#i’m hallucinating and i have no idea what the hell to do at this point

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 

Everything would be done if another city fell.  

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life. 

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 

Your face gains heat. 

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 

You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 

The man forces a weak huff. 

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty keegan #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod keegan #keegan p russ #keegan x reader #keegan russ #keegan x you #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ x reader #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts x reader #cod ghosts #cod keegan russ #cod fic #cod fanfic #cod x female reader #x fem!reader

[throneofsapphics]

the ebb and flow of fate part 4 

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part five) (epilogue)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: She felt a tug, a thread like current weaving between the three of them, and shoved deep, deep down.

Warnings: injuries, nightmares, angst, a bit of fluff, depression, throwing up, drinking

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I’m back ish! It felt so good to write again, this was close to finished before & I can’t promise when the next part will be out but I’m crossing my fingers for soon, I’m guessing there’ll be about 1-2 more

Cassian’s mad for several reasons. The main one being - she risked her life for him. Put herself in danger for him. He’s mad at himself as well for being … well, a complete asshole to her. But, right now it was easier to hold on to his anger than process any other kinds of emotions. Even if it’s not fair to her. 

He gazed over at the sleeping form, brows furrowed, curled up tightly on her side. 

His fault. 

It's his fault she’s in that pain, in that state. 

Assigning blame won’t help.

Won’t help a damn person. 

The door creaked open, Mor popping her head in. 

“Any change?” She asked, not bothering to look at him.

Another side-effect of the fucked up situation. His longtime friend, her sister, was pissed at him. Pissed at both him and Azriel, for reasons she wouldn’t disclose. Fuck, she only spoke to him when absolutley necessary - or to ask after y/n. 

“No,” his voice was curt, tone sharp. Mor finally looked at him, her eyes narrowed as she took another step in, leaving the door open behind her. 

“You can leave.” 

“I just got here,” he leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms, looking away from her burning stare. 

“And you obviously don’t want to be,” the blonde snapped. 

“When did I say that?” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

“I want to be here,” he said through gritted teeth. Mor let out a noise of disbelief, and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. With Azriel, they’d agreed not to announce their bond without speaking to her first. Whether or not the others figured it out, was up to them. 

“I do.” He insisted, still feeling Mor’s glare on him. The female left without another word, the door quietly closing behind her. 

Cassian stood, dragging his chair behind him towards the edge of the bed. Everything about this was confusing. Frustrating beyond belief. 

The door creaked again, and he opened his mouth to tell Mor to leave him the hell alone, but the scent of night mist and cedar hit him, and his mouth snapped shut. Azriel closed the door behind him, but didn’t move from it, leaning against the frame and observing them from afar. He tilted his head back, neck resting on the top of the chair as he looked at the ceiling. At this point, he knew every small swirl and indent of it. 

His attention snapped back in front of him as a small groan sounded, finding y/n’s eyes heavily blinking, darting between him and Azriel. 

“Another nightmare,” she muttered, and closed her eyes again. He couldn’t fight the small snort that left him. Apparently that’s what they were to her; a nightmare. It didn’t sit right with him, but he didn’t do anything to try and fix it. She could easily brush off anything he said as a delusion or hallucination. To him, there’s no point in fixing anything now, not with what Madja told them. 

 ‘I cannot guarantee how much she will remember - if anything.’

Maybe that could play in his favor, confess everything he wanted to - and brush it off as one of her hallucinations later on. He shook his head, throwing the idea out of it. That was cruel, and he hated himself for considering it. 

“Not a nightmare,” Az finally spoke. He knew she was still awake, but chose to ignore him. 

-

Morning dew coating the moss soaked through her clothing, drenching her back and legs. Her eyes are fixed above her, on the clouds warping in and out of different shapes. She can’t move, can’t block out the images, can’t escape the thoughts circling inside of her mind. Cruel words whispered in voices so familiar, but just out of reach.

Even the clouds seem to be her enemy, forming arrows launching across the sky. Could they be considered clouds? As far as she knows, clouds don’t move like that.

Not real. Not real. Not real. She chants in her mind. Regardless, right now this is her reality. There’s a vague awareness behind her, that this will end at some point. All things considered, this one is rather tame compared to the others. 

-

Thrown into her room, she cowers in the corner, wrapping her arms around her legs and tucking them in tight. Maybe if she makes herself small, they won’t notice. He won’t notice. They’ll finally leave her alone. 

Heavy footsteps pound across the room as she squeezes her eyes shut, if she can’t see it - it’s not real. It won’t happen. Cruel hands tighten around her arms, another slapping against her mouth to muffle her screams -

“Wake up,” a voice says. Wake up from where? The males hands brand into her, his body looming over her - 

“Wake up,” the same voice repeats. 

An invisible hand tightens around her shoulder, shaking it back and forth. She glances down, but the hand isn’t there. Only the one tightening around her upper arm, the grip bruising. 

“Wake up, y/n.”

Her screams are still muffled, her back slammed against the wood. 

Gentle fingers run across her forehead, “please,”

Nausea whirls as she’s flung back into her body, an arm steadies her as she launches forward, clutching a hand over her mouth. 

A bowl is placed in front of her, and she empties the contents of her stomach into it. Minutes pass, and she’s still heaving, her body pale and shaking. 

“Get it all out,” the same voice says. One she can recognize now. A voice she loathes, mostly for the comfort it’s bringing her now, even the real hand that's rubbing her back. 

As soon as she’s done, the bowl and its contents disappear, and she shoved the hand away, shuffling as quickly as she could to the other side of the bed, ignoring the pain shooting up her arms and legs, and tumbled out, barely catching herself on the other side of the wall. 

“Gods-damned it,” someone cursed, and she felt their presence moving in the room, at her side before she could make it to the bathroom on her own. 

“Go away,” she mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“And let you fall on your ass?” Cassian muttered. That’s who the voice was. 

“Yes,” she manages to say, even though each breath hurts. She groans again as his arm wraps under her knees, the other behind her back. In her mind, she can pretend she’s protesting and fighting him on it, but in reality she doesn’t have the energy to. 

He deposits her in front of the sink, and hovers a few steps away like an unwelcome shadow. 

“Fuck off.” 

“A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Why should I be grateful to you? You don’t have to be here,” her hands grip the edge of the sink as she glares at him through the mirror, doing her best not to focus looking at herself. 

“Yes, I do,” he leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly, but she knew he’s observing every movement of hers, looking for any sign of weakness. 

Letting out a large sigh, she cups her hands under the water to rinse her mouth out. A small toothbrush and toothpaste appear next to her, and she thanks the house for it. At least he doesn’t call out how her hands shake with each movement, taking a few tries to actually get the toothpaste on the brush. 

A few minutes later, and she feels marginally better, some of her strength returning. 

Y/n slapped his hand away as she made her way out of the bathroom, but couldn’t stop him from hovering behind her. His shadow covers hers, engulfing her completely as she makes her way back to the bed. The bed. Her damned prison now. 

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” he commented after she settled back in. 

“And you know what’s good for me now?

“Quit putting words in my mouth,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, “I swear if you weren’t injured i’d -” 

“You’d what?” Hazel eyes glared at her for the interruption. “Go on.” 

“No.” 

“Exactly,” she forces a grin, “you’d do nothing.” 

His head tilts back, as if he’s praying to the mother for patience. Maybe if she annoyed him enough he’ll leave her alone. 

-

She was finally in a state of somewhat lucidity, and all he’s getting is her attitude. At least her real feelings hadn’t changed much. Yesterday was a whirlwind. 

“I think I love you both,” she sighed as Azriel ran a cloth over her forehead. He froze, his entire body going still. It was one of the times they both were in the room. 

Azriel, to his credit, didn’t stop his motions. 

“Sometimes,” she continued, “even if you’ve been assholes.” 

She went on to reference something he knew hadn’t happened, and Cassian tried to think of ways he could forget those words. I love you. 

It didn’t work, her soft and gentle voice had replayed in his mind the rest of the night. Void of the venom she usually spoke to them with. 

-

“I thought we were mates at one point, but mates can’t hurt each other.” Y/n had convinced herself this was a hallucination, and didn’t feel any remorse for saying what’s been on her mind. Dream Cassian and Azriel had frozen and she let out a soft laugh. “It’s alright. This isn’t real. I’d never tell you otherwise.” 

