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reiderwriter · 3 months

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Okay so I have a small req (Honestly this is more of an hc than anything-but I need to share cuz vshvskhbjks) I feel like Spencer is genuinely so perverted when it comes to his girlfriend??? like if you leave your panties lying around he IS swiping them and he is not ashamed like...he may not do much in public but in private he will grab a handful of your ass or tits when he can like.....In the early seasons, I feel like he'd be a little ashamed but s13+? hell no, especially when it comes to him getting caught being a lil perv gfkjk (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF IT ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA!!!!)

A/N; Gave this one some ✨️angst✨️ just because I could, but YES TO PERVERTED SPENCER!! YES INDEED!!

Summary; You get to know your coworker well after a decade on the job. You get to know just how much he loves to touch you and just how much you enjoy his hands on you as well. But after prison, something is changed in Spencer Reid.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Minors DNI. Masturbation (M, F), oral sex (F), hand job, mentions of somewhat public indecency, groping, grinding, etc, unprotected sex, PinV, creampie, dirty talk.

Spencer Reid had always been a pervert, and it took you six long, quiet months to figure that out.

When you'd joined the BAU after years of begging for a chance, you were a team expecting field-hardened agents, and for the most part, that's what you'd got. Hotchner was as bureaucratic as they came, Rossi had been at the institution as long as the concept of the BAU had, and the others had some serious qualifications to their names.

But Spencer Reid was the outlier. He was a bit timid in front of the others, always seemed to put his foot in his mouth when it mattered most and seemed to be patronized around the office a bit until it came to his intellect.

And you didn't quite know how to act around him until you got to know him very, very well.

A case in some state or the other had called for emergency motel rooms, unfortunate as some Nascar show or the other was rapidly filling up hotel room spaces everywhere. So, as the two youngest members of the team (and by far the most eager to please), you'd ended up rooming together in a double twin room.

“So, Spencer, what do you do at night to wind down? Relax after a case?” The motel door had swung shut loudly behind you an awkward three minutes before you started the conversation, and you needed something to break the awkward tension in the room.

“I… read, I guess?”

“You're always reading. What book is it today? Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy? Maybe Dickens?”

In response, he'd just awkwardly held up the book cover for a minute, leaving you to nod and let the conversation peter out. It wasn't the first time one of your conversations with him died out due to a mutual lack of skill, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Giving in, you grabbed your bag and headed for the small bathroom, a strategic retreat to pass the time without having to acknowledge that the teams resident genius was ignoring you.

Because he definitely was.

You'd been on the team for six months, and you couldn't quite figure out why he'd never so much as asked you how your day was. He'd be jovially talking with one agent or the other and would clam up as soon as you joined into the fray.

Spencer Reid was stuck in his shell, you'd been told. He was someone who didn't open up very easily, especially after his first few, very rough years in the BAU.

You let each concern roll off your back as you showered and cleaned yourself up after a day of dumpster diving for clues. Your next aim was getting out of the shower, dried, and into bed before you felt the weight of his disinterest in you settle any heavier.

“Hey I'm all done now, and I'm gonna hit the hay, so bathrooms all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said and immediately strode in, shutting the door behind him without another word.

You wished you could shake the man. You weren't exactly used to being so pointedly avoided by a peer, and it was honestly making you feel rather indignant. You wanted to grab his attention and hold it any way you could, so much so that your palms started itching.

The sounds of Spencer's shower interrupted your attempts to rest, so you set about organizing your things instead. Folding your shirts, you placed them in your go bag, taking inventory on how many fresh outfits you had left and how much laundry you'd have left to do when the case ended.

It could've been the haze of sleep, or perhaps just an early warning bell, but no matter how many times you counted, you always came up short by one pair of panties. It took another minute of blinking out the sleep in your eyes, becoming suddenly alert again, that you realized it was the pair of panties you'd been wearing before your shower.

“Fuck,” you sighed, trying to fill the deep pit of embarrassment opening in your stomach before it swallowed you from the inside out. “Fuck.”

When in doubt, you found it best to curse at least twice.

And just like that your coherent thoughts went out the window - a morning, afternoon and evening doing manual labor under the guise of a nice desk job would do that to any girl - and you found yourself opening the door to the bathroom without knocking first or even remembering Spencer Reid's presence in the room at all.

He froze in shock as you came face to face with him, shirt and pants open, his long cock in his hands and his face flushed with erotic shock as he rubbed up and down the length of his cock.

“Shit, fuck, Spencer I'm sorry I was- are those my panties?”

Rather unabashedly, your eyes hadn't left his crotch as he froze in fear at your intrusion.

“I'm not a pervert!” He shouted, still unable to let his dick go, so close to bliss as he was.

“You're madturbating into my panties, Spencer. What other label would you put on that?”

“You're really hot. It's hard to ignore. I don't usually do this, but they were in here on the floor, and I thought about taking them back out to you, but then you'd think I was a pervert for touching your underwear and then I imagined you thanking me and putting them back on right in front of me and my cock was so hard and you said you were going to sleep. Did you know most men masturbate eight times a week on average? Me doing this once while sharing a room with you for a week isn't statistically …that …bad. Why are you doing that?”

You'd been done listening halfway through and had somehow found yourself sinking to your knees. He'd rested his body against the bathroom sink, so you organized yourself in front of him, staring up at him innocently as you wrapped your fingers around his hand.

“I want to see what it was you were doing with my panties, Spencer,” You moved his hand up and down his length, slowly dragging the lacy material across each inch. “Please let me see.”

The empty shower kept flowing and the room was thick with steam as you kept up a steady pace rubbing up and downs Spencer's cock.

A sense of achievement hit you with each moan and gasp he let out. Every time his hips thrust up into your hand, each time his hand stroked your hair in thanks for your copious attention.

You'd finally gotten through to Spencer Reid in a way that you were about to make sure was mutually beneficial.

His moans got louder and harder to conceal with a bite of the lip as he got closer to cumming. He really was a pervert, letting his coworker jerk him off in a motel bathroom while on a case. He was practically begging for release.

“Cum for me Spencer. Make my face pretty, please please please.”

His eyes shot open wide as you stuck your tongue out, just in time to taste his cum on your lips. A few stray ropes hit your chin and cheek as well, with the majority staining the panties you'd come in to search for.

“Thank you, Spencer,” You giggled, wiping away his cum and standing yourself up to come face to face with him.

“Y/N, it won't-” You cut him off with a kiss that he eagerly returned hands, falling all over your body in his haste to feel every part of you. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he was a cartographer mapping out its caverns, desperate to learn each soft caress you returned off by heart.

“If you were about to say it won't happen again, I suggest you think again, Spencer. I want this to happen again. Regularly.”

You shut off the shower and turned on your heel, walking back out to the bedroom and out of the heat for a few minutes.

“You want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“And I'm the pervert?”

“You were using my panties and your hand like a fleshlight, Spencer. Yes, you are a pervert.”

“I'm a pervert but you still want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

That's how it began. Your decade-long escapade with Spencer Reid. It wasn't that you dated. He was still unsure about how to approach you for another few months after that, but there was nothing like the relaxation of a few orgasms to really help you warm up to somebody.

For the first few years, a case didn't pass without one of you slipping into the others motel room for some late night entertainment.

You knew just how deep his fingers could hit inside you after only two weeks. You became obsessed with how well his cock could stretch you out, how his hands would gently rub around your clit in circles while you bounced up and down on his length. How he watched your breasts bounce with untold wonder in his eyes.

You most of all loved that his tongue was as eager to taste you as you had been that very first time to taste his cum.

Half the times he let himself into your room, he'd satisfy himself by eating you out lazily for hours on end, making you moan his name while you came on his fingers and tongue. Every flash of violet that he caught a glimpse of - that first pair of panties - drove him crazy.

Motels and hotels and once the back seat of an SUV after a long drive became your time to get closer to your coworker. You never once thought of bringing this physical relationship home with you, though, and it wasn't a continuous thing.

You'd had to take it easy when he got shot in the leg, not wanting to hurt him anymore. And again, when he'd gotten shot in the neck, though a few times he'd begged you to close his hospital door and help him out still.

And you'd both distanced yourself after Emily's death and miraculous resurrection. Surprisingly enough, you'd found your heart slightly twisted when he'd begged the team for help rescuing his girlfriend from a stalker.

But you always found your way back in his bed with his tongue pressed against yours and his cock buried as deep into you as far as it could go. In the decade you'd been sleeping with the secretly perverted and somewhat insatiable Spencer Reid you'd never gone longer than three months without his body in your bed.

Until he went to prison.

The weight of your grief at losing him was unparalleled. You'd been heartbroken when Emily had died, but it paled in comparison to the thought of his isolation. Penelope had to remind you to eat, Luke had to engage you in conversation to keep you talking.

Emily slipped a spare key to Reid's apartment to you somewhere around the three week mark, and you'd let yourself into a place you'd only ever heard described. You slept in his bed to feel his scent wrapped around you, touched yourself there to remind yourself that you were just feeling the loss of a sexual partner and friend and nothing more. It was lust and sexual frustration driving your depression. That was all.

Spencer came out different. Everyone did. On the surface, he was still kind, still a little bit nerdy, and he still wasn't the best at reading social cues, but there was an intensity to him that wasn't there before.

On cases, he'd wrap a hand around your waist and push a hand just slightly under your shirt while you introduced yourself to local detectives. He'd hug you at the end of every work day, breathing in your scent and telling you how tired he was.

His hand would firmly cover your thigh and not move the entire duration of any car ride, team dinner or family event, and he'd kiss the back of your neck and grope your breasts each and every elevator ride you took alone together.

Spencer Reid hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you for six whole months, and yet he hadn't actually touched you.

Every time you'd knocked on his motel door, he'd not opened it, and he hadn't once come to yours.

You'd expected him every day for a week after he'd first gotten out and had even explicitly told him so. You texted your address, invited him over, and sent him pictures of you in those infernal panties that you really didn't wear that often anymore.

He desired you still, you knew enough from brushing past him and feeling his semi push against your ass, you knew in every hug where he touched you just enough to know he wanted more but still had the control to pull away.

You knew that he only kissed your neck, because if he kissed your lips his tongue would wander all the way to your cunt and he'd be on his knees between yours making you scream his name in pleasure.

Spencer Reid wanted to avoid you, but he still wanted you, and after six months of celibacy you were tired of waiting around for him to finally crack.

Emily had never asked for the spare key back. With 10 years of dalliances under your belt, you were sure the entire office had caught on, if not before prison, then certainly after his hands took possession of your body after his release. She wasn't going to ask for the key back because that was like asking a question she probably would sleep better without having the answer to.

Spencer started his professorial work, and you finished some nights before he could manage the commute home, so it was easy to let yourself into his apartment for the confrontation.

When Spencer finally turned his key in the lock, he found you there on your knees on the floor in a matching violet set of lingerie. Not your originals, but certainly close enough - smaller, though.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I'm just sitting here in my underwear for fun, Spencer. You should try it sometime.”

He frowned at your sarcastic reply but stepped closer to you, topping your head up to meet his gaze with a quick flick of his finger.

“I mean it, Y/N. Why are you here?”

“I…I want you to touch me again.”

“I touch you plenty, Y/N. I touch you here,” he traced your lips.

“And here.” His fingers fell to your neck, sweeping some hair off your shoulders.

“And a lot here, too.” He cupped one breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze, and you let your head rest against his thigh as he slipped a finger into your bralette.

“I want you to touch me more, Spencer.”

“How? How should I touch you? Be a little pervert for me and tell me, Y/N?”

Your breathing faltered for a second as he pinched your nipple and you bit your lip before you told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I want to feel your dick buried deep in my pussy. I want to cum on your tongue. I want you to stretch me out with your fingers and I want you to fill me up with your cum. Please, Spencer, I miss you so much.”

He said nothing but withdrew his hand from your chest and distanced himself slightly, turning his face away from you.

“Spencer, please, what's wrong? Did I do something-”

“Do you miss me? Or do you miss fucking me?” The words would regularly send you into an indignant stomp, and part of you was still begging you to let out a shout of “what the hell is that supposed to mean.”

But Spencer was frozen still in the doorway of his house, almost statuesque as a melancholic look overwhelmed his features.

Your courage drained your body as you stood up and pulled the shirt you'd earlier discarded back on.

“Spencer? Look at me, please.”

He did reluctantly, and that blank expression still filled his eyes with gloom.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, sitting him down and wrapping yourself around him.

You say there, head pressed into his neck, legs straddling him as his arms slowly came up to pulling you back in. Your heart beat harder by the second, and you counted down the minutes as you worked up courage.

“I missed you so much I drove myself insane. I had to sleep here for a week straight after they told me you were put in solitary. Every day, I thought of your hands on my body and how much I missed seeing your fingers flipping through a book on the jet. I missed asking you what you were reading, and I missed convincing you to put the book down.”

You pulled your head up to meet his gaze and slowly let your mouth fall to his lips. It was slow, soft. An innocent peck in the context of your usual caresses. It spoke the words I miss you more effectively than your voice could, and neither of you seemed to want to part from the warm embrace.

“I missed you, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, cutting off your kiss as you grew more impassioned by his touch, breathing harder and speaking faster and faster now as you kept on.

“I missed you when you came back because you kept your hands on me. You let yourself enjoy my body in public but wouldn't let me share your bed in private. You hugged me, but you wouldn't let me hold you, and you have not once spoken about how you feel, you have not once told me that you are okay now or that you are not okay and you need my shoulder to cry on.”

He was silent until your tears sprung forth, and then he was everywhere around you, kissing the drops from your face, shushing you and whispering words of encouragement and thanks and love into your ears while he placated your breaking heart.

Because somehow you fell in love with the pervert who stole your panties and now you were sitting in a room with a mostly broken man, begging him to use you to feel whole again.

“I love you, Spencer. Please, please let me touch you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, hands finding your hips again as he finally pushed his tongue into your mouth.

His nails bit into the skin at your thighs as he forced you not to move, instead grinding up into you after another heated kiss.

“It was hard, but you kept me going. Memories of you, your mouth, your scent your wet cunt wrapped around my cock, you kept me alive in that place.” He worked you up with each dirty confession as his hands pushed the shirt back off your shoulders and bared the lingerie to him once again.

“Then I was out, and you were still the same as I remembered, but I was different, and I needed more from you. But I couldn't take more, and I didn't want to ask you to give more because I could not beg one more person to love me.”

“You don't have to beg, Spencer, I love you already, I love you I love you I love you.”

“Y/N, you don't understand. I am completely enamoured with you. I want to possess you, I want to keep you in my room, I want to have a hand on you at all times. I want to put a bullet in any man who looks at you because you are mine. I'm not a pervert, I'm a monster, and I'm going to hurt you.”

“Possess me, hurt me, keep me, Spencer, do whatever you want to me, I will let you. Just please don't leave me.”

Your teeth clicked together in his haste to recapture your lips again, his cock hard and already sprung from his pants thanks to two pairs of quick working hands.

He pushed aside your panties, and he was inside you, pressed to the hilt recapturing the place that was home to him.

“You picked this color for me. You wanted me to lose control and fuck you and you got what you wanted,” he whispered in your ear as you locked your ankles together behind his back.

“I did.”

“Good. I'm going to rip them shred by shred from your body so nobody else can see you acting like such a desperate wet cunt ever again.”

You let out a gasp at his words, and his tongue dropped back down your throat as he rutted into you ferociously.

