss.

Y/N would never get tired of kissing Alastor, no matter how many time she did kiss him. It was like magic every time.

"How has your day been?" Alastor asked as he pulled away.

"Very slow, but much better now that you're here," Y/N smiled. "How was yours?"

"As slow as molasses," Alastor sighed. "I had to cancel all my broadcasts today because of this damn weather."

"Oh, that's a shame," she said. "It seems like this weather is bringin' everybody down."

"You can say that again," he said. "You thinking of heading home early?"

"I was thinkin' 'bout it," she replied. "I think I'll stick around for a few more hours."

"Well, if you're not busy tonight," Alastor said, grabbing onto her hips. "How about dinner at my place?"

"Depends," Y/N said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Are you gonna be the one cookin'?"

"Of course," he chuckled.

"Then I'll have to take a rain check on that," she giggled. "Dinner sounds nice, what time should I swing by?"

"I prefer around six," Alastor answered..

"Six it is," Y/N said. "You gonna head back home?"

"I suppose so, yes. I gotta tidy up a bit."

"All that for me?"

"Only the best for you, my dear," Alastor said, sincere. "I'll catch you later tonight."

"Aw, alright," Y/N pouted. "If I ain't there by at least seven, you better come and get me and drag me back to your place."

"Alright, I will, I promise," he laughed before leaning down and placing his lips on Y/N's.

The kiss was sweet and loving, as it always was. The way their lips perfectly molded against each other, like they were made for each other, made Y/N's heart feel like it was about to burst.

The only reason they broke apart was so they could breath air.

If Y/N could, she would make Alastor her air.

"Goodbye, Al," she smiled up at him. "I love you."

"I love you most," he said, before letting go of her.

He gave her one more smile before walking out of the shop, the bell ringing, signaling his leave.

Y/N walked back behind the counter, a dreamy smile on her face.

"I'm going to marry that man someday," she dreamily said to herself.

Even though it was rainy and story outside, nothing could ruin this perfect day.

It was 5:45 in the evening. Y/N was counting the money in the register for the twelfth time that day.

Besides Alastor, only three other people came in the shop that day.

Screw the rainy weather. No one even likes rain that much anyway.

Looking up at the clock, Y/N decided that she was going to stop working, and head over to Alastor's

Going into the back room, she put the money into a safe under a fake floorboard, checked her nightly schedule for that week (thankfully she only had to kill two people that week), and grabbed her umbrella and her raincoat, preparing to go into the cold rainy weather.

Walking out of the back room, she was stopped dead in her tracks, a look of fear and despair on her face.

"J-Jasper," she choked. "What are you doin' here?"

The two of them hadn't interacted since the incident in the flower shop six months ago. Y/N had hoped that Jasper had taken the hint and decided to leave her alone.

But this was Jasper we're talking about, and things never were easy with him, no matter how big or small the situation was.

"Just came to say hi," he said, a sadistic and gleeful smile on his face. He was holding something behind his back, but Y/N didn't know what.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, thought we could catch up a bit."

He started to walk closer to Y/N, she started to back up.

"So now you're with that mama's boy, Alastor Altruist, huh?" he said, still grinning. "Didn't think you would be into a weirdo like that, but oh well."

Y/N didn't say anything, too frozen in fear to say a single word.

Jasper then revealed what was behind his back. It was a long, thin, razor sharp blade, the kind that Y/N would use when she didn't feel like using any of her guns.

If you wanted to kill someone real quick, you would use a blade like the one Jasper had.

Y/N's eyes widened in fear and terror.

She had a small pistol in her office, but there was no way she was going to be able to get it without putting up a fight.

"Y'know darling," he drawled, creeping very slowly towards her. "I didn't quite like the things you said to me the last time we talked.

Y/N gulped, slowly inching herself towards a shelf holding a dozen flower vases.

Jasper didn't notice. "Not gonna say anything, huh?" he asked, eyes glinting sinisterly.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm just gonna spill your fuckin' guts out."

Jasper lunged at Y/N, ready to strike.

Quickly, Y/N grabbed one of the vases on the shelf, and smashed it over Jasper's head, glass shards and flowers going everywhere all over the floor.

"You bitch!" Jasper snarled. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, clutching his bleeding head.

Y/N took this opportunity to try and run out of the front door.

She decided that it was stupid if she locked herself in her back room. If she ran out the front door, she could just run to the nearest public place and get help.

She was just a few feet from the door, when Jasper grabbed onto her wrist, twisting it hard.

Y/N turned around and was getting ready to punch him in the jaw, but that was replaced with a cry of pain and anguish.

Jasper had stabbed Y/N in the stomach, just above where her belly button was.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and fear, crying out again when Jasper stabbed her a second time.

"How does that feel?" he whispered. "Doesn't feel too good does it?"

"F-" Y/N stuttered. "Fuck you!"

With a snarl, Jasper stabbed her in the shoulder.

Blood was oozing out of all three of her stab wounds, staining both her and Jasper's clothes, and staining the white marble tile.

Jasper dragged her away, propping her in a siting position behind the counter.

"No one's gonna find you right here," he smirked. "Besides, you'll die in at least thirty minutes anyway."

Y/N knew that wasn't right, but didn't say anything, scared out of her mind.

What was she going to do?

She wasn't ready to die.

She didn't want to die.

What would happen to her shop?

What would happen to precious dog, Honey?

What would happen to Alastor?

As one last 'fuck you', Jasper bent down, kissed Y/N's sweaty forehead, and walked out the front door, the bell chiming.

As soon as he left, Y/N tried to get off the ground. She tried at least five times. But each time she tried, she failed, she fell back onto the ground with a painful wail.

After the fifth time, she stared up at the ceiling, wondering what would happen when someone found her body.

Maybe this was karma for all the people she had killed over the fifteen years she had been an assassin, she thought.

As Y/N thought about it more, she actually didn't feel like she was going to die. Yes, it was painful, but it just felt like she hadn't had any sleep in a really long time.

And she really wanted to sleep.

She looked up at the clock. It was 5:58.

She laughed dryly. If only she had left a little bit earlier, even if it was just a minute, she wouldn't of been on the floor bleeding out.

With one last sigh coming out of her mouth, she closed her eyes, succumbing to the darkness, and passed out thinking about Alastor and her dog.

In no way she was ready to die, or wanted to, but she accepted that there was nothing she could do, and that this was karma.

She deserved to die, she thought

CLIFFHANGER

i wont be uploading any time this weekend or next weekend because i'll be in disneyland

i'm so excited

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

Taglist 💋

@maksdust @trippoverrt @slytherin4ever @lucifers-silhouette @a-small-tyrant

@mo-0-o @cutiebimbo @mommymilkers0526 @mikariell95 @al-of-the-stars

@martinys-world @bibliophile-yomna @mysticwitchcraftco @notsoaverageguy-1997 @flamewriterr

#character x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor altruist #alastor x reader #alastor altruist x reader

27 notes · View notes