They exchanged a look, and she was impressed with how well her subconscious could mirror their real motions. 

“At first, I wanted everything to blow over or to try and fix it. But now, it’s easier to be angry at both of you,” she turned on her side, propping herself up on one arm, face scrunching. Pain. She pushed past it. “I don’t know if I'll ever not be angry, but I heard that hate sex is enjoyable. Not that you’d ever touch me again.” 

Cassian choked, and Azriel had gone still, shadows whirling around his shoulders. 

“That’s not true,” Az’s quiet and cool voice said. 

“That’s how I know this isn’t real” she let her eyes close again, “and thank the mother for that. I’d be mortified.” 

-

“Anything,” she begged with tears streaming down her face. “Please.” 

Anything to take some of the pain away. Azriel let himself hold her, let himself wrap an arm around her shoulders, lean her shaking body into him. 

“I can’t,” he whispered. 

“Why?” Her tear filled face gazed up at him, eyes full of betrayal, “why do you keep hurting me?” 

“I’m sorry,” his thumb brushed away some of the tears, a gesture too intimate, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

She turned her head away, “if you really were sorry, you’d help me.” 

Her breaths evened out, sleep taking over her body again. Azriel wished it would mean she wasn’t in pain anymore, but the nightmares seemed to get worse as the week went on. Sometimes, she’d be frozen in place, body stiff and eyes darting rapidly behind her lids. Others, she’d thrash in the sheets so violently his shadows would intervene of their own accord, holding her in place enough for him to try and wake her. 

-

“I’m so tired,” she told Mor. “I want it to be over.” 

“It’ll pass with time.”  

“I want everything to be over.” 

Mor’s heart clenched. “Just give it time,” she pleaded, even knowing her sister wasn’t in her right mind. That this wasn’t how she really felt. 

“It’s been years,” she whispered. 

“It’s been a week,” Mor brushed away the strands of hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. “It’ll get better.” 

“Everyone says that.” 

“It’s true, Madja said so.” 

“If Madja said so,” her hand covered her yawn. 

“Get some sleep.” 

Her head shook rapidly, even as her eyes grew heavy, lids closing. “It’s worse in my sleep. I’m alone.” 

-

“You can try using your magic soon.” 

Azriel watched as her eyes lit up, a small spark coming back - as if Madja’s words had somehow breathed life into her. For some reason, he’d insisted on being present as much as possible when the healer visited. If he couldn’t be there physically, his shadows would. 

“Now?” The words were barely above a whisper. 

“We should wait for your cousin.” Her head dropped, the small spark extinguished. “In case anything happens,” Madja added, even though she didn’t need to. Y/n would understand why. If anything got out of control, Rhys would be the best option to contain her magic.

“Step out with me for a minute,” Madja murmured to him as she crossed the doorway. A few shadows lingered behind to keep an eye on her as he followed the healer out. 

The healer studied him with a startling intensity. A few decades ago, he may have been tempted to squirm under her gaze, but now it didn’t affect him. He’s used to being looked at like that - to being scrutinized with everything he does. Still, her gaze lacked the usual distrust present in others. Trust. That’s what he’d built with the healer the last two weeks - regarding his mate, at least. His mind had just become used to calling her that. There wasn’t any other word to describe it, really, even if she chose to ignore the bond once it snapped. That’s another thought he’d become used to - the very real possibility that might happen. He didn’t know if it would be him or her who would. But, he couldn’t stand the thought of her accepting it with Cassian, and not him. They hadn’t discussed that possibility either. Maybe neither of them wanted to speak the chance into existence. 

“It may snap as soon as she has full access, it may not.” 

She’s only repeating things he already knows. 

“I’m aware,” he told her. 

Her eyes narrowed at him. 

“It may … undo some of the progress made. Her mental state is fragile.” He didn’t bother telling her he’s aware of that either, he’d witnessed it himself - either directly or indirectly, he always had eyes on her. Knew every word she’d spoken over the last two weeks. 

Madja was hesitating to say something, so he prompted, “what else should I be aware of?” 

“That’s all for now.” She was hiding something from him. In most cases, he’d figure it out in time. Azriel normally prided himself on his patience, but he’s found when it comes to y/n’s … health, he has little of it. 

“What is it?” He fought to keep his voice cool and steady. 

“I’m still looking into long term effects, although I don’t anticipate many.” Many. Meaning there still will be some. “Keep it between us,” she warned him. 

His brows flicked up slightly at that, but he assured her he would, before slipping back through the door. 

“It’s you again,” she huffed as he entered.

That’s how he knew she was lucid. The attitude and disdain. 

“Thought you’d be happy, getting your magic back.” 

“If it actually happens.” 

Something pricked the back of his neck. “What does that mean?” 

“You think I haven’t been trying?” 

Azriel pushed down his anger. Most of it. “I don’t need to tell you how stupid that is, do I?” 

“You lose your magic for a few weeks, tell me what you think.” 

He’d experienced it temporarily, through ash arrows, but never to this extent. Still, sharp and perhaps distasteful words left him, “I think you’re being reckless.” 

She blinked a few times, a type of haze coming over her eyes. “What if I never get it back?” Just above a whisper, like earlier, but this time filled with dread. 

“Then you adapt,” Azriel said, much gentler. There was a very slim possibility of that happening, but he wouldn’t deny it completely to her. That’s what he’d always brought her, honesty, and he wouldn’t change it now.  

“It’s like … missing a limb.” 

There weren’t any words of comfort he could provide, instead he crossed the room and tugged her to his side. At first, she froze against him, but he ran his fingers through her hair, and slowly she melted, letting herself relax against him. Something he didn’t feel he deserved. 

-

She didn’t lose her magic, and thank the gods because that would’ve snapped the last strand of her sanity. Sanity she felt like she was barely hanging on to at this point. 

Although reality was distorted, some things were clear to her. Cassian and Azriel had been there the most, but she didn’t know whether or not that was by their choice. She didn’t want to know. 

A month later, one particular nightmare hadn’t gone away. 

She was in a town square. Not Velaris, but Autumn. Where her ex-friend lived. 

“I told you I wouldn’t let anything come between us,” a haunting voice whispered, and their wings … her scream was guttural as two pairs of wings dropped, echoing on the stone. 

Her hand covered her mouth, trying to muffle the remnants of the scream, before remembering the shield she’d put up for this reason. 

She had to know they were alright, that they were alive. Logically, she knew it was just a nightmare, but  couldn’t stay in this room any longer. She fled from the room like it was on fire, bare feet stumbling against the carpet, arms shoving the door open in front of her. 

Two familiar scents and heartbeats in Azriel’s room. Relief flooded through her. It would be too much to barge into there, but at least she knew they were alive now. She retreated down the hall, instead bracing her arms on a window sill, taking in the full moon casting light over Velaris. 

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she heard the door open, two pairs of almost silent footsteps approaching behind her. In the reflection, their eyes met. Both of them looked vaguely concerned. 

“Just … needed to check you’re alright,” she offered an explanation. Not that she needed to, but it’s better than letting their imaginations run wild. 

“Nightmare?” Cassian’s voice was soft and gentle. She hated his tone, hated that it comforted her. Words didn’t want to work, so she nodded. 

Azriel didn’t speak, but held a hand out to her. Slowly, she turned back around, pinching her arm to make sure this was real. His eyes tracked her movement, flashing slightly in recognition but his body remained still and she placed her hand in his, his warm and calloused hand closing over hers. 

Heart pounding and threatening to burst out of her chest, her rapid breaths warmed the air before her as they crossed the threshold. He pulled her towards his bed, pulling the covers back and gently pushing between her shoulder blades. Cassian climbed in on the other side. Said male wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her into his chest. Azriel’s body fell into place behind hers, as if this was the most natural position for the three of them. She felt a tug, a thread like current weaving between the three of them, and shoved deep, deep down. Like fate was trying to weave the three of them together, to mend and straighten something warped and misaligned by time and stupid decisions. An ache spreading through her chest, mind working overtime to try and figure out what the hell that meant. 