“Spencer, yes, fuck me. FUCK!”

Your hips met his in a furious clash, his hand making their way around to your butt cheek as he aided your thrusting, pulling you up and down the length of his cock.

“That's it, look at your boobs bouncing for me, sweetheart. Your body knows when it's being fucked right, it knows when I'm here, and I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right baby?”

“Yes, Spencer. Yes!”

His hand came back up to your clit as you met his hips more enthusiastically than before, fucking yourself on the length of him.

“You're going to cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me, missed this.”

“So much, missed you so much, Spence….need your cum inside me, fill me up Spencer, please."

It took both of you only a few more desperate thrusts to reach the climax you'd waited half a year for. You convulsed on his dick, shuddering underneath him as he filled you with rope after rope of cum.

But when you had both caught your breath, you still didn't let go, still holding on to him desperately as of he'd vanidj in another second despite your confessions.

“Y/N…” he cooked into your ear as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y/N, we need to get you to bed.”

“I'm not leaving.”

“No, you're not. But you're not sleeping on my couch either.”

You pulled away just enough to watch his face as he dipped down for another sweetly chaste kiss.

Lifting himself up, and pulling his cock out of you, you whimpered a little at the loss of his warmth, but after rearranging himself in his pants, he pulled you up next to him and wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug as he slowly walked you back towards his bedroom.

“You really slept at my apartment?”

“I slept in your bed. I'm sorry, I know it was overstepping, but you were gone and I-”

“Missed me, I know.” His hands traced your spine again before cupping around your bare ass and hooking it under to touch your soaked cunt.

“How much did you miss me, Y/N? How did you spend your nights here?” His fingers once again hooked under the panties, but instead of pulling them to the side, he quickly pulled at the seams, and you heard a ripping sound aa his eyes demanded the answer to your question.

“Close the door, and I'll shoe you exactly what I did here, Spencer. I'll show you everything.’

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n

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rafetopia · 5 months

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𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

-𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!kook!reader

genre: smut & angst -> 18+!!

words: ~3k

warnings: dom!rafe & subby reader, prison sex, “public” sex in a sense you can be possibly watched and heard, (slight) daddy kink, (sexual) choking, hair pulling, blackmailing, bribery, mentions of an affair (not r & r), fingering, slight handjob, mentions of violence and tiny teeny bit of soft!rafe

summary: you visit your fiancé in jail after his arrest

note: i want to say big thank you to @rafesthroatbaby for giving me this wonderful idea (i really hope i did it justice) and to @rvfecamerons for beta reading and helping me improving this piece!!! love you guys to pieces!!

The moment you walked through the doors of the Kildare's Detention Center, you had all eyes on you. The way your cute little summer dress hugged your curves and emphasized your tits, combined with the pastel pink heels and the way you were carrying yourself, was just impossible for anyone to miss. You pulled out your phone and opened your camera, using it as a mirror to apply your lipstick. When your gaze met one of the officers, you gave him a genuine but exaggerated smile, before making your way over to him, making sure to swing your hips a little bit more than usual.

“Good afternoon, officer.” You smirked. “I’m here to see Rafe Cameron.”

“Mr. Cameron isn’t allowed any visitors. Have a nice day.” He bluntly spoke, not interested in any further interaction.

“Oh, but he sure is.” You smiled innocently, before leaning over the counter until you were really close to the man in front of you. “And you’re gonna let me see him.”

“And why is that?”

You smiled devilishly, as leaned towards the man, now only inches away from his face. “Because I’m sure you know who my family is and that I am capable of shredding every single one of you and your corrupt and very much incompetent colleagues to pieces if you don’t grant me that teeny tiny request to see my man..” You paused, “Starting with you and the little affair you have been going on with the mayor's wife.”

His expression shifted as he listened to your threads, knowing that you were indeed serious. You saw how he was fighting with his thoughts and he knew this was bad but he couldn’t risk you exposing the entire department and especially not his affair.

“Fine.” He mumbled as he looked from left to right, making sure that nobody was listening in. “Wait here.”

He came back around five minutes later and guided you towards what you assumed to be the room, where your fiancé was waiting. He was about to open the door when you stopped him.

“See, Officer Wilson, my man and I didn’t have a lot of privacy recently… so I need you to make sure that we will have that.”

“Absolutely not.”

You gave him a disappointed look before reaching into your bag once again. You pulled out a 100-dollar bill and stuffed it into his pocket, before leaning towards his ear. “See, if you would be so kind and look away…might even let you watch.” You smirked, causing him to turn bright red from embarrassment. “Keys?” You smiled, as you opened your hand. He reached onto his collar, removed one single key, and handed it to you. “See, wasn’t so hard, now was it?” You grinned.

You could tell Officer Wilson was beyond pissed that he got screwed by someone as young as you, a female to make it worse but that didn’t matter to you. You got what you wanted.

….

“Hello, baby.” You said the second he had closed the door behind you.

“(Y/N).” He chuckled softly. You were still standing next to the door, but you could see the tears building up in his eyes.

Your heart arched at the way he was looking at you, with teary eyes, tousled hair, and a bruised-up face. You were there when Officer Thomas buried his fist in your fiancé’s face, everyone was able to hear your screams and pleads for him to stop. Deputy Plumb had to physically hold you back and stop you from going full-blown crazy on her colleague, which resulted in you throwing violent threats at the whole police force that was there at that moment. Plumb even wanted to lock you into a cell until you calmed down but Shoupe warned her of the aftermath that would have been your father if she had taken action on her plan.

You took the seat in front of him and immediately held out your hands, for him to hold them. His hands were cuffed together with a light violet and blue line around his wrists, where the metal clung to his skin. You immediately went for the key in your fist and tried to open it.

“How did you convince them to let you in? Alone to give you the key?” He asked surprised but deep down he knew he shouldn’t be. He knew how convincing and resourceful you were, it was one of the many things he loved about you.

“You know I have my ways.” You smirked at the satisfying click of the cuffs. The second his hands were free, you took them into yours and softly caressed his bruised skin. They had them way too tight and you were pretty sure they knew that.

“You do.” He chuckled. “I miss you.”

“I’m here now.” You whispered softly, trying to suppress the tear that was building up in your eye.

You wanted to say that you wouldn’t leave him again but you both knew that would’ve been a lie. The way he held on to your hands was enough for you to jump up, walk around the table, and climb onto his lap, where you gently pressed his head onto your chest.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You smiled, “I made sure of that. Now come here.”

He leaned his head back onto your chest and buried his face into your dress. It didn’t take long until you felt his tears through the thin fabric of your dress, followed by quiet sobs leaving his mouth. It was only with you, that he would ever let himself go like that but he hated it, he hated every single second of it. He knew how much it broke you to be apart from him and he hated to be the cause of your suffering. He never wanted it to go this way, he never wanted anyone to get hurt but most of all, he never wanted for you to get hurt.

After a few minutes, he quickly got himself back together and looked into your eyes. They were soft and kind but had an evil spark in them, which was the perfect reflection of your personality. He saw how much you tried to stay strong for him, he saw how much you fought back your tears and he couldn’t have that. He needed to be the strong one, the one who protected you and was there when you needed him, not the other way around. But at this moment, he couldn’t and you knew that. His tears had dried by now, just as quickly as you were used to it with Rafe.

You leaned in for a kiss, which started out soft and gentle but the more you both realized how you had missed each other's lips, the more passionate and hungry it became. Your hand was resting on his chest, as his hands were wandering down your back to your ass until they slipped under your dress. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin, a feeling that you had missed so much. You felt his hardened bulge between your legs, begging for your touch. You let your hand slide into his pants, the thin material being easy to be pushed aside, and started caressing him. He moaned out quietly at the feeling of your fingers dancing around his tip, trying to not get the attention of the officers. Normally he wouldn't give a single fuck about anyone hearing the two of you, but in a setting like this, he would rather die than have you pulled away from him.

He pushed away the material of your barely existing thong, and slid inside two of his fingers, causing you to let out a loud moan. His other hand quickly flew towards your mouth, making you unable to make another sound.

“Quiet princess, you don’t want them to hear us, right?” He breathed into your ear.

You gave him a quick nod, a silent promise for you to try and stay quiet. He started moving his fingers again as you slid your hand up and down his shaft, first slowly but then faster and faster, until it became hard for him to stay quiet. He let out another moan and this time it was you, who put her hand on his lips.

“Seriously?” You whispered, one eyebrow raised.

He then pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, leaving a satisfied grin on his face. “You have no idea how much I missed your taste on my lips, baby.”

You smirked, before hopping onto the table behind you. The metal was cold on your bare skin, sending goosebumps all over your skin. “I would love to feel your tongue on me baby but…” You started, “But I need to feel you inside of me because…” You stopped, looking up into your fiancé's eyes.

“But you don’t know when we will be able to do this again.” He finished, a tone of sadness washing over his voice. “I don’t want to think about that right now, princess.” He smiled, before reaching into his pants and pulling out his dick. “I love you.” He whispered against her lips, before aligning himself with your entrance.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Everything you want, baby.”

“I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to get you out of this. That I will never give up on you. I want you to know that we will be able to do this again, but right now, I really need you fuck me like we won’t.” You paused, “I need you to fuck me like it’s gonna be the last thing you will ever do. Can you do that for me?”

“Trust me, princess, once I’m done with you, you will barely be able to walk out of here, leaving my DNA all over the floor of this building.”

Before you could even respond, he had his hand on your neck and pushed himself into you. You wanted to moan out at the feeling but his grip around your throat tightened so much, it was hard for you to get any sounds out. He started off slow and gentle but quickly became faster, as he thrusted into you. He clashed his lips onto yours, as your fingers dug into his shoulders. you didn’t realize it, but your hands moved up to his neck where your nails dug deep into his skin. He felt so good inside of you and since you weren’t allowed to make any noise, your energy just had to go somewhere.

“Just… just like that baby.” You whispered, trying so hard to keep your voice down.

He smirked and thrust into you even harder. With every thrust, he hit that sweet spot of you and you could already sense that familiar feeling in your stomach building up. He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, so he pulled out, causing you to protest.

“Why…” You pouted, disappointment written all over your face.

“Turn around.” He demanded, without giving you any reasoning.

You did as told, jumped from the table, and turned around. With a swift motion, Rafe had buried himself in your walls once again, without any warning. Your nails dug into the cold metal of the table, and you were sure if you applied just a little bit more pressure, they’d break.

Your face was directed towards the door and windows now, making everyone who chose to look inside able to look directly into your face. The danger of being walked in by an entire police force, combined with the deep and ruthless thrusts of Rafe’s hips, was enough to almost send you over the edge. Your gaze was fixated on the window, where you could see the back of Officer Wilson’s head, who was standing guard just like you told him to.

“Harder please!” You moaned out louder than intended.

Your lack of quietness seemed to have caught the attention of the guard, who had now turned around and granted himself a peak through the glass. His eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but smirk, as you let your head fall back into Rafe’s neck. He also seemed to have noticed what was going on and he would’ve lied if he said it didn’t turn him on even more. The grin on his face was enough for the now embarrassed Officer to turn around again, desperately trying to hide the blush on his face.

“I thought, I told you to stay quiet…fucking brat…” He growled, as he took a chunk of your hair and pulled your head back, so he could reach your ear more easily. “You’re gonna be the death of both of us I swear.”

You were sure he saw how you were smirking at the officer from the reflection of the windows, but that only made it more fun. You loved doing shit like this and he knew that. But you also knew how good he was at punishing you and most definitely could not risk him leaving you dry, not tonight.

“Mh sorry.” You cried out.

“What was that?”

“Sorry, daddy.” You repeated, “Gonna be good now, promise.”.

“That’s what I thought.” He smirked, before ripping off your thong. “Just to be sure.” He added as he stuffed the piece of fabric into your mouth.

You could taste yourself on your thong and if you were being honest, you really were fucking delicious. His thrusts became harder and harder now, hitting your G-spot every time he pounded into you. But it wouldn’t be Rafe Cameron if he wouldn’t add at least one finger to the party, in order to send you completely over the edge. He placed his index finger on your clit and started massaging it, while his other hand started to taunt your ass relentlessly.

“Being such a good girl for daddy, doing such a good job.” He cooed into your ear, but you were barely able to hear his words, as your mind had drifted far, far away. “Taking me so perfectly.” He added as he thrust himself even deeper into you, with more force and less mercy.

He knew it was loud but he had long stopped caring. All his sorrows had left his body, the second he could feel your walls around him. His soul might have been broken, as he got ripped off every ounce of control he had over himself and his surroundings, but when he was inside of you, it was like you handed it all right back to him. At this moment, his hand now back on your hip and his other on your clit, he had all the control over not just your body, but also over his own, as he thrust into you deeper and deeper. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room and there was no doubt that Officer Wilson heard it too.

The harder and faster he went, the harder he felt not just your walls tighten around him, but also his dick twitching beneath them. He knew the both of you were close so he sped up his pace once again, ramming himself into you with every ounce of strength he had left inside him. Your vision turned blurry as you felt tears stream down your face and your release rushing over your body like a bomb exploding inside of you. Rafe came close behind, shooting his load deep inside of you.

He stayed like that for a second, his arm wrapped around you, as he rested his head on the back of your shoulder. As the two of you tried to catch your breath, reality swamped over your mind like a hurricane. You pulled your thong out of your mouth and wiped away the black tears that had stained the table beneath you. You then set yourself up and turned around, where you found Rafe fixing up his pants. The moment his eyes met yours, you saw the pain that he had been surprising for the last seven minutes and it tore your heart apart once again.

He softly wiped away the tears that had stained your beautiful face, but he wasn’t able to get it all. He knew the tears weren’t coming from a sad place originally, but he also knew that these very much could’ve been the tears you had been suppressing since the moment you stepped foot into the room.

“Hey.” He said softly, as he wrapped his hands around your face, forcing you to look at him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You smiled, as you took his hand in yours. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise.” You added before getting interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

You rolled your eyes at the sign, making the boy in front of you laugh. “It’s okay.” He whispered, “Don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be fine.” He paused, “All I need is for you to be happy.”

“Baby hell is gonna freeze over before I’m letting you rot in this cell. Besides, how dare you, believe that I could ever be happy without you by my side.”

He smiled softly, before placing a soft kiss on your lips. He then took the handcuffs from the table and handed them over to you. “Rather have you do it than any of those assholes.”

“Kinky.” You chuckled, before placing them around his wrist. You made sure to make them loose enough, so he would still be able to move them around, without his wrists bruising up. “Here, keep this, you’re gonna need it.” You said as you got the ripped piece of fabric, that used to be your underwear and stuffed it into his pants, careful so it wouldn't be visible.” Rafe grinned at that gesture of you, knowing this, and the memory of you and the past few minutes would be the one thing keeping him sane for what was about to come.

“Till death do us part?”

“Till death do us part.”

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#jas writes ❥#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks smut #dom!rafe cameron x sub!reader

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moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

I know we have emt mauraders (and I absolutely love them with all of my heart), but I can't get the image of fireman James out of my head. He's just so beefed up and just has that build about him. You know? 🫠

So true babe <3

cw: reader is trapped in elevator for a bit

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 753 words

It took you some time to work up the courage to press the HELP button. Your building’s elevator has always been a bit scary, shuddering and screeching ever since you’d moved in, so you’d hoped for a while that it would just fix itself, remember that it was supposed to be moving and deliver you safely to your floor. No such luck.