“Relax, princess,” Cassian cut off her spiral, his large hand cupping the back of her head, guiding her to rest right where she could hear his heartbeat. Normally, the nickname was teasing - designed to get a reaction out of her, but now it felt gentle, a term of endearment.  

A sense of calm overtook her, and her heart quit trying to explode, slowing to match his. Azriel ran soothing circles with his thumb, right above her hip bone. Her eyes shuttered closed and she fell asleep between the two warm bodies. 

-

It had been a split second decision, and as Azriel watched them sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Sleep was almost foreign to him, but watching them sleep peacefully, feeling her soft body pressed against his, was almost enough. Maybe he should feel jealous of how she melted into Cassian with a few words, her taut and tense body unwinding, but content filled that space instead. 

They heard her stumbling down the hall. She hadn’t left the room for nightmares since … before. The footsteps paused for a moment before his door, before retreating. That’s when he knew it had been about them, whatever had happened in her sleep. They didn’t need to communicate with each other before leaving the room to track her down. 

His only intention was to check on her, just to see she’s alright. Still, even as her hand reached out for him he meant to bring her back to her room, to close the door and leave, but as soon as her skin met his, he headed in the opposite direction. 

Cassian hadn’t questioned him, hadn’t acted as if anything was out of the ordinary. The threads winding them together practically took on a life of its own as it sang with joy at having her this close, at having her safe between them. Where she belongs. He cleared the thought from his mind. Only if she wants to be there. Did she feel it too?

He wasn’t naive enough to think the nightmares would disappear because of their presence, and sure enough her body stiffened. Cass noticed and his sleepy eyes blinked open, meeting him with concern, almost asking; do we wake her? 

I don’t know, he replied honestly. 

Small whimpers left her. Not the sweet kind of her reacting to their touch, whimpers of pain. Cassian’s hand reached out, running his thumb back and forth over her cheek. Like he was some kind of instant drug, her body relaxed again. 

Do we wake her? He looked at him again. Azriel shook his head, and laid down on the pillow, this time tugging an arm around her waist and bringing her closer to him. 

Cassian’s mouth curved at the corner in amusement, but he ignored him and placed a kiss to her hair, taking pleasure in how she snuggled further into the pillows, one hand covering his own - holding it there. 

-

She woke to warm sheets that weren’t her own, her back pressed against a warm body, another caging her front in. Opening her eyes might end this dream, might ruin whatever moment this is. Her nails dug into her palm, a small hint of pain running through. Real, this was real. She wiggled, trying to dislodge the arm slung tightly over her stomach. 

“Stop,” Azriel’s said, his voice hoarse and sleepy. If that’s how he sounds in the morning, maybe she should try to sneak in here more often. But, she didn’t listen, and shifted her hips again. Something hard brushed against her backside. Fuck. The arm tightened around her, one leg crossing to pin hers in place. 

“I said, stop.” 

This time, she listened. Warm breath brushed against her neck, a sigh of relief. 

Warm rays of sun peeked through the curtains, casting a glow on the bed. They rarely slept past sunrise. Actually, they never did, as far as she knew. 

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” she murmured quietly, not wanting to wake Cassian. 

“I didn’t want to leave.” 

“Don’t you have work to do?” Her pulse fluttered. 

“Are you trying to kick me out of my own room?” 

She shook her head rapidly, and he let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “How long have you been awake?” 

“Long enough to hear you snore.”

“I do not.” 

“You do,” Cassian’s sleepy voice said this time. 

“Rude.” 

Azriel’s leg released hers, his arm loosening enough to give her some room to make space between them. Reluctantly, she did so. Her eyes trailed to the clock. One hour until she needed to be at the library. 

Limbs heavy, she sat up, pushing the sheets down to climb out of the bed. Cassian’s hand reached towards hers, before stopping, falling back to his side. 

“Thank you,” she said, voice just above a whisper, and climbed off, pausing at the doorway, messy hair flipping over her shoulder. They looked at her, some expression she couldn’t read, and left. Neither followed her or said a word, she wished they would. Maybe she’s relying too much on them to make any kind of move. Still, it’s normal for friends to cuddle … right? 

Ever since she’d fallen … ill, they’d changed. They acted almost like they had before, with an extra tension, and it was giving her whiplash. Nothing had been cleared, despite the ‘olive branch’ they’d offered, there wasn’t any discussion of the past. Instead, it seemed like they were avoiding the topic at all costs, despite her hinting towards it. Their temporary peace couldn’t last forever, nothing good did. 

Since that night she ran into the hall, she hadn’t sought them out again. Mainly from fear they would reject her. Turn their backs on her. She wondered if they wished she would. Maybe she could test that theory, if she finally grew the courage to do so. 

As always, they found a way to piss her off. Acting  like they had a right to her, going as far as to scowl at any males that tried to approach her on their nights out. Any time she went out with her sister, they found reasons to be there, and she got into with Cassian one morning. 

“We’re not together, quit acting like it.” 

Hurt flashed through his eyes, gone as quick as it came. “Fine,” he’d replied, and left like a fire was lit under his ass. 

She found herself regretting the words, but she felt an inexplicable need to build a wall between them. That she was getting too close to them. Making it too easy for them to rip her heart out again. She tugged down the top of her shirt, fingers grazing over the tattoo on her collarbone. They hadn’t released her from the bargain, although they easily could’ve. Was it from care? Or for something to hold over her head? 

-

She watched in slow motion as a female pressed up on her toes, and planted a kiss right on Cassian’s mouth, her hands balancing on his shoulders. 

“Push her away,” she pleaded to the universe. Instead, his eyes stayed open, finding hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him. She’d brought it upon herself, she supposed. “We’re not together, quit acting like it.” 

If he wanted to play that game, she could too, and a fire lit under her. 

His eyes flashed; your move, he seemed to say. 

Watch me. She answered.

“Can you help me out with something?” She whispered to a female friend of hers.

Her eyes lit up, “I’m all ears.”

-

As soon as y/n had turned away, he gently turned down the female who’d kissed him, and felt a bit guilty as she scoffed and stormed away. Not guilty enough to do anything about it. His entire body had recoiled against it, screaming to him that it’s wrong. 

But, she’s the one who clearly stated they’re not together. 

He grabbed his drink, tilting his head back to let the liquid burn down his throat. 

“It’s good to see her getting out there,” Rhys commented wryly. Cassian snapped his head to him. 

“What?” 

“Y/n,” he said too innocently.

He turned slowly and watched as she danced with a female friend of hers, hips slowly grinding against each other, arms twining around each other's necks. Then, their lips met. He didn’t think she’d actually take his subtle challenge. 

Rhys clapped a hand on his shoulder. Cassian couldn’t force himself to move, if she wanted her fun - she could have it. He could play this game, even as it tore into him. 

Apparently, Azriel couldn’t. The shadowsinger intercepted the two of them,  tugging her away from the other female's embrace. Right, he hadn’t found the time to inform him of their … discussion, this morning.

A smirk crossed her friend's face. She’d done this on purpose, he already suspected, but now he had his confirmation.  

Small fists beat against Azriel’s back as he stormed out, y/n thrown over his shoulder, her friend laughing in the background. 

“Why are you waiting?” 

He scowled at Rhys’s voice in his mind, but slid a gold mark on the counter, more than covering his tab, before following them out the door. Cassian had a strong feeling Rhys knew of the bond, even if he kept his mouth shut. 

Azriel had paused in front of the building, waiting for him. As he approached, y/n was still spewing curses at him, her face slowly turning red. One of Azriel’s arms was wrapped securely around her thighs, holding her in place. There’s no way for her to escape his hold, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t trying. There’s a small shield around his wings, keeping her from using that to her advantage. 

Azriel shot him a look, and he picked up his pace. 

“Quit it,” he muttered to the female, his hand lightly slapped her ass. The surprise was enough to still her for a moment, letting Azriel snatch his arm and winnow the three of them to the townhouse. 

-

Azriel finally let her down, and she glanced around them, noticing he’d taken them directly to his room.

“What the fuck was that?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered too mildly. 

Oh, he was pissed. She shot a look at Cassian, she’d expected he would relay their conversation, but maybe she shouldn’t have counted on him for that. Azriel followed her gaze. 

“And you, apparently,” the next statement was directed at Cassian. The other male looked completely unapologetic, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders.  

“She made it crystal clear we’re not together.” 

“Really?” Azriel tilted his head, fixing that searing gaze back on her as he closed the gap between them.

Against her will, her heart raced as he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“We’ve never been together,” she managed to say. “You don’t have a claim to me.” 

His mouth indented at the corner, but it wasn’t a smirk of amusement - more like barely concealed irritation and anger. “That’s where you’re wrong.” 

“Excuse me?” She tried to wrangle her chin from his grasp, but he only tightened his grip. Instead, she looked to Cassian. A slight shake of his head, and she redirected her attention to Az.

“I won’t repeat myself.” 

“Then explain.” 

“If you can’t figure it out yourself, I can’t help you.” His hand dropped, and she missed the touch on her skin. 

-

“How do you expect me to understand if you don’t tell me?” Y/n exploded, fists clenching at her side. He knew he shouldn’t have dragged her out of there, but he couldn’t stand to watch her there, in another's arms. Holding her how he should be. 

Still, Azriel had waited so patiently for her to figure it out herself, he could wait a little longer. Apparently Cassian couldn’t. 

“You’re our mate.” 

The temperature in the room plummeted. Not literally, but shivers ran down her spine, goosebumps covering her arms. Her eyes darted rapidly between the two of them, forming some kind of conclusion. 

He counted each second. Forty-seven, before she spoke. Less than a minute. 

“Do you expect me to forget everything? To fall to my knees for you now?” She spit

He pressed his lips into a tight line, and prayed Cassian wouldn’t rise to the bait. He needs to stop praying and hoping where that male is concerned. 

“I’d never turn down a chance to see you on your knees, princess.” 

Azriel groaned. 

“You’ll never see it.” 

“Want to bet-” he caught the look Azriel pinned him with, and shut his mouth mid sentence. Y/n looked too pleased at the turn of events, but he couldn’t take that away from her now - not without making a bigger mess to clean up. She stormed from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. 

Fuck patience, fuck letting fate run it’s course, the truth is in the air now. He’s sick of waiting. 

Azriel flung the door open, taking off after her, Cassian on his heels. 

She tried to slam the door to her room on them, and he wedged his foot in between, forcing it wide open.  

“Leave me alone,” she snarled. 

“So you can block us out?” Cassian countered, shouldering past him to cross the threshold. 

“You deserve it,” his heart thumped in his chest as she switched her gaze to him. “You both do.” 

“What the hell did we do?” Cassian took another step towards her, forcing her to back up. 

-

“I thought you were smarter than that,” she flung his words back in his face. She saw the hurt cross his face, looking vaguely like a kicked puppy. A small sliver of guilt filled her, but a vindictive anger overtook that - good, she wanted him to feel how they made her feel. Even if it was cruel, karma deserved to be thrown back in their faces. The bond may have snapped in her at that moment, but it took less than a minute for her to come to a conclusion. Like hell she’d lay down and make it easy for them, or for herself. It means nothing if she doesn’t accept it. That was a lie, she knew it, but if she repeated it enough to herself maybe she’d believe it. 

They shattered her before, and she had to build herself back together. The temporary peace they’d hovered in was never going to last. 

taglist: @infinitely-kate @foreverrandomwritings @anuttellaa @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @bookishdeer @sidthedollface2 @mis-lil-red @acourtofbatboydreams @blessthepizzaman @hallucynatiing @summerloversposts @rowaelinsempire

#cazriel x reader #cazriel x y/n #acotar x reader #azriel x reader x cassian #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x y/n #cassian x y/n #cassian x azriel x reader #cassian x reader x azriel

[farfromstrange]

Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by this song.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread

A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.

Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)

@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore

[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]

In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.

For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.

Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.

He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.

It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.

You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.

The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom. 

Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.

He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.

There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.

Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.

But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.

When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.

Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.

Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.

He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.

We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.

You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.

“You okay?” you ask.

He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”

You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.

“Bad day at work?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”

“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.

“No,” he says.

His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him. 

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He sighs. “No.”

“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”

His tone is harsher this time, “No!”

You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.

“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”

And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen. 

Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin. 

“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.

He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.

“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”

“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”

“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?” 

If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.

He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”

What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.

Oh.

Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”

“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.

You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?” 

“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”

“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!” 

His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before. 

He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do? 

He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.

And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him. 

“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.

“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.

You sniffle, not answering.

You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows. 

He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.

“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.

He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”

You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.

He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again.

You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey.”

“No, I gotta-”

“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.

But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”

Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp. 

“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager. 

Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.

“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”

“But the mess,” you say. 

“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”

“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”

You cling tighter to him. 

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly. 

Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word. 

His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”

“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“

“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”

You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”

You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.

He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive. 

But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.

You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”

Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”

“It makes me weak,” you say.

“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”

“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”

“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”

“I know, but-“

“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”

“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”

“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”

You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”

His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.

He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”

You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say. 

He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.

So you promise him, “Okay.”

“Can you forgive me for yelling?”

Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say. 

“Thank you.”

Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”

“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”

“But I-”

“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”

The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”

It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself. 

The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him. 

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #gender neutral reader #matt murdock imagines #marvel #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #mentions of child abuse #hurt/comfort #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic #daddy issues (but not the sexy kind)

[thepunkmuppet]

just finally got to watch workin boys and OH MY GODDDDDDD I HAVE THOUGHTS

SPOILERS AHEAD

jeff as hidgens is so. he’s just so

chad’s name stayed the same even though it was changed to workin’ girls everyone clapped

🎶 JUST ME AND MY SIX BOYFRIENDS 🎶 WE WON WE WON WE WON

hidgens backstory oh my fucking god. what the hell this man has suffered more than jesus

the songs are amazing I wasn’t expecting to want to buy the album but now I actually need it their vocals are all SO GOOD mariah bryce and kim are absolutely incredible

bill and ted are on a date and you cannot convince me otherwise (I am delusional). also I love that ted loved it bc he was fucking INTO IT in tgwdlm

still need to know why hailey was dumping ass so much

EXCUSE ME WHO ARE YOU

I love the detail that paul didn’t want to go with bill lmfao

ted got brutally murdered again. I knew they would do it but it’s still hilarious

they really said ✨dutch angles ✨ huh

their real stage manager played the stage manager 😭 I love it he has a self insert hatchetfield oc

linda’s the only person who auditioned but didn’t get in lmfao hidgens really said #eat the rich

I love ruth SO MUCH rip queen (again). lauren managed to make her even more cute and pathetic than she is npmd, what a top notch blorbo 100/10

COURTNEY THRASH’S GIRLFRIEND AS A WORKIN’ GIRL SHE’S COME SO FAR

bailey wearing his uniform and taking his gun to a community theatre production why is he a himbo and why do I love him

I know I’ve already said this but sweet jesus mariah and kim’s voices are actually the best things ever they are so perfect in every way

grace just cannot do anything without discovering her passion for violent murder and lethal weapons and honestly girlboss

“our wet sinewy bodies” “I just came”

UP TO MY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSS

hidgens’ death scene was absolutely stunning oh my god

the fact that richie and grace went together to support ruth?? so cute to me. this obviously isn’t in the npmd timeline so it’s just adorable to me that they actually became friends in this timeline, I’m obsessed.

also they had an opportunity for pete and steph and tom and becky to be there on dates but OH WELL

THE ZOMBIES WERE TERRIFYING. OH MY GOD I AM LOSING MY MIND OVER HOW AMAZING THAT SCENE WAS THE MAKEUP THE VOICE EFFECTS I JUST I C CN AHSNJDJSKUDEJ

ALSO THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE NO IDEA IF THEY REALLY ARE GHOSTS OR IF HIDGENS IS JUST CRAZY AND HALLUCINATING OR IF THEY’RE DEMONS IN DISGUISE AND “CHAD” IS A LORD IN BLACK OR A DIFFERENT BEING OR WHAT LIKE YOU HAVE NO IDEA. OPEN-TO-INTERPRETATION PLOT POINTS YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

#workin boys #workin boys spoilers #nerdy prudes must die #npmd #nerdy prudes must die spoilers #npmd spoilers #hatchetfield halloween party #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #hatchetfield universe #starkid #team starkid #starkid productions #henry hidgens

[stllmnstr]

champagne problems [teaser!]

pairing: jake sim x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, rich kid au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff

teaser word count: 1k

soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic

PART 1 RELEASE DATE: SUNDAY, JANUARY 14, 11:00 PM EST

PART 2 RELEASE DATE: TBA

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.