You’re endlessly glad that you’re going home and not running late to work when it takes the fire crew another twenty minutes to show up. You’re guessing elevator rescues aren’t at the top of their priority list. When someone finally bangs on a door somewhere below you, you scramble up from where you’ve been sitting on the floor.

“Fire department,” a man’s voice says.

“Hi,” you call back, feeling immediately stupid for it. Were you supposed to say your job description back or something?

“Is everyone okay? How many of you are there?”

“It’s—it’s just me.”

“Alright,” the voice says, “we’re gonna get you out of there, just give us a second.”

You hum back though he probably can’t hear. There’s a lot of creaking metal and muffled voices, and then the door to your prison squeaks slowly open. Most of what you can see is clearly elevator shaft, but there’s a small opening at your feet. Once it’s a couple of feet wide, a curly head pops through.

“Hi,” the voice from earlier says. It comes from a lovely face, all tan skin and warm eyes and a radiant smile, like this man finds everything about his day genuinely cheering. “You alright in here? Injured at all?”

It takes you a second to find your voice, and even once you do it sounds pitchier than normal. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Perfect.” Somehow, his grin seems to widen, which is a bit much for you right now. Suddenly you’re kind of dizzy. “Okay, I’m just going to have you scooch on your bum over here and stick your legs out, yeah? I’ll pop out so I can lower you down.”

He’s going…he’s going to grab your legs. Okay. Awesome. This is totally your everyday.

Some of your hesitance must show on your face, because the man’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself,” he says. “I’m James. What’s your name?”

You tell him, so quietly you’re not sure he can hear, but James nods anyway. “Y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve already been stuck for god knows how long, and I’m sure you’d like to get to where you’re going. This is the easy part, okay?”

“Okay,” you echo.

James gives you an encouraging smile, retreating from the opening. “Alright, just set your legs out here,” he calls up.

You sit down on the elevator floor, slipping your feet through so your legs are dangling in open air. A second later, strong hands grip the undersides of your thighs.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” James says. “I’m gonna ease you out, and I just need you to lean back so you don’t bump your head on anything, yeah?”

You hum in response. He starts pulling you out of the elevator, his grip moving up your thighs to your bottom once it emerges. Your heart thunders, both from the intimate contact and from trusting your weight wholly to someone else. Soon you’ve cleared the opening. Another set of hands cups the back of your head to ensure you don’t hit it on the elevator floor, and then you’re sitting up, your hands landing on James’ shoulders for balance. They’re really quite substantial, you can’t help but notice, wide and full of thick, corded muscle. He tilts his head back, grinning up at you.

“See?” he says. “Easy.”

A dizzy little laugh escapes you, and James’ grin takes on a whole new quality. Something curious about it. He hoists you up in his arms, grip transferring to your waist so he can lower you to the floor.

“Thanks,” you manage, looking up at him. You look at the other handful of firefighters around too, the embarrassment of your situation finally sinking in. Your face heats. “I really appreciate the help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” James says. As the others start packing up equipment, his attention stays on you. “You sure you’re alright? Where are you going from here?”

You do your best to give him a smile of your own. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m just going home. I live on the sixth floor.”

He hums. “Best take the stairs this time.”

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idkirdkok · 7 days

Text

I don't know why some people blame stolas for how things went...He literally just confessed that he has feelings for blitz and, from his pov, not only got rejected and got the impression that it's always been only a sex thing (he saw blitz write it off as a sexual roleplay and even jokingly said "i love you sooo much" man,,,that must've hurt), he also GOT YELLED AT and INSULTED, in the same fashion his toxic, abusive ex used to constantly do and it was the first time he actually heard how blitz thinks of him.

WE as the audience know it's blitz' defense mechanism because he went through a lot of shit, that he actually wanted to Talk about it (and he did talk (or tried to, at least). He asked for a minute ro think/process and actually said how he feels, that's a great improvement. He also immediately tried to apologize once he realized stolas didn't yell back at him and that his words actually hurt stolas. I'm not blaming him at all. He has his own shitload of reasons and trauma for why he reacted the way he did), but stolas didn't know all that. His pov is dry ass responses to his texts, and blitz not showing up to neither save him nor visit him in the hospital. He saw blitz treat his confession as a joke, and then yell at him for "dropping this feelings bullshit" on him (again, WE know it's because Blitz thinks so low of himself that he convinced himself it must be a joke, and that someone like stolas couldn't possibly genuinely like someone like him). Then basically got told he's a terrible person. It's all too much to deal with.

I think had Blitz been more gentle in saying all those instead of kicking the door and yelling, it probably wouldn't have gone as bad as it did. Stolas literally FLINCHED when blitz yelled and called him a bitch. So yeah, they needed to have a longer, two sided convo, he should've heard blitz out, should have given the poor guy some time to process everything before making a decision. BUT!! he can't be blamed for not doing that, it was a hard fucking moment for him.

I also think the reason he immediately teleported Blitz away instead of waiting to hear his apology was not solely because it was the first time he realized how Blitz views him, but also because Blitz unknowingly confirmed what Stolas was worried about. "If he's only here as a prisoner, then what kind of monster does that make me?" And then Blitz went and called him a rich, pompous asshole who thinks he's more important than others.

Man...I can't wait to see what happens in apology tour

Tl;dr: neither of them are fully right or fully wrong. They both reacted based on their own circumstances, trauma and assumptions

#helluva boss #stolas x blitz #stolitz

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 8 months

Text

Secret Lovers

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. a/n:this was originally started because of a snippet @thebeesatemyknees had written, thank you so much for letting me turn this into a full fic! I hope I was able to do it proper justice warnings:none, just tons of fluff Part 2

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. Johnny had badgered him from day one if he had a partner, going on and on about how much he loved his girlfriend. SImon wasn’t going to tell him anything, no matter what he’d keep his lips sealed.

Kyle was the next one to ask, though it was more in passing rather than a true and genuine question when he cornered the older man. They had been discussing mission details when the topic arose, did he have a next of kin? And if so, who would be the one to inform them if Ghost were to be KIA’d? He never asked Simon after that day, instead going on to different topics whether they had to do with the mission or what they wanted to eat. Kyle treated him like a friend, it was nice.