There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.

The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

[…]

What Jake does not expect, however, is the way his older brother sounds so tentative when he speaks again.  “Well…”

“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap. 

“Do you think you could get it for me?”

Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly. 

“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent. 

“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.” 

“Why not?”

The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”

“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”

The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”

“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around. 

It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully. 

“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”

“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”

Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”

Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”

“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”

Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”

“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”

Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”

“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.

“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit. 

James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”

A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother's dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”

“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn't find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”

“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”

“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly. 

“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little to well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.” 

Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is. 

Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan. 

And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text. 

Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

TO BE CONTINUED…

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

note: I don’t know what I did to please the writing gods, but I have literally never written a story so quickly and with such minimal roadblocks. This thing just about wrote itself. And (I hope this isn’t in bad taste to say, but) I’m kind of obsessed with it. I hope you will be too.

The first full part will be posted tomorrow at the time indicated above the cut, and the second (and final) part will likely be posted at the same time the following Sunday. (I’ll release another update/edit this post when I confirm the release date and time for certain.) Feel free to scream in my inbox and/or share any thoughts you may have in another way. I love hearing them. Happy reading!

#jake fanfic #jake x reader #jake x you #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun x you #enhypen x you #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #jake fluff #jake angst #buckle in party people we’ve got e2l! we’ve got fake dating! we’ve got angst! we’ve got fluff! we’ve got second son syndrome! #we’ve got capital T Tension! #and most importantly we’ve got creative liberties #yes i did name jake’s older brother james

[praetorqueenreyna]

For our little ACOTAR gift exchange! This is a gift fic for @taymartiart, who is one of the BEST artists I've ever met! When asked what she wanted me to write, she said "accidental dick pic." This was so much fun, I love silly modern AUs! Enjoy!

Read here on AO3, or continue reading below:

Rhysand was about ready to silence his phone for the evening. It had been pinging non-stop as war raged on in the group chat. It had started with Mor saying she was craving a sparkling water, and Cassian replying to ask why she liked drinking raw sewage. That had been two hours ago, long past the point that Rhysand thought it was funny. He had also found Amren’s threat to murder Cassian by replacing his blood with sparkling water a little alarming.

There were a few minutes of peace where his phone made no noise at all. The reprieve was interrupted by a lone ding. Rhysand sighed, fully expecting the barrage to begin once again. When it didn’t, he risked actually checking his phone. The text was not from the group chat (ironically named “The Inner Circle” after Mor got way too into mafia movies, and Rhysand didn’t know how to change it), but was from Tamlin. It was a welcome distraction. Tamlin was a little weird, but Rhysand liked him. They had both started off as their fathers’ proteges, expected to take on the family business. Rhysand had fulfilled his end of the bargain, and Tamlin had run off to play guitar in coffee shops around town. An absolutely ridiculous career move, but it was endearing, in its own way.

It didn’t hurt that Tamlin was super hot and also into guys. Rhysand wasn’t too proud to admit that. He had tested the waters, putting on his most seductive voice to tease Tamlin, always just on the edge of outright flirtation. Every time, Tamlin turned a splotchy red and adorably ducked his head, which only made Rhysand want to do it again.

There was no text preview for the message; it only had an attached image. Rhysand opened it and blinked. He had worked a long day, and surely he was hallucinating. Staring at his phone didn’t change anything, and he finally accepted that Tamlin had sent him a picture of his dick.

It was nice, both the dick itself and the picture. Good size, good lighting, good angle. The photo captured his well-defined abs and a small tattoo on his hip bone. Rhysand zoomed in on the picture to see that the tattoo was a name. Alex, maybe? Or Alec? He had no idea why Tamlin had sent him this. The last text exchanged between them was from a week ago, when Rhysand had asked if he was playing this weekend. Nothing to indicate that the next step would be dick pics.

More curious than upset, Rhysand quickly typed out a message.

”Nice tattoo. Ex boyfriend?”

Tamlin began replying right away, in a series of rapid fire messages.

”What?”

“Oh.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh no no no no no.”

“I am SO sorry!!!! I didn’t mean to send that to you!!! I’d never do something like that!!!”

The overuse of exclamation points aside, Rhysand felt bad for him.

”It’s all good, I swear. Not the first dick I’ve seen.”

The reply was instantaneous.

”Oh good!! Not that you’ve seen dicks, that you’re not mad. I’m really sorry.

He probably could have ended it there, but Rhysand was intrigued.

”Who was it for?”

Tamlin didn’t respond for a bit, and Rhysand worried he had overstepped. It was an unexpected relief when another message came in.

”Some guy from Grindr. A friend signed me up for it because I haven’t gone on a date in a while. His name also begins with an R.”

The thought of Tamlin and his awkward demeanor cruising on Grindr was honestly hilarious. This friend had to have been fucking with him. Then again, he never would have expected Tamlin to send a dick pic to a random guy on a dating app, and here they were.

”Already at the dick pic stage? Seems like it's getting serious.”

This time, the reply was faster.

”Ha ha. I actually haven’t even met him yet. We were just talking and he asked for a picture. I’ve never done that before and thought what the hell. And then immediately fucked it up.”

Tamlin was way too sweet and sincere for the guys on Grindr. Thinking fast, Rhysand searched for and downloaded a photo of the Washington Monument. Before he could let Tamlin stew in his self pity for too long, he sent:

”We’ve all fucked up. I’ll send you a pic too, so we’re even.”

He attached the downloaded photo, only thinking to question the joke after he had sent it. It was familiar, bordering on flirtatious. The kind of thing he’d usually only send to Azriel or Cassian. His phone pinged.

”No wonder your ego is huge.”

Another text came in, this time a photo of a male mallard with the title “duck pic.” Rhysand actually laughed. He shot back something about the head of the duck being bright green, and maybe he should get that looked at. Tamlin coyly asked if he knew any good doctors. Holy shit, was Tamlin hitting on him? He knew that Rhysand was a doctor; more accurately a surgeon, working in his father’s clinic.

Rhysand found himself draped over the couch, texting with Tamlin for over an hour. The mortifying start to their conversation seemed to loosen something in him. He was funnier and more charming than Rhysand had ever seen. It felt special, to have Tamlin be so open with him. The thought of Tamlin being like this with “random guy from Grindr who’s name begins with R” filled Rhysand with a seething hot emotion that he eventually identified as jealousy.

When the conversation seemed like it was drifting to an end, Rhysand made his move. He selected one of his own pictures from a hidden folder on his phone (yes he had his own dick pics saved for occasions like this) and sent it. He waited a few seconds, then wrote:

”If you want to keep going, give me a call.”

The urge to throw his phone across the room overwhelmed him. He resorted to putting it face down on the coffee table and staring pointedly at the ceiling. The next minute was the longest of his life. But then, like a miracle, his phone began to ring.

*****************************

One month later

“You owe me a thank you drink.”

“What did you do now?” Tamlin asked, only giving half of his attention to the giant man sitting on the floor. His roommate was supposed to be helping him set up, which mostly just involved finding a stool for Tamlin to sit on. Mission accomplished, Andras sat back on his hands, watching as Tamlin fiddled with his guitar. The coffee shop was almost empty, but it would start to fill up as Tamlin’s set started. He was a regular here.

“Don’t try that innocent act on me, I know all your secrets.” Andras pointed an accusing finger. “You found a hookup on Grindr. You’re welcome.”

“What? No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. I know all the signs. Lucien and I barely see you anymore, you haven’t brooded in weeks, and I found this in your backpack.” For his final exhibit, Andras brandished a small foil packet that revealed itself to be a condom when he stopped shaking it around.

“Stop that!” Blushing, Tamlin snatched the condom out of Andras’s hand. “Why were you going through my backpack anyway?”