And John, well he knew all about Simon’s personal and very private life.

~~~

You were a new addition to the team, a medic that could stitch up a wound within a minute and get you back on the field within five. They were thankful to have you come around with them, helping stitch up a wound on Johnny’s arm, or cleaning up a gash on Kyle’s head. The only person who seemed to be a little wary around you was Simon, which both Johnny and Kyle felt odd. You fit in their group like the puzzle piece that was missing, and yet Simon acted as if he wanted nothing to do with you. Surely he’d warm up to you a little more, they were all sure of it.

“Thank you all for meeting me on such short notice. We’ve got word that an arms dealer is hosting a gala and we need to get more intel before we can swoop in.” Kate was a woman who took no shit and left no prisoners, she wasn’t going to risk this.

“Who do we want to send?” John was nervous, his men were trained for this, but putting them into a situation where they’d have to become someone else entirely? Nerve wracking.

“I was discussing it with Shepherd last night, and we’ve decided that Simon and Y/N will be going on this mission while the rest of you stake out the building.” All eyes suddenly shifted to Simon who looked calm as ever.

He’d forgone the mask for this mission briefing, knowing that only his teammates and Kate would be in the room with him. Knowing that you were going to be there made things a little more tense, could he handle something that dire?

“If you think that’s what’s best, I fully support the decision.” John wasn’t going to argue, Simon could be suave and charm the pants off of anyone if needed.

“Thank you, we’ll be heading out tomorrow and meeting up at the hotel. Promise me you’ll behave so no one suspects you, please.” Kate knew how much of a troublemaker that Johnny and Kyle could be, given the opportunity of course.

“I’ll make sure of it myself if need be, don’t you worry.” John smiled up at her, leaving Kate to wonder how much trouble there would be.

They would need to debrief you on the plane ride over, given that you weren’t even in the room with everyone. Having something like that just dumped on you with no time to prepare was the worst, how could they manage? Simon would just have John give you the rundown so he could worry about more important things, like how he’d have to act like the two of you were so desperately in love.

You would have an entire day to get comfortable in the hotel room, there would be a few people lingering so you’d get used to being stared at. Simon knew they’d mainly be staring at you, you were downright gorgeous. And with the clothes that had been picked out? A deep navy blue tux, with a pitch black button up and black silk tie. It perfectly matched the dress they’d picked out for you, a deep V down the front that left just enough to the imagination. The color matched his tux almost identically, the only difference was your dress was silk.

“They’ve packed everything for you to do your own hair and makeup, we don’t want you to stand out too much, better to blend in.” It was the smartest idea, if you or Simon were to attract too much attention things would end badly.

“Yeah, Kate told me as much as she could, I made sure to pack my best heels.” You were nervous, it’d been so long since you’d been able to go out to something fancy.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” John knew you were smart and quick witted, but something about this mission unnerved him.

“I’m positive, Simon and I will get the intel and get out before anyone even notices we’re missing.” You were confident everything would go smoothly, Simon could be silent if needed.

John nodded at you, settling back into his seat as the plan began to descend down onto the tarmac below. Simon was staring at you from across the way, palms sweating slightly as the time drew closer to getting inside the hotel. Johnny was going to see how nervous he was and make comments, he was sure of it. The sound of tires squealing brought everyone’s attention to high alert. It was time to grab your things and head to the cars, you were driving over with Simon, leaving the other three to their own car.

It was mainly to not raise any suspicion, if you were seen driving with any man that wasn’t your husband word would spread before you managed to make it to the party. You were absentmindedly playing with your ring, twirling the obnoxiously large diamond with your other fingers. It was a habit you picked up whenever you tended to wear jewelry, though it was much better than picking at your cuticles.

“You feeling alright hun?” Simon glanced over at you, though his own nerves were shot, he wanted you to feel comfortable.

“A little nervous, but that’s to be expected considering the circumstances.” You kept twirling the ring, glancing between Simon and the road ahead of you.

Simon took a quick breath and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together without skipping a beat or taking his eyes off the road. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, you had been waiting to see how long it took before he finally felt comfortable around you. You’d need to practice around everyone else if you were going to look natural around a bunch of strangers. Everything was going to be just fine, you were sure of it.

John had set up everything in the hotel room, along with hanging up your dress and Simon’s tux to help steam out any wrinkles if needed. So far there was nothing to worry about, save for Soap acting like a little shit and pranking Simon and Kyle for the most part. You’d all settled in, changing into comfortable clothes and ordering food so that you wouldn’t have to leave. Simon was cleaning up the kitchen so he could sit down and enjoy dinner with you.

“Do you need any help?” You walked over to him, pressing your hand against his lower back.

“Nah, just need to finish cleaning this plate and we can eat.” Simon smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you say.” You patted his back gently, heading over to the small kitchen table.

Johnny raised a brow at how you and Simon seemed to naturally work with one another, he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Kyle on the other hand was ignoring him entirely, digging into his own meal and scrolling through his phone. Simon had finally finished, grabbing his plate of food and heading over to sit with you. He could faintly hear that you were both discussing the mission and going over your alias’ one last time.

“Simon, you need to wear your ring.” You’d gotten on his case the entire day, he kept taking it off complaining that it felt weird to wear it.

“I’ll wear it during the mission tomorrow.” Simon brough the fork to his mouth, focusing on his plate rather than your raised brow.

“You say that now, but when we end up leaving you’re going to forget it and then we’re going to have to drive all the way back because you won’t wear your ring.” You had put yours on right away, mainly because you were forgetful and didn’t want to end up forgetting it.

“Are you really going to make me wear the ring all night?” Simon’s expression would normally terrify a recruit, but you’d gotten used to it.

“If I want to make sure you have your ring on? Yes, I’m going to make you wear your ring until we get back on that plane and go back home.” You’d glue it on if need be, but Simon knew better than to disobey orders.

John chuckled to himself watching the two of you, it was a dynamic he hadn’t seen in quite a while and it was pretty funny to witness. Johnny on the other hand was now even more flabbergasted at the way you worked together. Why did you seem so comfortable arguing with a man who’d killed for less? This was something sinister and it unnerved him to no end, he’d get to the bottom of this.

You’d offered to clean up everyone’s dinner dishes, carefully cleaning any knives before laying them on a towel to be dried by Simon. He walked over to where you were, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your bodies flush together. Johnny’s jaw dropped open as he slapped Kyle’s arm to get his attention. The playful bickering was one thing, but watching Simon the Ghost Riley be so affectionate?

“Damn, he’s a good actor.” Kyle watched the way you and Simon began to sway gently, giggling at something he’d whispered into your ear.

“Scarily good, didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Johnny shook his head, turning back towards the computer in front of him.

It wasn’t until the sound of someone kissing caught their attention once more. Simon had dipped you, lips pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. Johnny’s jaw dropped wide open, well if you weren’t together already that was surely going to change. You pressed your hands against Simon’s chest, laughing happily as you stared up at him.

“Cap, do ya think Lt and the medic are gonna get together after all this?” Johnny had high hopes, no one gets kissed the way Simon kissed you and simply part ways.

“What’re you talking about?” John barely lifted his gaze from the screen, typing up the pre mission notes to help catch up on them before.

“Simon’s practically tonguing the medic! He’s gonna woo her.” He waggled his brows at the older man, cackling when John rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah that’s not gonna happen.” John’s attention focused back on the task at hand.

Johnny’s laughing abruptly halted, what the hell had he meant that Simon wasn’t going to woo the medic, it was obvious! Clearly John had no idea what he was talking about, Johnny could see the little twinkle in your eye from across the room.

“Gaz, am I wrong or do ye think Ghost and medic are gonna end up together?” He was determined to get someone to agree with him.

“Oh, if they don’t I’m asking for her number for him.” Kyle may have had a slight crush on you, not that he’d ever admit it.

John sat upright in his chair, focusing on Johnny and Kyle who thought they were being more subtle than they actually were.

“Have you ever looked at their name tag by chance?” John wanted to see if the other two would finally catch on.

Both Johnny and Kyle shook their heads, neither of them had a reason to over analyze your name tag when they had injuries to be taken care of. He sighed softly to himself before glancing over to you and Simon. You were laughing at some bad joke Simon had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Her last name is Riley.” John watched as realization dawned on their faces.

You’d been married this entire time and no one, besides Price, was none the wiser. How the hell had you managed to keep it hidden from everyone? Then again Simon wasn’t the most overly friendly or affectionate when it came to anyone. You were his wife though, that was different! Surely you could bring out a different side of him, something that no one usually got to…of course.

“Would’ve been nice to know at least.” Johnny shrugged off his disappointment, this was a big thing to keep hidden away.

“It wasn’t my place to tell, just remember that.” John wanted to respect your privacy, it was the least he could do considering your line of work.

Johnny and Kyle understood why Price hadn’t admitted to questions about your relationship, but knowing the truth? It felt good. They watched the way you and Simon danced to the music playing from your phone. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away. It was a side of their teammate they’d never thought to see, and no one outside of this hotel room would ever get to see it.

At least, not until after the mission of course.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell

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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

Text

Safer

Summary: After the fall of the prison and a brutal assault, Daryl cares for you.

NOTE (please read): A mutual requested this a while ago. Took a long while to write, and tbh I considered turning the req down given the premise and my firm stance on writing graphic SA which you can find here. However, they explained to me that they are a victim of a violent s*xual assault, and they expressed it would be healing in a way to have a story where they were cared for by their comfort character. After some consideration, I decided to go for it. I'm sure a lot of us have been victimized by people who couldn't control their urges, or those who lacked respect for our boundaries, bodies, and consent. Myself included. So, this story is for us, to those of us that can stomach it.

DISCLAIMER: There are no scenes of graphic SA, only the aftermath. While I will not be telling any descriptive scenarios of being assaulted, I do want to clearly express that this is a generally heavy story and it may not be suitable for all audiences. Please consume responsibly.

**I will not be tagging anyone on the taglist due to the content of this story**

18+MDNI || WARNINGS: non-graphic allusions to SA, violence, mild nudity descriptions, generally heavy content so I can't say it enough: TW!!!

Banners credited on my masterlist!!

Daryl's vision was blurred as he blinked himself to consciousness. It took him some time to gather his thoughts and recognize his surroundings. His wrists and ankles were bound together, his mouth gagged with a cloth that tasted of sweat and filth. He stared up at the treetops towering over him. It was dark outside, save for the dim light of a dying campfire a few feet away. He lifted his head from the forest floor and looked down past his feet. Lumps of sleeping bodies under raggedy blankets and torn sleeping bags rested around him. His heart raced as his memories crept back in; of you, screaming his name, of him fighting off the group of men who caught him off guard, of twigs snapping and a searing pain over the side of his head. Was that why his face felt so sticky? Was it dried blood?

His eyes strained in the fading light of ember and ash. Where were you? He noticed a crumpled form at the foot of a tree. Her breathing was shallow and her clothes were torn, pants not even pulled up over her bare behind. That much, he could see. His throat tightened. His eyes watered. What the hell had he let them do to you? How could he have let this happen? He had to get you out of there, and fast. If they hadn't killed him yet, that was surely on their agenda.

He began to squirm and writhe against his restraints. Whoever tied him up had experience. Just as hopelessness began to set in and cloud his judgement with fear -- real, genuine fear -- he noticed a reflection in the leaves. Just a few feet past his boots, a man was curled up on his side, snoring lightly in the calm breeze. His back was turned to Daryl, and behind him set a grungy backpack with a blade sticking out of the smallest pocket in the front. He glanced back to you, shivering on the ground, unsure if you were awake or unconscious or simply passed out from the exhaustion of prior events.

The sight of you in your disheveled mess was all her needed to kick him into gear. Carefully and hastily, he scooted himself down toward his only chance at redeeming his status as a loyal protector of the weak and vulnerable. Ideally, he'd be able to accomplish this in silence, but he was not in an ideal situation. His circumstances were heavy, laced in sweat and angst. The leaves beneath him rustled as his back slid across the ground, twigs snapping or moving to the side as he made his way closer to the large hunting knife. He'd pause between each scoot, studying the sleeping men around him for any sign of movement or wakefulness. When he'd decide the coast was clear enough, he'd resume. It felt like an eternity, but he made it there.

His core muscles strained as he sat himself up. He realized how sore he was. He must have taken a good beating. Seemed fitting, though. He was never one to go down without a fight. He left that sort of weakness in his past.

He guided his shaky, bound hands over to the bag. He slowly slid the knife out of the front pocket. His heart raged against his ribs. He didn't dare take a single breath until it was secured.

Slow. Slowness. Slowly. He repeated every variation of the word in his mind as he positioned the knife between his palms and dragged it back and forth until the rope finally severed. A silent breath of relief escaped him as he ripped the gag from his lips and worked on the rope tied around his ankles. When he was free, he stood and counted the sleeping bodies beneath him. Excluding you, there were four.

He considered waking you up and running for the hills, but he couldn't leave any loose ends. No, he thought of it like when your t-shirt has a loose thread. You could leave it to keep unraveling, or you could burn it at the base and extend the lifetime of your clothes. He decided he needed to burn this string before it could unravel any further.

Starting with the man closest to him -- the one who so graciously left his knife in plain sight for the archer -- he krept over and crouched down, plunching the blade into the base of his skull. Then, he moved on to the next, and the next one, and the one after that, until they were all a problem of the past. Until that pesky little thread could do no further damage to the rest of the shirt.

When the dirty work was behind him, he dropped the knife and rushed over to you. Your wrists were tied like his, but you were tied to the tree so you couldn't run. He eyed you over and gulped. With your pants not fully covering you and your shirt all ripped up, he could see the finger-shaped bruises littering your skin. There was blood on your inner thighs. Your lips were swollen and cut. His blood heated until it hit a boiling point. His hands trembled as they hovered over you. Touching you felt like a crime, but he had to wake you. He had to get you out of there.

"(Y/N)." He whispered as he laid a hand on your shoulder. You were shivering in the cool air, but a thin layer of sweat blanketed your exposed flesh. He gave you a gentle shake. "((Y/N), c'mon. We gotta go." He pleaded softly.

Your body jerked and you jolted awake. You gave him no chance to explain as you scrambled to your knees and cowered away against the tree.

"(Y/N) it's me. It's Daryl." He attempted his most soothing tone of voice. "C'mon, let me get ya cleaned up."

He outstretched his arm, offering you his hand. Without making eye contact you made a move to take it, but you were stopped by the restricting force of the rope that kept you anchored to the tree trunk. He moved quickly for the knife he tossed to the side earlier and returned with it. Without the pressure of remaining silent, he had your hands free in seconds.

He wasted no time helping you to your feet and averting his gaze as he slid your pants up where they belonged. He found he had a hard time keeping his mind straight and focused as your weeping filled the quiet campsite.

"Shh.." He cooed, keeping one hand on your upper back as he ushered you along with him to gather his things and yours. A smart man would have rummaged through the belongings of the ones he killed, too, but he wasn't concerned with making a smart call at that point. He was only worried about you.

"It's alright. C'mon. Let's get ya somewhere you can rest. It's alright. C'mon." He felt useless as ever, repeating the same generic words of comfort as you limped along beside him. He never urged you to up the pace, he didn't drag you along or have you carry your own bag. He felt like the least he could do was shoulder the weight of survival on behalf of you both. He couldn't get the image out of his mind of ou laying there,caked in blood, sweat, and bruises. A girl like you should have been caked in perfume and makeup. You hair should have been done up nice for a Sunday brunch, not matted with leaves and dirt. Your clothes should have been pristine and well fitting, unlike the filthy torn clothes that were beginning to hang off your frame like tender meat falling from the bone. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve any of it.

Eventually he found an acceptable spot that looked like it could have been a den for a hibernating bear. It was a big shrub by a little stream, perfectly indented to give you both enough room to crouch under its foliage. He gently set you down, dropping his bow and your bags beside him. He crouched down in front of you and scanned you, worry written articulately over his features.

Your eyes remained glued to the ground. Your nose was upturned in disgust but your eyes told a different story; one of pain and despair and mourning for the person you were before that night. Your frown was deep enough to leave a scar.

"(Y/N)..." He breathed. Your eyes slowly found their way to his and welled with tears all over again. Of all things you had -- meaning, being alive and away from those men -- there was nothing you were more grateful for than his blue eyes staring back at you. You hated the way he looked at you with defeat and pity, though. You hated that he had one more thing to worry about. Still, he was there, and he was welcome. "Let's get ya cleaned up, okay?"

You nodded once, if absentmindedly. Your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn't pinpoint their location, though. They were scrambled, swarming all around you, like gnats you couldn't swat away.

He pulled an old shirt from his bag and leaned over to the stream, getting it nice and wet before wringing it out. He turned back to you and brought it up to your cheek, gently dabbing and swiping away at the dirt, grime, sweat, and blood. He moved on to your neck and hands, then he paused. You both looked down at your jeans. You knew it needed to be taken care of, and he did too, but the question was really about which one of you would be brave enough to work on the gruesome scene between your legs.