“Don’t change the subject. Who is it? That guy with the blue hair? What was his name, Ryan?”

“What are you guys talking about?” Tamlin’s second roommate, Lucien, asked, appearing as if summoned by an omniscient being that wanted to ruin Tamlin’s life.

“Tamlin’s new boy toy,” Andras answered before Tamlin could.

“Ooooooh. Is it that guy with the septum piercing? Rowan?”

Tamlin was about to tell them that he was moving out and they were never allowed to talk to him again when his gaze caught a familiar dark-haired figure swagger into the coffee shop. His heart stuttered, his breath caught in his throat. Rhys sat down at a table near his little stage, leaning back in the seat. He saw Tamlin staring and grinned, waggling his fingers obnoxiously in greeting.

Of course, Rhys had known where he was going. Tamlin had come here straight from Rhys’s apartment, having barely escaped from the lean arms that had grabbed at him, inviting him back into the comforting warmth of Rhys’s bed. Tamlin just hadn’t thought that Rhys would actually show up.

Too late, he remembered that he was in public, being scrutinized by the two people who knew him better than they knew themselves. He watched in horror as Andras and Lucien looked back and forth between Tamlin and Rhysand. Recognition dawned on their faces. At the same time, they said,

“No fucking way.”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #tamsand #tamlin #rhysand #tamlin/rhysand #fanfic #my fic #MERR CHRISMAS TAY #HUGS AND KISSES

[ms-scarletwings]

We gotta start accurately calling Sly Cooper a low fantasy universe at some point. It’s retrospectively wild how much supernatural shit is going on in front of your face that you don’t think about because it’s like… nothing to the characters that it’s happening to. People who have never played Sly Cooper have no clue how nonchalantly it grinds this rail between just “real world noire but furries” and straight up DC superpowers stuff.

• The surprising amount of undead, in hindsight

Black magic is just, you know, a thing…. and outside of when it’s the weapon of choice of the villain of the week, it’s not even really brought up. Tsao was building an army of honest to god vampires and Mz.Ruby has been fraternizing with homemade ghouls since she was a child. A second-game side quest involves descetrating a tomb, kidnapping a bunch of restless ghosts, and then unleashing them on the cops for a good prank. For Pete’s sake, Clockwerk, biggest bad of the franchise, is basically an eldritch machine possessed by the vengeful spirit of someone who became too petty and angry to die.

• There are people born with innate superpowers

So, there is no debate going on with the deal about Cooper abilities and this point, right? Sure, the Theivious Raccoonus has a lot of good pointers any thief worth their salt could gain from, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say somethings along the lines of gliding down lasers or turning invisible on command are a bit out of most readers’ capabilities. The 1st game’s humor in explaining off gameplay mechanics as in-universe phenomena had the unintended consequence of establishing that the Cooper clan members literally have a criminally inclined sort of spidey sense- literally hallucinating glowing auras and blue sparkles around anything both valuable and not nailed down. I think I also awkward appreciated the parallel to be spotted between the Cooper honer code and the self imposed limitations other media supers live by. That idea of “you have the gift of amazing power and you will choose to use it responsibly”, all the better here for the ways in which the clan’s premise subverts classic hero/villain dynamics.

• Ancient techniques of sorcery

run right alongside conventional weaponry

Some supers are born in this world, a lot of them are made. As if anyone with the time to practice and learn can just pick it up like karate. Religion has to be crazy in Sly Cooper considering there’s entire spiritualisms given demonstrable and epic power in what their followers are capable of. Murray literally can do some degree of magic from the third game and onward and there’s no telling what else he learned over the course of his Dreamtime training. Anyone with the wits and resources of the Contessa can figure out how to toy around with freaking mind controlling dark arts. Don’t get me started again on the whole “army of undead” thing which gets even weirder by the implication that the world does nothing to regulate these kind of abilities UP AND UNTIL the user starts to roleplay a cocky little warlord with their zombie friends. And Flame Fu is right there. A lot of what the panda king can do is closer to Bentley’s realm- very complicated and meticulous works of pyrotechnics, but Flame Fu is a whole something else that belongs in this discussion.

• Magical items and mythical beasts

The Mask of Dark Earth, the guru’s special stone, an entire kraken, a whole laundry list of things in The Contessa’s possession, an enormous swamp serpent, haunted trees, whatever the hell kind of ring Dimitri was wearing in the second game, a giant stone dragon statue that turns out to be AN ACTUAL FREAKING DRAGON in dormancy, a supercharged ancient bamboo forest, potentially the Cooper cane itself, and the not-to-be-overlooked every single piece of Clockwerk’s cursed body. I know I’m probably forgetting something because that was just off the cuff. It’s kind of wild that most of what we watch the Coopers focus on stealing can be stuff like museum paintings in a world where magic flying carpets are confirmed to exist. The hell. Why was I ever mocking the pirates in Bloodbath Bay for their paranoia and superstition?? Best part was always that basically none of it phased the resident smarty pants nerd character like it usually would anyone who fills that trope. Because of magic is just an accepted and normalized thing in the world, why WOULD Bentley talk about it any different than he would the history of lumberjacks or combustion physics? Instead of conflicting against his understanding of science, it just tacks onto it as more additional info, you know… the way it would if magic was just another set of rules to study and understand.

#sly cooper #sly cooper analysis #sly cooper and the thievius raccoonus #sly 2 band of thieves #sly 3 honor among thieves #scarlet talks about things

[3tabbiesandalab]

Sweet Home Alabama

Here’s another Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Reader fic

It’s loosely based (and I mean loosely) on the movie Sweet Home Alabama and the fictional town Pidgeon Creek. It has plenty of movie quotes for those who have seen it.

Now I know everyone has lots of ideas of where every one is from. But lets just pretend for this fic to make any sense that Maverick, Penny, Hangman, Coyote, Bob and reader were either born or live/or have lived in this fictional Alabama town at some point okay?! This town also happens to be great at growing naval aviators. That’s just the way it is! And they all don’t have accents for whatever reason. (Remember I’m an Aussie so my southern accent writing skills aren’t amazing!) 

Thank you to @coyotesamachado for the encouragement. I hope you enjoy it!

Trigger warnings - miscarriage and minor character death. All my love to those who have experienced loss.

……..

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The screen door rattled with a loud persistent knock. YFN was quite relaxed in her bubble bath after an early shift at the hospital. But whoever was at the door, didn’t sound like they were going away anytime soon. She groaned as she got out and wrapped a towel around her dripping body.

Screw it.

Seeing as they were so determined to keep banging the door, she might as well embarrass the hell out them for interrupting her.

It was probably just Penny, or it could even be her friends Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin or Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado. She had heard that some of the famous Pidgeon Creek navy boys were back. Of the small number of people YFN knew who had actually managed to get out of the tiny little Alabama town, they had a bit of a habit of becoming naval aviators like the local hero Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Alright I’m comin’. Don’t get your panties in a twist!” YFN called out to whoever was responsible for the incessant noise.

She ripped open the door with a smirk “This better be good, I was just havin’ a lovely bubble…”

The words died in her mouth. Stood on the porch was the last person YFN ever expected to see. Her ex – but not really ex, since they were technically still married - husband.

Robby. Or Lieutenant Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd as he was known now.

It had been almost seven years since he’d last been in town.

YFN sucked in a breath at the sight of him. He was still the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on, now even more so.

They’d grown up together as kids and had been inseparable. YFN had been in love with Bob as long as she could remember, he was even her first kiss at ten years old. He’d been her first everything, and she’d been his.

The boy she’d married at eighteen years old was still there, under the more muscular body and aged features. Bob’s cherub face, the errant curls in his hair he could never tame, and the most beautiful blue eyes behind the same vintage wire framed glasses. Those eyes held the same sad look he’d had the day she’d sent him away.

That look quickly morphed into surprise as he took in her state of undress.

“YFN! What are you doing? What if I’d been some pervert or something?” he cried out.

Bob’s southern accent was barely there, which wasn’t at all surprising since he had only returned to their hometown once after leaving for college and then the navy. It didn’t matter though as soon as she heard her name from his lips again her heart and body ached. This felt like torture.