One look at your expression and he knew it couldn't be you. But, how could it be him? He couldn't put you in such a vulnerable position. No, not him.

That's when the lightbulb went off over his head. The stream, of course.

"Here." He offered you a hand. You took it slowly and he led you to your feet. "Wanna get in the water?" He asked. You stared down at the serene flowing water, trickling just before your feet. He cleared his throat. "I don't gotta look."

You almost could have laughed. After everything that had happened, Daryl seeing you bathe wasn't really a concern. Still, you had to maintain some shred of dignity, and washing those men off of you was a much needed stride toward leaving that horrid night in your past. So, you nodded, and he turned away to start a fire where you could warm up after rinsing off.

The button was busted off of your jeans. You guessed they couldn't waste their time with something as simple as undoing a button. You let out a shaky sigh and gritted your teeth. You moved to bend over and slide your jeans down, but a searing pain shot through your insides. You whimpered. "I can't." You barely managed.

"Huh?" He asked over his shoulder.

"I can't." You spoke up with a tremble. "I can't get them off. It hurts."

His throat tightened up. Had they really been so cruel to you?

"Ya want me to..." He trailed off.

"Please." You whispered and shut your eyes. He stood beside you and pulled your pants down to your ankles, kneeling down as he did so.

"Grab my shoulder." He instructed softly. You did. "Left leg." He said. You pulled it out. "Now the right."

With your jeans off, he stood up and looked down at your face, which you his from him, avoiding his gaze.

"Your -- Uh.." He glanced down at your underwear. You nodded, not needing to see what he meant. He followed the same process with those and turned away as soon as he was done. You cleared your throat.

"Can you help me sit?" You whispered. He sucked in a breath. It wasn't that you were annoying him. Anything but that, actually. He was glad to help you in any way you needed. It was the simple fact that you needed the help that was eating him alive. The thought that those guys could hurt you in this way, to this extent, was infuriating and heartbreaking.

He turned back to you and hovered behind you, placing a hand under each arm to support you while you lowered yourself down into the water. Once you were sitting on the creek bed, you adjusted yourself and sighed.

"Just, uh, watch for snakes, okay?" Was all he could say before turning his attention back to the fire finally.

Your frown deepened as you stared down at your bloodied thighs. A plop beside you startled you before realizing it was just the old shirt he was using to clean you up.

"Figured ya might need it." He mumbled.

You gripped the cloth in your hand and stared at it. Blood and filth stained it. Your lip quivered as you ran it over your inner thighs, scrubbing your own dried blood away and watching it disappear in the gentle current. You hissed and winced as you cleaned yourself where you were really injured.

When you were done, you peered over your shoulder, where Daryl stared at the small flame. He felt your eyes on him and he looked up at you.

"Need some clothes?" He asked.

"Please." You replied. He nodded once and rummaged through your bag. He could only find a semi-clean shirt, but no more pants. He pulled his own bag forward and searched for the new two-pack of boxers he'd scavenged awhile back.

"I, uh, didn't see no more pants, but... You can have those." He said, holding your shirt and the fresh boxers out to you.

"Thanks." You pressed your lips into a thin attempt at a friendly smile.

He turned away again so you could change your shirt, but you needed his help with the boxers, which he did without you needing to ask, and without a single peek at you.

He helped you back over to the den where you could warm up by the fire. You kept the blanket in your bag, so he made sure to wrap it around your shoulders while you sat.

"Ain't got no food." He broke the silence after a little while. You nodded.

"Not hungry anyways."

"Mm." He hummed. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

----

By midday, you were on the move again, trailing right behind him as he stomped slowly over the underbrush so you could keep his pace. He'd stop every now and then, and though he didn't say it, you knew it was because he didn't want to overwork you.

By late afternoon, the sun was on the far end of the sky, casting an orange glow over the woods.

Daryl had barely been able to look at you, and you couldn't exactly claim any different. You two had taken a break again, sipping water and scanning around for any game or edible plants.

"I want ya to know.." He cleared his throat, shattering the thick silence that glazed over you both all day. "I want ya to know I didn't see it. None of it."

"I know you weren't looking." You deadpanned.

"Nah, not at the stream. I meant -- I didn't see none of it." He clarified. He had a sneaking suspicion the reason you couldn't bare to look at him might have been the possibility of him seeing what had happened to you. He, however, just hated seeing you look so broken, knowing had he been more vigilant yesterday, none of those guys would have been able to sneak up on him. You looked at him finally.

"I know. They hit you over the head 'cause you were fighting them."

"Mm." He nodded. "I just... I need to tell ya I'm sorry." His voice cracked as he looked down at his hands and back up to you. His leg was bouncing anxiously and his gums must have bled from how hard he chewed at them.

"Why?" You pushed your eyebrows together.

"I shoulda been lookin' out. Shoulda protected ya. Shoulda--"

"You were. You have been." You cut him off. "You've looked out for me every day since the prison. You've been protecting me since the quarry. You protect everyone. That wasn't your fault." You insisted. He just looked back down at his hands and sniffled, blinking back tears. He scolded himself for being the one to cry, when you were the one who got hurt. "Hey." You pressed on. "Listen to me. You got us out of there. You took care of them. You saved me. Then, you still took care of me. If we were still back there, they would have killed you and robbed you by now. And, if they hadn't killed me yet, I'd be wishing I was dead. I wouldn't be here without you. I would have never survived even before last night without you, and I wouldn't be sitting here telling you that today if it weren't for you."

He looked you in the eyes as you spoke every word. It was a great relief to him that you weren't angry with him -- that you didn't blame him. Still, he felt so uneasy.

"Can we camp here?" You asked suddenly. He shrugged.

"Yeah. We can." He agreed. His voice was still broken.

"Can I sit with you?" You asked. He looked confused but he still nodded, even if he was unsure what you meant.

Ignoring the aches all over your body, you crawled over to him and sat in front of him, between his legs, leaning your back against his torso. He was stiff, unused to being so close to someone, but he didn't resist. As you settled in and got comfortable, he rested his arms by your sides.

"You didn't fail me, Daryl. Nobody makes me feel safer."

Join the taglist || Masterlist

#tw: implied abuse #tw: implied sa #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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elmhat · 6 months

Text

DSMP TUMBLR SIMULATOR

🟩 escapedwarcriminal Follow

On vacation! Check out the fancy hotel :)

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

gufys please mass report this he's trxying to fucking dox me and also kill me pls guys

7 notes

❌ god Follow

I just finished writing my latest book! To thank everyone who stuck with me through this process, I'm giving away one copy to a random follower! All you have to do is reblog 😊

#bookblr #writeblr

2,963,086,652,755 notes

🐝 what-if-bees-had-nukes Follow

Anyone know where the boomerville residents went?

🐝 what-if-bees-had-nukes Follow

No one replied so I guess I own their house now

3 notes

🥇 dreamsno1traitor Follow

#I'm actually so sick of these mfs #no joke if I have to spend another day around these people I might kms #one more comment about how "evil" he is and I'm gonna snap #I can't believe I used to be friends with them? #they're so bloodthirsty for no reason #sorry just needed to vent #can't say any more than this or I'll blow my cover #neg

2 notes

🧁 the-girl-who-burned-your-tree Follow

New strawberry cake recipe! (Safe for pigs)

Try out this delicious dessert that all the family can enjoy!

Keep reading

#baking #recipes #I just wanted to make something that my friend can eat too #he has some rather unique dietary requirements

130 notes

🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

"average person destroys 1 government a year" factoid actually just statistical error. average person destroys 0 governments per year. technoblade is an outlier and should not have been counted

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

this is so fuckign disrespectful to doomsday survivors take this down you egotesticle fkng prick

45,687 notes

🟩 escapedwarcriminal Follow

@warden-of-the-vault How's idiotville idiot

🟩 escapedwarcriminal Follow

Wait you can't reply cause you're in IDIOTVILLE

5 notes

🪶 philzaminecraft Follow

My good friend has entrusted me with looking after his lovely dogs, haha! 😂 Do any of you fine young people have advice for me as to how to take care of this many hungry hounds? 🤔 I look forward to hearing from you.

From Philza Minecraft.

P.S. Please also instruct me as to how to increase the number of messages I receive in response to my questions. This internet website is a tad confusing. I had enough bother attaching the photograph. 😂

89 notes

🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

woke up to the dash full of drama again. sigh

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

fucking Die

🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

oh so you're the one sending all the anon hate

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

i don't send anon hate i'll hate to your fucking face bitch

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

please go out with me

11 notes

🔱 warden-of-the-vault Follow

🔥 murdered-yo-fave-pet Follow

But fr guys, as much as we're memeing around in the tags dream is actually out there and he's dangerous. If you see him call me or sam immediately. DON'T fight him. You'll /gen die.

6,210 notes

🐈 antthecatmaid Follow

won't be around for a while, going on vacation!

🐈 antthecatmaid Follow

fuck I'm back fuck fuck fuck

27 notes

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

i'm too sad to commit terrorism like what's the fucking point anymore

6 notes

🧨 zombiepresident1 Follow

World's First NFT Burgers

(Ignore the poor photo quality, my good camera got confiscated by authorities)

"An explosion of the senses, and I don't just mean that time the place exploded!" ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"So much better than Quackity's horrible grimy SHIT FUCKING RESTAURANT" ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

#reviews are all from verified sources #don't look into it #someone blaze this I have no money

204 notes

✨ quirky-cake-duper-teleporter Follow

Genuinely fuck dream.

✨ quirky-cake-duper-teleporter Follow

Ignore this I wasn't in my right mind

16 notes

🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

The Teletubby and the Pig

Fandom: Original Work Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Technoblade, Dream (me and my friend) Additional Tags: Pandora's Vault Prison, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Summary: idk man I'm bad at summaries, just something I wrote with my friend to pass the time (he was too embarrassed to post it)

284k words so far

-> Read here!

#I actually wrote this a while ago but I wasn't allowed to post it for legal reasons #don't worry though I'm planning to murder the legal reasons soon #writeblr #original fiction

35 notes

💍 im-from-the-future Follow

WARNING - PLEASE READ

My murderer showed up at my house today. Police refused to arrest him. I feel sick to my stomach, I don't know where he is or what he's doing, if he comes back I have no way to protect myself. Please stay vigilant and don't trust anyone you don't know.

🥕 catsncarrots Follow

i'm so sorry to hear that karl :( hey what's the new pfp?

💍 im-from-the-future Follow

No idea

43 notes

🥚 baddestboi-withahalo Follow

we all accepted the prison way too quickly. there's like no safety measures? are we forgetting someone DIED THERE? and i've literally seen the main cell myself and it's a mess. pretty sure there was some real blood on the walls too. idk just doesn't feel right

🔱 warden-of-the-vault Follow

I'm tired of people reblogging posts like this without checking their sources. There are some obvious red flags here. For starters, op claims they've witnessed the main cell personally, but if you actually check the prison's rules, visits have been banned for several months now [x]. The prison is armed with state of the art security measures, including lava, barriers, and numerous manual searches, to name just a few [x]. Speaking as an authority on the prison myself [x], I can safely confirm that these security measures, as well as the prisoner, are in perfect condition. Don't be so quick to buy into conspiracy theories.

🥚 baddestboi-withahalo Follow

I LITERALLY WORK THERE????

🔱 warden-of-the-vault Follow

Not anymore you don't.

972 notes

#long post #I wasted so much time on this and every second was worth it #dreblr #dream smp #dsmp #dashboard simulator #lore thoughts #dsmp dashboard simulators

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xclowniex · 12 days

Note

The depressing thing about I/P is that it's shocking quite easy to take a stance on the matter without being viciously bigoted as hell, and yet people just swan-dived straight into vicious hatred and cruelty on pretty much the flip of a switch:

Netanyahu's government and Hamas are the main bad guys. The former because he was already a far-right wing crook who was in big trouble prior to all this, and now he's using the war to stay in power and out of jail. He's a genuinely evil man who needs to be in prison, and there are people within Israel trying to hold him accountable. Netanyahu absolutely detests Biden because the latter is less beneficial to him for his own cruel goals (Though justifiably your mileage may vary on Biden's actions and whether they're the right thing to do or not), and Netanyahu would greatly benefit from having Trump in power...which would be the exact opposite of helping Palestine.

Hamas is a terrorist organization being bankrolled by Qatar billionaires and who wouldn't hesitate to use Palestinians as cannon fodder for their goals. They aren't freedom fighters by any stretch of the imagination just because the government opposing them is led by an evil man and his far-right cronies, and regular Palestinians are being oppressed by them.

Both Israeli people and Palestinians have a long and complicated history that hasn't been resolved in centuries, and trying to pretend as outsiders that we somehow know the correct solution (of killing or driving out all of one side) is incredibly arrogant and extremely cruel, and basically turning two very diverse and complex peoples into props for our own ego trips.

Israel's and Hamas' governments have both committed immense atrocities and war crimes, and those involved DO need to be held accountable in order for a proper peaceful solution to exist, but that does NOT make their respective peoples responsible for their actions. So constantly trying to treat all Israeli and Jewish people as being responsible for genocide is stupid and grossly bigoted, especially given that in many other cases, we don't treat other nations who've committed similar crimes and evils the same way.

Likewise, Palestinians aren't people's personal props for their revolutionary fantasies or weirdly para-social guilt complex either; just because people in the West are deep in denial about their own nations' history of horrific mistreatment of minorities doesn't mean they get to turn two entirely different independent countries (with vastly different sociopolitical and racial histories) into a balm to sooth their own guilty consciences.

Like, this is still somewhat of a gross simplification, and feel free to correct me if I missed something, but it's still incredibly disturbing how many people can't seem to do this base level of thinking.

Nah you are so right anon

#antisemitism #israel #i/p #palestine #am yisrael chai #i/p war #gaza #ask clownie

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loveindefinitely · 5 months

Text

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

04 — I'M HERE REGARDLESS OF THE PAIN

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

As it turns out, ‘real men’ fight bloody.

It’s a difficult journey, your escape, and you end up killing more men than you had ever planned to. With comms blaring in your ears, the weight of an assault rifle in your hands, and the windy night brushing against your clammy skin, you find yourself lost in the thrill of battle.

Everything comes to a head, however, when an unfamiliar voice enters your comms, and both Soap and Ghost seem to deflate with relief.

It’s with the roaring of a helicopter overhead, bullets flying by your running body, that a deep, gravelly British voice trickles into your ear – like the eye of a hurricane.

“All stations, this is Bravo Six – Get down!”

You’re not sure who ‘Bravo Six’ is, or why he’s helping you, but the telltale spark that sparks at the base of your spine has your entire being – your soul – ready to put your life in this man’s hands. It’s an all-consuming, threatening need, but one you find yourself clinging to regardless.

Whatever mental dilemma that is starting to form immediately gets put away with the rest of your ongoing ones. Your focus is now entirely set on the figure on top of the wall, firing a rocket at the enemy’s helicopter. As the pilot loses control of the aircraft, you can feel the thrum in your chest as it crashes and burns into the prison’s ground.

“It’s Price!” Ghost cries out, the most… not joyful, but pleased, maybe, that you’ve ever heard the man.

“Hell fuckin’ yeah!” Soap adds, and when you flit your gaze to your left, you see the beaming grin on his blood-speckled face. In the giant, bright lights surrounding the grounds, you can see all of his intricacies, even when running and shooting down Shadows.

Price, you now recognise the voice as belonging to, commands you all through the radio once more. “All Bravo and Vaqueros,” he barks, “Top o’ the wall. Get here and I’ll get you out. How copy?”

He’s a Captain, through and through. From his delivery, requiring no disobedience, to the undertone of compassion for his men. He’s the kind of man you’d be blessed to work alongside with – a true, hard earned leader.

“Loud and clear, Price. Comin’ to ya!” Ghost copies, and it feels as though the air around the lot of you has grown thick with tangible, genuine hope.

Rodolfo, closest to your right, looks to you with raised brows, before calling out to Soap and Ghost to your left, “Who’s he?”

Soap’s returning smirk is hardened, a hint of bloodthirst in it. The wrapping around his arm has, miraculously, remained on, with only a small patch of blood bled through. It’s a relief, and a compliment to your handiwork. “A friend,” he chuckles, and you believe it.

“I like him already,” Alejandro barks a laugh, before tilting his head to call out to his men, “¡Vaqueros, vayan al muro, entre las torres, ya!”

You can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face, amidst the sheer panic inside of you. It’s easy to fall into the heat of the moment, the camaraderie and community.

As the five of you stop mere feet away from the wall, you see ropes get dropped down by the figure on top, allowing for all of you to ascend. Price tells you all as much, before you're clicking your ascender into place, and being shot up the rope.

You’re just behind Soap and Ghost, watching as two men – you’re assuming the one with the boonie hat is Price – grab their hands and pull them up.

They all greet each other, and it hits you what they are. Who they are.

This is the 141 of every soldier’s nightmares. This is the 141 who Soap’s confirmed is closer than anyone will ever know. This is the 141 that takes down enemies by each other’s sides, forever on each other’s six.

It’s odd, being an outlier, someone watching on from outside of their circle. Like a spectator in a real life motion picture, or a cameraman capturing the essence of a love so deep, no one could tell where it started and ended.

They barely pass a few words amongst each other, before each of them move to help the rest of you up.

It’s the other stranger – a man with tight, dark curls, and electrifying brown eyes, that stretches his hand out for you to take. With one breath to decide, you let your hand fall into place against his, your skin heating from the very first touch.

Time seems to stop, just for a moment, as the two of you make eye contact for the first time.

His eyes. They’re such a deep, earnest brown, and the dimples etched into his cheeks look as if they were made to be admired. He, like Soap, has a light dusting of freckles across the highlights of his face, and if one were to tell you he was carved from stone, you’d believe it.

In reality, this assessment lasts less than a few seconds, before he’s pulling you forward.

But he’s too strong, too fast with it, and you quickly find yourself crashing into his chest, your nose hitting against his collarbone, sending a sharp pain through it.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, love,” he rambles out, quickly placing his large hands on your shoulders and keeping you at arms distance, eyes flickering up and down your frame. And, oh, his voice. It’s like honey against velvet, warm and soft and accented.

“It’s alright,” you manage to say, around the stiffness of your jaw.

He, too, seems at a loss for words, his brows pushing together in confusion. Before either of you can continue your conversation in your small bubble, Soap bursts it with easy charisma.

“Ale, Rudy,” he jerks his head towards the two newest additions to the small group, before looking to you, “Sweetheart.” You can feel your cheeks heat, your knuckles whitening against the strain of fisting your hands. “Meet Captain Price and Sergeant Garrick.”

It’s a true insult to be referred to as such a vitriol-lidden endearment, especially when being introduced to the 141’s Captain. And the man who you can’t quite get a feel of – the one still watching you, now.

“Thanks for the assist. My men need cover fire,” Alejandro yells over the sounds of gunfights and firearms, reloading his rifle as he does so.

There’s a collective, exciting thrum to the air, your body coming alive within it. A rooted, organic part of you instinctively forces your attention to Price, who immediately commands his team; “The lot of you! Overwatch – now!”

It’s a good call, and quickly adjusting a scope onto the head of your rifle, you move to kneel and aim over the small stone wall.

Peeking over it, you manage to shoot a few in an arm or a leg – not fatal wounds. If you were at all thinking, you’d realise it was a self-preservation technique; when your body would finally crash from the adrenaline, the pure agony of killing your men would, maybe, lighten. Just a bit.

You jolt when Price barks a warning, “Vehicles incoming, right side!”

Quickly adjusting your stance, you manage to catch a glimpse of the said vehicle, its body covered in the shadows.

“That vehicle’s rigged –” Ghost calls to your left side, but by his dampened tone, you can tell the words aren’t directed to you, “Soap, detonate it!”

Through the scope of your rifle, between one moment and the next, orange and yellow fill your line of sight; nothing visible but the heart of an explosion. You can’t help your deep, surprised exhale, but the sound of Soap’s manic laughter soothes the tension in your shoulders.

“¡Escalen, Vaqueros! ¡Es su oportunidad!” Alejandro shouts through his comms, at the same time that Ghost calls out their status, “Vehicle destroyed!”

Ghost’s voice is such a deep timbre – all dominance and command, guttural and raw and gravelly. You feel almost guilty, how easily you find yourself clinging to their instructions, even if you outrank them all. Like scotch tape over your cracking porcelain brain, a quick fix; a necessary one, if you don’t want to break on this very cement.

“Shadows in the right side tower, watch your backs!” Price calls, and you instantly pivot to direct your gun to the stone tower to your right, hands assuming the most stable position on your rifle without a single tremble.

Your eyes go wide as you watch Soap storm in, efficiently taking down all of the Shadows within with easy shots and a final slice of his knife.

Minutes pass, then, yelling of orders, Soap landing shots of his grenade launcher, Shadows going down without a single KIA caused by your trigger.

It’s when Alejandro calls out to his soldiers, pushing his tactical glasses up and securing his rifle on his back, “Vamos, avancen rapido- mientras está despejado!!” That you let yourself breathe. In, out, the feel of your chest rising and falling with the sound of destruction all around you.

The rest of the previously captive soldiers rush up the ropes, you extending your hand and pulling up a few, just like the rest of the men on top of the wall.

“We’re good to go, coronel,” Rodolfo turns to report to Alejandro, his expression firm, a thin clinging of sweat shining with the fire of explosions below. A few small cuts decorate his face, one just nicking a mole on his upper cheek.

Alejandro nods, allowing himself a smirk to stretch over his face, before looking to you all with a narrowed gaze. “Let’s get out of here, hermanos y hermana.” You will never admit the small, blooming part of you that craves that kind of inclusion – how he adjusts to your presence in such small ways.

“Down the wall,” Price jerks his chin, wiping a hand over the scruff of his beard as he prepares to exfil, looking behind you all. “We are leaving!”

Your heart stutters in your chest – a sudden, all-consuming thought erupting in your brain like wildfire. If you surrendered – turned, and begged for the Shadows to take you to Graves – would they? Was there any hope of return, of normalcy, a way for you to go back to the life you always knew?

A sudden hand around the nape of your neck has you startling out of your wandering thoughts, your eyes fluttering where they meet near-black ones.

Ghost.

“You know how to get down, dontcha?” He tilts his head, the words coming out deadly soft in the gunfire surrounding you both.

With shaky, unsure movements, you nod.

He squeezes his hold on your scruff tighter, studying you like one would study a germ under a microscope. He leans in – his mask brushing the side of your ear as he seethes, “Then get down, Sweetheart.”

If he knew of your inner struggle, or if it was merely a coincidence, you aren’t sure.

All you know is that he’d just saved you. Intentionally or not – he had rescued you from both the Shadows, and yourself. With a firm nod of your own, you shoulder him off of you, and rappel down the wall.

As soon as your feet hit the muddy ground, you focus in on the exfil vehicles up ahead, the lights no longer shining on you all. Hints of sunrise peak over the horizon, the small bits of hazy orange decorating the men near the vehicle.

Two more footfalls echo behind you, and when you look over your shoulder, it’s to find both Soap and Price.

“These are ours,” Price affirms, pointing to the two vehicles in front of you. When his eyes meet yours, his jaw sets minutely, and you're quick to look away and to the rest of the group.

“Check,” Alejandro nods.

Soap, jogging up to the vehicle, gestures to Rodolfo, “Take the truck we came with,” the man quickly agreeing and rushing back to join his Colonel and men.

“¡Vaqueros, siganme...! ¡Rudy, movamos el rancho!” Yells Alejandro, jerking his head towards the other man, Rodolfo quickly responding, “Sale, Coronel, suerte.”

Adrenaline continues to rush through your veins like a second blood, your muscles loose and ready to react to the smallest snap of a twig. Turning your brain off is second nature, at this point, the rush of unneeded thoughts shut off like a faucet.

Directing Price to follow their lead, you find yourself lost on where to go – Rodolfo was the closest thing you had to a supporter, but at the end of the day, the deal had been made with the 141. Not the Los Vaqueros.

“Gaz, drive!” Price directs, before his steely blue eyes find you, frosting over, allowing you no way of reading his emotion. “You’re with us.”

…There’s your answer, you suppose.

The five of you manage your way into the vehicle, Gaz roughly hopping into the driver’s seat and the other three rushing into the back. Soap’s hand finds its way around your wrist as you go to hop in, pulling you forward roughly.

Elbowing him with a somewhat immature huff, you try and get comfortable, but being squished in with three other six-foot-something bulky men makes the act difficult.

It’s the least of your problems, really, because as soon as you stop your fussing around, all eyes are on you.

“You lot have three seconds to tell me what the hell is goin’ on,” Price grits out from under his breath. Somehow, it comes out a hundred times more terrifying than if he had yelled it.

Two nervous seconds pass, and just when you think that this is finally going to be the end of your road, Soap babbles out, “The lass is with us now. Sir.”

Knees spread, Price runs a tired, weathered hand down his face, letting out a long-suffering breath.

“...Where’s she from? A stray?” He asks, looking to the two – so dismissive, you just can’t help yourself. You’d earned your title, you were worthy of respect, even if it was from the Captain of the 141.

“She’s right here,” you retort, voice hard and unbudging – even when six eyes lock onto you once more. “And she is a Colonel. One who just killed her men because she wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to war crimes. Who just saved the lives of your men, for no reason but her humanity. Is that what you wanted to hear, Captain?”

Visceral, tangible silence fills the metal walls of the vehicle once more.

That is, until a low, impressed whistle from the front breaks it. Gaz. You look into the rearview mirror, meeting his smile-crinkled eyes. “Definitely what I wanted to hear,” he says, a grin on his elegant features, the minute lighting of the horizon cascading his skin is silky pastels.

“...Sweetheart ‘nd Johnny got in a scuffle while we were on the run,” Ghost supplies, eyes darting to yours for a second before focusing in on Price. “She gave him mercy. We agreed to enter a… mutually beneficial agreement.”

“Mutually beneficial?” Soap guffaws, then groans when you elbow him against his injured arm, his head hanging between his shoulders.

Staring down Price, you straighten your spine. “I help you all survive Graves and get the job done. You give me the resources necessary to knock some sense into him.”

Price raises an unimpressed brow, looking at the three of you in a strange sense of exasperated disappointment. “By ‘knock some sense into ‘im’,” he uses air quotes, “We help you kill ‘im?”

That is the biggest question of all.

Could you – would you – kill him? The man who was your everything; boss, provider, family, lover. If it meant protecting the greater good, if it meant sacrificing yourself, would you allow yourself to deliver the final bullet to his brain?

“No,” you manage, voice cracking softly when you look down to where your hands fist against the fabric atop your thighs. “This isn’t him. I don’t know what’s going on, but…” You swallow, finally looking at Price in the eye once more. “I just want things to go back to normal. He’ll come around.”

It’s like you’ve rolled over and bared your throat to the four men, allowing vulnerability in such a trapped space.

“And if there is no saving him?” Price asks, leaning his forearms against his thighs, entwining his hands together as he studies you. “We’re taking ‘im down, but…” Rolling his tongue against the back of his teeth, he considers for a moment, before nodding to himself. “We’ll allow ya to speak to ‘im. If anything goes haywire…”

“You’ll kill him,” you fill in the blanks, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears. They taste wrong on your tongue, the syllables like sour milk.

“He tried to kill us both,” Soap spits out, his right leg bouncing as he looks around the van. “Yer lucky we’re giving ye this much.”

“I could’ve killed you,” you state, the words anything but a lie. They seem to shut him up, at least.

“Save the squabbling for later,” Price cuts in, a direct order to you both. You could, if you wanted to, point out that you were both of equal rank, really, but you decide against it. If you had it your way, you’d have the Captain of Task Force 141 liking your company. “What the hell happened to you, MacTavish?”

MacTavish is certainly a new one – if you had to take a guess, it’d be Soap’s last name.

With a roll of his eyes, Soap jerks his chin to his bandaged upper arm. “Got shot. Through and through. Sweetheart bandaged me up.”

“Where’d that one come from?” Gaz asks from the front, watching through the rearview mirror. “Sweetheart. Got a crush, Johnny boy?”

“Oh feck off,” Soap grumbles, casting a soft glare to the man up front. “Hen gave me those sweetheart lollies when aye was bleedin’ out. Had nothin’ else.”

Gaz hums as if to say that he does not believe that story for a second, and you see all four of them seemingly… relax. Easing, like how one would as they stepped through their front door after a long day at work. Familial and comforting and…

Not for you.

You don’t belong, that voice once again echoes through your ears, and this time, it’s harder to shut it out. It doesn’t matter that you don’t belong, not when you’d be finding your own feet after this bullshit gets sorted out. Really, there wouldn’t even be a reason to see the four men, or the Las Vaqueros, again.

For some reason, your stomach feels uneasy with that thought process.

“We found out somethin’ much more important,” Ghost admits, and the mood immediately settles into something much more cold, much more serious. “Shepherd burned us.”

That name.

It’s like a shot to your system, an invasion of your very being.

Shepherd.

“...General Shepherd?” You mutter out, without a single thought behind the words, your mouth directly connected to your mind.

“Ye know ‘im?” Soap blurts out, brows furrowed and torso turning towards you, hand flexing around the rifle in his lap. Your mouth is dry, your palms are clammy, and your head is pounding.

“He trained me,” you manage, breath tightening and words shaky.

“He was my first Captain.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re

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yourtongzhihazel · 1 month

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I'm jealous of anarchists sometimes because man it sure must be nice to not have to live with the fact that having an ideology actually practiced on a large scale both in the past and present means you have to contend with reality when those countries make mistakes/do genuinely awful things

I mean, its part and parcel of their entire ideological framework, which can largely summarized as "the liberation of the masses comes from the liberation of the individual". Anarchist organizing only extends so far as the individual can extend, that is, to a small group of nearby people. This kind of organization is woefully inadequate for even the smallest of industry which requires hundreds to thousands just to produce a single product. But never mind that. As marxists, I consider mostly the material outcomes of each ideology and unfortunately on this front, anarchism cannot claim to be any less "authoritarian" than marxists. In every large scale experiment, e.g., CNT-FAI or makhno's fun ride, the anarchists have realized very quickly that, no actually, you do need prisons and secret police and militaries and inspectors and all the arms and institutions of state. But instead of realizing, identifying, and reanalyzing their ideology, anarchism largely dismiss these experiments as failures as readily as they do the Soviet Union or the PRC (or they simply say they're not authoritarian because these are horizontally organized people's police, to which I can only say: these gentlemen think that when they have changed the names of things they have changed the things themselves).

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ms0milk · 1 year

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𝐀 𝐇𝐘𝐌𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

On a diplomatic trip far from home, Prince Bakugou must contend with his hatred for you. A woman who lives to take orders. The last thing the warrior prince needs is a babysitter but it’s a feat, not a coincidence, that you are the only apprentice to the captain of his royal guard. Feasts, balls, and festivities await you and your new friends at Takoba, and in the seaside kingdom you must reconcile with the idea that your prince is not so noble as the queen who raised him. All while something half dead and long forgotten festers on high tide.

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 [𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔] prince!bakugou x royal guard!(fem) reader, slow burn to eventual smut. y/n has a personality and it is business formal, she grows. individual chapters will have specific tags-warnings-ratings— in general please expect violence/descriptions of injuries, strong language, two aloof fools, the classic motley bnha crew, seaside shenanigans. bakugou is an absolute piece of work, y/n is professional to a fault and it drives him insane. travel companions ー civil teammates ー genuine enemies ー confused friends ー lovers. plenty of ridiculous tension accompanied by angst and 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄.

❂ ー 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 this story has been my baby over the past few months (was this a direct response to mha ch 362? yes) — so I hope you cherish it as much as I do. I am not immune to roy/riza (fma) and many of the dynamics in this au are heavily inspired by their relationship (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ be prepared to absolutely hurtle this man out of harm's way TAGLIST | AO3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆. ✦

You terrify him and it breaks his heart.

𝒐𝒏𝒆. 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩

In the warm forests of Aldera Castle you and the prince grew up in periphery. A soldier without magic and the boy who never spoke to her. Suddenly, he is your only responsibility.

𝒕𝒘𝒐. 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

With the first day of travel under your belt and introductions well collected, your Alderan company finds time to unwind together. Thankfully, nothing bad ever happens around a campfire.

𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆. 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

Are all carriages of the east made for prisoners of war? Prince Bakugou despises the close quarters and their snagging silver fixtures, but it is a special kind of fate that would deliver you to the safety of the sea and to the feet of the fire that bars your entrance. And deliver you together at that.

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓. 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞

Hats off to dying!

𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

What a vivid dream you’ve made, of the prince and his heavy hands wrapped around your body.

𝒔𝒊𝒙. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐛𝐚

It is at exactly the wrong moment that you realize where all the guards have gone, and just how desperate you must appear for the prince to take such pleasure in destruction.

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

Would he treat you this way in the presence of others? Is it only when you're alone that hell raises?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

In the immortal words of your prince, this was a dogshit idea for a dinner party. You are haunted by blue flames and scarred ghosts no matter how hard you focus on work, and a punishment for your distraction is in order.

𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭

He has no right– your prince is a hypocrite and alone in a haunted seaside garden confrontation is, finally, inevitable.

𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

You will eat the flame mage alive before he lays a finger on your prince, but why gods has Bakugou chosen now to fear for you? To treat you so gently?

𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Thirty-one hours awake and every second spent thinking of you.

𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆. 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

Gods help anyone that might try to hurt you, even if that person is the ocean, or a god– even if that person is you. You finally find your prince's bedchambers after a fight at sea.

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠

The end of your fever comes with realizations. What happens when two people unable to speak stand too close for too long?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

You always think you're well enough to train and if Bakugou has to tie you to a hospital bed himself he will, but he doesn't mean to watch you win for so long and he certainly doesn't mean to join you.

𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧

Can devotion come before forgiveness? can you control it? the last two sober Alderans carry their friends to bed.

𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬

You don’t mean to bite him, he startled you. You don’t mean to laugh together or beam about magic that is not yours. You do not mean to kiss him.

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

(soon.)

#wanna be tagged?#leave a nice comment or fill out my taglist form!#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #mha #mha fantasy au #mha x reader #bnha #bnha fantasy au #bnha x reader #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #a hymn to black water

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tsumuchi · 4 months

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summary: whilst on your vacation in fontaine you accidentally end up in jail. fortunately for you, a certain someone is going to make your trip down to the fortress worthwhile

pairing: wriothesley x gn!reader