“Well I spose I made their job easier for them, didn’t I?” YFN joked, slipping into her default sarcasm to hide her own shock. She quickly brought her hand up to cover her necklace. The one that had her wedding ring on it. As she opened the door fully for him, she didn’t know if she hallucinated the light blush that spread across Bob’s cheeks and down his neck and that his eyes ran up and down her body.

“Are you going to put some clothes on?” he said as he looked flustered. Bob stepped inside; his eyes now firmly fixed on the ground.

“It’s your fault I’m half naked. I got outta my bath ‘cause it sounded like you were gonna break the door down. Besides it ain’t nothin’ you haven’t seen ‘fore.” YFN quipped nervously as Bob moved past her, his body not far from her own.

YFN closed her eyes and took a deep steading breath in through her nose. He still smelled of sandalwood and vanilla and something that was uniquely him. The t-shirts he’d left behind spritzed with an old bottle of his cologne that she often slept with when she was lonely, were a poor substitute for the real thing.

She let out the breath slowly and opened her eyes to find Bob’s blue ones fixed on her. YFN was sure he noticed her breathing him in and she flushed at being caught. He might have noticed her necklace too, but he didn’t say anything, just stared at her curiously like she was a puzzle to be solved. But his eyes held something else there too, something more intense.

“Umm. I’ll just go…” YFN said nervously. “Make yourself at home, not a lot has changed in it since...” she couldn’t finish her sentence and she quickly made her way down the hall.

YFN closed the door of the bedroom door behind her, the bedroom that they once shared. Her heart was beating out of control. “Fuck.” she whispered to herself as she brought a shaky hand over her chest and tried to calm herself. She was not prepared to see Bob again, not prepared for the feelings he stirred up inside her.

Pain, guilt, anxiety, and love coursed through her, and she fingered the necklace that had her wedding band on it.

She always knew deep down she wasn’t good enough for Bob, when they were growing up most people would say so. They were complete opposites but had always been like two peas in a pod. Bob was quiet but so sweet, smart, and talented and he had dreams of being a naval aviator and was accepted into college out of state. Even though he was shy, he charmed everyone who ever met him.

And YFN was loud and crazy and sarcastic, with nothing that remarkable about her. She was just the troublemaker who worked part-time at the dixie stop after school and had a passion for painting but no offers for college.

Right after their senior year she got pregnant, and Bob married her despite his parent’s objections. The gossips whispered that YFN had trapped him, but she ignored them as best she could, and they made plans for her to follow him to college so he could chase his dreams.

It would have been tough, but they were so in love and sure they could make it all work. But then her mamma got sick and was all alone as YFN’s daddy had left when she was younger. YFN made the decision to stay behind and nurse her mamma and her kind and loving Bob was prepared to give up on college and stay with her. But YFN was determined to make sure he could live out his chosen path, so made him go.

Her mamma was sicker than anyone realised, and she died shortly after and YFN miscarried their baby the day before the funeral. Her grief over the losses was enormous and on top of that her mamma had no life insurance, so YFN was saddled with her parent’s debt. Bob came home with the intention of dropping out, but he was too smart, too talented, too special to be stuck with her in their little town.

His parents were adamantly against it and even though she didn’t like them, YFN agreed. There was no way she was going to let him give up on his dreams for her and so she broke up with him and said the most awful things she could think of to push him away and get him to leave.

And she was still haunted by them today.

She burst into tears as she allowed herself to remember it. That time had been the darkest, hardest part of her life – she had lost their baby, become an orphan and was deep in debt at eighteen. YFN had been desperate for Bob’s love and support, but he had so much going for him and she couldn’t be selfish and ruin his life too. So she shut him out, determined to make sure he fulfilled his potential.

And he did. Bob graduated college and got accepted into the naval academy and although he was young, he quickly become a successful and highly sort after WSO. YFN had always kept tabs on Bob over the years and she was so incredibly proud of him.

And was still very much in love with him.

After the worst of the grief had subsided, she tried to call him, but she would chicken out and hang up before Bob even answered the phone. She thought it’d be easier to write letters to apologise, but she never sent them. YFN had found the courage to visit Bob at college once to try and explain, but he looked happy and carefree there and she couldn’t bear to ruin that for him. So she left without a word.

She had selfishly wanted to share in his happiness so with a little help from Penny, YFN managed to secretly watch Bob’s college and naval academy graduations, but she couldn’t approach him with his parents around. Although she missed him and regretted letting him go every day, she was content in knowing he’d achieved his dreams.

YFN worked on her own goals as well. The miscarriage and nursing her mamma influenced her future and she trained to be a nurse and a midwife. She became successful with her painting, a lot of her work sold, and it helped pay off her debts. She did it for herself, but there was a part of her that hoped if she deserved Bob enough, that maybe fate would bring them back together one day.

And here he was, seven years later. Probably not for the reason she wanted though.

……..

Bob tried to calm his breathing while he paced around the living room of his former home. YFN was just as beautiful as he remembered, even more so. He had no idea that she could make him feel this way after all this time. He had loved her ever since he was old enough to know what love was.

And now he’s really not sure he ever stopped.

“What do you wanna marry me for anyhow?”

“So I can kiss you anytime I want.”

Their special vow.

Bob used to dream about hearing it, even if it was just one more time.

But that ship had sailed long ago. Their world had been turned upside down when she’d lost her mamma and then their baby. And then YFN had made it clear that she didn’t want anything from him, and it had broken his heart.

Bob was so angry and hurt but he respected her wishes and never contacted her and focused as best he could on college and the naval academy. It had felt selfish at times, to fulfill his dreams and leave her behind. He ached for years to reach out to her, but he could be a stubborn southern boy when he wanted to be, and he would remind himself that she was the one who pushed him away.

His parents moved out of Pidgeon Creek not too long after he did, so apart from YFN, there was little else there for him. And she didn’t want him, so he never looked back and took the longest deployments that were the furthest away, to try and forget her.

But Bob never could forget her. He’d be reminded of YFN in both the big and little moments. He’d eventually taken his wedding ring off, but he took it everywhere he went, and would occasionally slip it on when he thought about her.

He didn’t know what she was to him or how he felt about her anymore. Bob just knew that YFN didn’t want him though, she’d made that clear all those years ago.

YFN walked into the room breaking him from his thoughts. Bob turned to face her, and she looked as if she’d been crying, and his heart ached. He had always hated seeing her upset.

“Have… have you been crying?” he asked concerned.

“I stubbed my toe. I’m fine an’ dandy.” she said unconvincingly. She was lying.

“Why are you even here Bob?” YFN puffed up her chest and huffed at him.

God she could be pig-headed.

Bob set his jaw; he was a little hurt at her obstinance. Fine then. If she wanted him to get straight to it, he would.

“I was in an accident a while back and the hospital…”

“The hospital? Are you… are you hurt?” YFN cut him off and he watched her anxiously scan his body for injuries.

When they were younger, she always worried about him, looked after him if he was sick or patched him up if he got injured.

His jaw relaxed and he gave her a small reassuring smile “I’m ok, I promise.” And she looked relieved.

“It’s just… after the accident the navy reviewed my records and ah questioned why my wife wasn’t my next of kin.” he said softly.

“Oh.” she uttered as she stared at him with a look he couldn’t decipher. But she shook her head and quickly masked her emotions.

He had to do this. Bob took a deep breath and offered her the divorce papers he’d been holding “Yeah. It’s umm been so long, and we never did… We never fixed up any official paperwork. But the navy needs it sorted. So maybe it’s time we…”

He tried to but couldn’t gage her reaction. YFN’s eyes bore into his before she looked down and stared at his outstretched hand holding the papers.

When she didn’t react for a long while, Bob gently prompted her “YFN. Did you hear me?”

Her head snapped up. “Honey just ‘cause I talk slow, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” she spat angrily and snatched the papers off him.

“I didn’t mean…”

YFN waved him off as she interrupted him “It’s fine. I guess it just slipped your mind since you don’t think ‘bout me anymore. You’re probably with someone by now…” she trailed off.

She was wrong on both counts. Bob thought about her and there was no one else, but he didn’t correct her.

“Oh.” she reacted quietly to his silence. “Makes sense. Nobody finds their soulmate when they’re ten years old.” she practically whispered.