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers sort of

warnings: none

notes: not proofread (will do so later) around 6000 words long, reader isn’t from fontaine and works in mondstadt (hints at reader working for albedo), reader is also a bit slow and wriothesley isn't any help and sigewenne sides with him, set after archon quest

after spending four days down at the fortress of meropide, you could confidently say it sucked.

the accommodations, the food, the people, the faint smell of oil and grease always lingering around, it was a major downgrade from the hotel you had been staying in previously.

you had originally come to fontaine for a vacation that your boss back in mondstadt insisted you needed. and now you were going to have to spend most of it in prison.

all you had done, was eat ketchup on its own. that’s all. nothing more, nothing less. it wasn't even that big of a deal, you were just hungry and forgot to bring money for fries to go with it so you ended up eating a packet of ketchup. yet during the trial at the opera epiclese the fontainians made you seem like a villain.

sighing you sat down at the coupon cafeteria at an empty table placing your free meal down. it already reeked.

by the time my twenty-day sentence is over, i’ll only have three days of my vacation left... you thought.

in the fortress of meropide, the inmate that led you on your tour upon first arriving explained that you would have to work in the 'production zone' everyday and you only got one free welfare meal a day.

with that information you decided it'd be best to skip out on breakfast and dinner and have your meal at lunch. all your other time you spent working in the production zone under grainville's supervision. the work was at least easier than all the expeditions in dragonspine you'd have to go on with your boss.

that, essentially, was your routine for the four days you had spent here. you didn't want to get in trouble again for some stupid reason so you made sure to keep to the rules.

opening your welfare meal for the day, you were met with the same disgusting grey sludge that had greeted you yesterday and the day before. you immediately put the lid back on.

since you had step foot in the fortress, you hadn’t eaten a single thing and you honestly felt famished. it wasn’t your fault that everything was practically inedible.

you rested your chin on your hand, sighing yet again for the nth time today. you were considering just skipping lunch entirely, it wasn't like you were eating anything anyway.

when you first stepped foot in the fortress, you told yourself you should try and make the most out of your trip here, think of it as an experience, an extra vacation. but it was as if there was something you were missing.

most of the other inmates looked as if they were living the life down at the fortress of meropide. your isolated table was surrounded by others who were happily chatting away, with scrummier meals than you as well.

am i doing something wrong? how can anyone be genuinely happy here?

you thought, pushing away you’re own meal box in disgust and staring longingly at someone else’s meal that looked as if it belonged in hotel debord. the sight alone was enough to fill a fraction of the hunger inside you.

i guess this will just have to do...

“not a fan of the food, huh?” a voice suddenly spoke and you jumped slightly looking up to see a man sitting opposite you on your once lonely table.

one glance at the man and you already knew you did not want to deal with him. you had already ran into a couple of inmates, they either ignored you because they didn’t care or gave you a hard time just because.

this man, looked as if he was ready to do the latter.

well, i shouldn’t judge a book by it's cover…

he had messy black hair with grey streaks along with piercing blue eyes. with the way his arms were crossed you could see his muscles flex but also the various scars on them. he also had numerous scars around his neck and one just underneath his right eye.

you’d be lying if you said he was unattractive, you definitely would've noticed someone like him by now so you wondered why you hadn't seen him before.

“well, maybe i’d eat it if it at least looked edible.” you responded watching him in front of you, still taking in his whole appearance.

maybe... he's new here too? why else would he come talk to me?

at your response the man raised a brow, taking in your features. as his eyes scanned across your attire and up to your face, they eventually landed on your own as he stared right through you. his gaze pierced through you and you nearly shuddered from the intimidation.

you also noticed the looks and hushed whispers that other inmates were giving him once he had sat on your table. perhaps people had been giving him a hard time.

"um," you gulped "are you new here?" you asked. maybe he didn't have any friends like you, that would explain why he came and sat on your table all of a sudden.

he stared at you a while longer before giving you a lazy smile and leaning forward slightly. “yeah i am, are you?”, he asked.

"i mean i joined here four days ago so i guess... what's your name?" you asked smiling back, maybe he wasn't as scary as he looked.

he was silent for a bit as he looked down, it was as if he was contemplating whether he should tell you or not. you stared at him expectantly awaiting his answer.

"wriothesley." he said eventually.

"wriothesley." you repeated, "well, i'm (y/n). i may not know a lot about this place but if you need anything i can try my best to help." you smiled warmly at him.

he smiled back, well more it was more of a smirk, but either way there was a glint of something in his eye that you noticed but couldn't quite put your finger on.

—————

after your little chat with wriothesley at lunch, the two of you parted ways and you headed to the production zone to work until bed time.

when you headed to your room, you got ready for bed and tucked yourself in, closing your eyes so that you could allow sleep to engulf you.

except it never did, and you laid in your bed for hours waiting for the sleep to come.

after a while it eventually rolled to 1am, it was dead silent apart from the constant sound of cogs whirring giving the fortress a more of an eerie feel as you slipped out of your bed.

you trudged towards the lift and made your way to the bottom floor, planning on just sitting at the coupon cafeteria for a while basking in the silence. that's when you stumbled upon the place to find that someone was already there.

the same man from earlier sat in the dim light at the same table from earlier with a teacup to his lips peacefully drinking away, eyes closed. a matching teapot was upon the table and sweet smell of tea wafted throughout.

the rich and sweet aroma was nearly intoxicating, and for someone who hadn't eaten properly in the past few days you felt as if you were hypnotised.

at first you observed from a distance, comtemplating whether or not you should confront him. would he let you try some if you asked? you would have to remember his name first...

wriother... wriothesee... wriothesley? wriothesley! that was it!

"wriothesley?" you called out to the fellow inmate as he opened his eyes to meet yours. he help the cup away from his lips briefly and spoke up.

"oh, evening (y/n)." he acknowledged giving you a small nod, as you made your way to sit opposite him.

"why are you drinking tea out in the open? the guards are going to catch you." you asked while he merely shrugged and set his cup down.

"the guards end their watch night duty at twelve." he stated.

oh, i didnt know that.

"i could ask you the same though. what are you doing wandering around at one in the morning?" he asked, glancing at you.

"i just... couldn't sleep that's all." you said turning your head slightly.

you eyes trailed down to the cup that now rested on the table, noticing how the steam frrom the cup swirled and how the smell was even sweeter now that you were close. wriothesley saw all of this.

"...would you like a sip?" he eventually asked watching the way your eyes gazed on his teacup.

at his words you shot your head up to face him properly.

"really? can i?" your eyes practically lit up which he also took note off, he chuckled before pushing the teacup forward in your direction so that it was in front of you.

you grinned at him before taking the cup in your hands, not too bothered about the fact that you were using the same one as him.

you proceeded to take a sip and it tasted ten times better than the smell. the heat from the drink brought warmth inside of you and the flavours had a sense of familiarity.

the warm hot tea that your boss would usually give you in the little cave in the freezing depths of dragonspine was what first crossed your mind. and you were reminded of home.

you were done taking your sip and let out a happy sigh as you set the cup down.

unbeknownst to you, wriothesley had watched the way you drink the tea and couldn't help but be fascinated in the way your facial expression changed. your eyebrows slightly raised with your eyes slightly widened, the way your smile truly met up to your eyes.

a warm feeling came over him to see you enjoying the tea just as much - probably even more than he did.

"do you like it?" wriothesley asked and you nodded eagerly.

"yeah! it's really good, and tastes sort of familiar. anyway, thanks again, wriothesley." you said pushing the cup back towards him.

"no probl-" he cut himself off after looking down at the now empty tea cup that you had given back to him.

"you finished it..." he muttered quietly eyes widened slightly, when he had handed it to you there was still quite a lot left.

your eyes also widened at his expression as you sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck.

"sorry, i haven't eaten much since i got here so..." you said avoiding his gaze out of embarrassment, you hadn't meant to get carried away the tea just tasted that good.

his eyes shifted from the cup and looked at you, frowning ever so slightly, "you haven't eaten?"

"well apart from the few snacks i brought, my welfare meals have been so bad..." you explained still feeling a tad bit guilty.

"i see. the welfare meals are picked at random so you must've been unfortunate." he explained.

"oh really? so that's how it works..." you said trailing off in thought.

he knew about the when the guards' duty ended and the welfare meals yet i didn't, is this guy really new or am i just slow?

"um, how long have you been here wriothesley?" you asked cautiously and curiously.

"three days." he replied rather suddenly, filling his teacup with some more tea out of the teapot.

"oh, ok then." you said, "it's just you know a lot about this place, probably more than me!" you laughed slightly, he didn't respond and instead kept quiet.

silence fell over the two of you as he sipped his tea looking down at the table and you watched him contently with a small smile.

"you're much nicer than i thought, y'know." you said out of the blue.

"hm?" he said looking back up to face you, "what do you mean by that?"

"i guess it's just that when I first saw you i got the impression that you were the kinda inmate who scared everyone. kinda like a big bad wolf." you explained.

at your comment, he simply looked at you with a deadpan expression. seemingly unimpressed at your claims.

you laughed at his face as a yawn escaped your mouth the same time.

"perhaps you should go to sleep now." he suggested noticing your tiredness.

"maybe i should." you agreed getting up from your seat and stretching, you checked your watch and it was nearly 2.

you looked at wriothesley mildly perplexed, "aren't you going to sleep?"

he shook his head, "no, i still have some things i need to sort out."

what could he possible need to do at 2am?

you decided not to question his motives as yet another yawn escaped you.

"alright then, make sure you get some sleep at least. good night wriothesley." you waved, him giving you a curt nod back before making your way back to your room.

—————

you slept particularly well that night but woke up abruptly the next morning as dread filled your gut. you checked your watch as it read a time around ten in the morning.

i slept in! grainville's totally gonna kill me!

quickly you got out of bed and started to get ready until the same sweet smell from yesterday filled your nose bringing you to a halt.

turning you looked over to the table situated in the corner of your room as you caught sight of a familiar teacup and a grey welfare meal box.

you walked on over to the table, the tea was still warm and there was a small note on the top of the box.

'don't worry about sleeping in, i told grainville that you'd be having a lie in. enjoy breakfast. - wriothesley'

you smiled to yourself before setting the little note aside. you didn't even stop to question how he got grainville to obey his orders, the food inside the box smelled too good.

when you opened the grey meal box, you were met with two croissants and a stack of three pancakes topped with maple syrup and berries. your mouth practically started watering at the sight and you wasted no time and dug in.

—————

from then on, your welfare meals improved drastically and you knew it was wriothesley's doing (yet you still wondered how he had managed to). it had been two days since meeting with him that night and you hadn't seen him since.

you brought the teacup with you everyday since then hoping you'd be able to give it back and thank him but you were yet to see him again.

since food wasn't a problem anymore, you were able to work your shifts at the production zone, and you weren't sure if you were imagine things but grainville had been much nicer to you recently. while you worked, he'd tell you to take break any time you wanted.

on the way, you also happened to befriend the bombshell bros, cuistot and laverune.

"what's with the weird teacup (y/n)?"

"oh it's just uh, for a friend?" you said scratching your neck, looking around to find something else to talk about until your eyes landed upon something,

"oh yeah! what's that room?" you asked walking past the doors at the central part of the administrative area, you had passed it a few times but never knew what it was.

"oh that, that's the duke's office." laverune said.

there's a duke here?

"oh yeah," cuistot piped in, "he's basically in charge down here, a real big shot! the last thing you want is to cross paths with him."

subconsciously, you looked down to the teacup in your hand and pondered.

huh... the duke sounds like a big deal yet i haven't seen him before... i guess that's for my own good though

you and laverune dropped cuistot off at the cafeteria so he could work his shift in the kitchen and then headed off to the production zone.

laverune left after around thirty minutes, saying something about how he was hungry and tired yet you stayed, working tirelessly to process widgets. what the fortress needed all of these widgets for was still unknown to you.

while you were working away, you couldn't help but notice a melusine watching you from the corner of your eye.

she looked a tad bit different from the melusines you had seen up on the surface while on your various excursions in fontaine but still had the same cuteness at least. you wondered why a melusine would be down here of all places.

you didnt think much of her at first, not until she came up to you herself.

"hello! you're mx. (y/n), right?" she said waving at you with a wide smile.

you returned with another smile, albeit a bit surprised she had not only approached you but also knew of your name.

"oh, uh yeah that's me! do you need something?" you asked and she nodded.

"my name's sigewenne, i'm the head nurse down here. I’ve been watching you work and was wondering if you'd follow me? i'd like to give you a check up." she inquired, and how could you refuse to such a cute face?

so you ended your shift at the production zone and considering you had nothing else really to do instead, you followed sigwenne.

one thing led to another and now you were laying down in one of the beds of the infirmary.

“mx. (y/n), are you sure you're feeling well?” sigewinne asked as she looked over your state worriedly taking the thermometer from your mouth.

she had run a couple of tests on you, saying you had 'piqued her curiosity'. but now there seemed to be some sort of problem.

"uh yeah i am, why?" you said confused as she shook her head putting down the thermometer.

"you have a temperature of 40°C, im afraid you're going to have to stay here in the infirmary until it goes down."

"wha- but i feel fine!" you sat up all of a sudden as sigewenne ushered you back down.

"don't worry mx. (y/n), i have just the thing!" she said rushing out the room, you sighed sitting up again and resting your back against the head of the bed.

you had placed the teacup down on the floor beside the bed prior to sigewenne's check up, you bent down slightly and picked it up so you could place it in your lap. then you thought about your current predicament.

is it because i was in the production zone for too long?

it was just a habit of yours to work a lot, but you never thought it would end up in you getting a temperature. the thing was you didn't even feel hot. maybe it was because-

"(y/n)?"

your head whipped to the entrance of the infirmary as the familiar voice fell upon your ears.

"wriothesley! where did you go? it's been two days!" you said smiling upon his arrival.

he didn't necessarily answer your question you noticed, but he came over to your bed and pulled a chair out of a desk nearby to sit right by you.

"sigewenne informed me on your state, are you feeling alright?" he said asking you a question in return.

you blinked. sigewenne told him? wasn't she going to get something? why would she tell him of all people?

oh! maybe they're friends?

"oh yeah i'm okay, i honestly don't know what happened..." you laughed slightly looking off to the side.

"you overworked yourself." he sighed, "you don't have to spend all your time in the production zone."

"i know i know... it's just a habit of mine. i guess that's why my boss sent me here to fontaine, to take a break. it's a shame i have to spend some of it down in prison" you explained.

"i see." he said watching your expression and the way your eyebrows furrowed, "do you miss mondstadt?"

"just a bit." you nodded, "i mean i'm going back soon after my sentence but-"

wait a second, i don't remember telling him i came from mondstadt?

but before you could question the fact that he knew where you were from someone else came in.

"your gr- wriothesley, please could i ask you to leave. mx. (y/n) here needs to rest." sigewenne said with her hands on her hips and a pout on her lips.

wriothesley chuckled at her expression before getting out of his chair as you watched him rise, a small frown on your face.

"oh ok. well, thanks for the tea and breakfast a few days ago! it was really really good. here's your cup." you said holding it out for him.

still, i wonder how he managed to get ahold of such nice food down here...

he reached out to receive his cup and you felt his fingers brush against yours sending a jolt of electricity through your entire body causing you to visibly tense up.

"no problem. i'll come visit you again tomorrow." he said with the faintest smile on his face, his eyes not as piercing as they were upon first meeting him.

your breath hitched slightly and you felt your heartbeat start to quicken as you watched him leave the infirmary, eyes still lingering to where he once was. however your actions didn't go unnoticed by a certain melusine.

once he had left, sigwenne came up to you and checked your temperature once more.

"(y/n)! your temperature has gone up again!" she exclaimed bringing you out of your trance.

"o-oh! really? huh..." you said feeling slightly embarrassed, you yourself new the reason as to why that happened.

"here, drink this and your temperature should go down." she said holding out a cup innocently and you received it with a sheepish smile.

"thanks sigewenne." you said taking a massive sip, not expecting the drink to be so bitter with a side of... spiciness? you swallowed it (barely) but starting coughing soon after.

"w-what's in this??" you choked out.

"oh, nothing you need to worry about. everything in there has healing properties." she reassured.

"right... thanks sigewenne." you said handing her back the cup which she took from your hands.

you thought she'd leave you alone but she just stood there, not looking like she's be moving anytime soon. you contemplated whether or not you should ask if she was alright until she spoke up.

"what do you think of wriothesley?" she asked out of nowhere.

you said averting your eyes to the side, trying to get rid of what was in your head prior, "oh he's nice... i mean he's alright i guess?"

the melusine didn't respond after that, so you slowly brought your gaze back onto her only to be startled to see her staring at you with big wide eyes.

you gulped nervously as you gave her a wobbly smile, her stoic expression scaring you, "are you two friends? i mean you told him that i was sick so i figured you must have-"

"do you like him?" she said suddenly cutting you off.

this time it was your turn to widen your eyes as

"of course not! no- wait yes! wait- i mean in a friend way of course! haha... why do you ask?" you said, painfully wincing internally at your stuttering

she didn't say anything at first but simply stared, her eyes boring into you.

"it's ok mx. (y/n), your secret's safe with me!" she said happily as a sudden sense of worry surged through you.

"huh? what do you-"

"you should probably get some rest now, i'll come check on you again tomorrow morning. good night!" she said clasping her hands together and taking her leave.

you were left speechless once again.

—————

as promised, wriothesley came and visited you in the infirmary the next day. but after the events from the previous day you couldn't look at him in the same way.

you told yourself you didn't have a crush on wriothesley, that would be absurd. but for some reason sigewenne seemed convinced you did, as she sorted out her things in the corner of the infirmary she kept giving you glances.

which was terrible because it seemed as if the two of them were friends so if she told him about your 'feelings', you'd be screwed.

it's not like you had a chance with him to begin with, you weren't from fontaine and he probably was. and despite the fact that you two were sent to the fortress around the same time, you had no idea what sort of crime he committed.

now that you thought about it, he was kinda... mysterious.

he was sat beside your bed as you both drank tea in silence, you felt as if it was awkward and didn't know what to say as you looked everywhere but at him.

one time, you accidentally locked eyes with him and immediately looked away embarrassed.

there's no way i have a crush on wriothesley! besides, after my sentence is over i'll never see him again... not that it matters, i don't like him like that!-

"is something bothering you?" he quipped.

your heartbeat quickened again, much to your dismay. the way he had been looking out for you: getting you food, bringing you tea, checking in on you... it was too much for you to handle.

you hadn't even noticed, you were staring at him.

"no!" you said rather loudly coming out of your trance, you didn't even sound convincing to yourself, "nothing's bothering me, nothing's wrong..."

you quickly brought your teacup to your lips and looked down. nonetheless, he slowly nodded at your response as silence welcomed the two of you once more.

"oh yeah! did you know there was a duke down here?" you asked trying to start up some conversation to clear the silence, your talk with cuistot and laverune the day before coming back to you.

he was silent as he looked down to the liquid in his cup, watching the ripples hit the side and gently bounce back. he then nodded.

"oh, you did? i was only told about him yesterday." you said slightly surprised, you had been down here a day longer than wriothesley but he seemed to know way more than you did.

"what's he like? i've never seen him before." you asked as wriothesley looked up in thought but sigewenne came over to the two of you before he could say anything.

"the duke is very hard-working, he's always up to something hence why you probably haven't seen him yet." sigewenne said, a thermometer in her hands which she held out to you.

you received the thermometer and thanked her, "he kinda sounds like my boss. but at least my boss, as stoic as he is, can be nice and funny at times. apparently the duke is someone who should be avoided."

you put the thermometer in your mouth for a while before giving it back to her, she took note of the temperature and scribbled it down. all the while wriothesley frowned at your words.

"i'm sure the duke also has a good sense of humour." he said.

"maybe..." you shrugged.

"the duke also looks after the fortress very well, he's made lots of improvements over the past years to make this place as comfortable as it can be for the inmates here." sigewenne continued "oh! and he really likes drinking tea."

"ooh! i guess you two have that in common huh?" you pointed out looking at wriothesley.

wriothesley took another sip of his cup before speaking up, "i guess we do."

—————

“w-woah, (y/n)! you have loads of credit coupons!” cuistot stammered at the bunch of ‘credit coupons’ you carried.

sigewenne's drink was surprisingly helpful, (despite how weird it tasted) and you only had to stay in the infirmary for a two nights.

the day after, you and the bombshell bros were planning to go to the pankration ring (a place you never knew existed) to watch a match that according to laverune was going to be the ‘fight of the century’.

but before you made your way there you had told them that there was some trash you needed to clear out so they followed you to your room. when you walked out with the bag of credit coupons they’re jaws dropped.

“credit coupons..? i thought they were just pieces of paper. grainville at the production zone kept giving them to me for working.” you said stopping in your tracks and looking down at the coupons in your hand.

“you’re practically rich! with that many credit coupons you could do all sorts!" laverune exclaimed, the two noticed the confused expression still displayed on your face and decided to explain the whole coupon system.

"...so, this is the currency down here?" you asked in shock.

"basically, yeah!" cuistot said.

wow, i never knew...

once you were done putting away your coupons the three of you headed for the pankration ring. laverune suggested you bring some coupons so you could bet on which fighter you thought would win, so you did.

whilst you walked, you listened in on cuistot and laverune's conversation on who they thought would win.

"'le grappleur' is surely going to win! he is reigning champion for a reason." cuistot said and laverune shook his head.

"oh come on, 'demon horde' has it in the bag. the other day, he even beat 'killer hook'! that makes them tied!" laverune argued.

just what kinda names are these...

"who do you think's going to win (y/n)?" cuistot asked turning to you, you shrugged.

"i don't know... 'le grappleur' maybe?" you said taking a complete guess. laverune humphed disapprovingly.

"well, the duke's going to watch the match as well and i heard he's betting on 'demon horde'!" he said crossing his arms.

oh yeah, the duke, maybe i'll finally see what he looks like?

"but (y/n)'s especially close with his grace so they can just get him to change his mind, bam!" cuistot stated as you raised a brow.

"um, i am?" you asked.

cuistot laughed, "it's not often the duke sits to have a meal with anyone, or visit anyone in the infirmary. why didn't you tell us?" he said only arising more confusion inside you.

he did? but the only other person i've talked to is-

"i believe i heard my name?" a familiar voice spoke up from behind you three causing you all to turn around.

just as you thought, it was wriothesley, you smiled at him feeling your heart beat quicken. you were about to say something until cuistot and laverune beat you to it.

"y-your grace!" they both exclaimed simultaneously bowing slightly as you still stood upright, eyes darting between wriothesley and the pair.

"huh? who... 'your grace'? what?" you were confused until it finally clicked, your eyes widening, "wait, you mean... you're the duke?"

wriothesley smirked at you and folded his arms, "took you long enough."

your mouth was slightly agape as you simply stared at him utterly dumbfounded stumbling to find the right words, "w-what? since when?!"

"oh i dont know, a couple of years ago?" he shrugged nonchalantly.

cuistot and laverune noticed you two were conversing and used it was a chance to slip away off to the pankration ring, leaving you with 'his grace'.

everything suddenly made sense. why he was able to get grainville to listen to him, all the food he was able to deliver you.

"why... why didn't you tell me? and here i thought you were an inmate like me this whole time..." you said bringing your palm to your forehead feeling like an idiot.

"i'll be honest i found it quite entertaining that you didn't know who i was." he said causing you to roll your eyes, he took a step closer so that he was gazing down at you.

"how are you feeling by the way?" he asked, his tone becoming a bit softer making your heart beat even faster.

you sighed, still not having fully accepted the fact that you had been hanging around the duke the entire time, "i'm fine, sigewinne said i should just take it easy from now on."

he hummed smiling slightly, "that's good."

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you merely looked at each other. you admired his features not noticing that he was doing the same until he cleared his throat and looked off to the side.

"your friends seemed to have already left so, would you like to head to the pankration ring together?" he suggested and you beamed at him.

"sure!"

—————

after figuring out who wriothesley really was, you decided it would be best if you discarded your feelings for him. your chances with him had gone from about five percent to absolute zero.

you only had three days of your sentence left anyway, but you weren't looking forward to going back. after all, you ended up liking the fortress of meropide life much more than you had expected.

at the moment, you and wriothesley were having your daily tea break in his office. him sat at his desk going through some papers as you sat on the other side of the desk, reading one of the many books from his shelf.

"you know, i could always shorten your sentence. you could go back today if you wanted." he suggested breaking the silence.

"yes but," you started averting your eyes "i still want to spend a bit more time with cuistot and laverune that's all."

and you too obviously you thought but would never dare to say aloud.

wriothesley hummed in response, "ah yes, you're little friend group." he paused for a bit, "are you sure that's the only reason?"

"uh, i'll miss sigewenne too, she's really sweet." you said, subconsciously taking your eyes off your book and instead watching him. it was a terrible habit of yours lately.

"i see." he said rather plainly, "speaking of sigewenne, we both had a chat earlier today and she told me some, interesting things."

you froze at this and immediately shot ur eyes back down to your book, wriothesley this time noticing as he moved his work to one side watched your expression closely with a smirk.

what? there's no way sigewenne would've told him... right? i never admitted it aloud!

"that's nice, what kind of things?" you said still looking down, eyes scanning over the pages 10x quicker than before (the words weren't even going through your head).

"not much, but she did tell me about you." he said as you felt your heart sink.

"o-oh really? by the way this book is really interesting." you said losing where you were as you flipped ahead a couple of pages, a desperate attempt to change the subject.

he watched your reaction contently, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded, he then shrugged.

"maybe it is, i haven't read it yet." he said, "anyway sigewenne told me that-"

you pulled your own chair back and got up, with the book in hand you rushed to the side to go put it back on the shelf. there was no way you were going to let him finish his sentence and humiliate you.

"i just remembered! i need to go find cuistot to try the new recipe he made!" you said getting up from our chair and going over to the bookshelf. you went on your tip toes to place the book back before turning on your heel, ready to dash towards the door.

however when you turned you were met with wriothesley's figure standing in front of you with a lazy smile, blocking you form going any further.

"sigwenne said that you liked me." he leaned down so he was face to face with you, your lips merely inches away from his and a teasing glint in his eyes, "is that true?"

your eyes widened in shock and horror, your pupils darting around everywhere frantically, "uh- i um, i-"

that alone was enough to provide him an answer asall your muffled words came to a halt when he brought his right hand and held your chin up, connecting his lips with yours.

at first you didn't kiss back, you couldn't kiss back, utterly paralysed from the shock. his smooth lips against your own causing your mind to blank out.

does he... like me back??

you couldn't help it, you were a hopeless fool. you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and kissed back, feeling a smile emerge from his lips, you felt as if you were dreaming.

his hand on your chin found its way to your cheek as the other wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you even closer to his body deepening the kiss in the process.

eventually after what felt like years, you both pulled away breathlessly. an irresistible smile creeping up both your faces.

"i think i'm going to have to lengthen your sentence." he said, his hand resting on the side of your face as his thumb caressed your cheek.

"really? what for?" you asked playing along leaning into his touch.

he leaned in once more, planting a small kiss on your lips before pulling back and flashing you a grin.

"for stealing my heart."

379 notes · View notes

comradekatara · 2 months

Note

I just read your rant about zukka and it made me think what if zuko’s obsession with sokka has to do with the fact that sokka in some ways encompasses some of the traits that have been forced on Zuko since he was young like the whole killing without mercy or remorse and the need for control and the strategic thinking. But Sokka uses these skills no to try and rule the world but to help aang stop Ozai. I haven’t watched atla in a while but your analyses help me realize a lot of details that I missed about it was he characters

yeah i’ve talked before about how sokka and azula being so similar must be kind of a mindfuck for zuko because sokka has “a killer instinct that’s just so fire nation” but also he’s literally friends with the bald baby pacifist monk avatar who says shit like “do you think we could’ve been friends too?” and so zuko clearly has no idea what to think. like he and azula were both indoctrinated into this world that valued certain traits and dogmas over others (ie, sokka’s over aang’s) and so azula sees sokka as more of a threat.

it’s funny because obviously sokka and zuko’s first encounter is sokka getting his ass handed to him by a guy who doesn’t even care that he’s in his way, but also that scheme is pretty immediately disrupted by sokka’s boomerang. and then the next time they meet, sokka has actually spent time training under someone (instead of fumbling around in the dark by himself) and can now hold his own far better. and every single encounter after that sees sokka not only rising to zuko’s level, but surpassing him, fighting him, foiling his plans, advocating to leave him for dead, ignoring him, dismissing him.

even at the western air temple, sokka is the liaison who welcomes him into the group (the designated “leadership” role comes with more responsibilities than simply assassinating assassins), but he also makes it pretty clear that he doesn’t care for or trust zuko throughout “the firebending masters,” even if his manner of bullying is far less overtly malicious than katara’s. and yet, zuko cannot discount him. zuko saw him kill combustion man. zuko understands his value to the group. zuko recognizes that quality he and azula share. zuko may have had an advantage over him the first time they met, but it sure didn’t last long. if azula and zuko have anything in common, it’s a mutual respect for sokka.

like, sokka is the only member of the gaang’s name azula actually says (aang is “the avatar,” katara is “peasant,” toph is [insert blind joke here], and suki is “my favorite prisoner”) and on the day of black sun, she elects to distract sokka first and foremost knowing that he’s their “leader.” and she does clearly respect him more than most people do because she can see herself in him (at least to some extent, i don’t think either of them are actually insightful enough to realize how deep that connection truly goes) and thus can recognize his worth as someone who is in a similar position, albeit on the opposite side.

zuko does say and aang and katara’s names (and appa’s), but sokka’s name is the first he says, and it’s really the only name he uses as a mode of address. and the matter of naming is clearly important to royal heirs, who are defined by their names and titles. we see that especially when zuko confuses ursa’s “remember who you are” with “remember your ancestry,” declaring who he is not as internal identity, but as title. to afford someone the respect of addressing them by name is to implicitly demonstrate respect for them.

this is further demonstrated by the fact that unlike “you just had to pick up the glowing egg” zuko of just an episode prior, zuko really does follow sokka’s leadership and places his complete faith in his abilities. there’s no complaining or backseat driving or undermining of his intentions, which is genuinely anomalous for zuko, who generally refuses to listen to anyone about anything (unless he’s being actively scared into submission, and even then he’s stood up to ozai multiple times). he’s not outspoken in these episodes, however. he is downright docile. and it’s because he genuinely believes sokka to be his superior. which isn’t to say that sokka isn’t better than he is, but like. aang is too and he doesn’t take his knowledge into account! because aang doesn’t represent the values that zuko strove to embody his entire life.

what’s more, i would imagine there’s something kind of satisfying, if not downright intriguing, about knowing someone who basically is what you aspire to be, who you were told you must be your entire life, and seeing that he is just. absolutely fucking miserable. like azula is also miserable, but zuko doesn’t know that (yet), because she hides it better. but sokka is genuinely suicidal (especially in these episodes). meeting this idealized standard of perfection you have always failed to reach and realizing that whatever standards you once (recently) held yourself to are actually deeply unfulfilling. that sokka isn’t “perfect,” that he actually considers himself a failure. and the fact that when he does fail, he considers it the end of the world because he never built up the resilience one gets from being a normal person who doesn’t always succeed on their first try. and zuko’s like “finally, something i have that he doesn’t: intimate knowledge of what it’s like to constantly fail and underperform and disappoint people!”

zuko is really perfectly equipped to support sokka in this situation, because he idolizes him enough to provide him with the unconditional support sokka feels fundamentally undeserving of, and also understands sokka’s misery enough to give him actually meaningful advice when it matters. what’s interesting about how zuko feels about sokka is that it’s not just about uncritically putting him on a pedestal for being Nice Azula or whatever, it’s also about zuko’s genuine desire to help sokka and protect him.

yue inhabits the martyr role that sokka has always envisioned himself in, suki establishes herself as someone who is equally capable of protecting him and he can her, and zuko risks his life to support sokka on his crazy suicide mission, when sokka was so intent on going it alone because he wasn’t thinking clearly didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. sokka doesn’t need someone who treats him like an irreproachable god. in fact, i think sokka would hate nothing more than having a sycophant. he needs someone who understands that he is fallible and vulnerable and needs help like any human being does, and respects and trusts and admires him anyway.

zuko doesn’t have the capacity to recognize azula’s insecurities and shortcomings, or the desire to help her, but he does for sokka. because he never felt like he was in a position where he had to compete for something against him. he’s not trying to usurp sokka’s role as “leader” (except for whatever was going on in “sozin’s comet,” but that’s for another post) and is happy to simply follow him, in a way that is genuinely uncharacteristic for him.

and you can say that it’s because zuko is gay and stupid (which wouldn’t be wrong, per se), but it’s also because sokka embodies everything zuko ever thought he had to be. and it’s because sokka doesn’t even care. it’s the recognition that one person’s idealized model of behavior is another’s burden. that if zuko had been “perfect” like sokka, he never would’ve gained the wisdom to accept defeat and not let it deter him. perfect like azula, who, like sokka, shatters in the face of failure.

zuko says as much in “the siege of the north,” and again in “the western air temple.” the fact that he isn’t a prodigy, the fact that he “had to struggle and fight” to achieve what little he has, is “what made me who i am.” so he’ll respect sokka, of course, because sokka is who he wished for so long that he could be. but he’ll also support sokka, because he has just enough distance from the situation to recognize that he’s not an island (even if sokka himself is convinced that he must be). so it’s not obsession, per se, nor is it simply uncritical admiration that confuses excellence for infallibility. it’s unconditional support born of understanding, a sort of empathy. it’s devotion.

#xxzavier42 #asks #sokka #zuko #azula #sokkaxzuko #azula&sokka #azula&zuko #analysis #at some point i gotta stop saying ‘whoops i wrote way more than i thought i would!!! teehee’#and recognize that this is simply my modus operandi #i love to ramble …. lol #also when i call sokka the ‘leader’ its with the caveat that I think the designation of leadership is kind of flawed #but that’s definitely how azula and zuko see it #and in the most traditional sense that’s what he is #but not always.#i need to finish and post my essay on katara and sokka gifted kidism….#anyway. zucchini good 👍🏼

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