They both thought they had back then. Guess they were wrong.

……..

YFN turned away from Bob and put the papers on the table. He didn’t want her; he was with someone else, and he’d only come back to town to divorce her. Tears pricked at her eyes, her chest ached, and she felt like she was suffocating.

She had to make sure he didn’t know how heartbroken she was.

So YFN did what Bob asked and signed them with a trembling hand.

She had to get out of here.

“Oh shoot. Will you look at the time. I’ve signed your damn papers. Now I gotta go. I’ve got a date.” she lied in a shaky voice. She tried to hide the tears that now fell freely from her eyes as she ran to the front door.

“YFN wait!” Bob called out, but she ignored him and quickly got in her car and fled.

……..

YFN drove around for ages while she sobbed, and she finally stopped at Penny’s bar when her tears had dried up.

She made her way through the crowd of locals and headed straight to the bar to get a drink. Penny took in her state and sighed at her sadly “Honey. I’m so sorry.”

“You knew he was back and didn’t tell me?” YFN whispered as she downed the glass of whiskey Penny gave her in one hit.

“Blame me. I should have told you.” she heard a male voice to her right and turned to find Maverick looking at her with a sombre smile.

“Mav. You’re back. I didn’t even realise y’all knew where he was stationed.” YFN said simply as she hugged him tightly and downed a second glass of booze.

He gave her a small smile “All the Pidgeon Creek boys somehow ended up on the same mission together. First time I’ve worked with him. It was a tough one. But I should’ve warned you, I’m sorry.”

A loud shout from by the pool table caught YFN’s attention and she saw her friends Jake and Javy with a couple of others she didn’t recognise. “Hey Coyote. Are you hungry?” Jake called out.

“Sure am Hangman.” replied Javy, a smirk on his face.

YFN smiled and she was immediately squashed between Jake and Javy. “I sure could use a YFN sandwich!” they hollered.

She laughed a little and ducked out of the middle of the men, “Javy. Jake. I love you both and I missed you. But I’m not inna mood for a YFN sandwich or a YFN taco or a YFN corndog either.”

She sighed and gave them a sad smile “You coulda told me he was back.”

“We’re sorry darlin’. The last detachment was the first time we’d seen him in a long time too. We had no idea he was comin’ home until he was on the transfer with us.” Jake said apologetically.

He took in her sombre appearance and embraced her again “You’ve been cryin’.” he said.

“So you didn’t know he came to get a divorce?” she said quietly as she wiped her face.

“What?! We didn’t I swear it. I’m so sorry. We thought he might still lo…”

“Leave it Coyote.” Jake warned as he interrupted Javy.

“He said he met someone. All I’ve ever wanted was for him to be happy, so I signed the papers. Then I panicked. I said I had a date and walked out on him. Jake honey, I need you to pretend we’re together or somethin’. He knows Javy’s married so that won’t work.” she pleaded.

Jake and Javy looked at each other, confused at her words.

The other two people, that YFN didn’t recognise, approached them. One was a gorgeous, petite, brunette woman, and the other was a good looking tall, tanned man with an impressive 80’s moustache.

The man looked both concerned and amused and said, “I don’t think that idea’s going to work.”

YFN looked at him sceptically “And why’s that?”

“Because Hangman has a boyfriend.” Javy grinned.

“Oh my god. You do?!” she squealed. She was happy to hear some good news.

Jake smiled “Yeah it’s kinda new.” he said shyly as he looked at the man beside him. YFN had never seen Jake look so coy about a relationship and it made her smile.

“I’m the boyfriend. Rooster or Bradley if you’d prefer my real name.” he said extending his hand to shake. YFN just engulfed him in a big hug.

“Happy to meet you sugar! Rooster… Bradley… why do they sound familiar? Wait Mav’s talked ‘bout you ‘fore I think.” YFN mused.

Bradley smiled “It’s good to meet you too. Yeah, he’s sort of like my uncle, I guess. You breed a lot of aviators in this little town of yours.”

YFN laughed “That we do. No there’s somethin’ else ‘bout you. Holy shit Jake! This is the pilot you’ve carryin’ on ‘bout? The one who’s ruffled your feathers all these years?” she exclaimed.

Javy doubled over in laughter. Bradley raised an eyebrow at Jake “Aww Hangman, you been sweet on me for that long baby?” he teased.

“Sweet on you as in I wanted to rip that dumb stash of your face until recently? Then yes, yes I was.” Jake joked and YFN looked at the woman beside them who laughed.

“The G-forces made ‘em lose all their manners. I’m guessin’ you’re a pilot too. I’m YFN.” she chastised the boys and hugged her.

“I’m Phoenix but you can call me Tash. I’m Bob’s pilot. I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know what that idiot had planned when he wanted to come down here.” she said warily.

YFN sighed “Don’t you be sorry. Not your worry honey. He’s got someone now, so I can’t really blame him for wanted to get things sorted. But I kinda need to blow off some steam so how ‘bout we get drunk and show these morons a thing or two ‘bout pool?”

Penny must have read her mind because she and Maverick brought over trays of beers and whiskeys. “You know they could use a good laugh after our mission. How ‘bout you tell them the story of how you blew up the bank at ten years old.” chuckled Maverick.

“Ten years old. Jesus. How did you manage that?” laughed Phoenix.

Coyote grinned and said “She strapped dynamite to Fuzz the cat and he wandered into it.”

The group laughed and YFN smiled “I had help. Pidgeon Creek’s resident WSO lit the fuse.” And she downed her whiskey in one go.

“Bob?! Our sweet and innocent Bobby boy actually did something illegal. That’s quite a story.” Rooster proclaimed.

“He was quite a boy. I used to get ‘im into all sorts when we were kids. His folks kinda hated me.” YFN laughed.

“But you’d take the blame for me every time. Wouldn’t you darlin’?”

They all turned to see Bob stumble slightly towards them. He looked a little upset and pretty drunk, and that had made his accent return in full force.

“I didn’t think Bob drank?” Bradley mused quietly.

“He doesn’t often.” Javy sighed as he lined up to take a shot on the pool table.

Bob didn’t drink much even back when they were younger, but when he did, the quiet, shy boy usually disappeared. He could be funny and stupid and a bit bitchy and until YFN reeled him back in before he got carried away.

Jake wrapped an arm around YFN protectively and whispered into her ear “You good sugar?” and she nodded slightly and shot another glass of whiskey.

“You hittin’ on my wife Hangman? Won’t Rooster get a little jealous?” Bob taunted.

She felt pretty loose from the drinks she’d had. “Thought you were keen to drop the wife part Robby.” she quipped using her name for him from when they were younger.

Bob looked surprised at the name or the dressing down and backed off sheepishly “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

YFN sighed, even though he could be sarcastic when he was drunk, he was still sweet and apologised if he went too far. And even though she was heartbroken right now, she couldn’t be angry with him.

“Hey. Robby look at me.” YFN said quietly, and he met her eyes with his sad ones.

“It’s ok. I shouldn’t have said that. You ah… you had to do what was right for you. And Mav said the last detachment you did together was a tough one. So let’s all play some pool like we used to as umm friends. Have some fun yeah?” she offered.

“Yeah c’mon baby grab a stick and join us. If you have trouble findin’ one, just use the one that’s shoved up your ass right now.” Jake needled.

That broke the tension and the whole group including Bob burst into laughter.

……..

Bob sat back and watched his friends play pool as he nursed a beer in one hand and a pool cue in the other. He’d slowed down with the drinking since he was already pretty drunk off the whiskey he’d found at YFN’s house, before he showed up to the bar.

He tried to have fun, he’d laugh along with the others and occasionally say something back. But he was still in shock. He was a little floored that YFN signed the divorce papers as soon as he gave them to her. Bob thought maybe there might have been the smallest chance that even after all these years she would refuse to, she used to be stubborn as a mule after all.

He knew he’d been the one to bring it up, the one who asked the question. So Bob guessed he got what he wanted.

He didn’t feel like he got what he wanted. He felt the absolute opposite of that. He was gutted.

And YFN just acted like everything was fine and chose to be so understanding about the whole thing.

Hangman and Rooster sat down either side of him.

“Well Bobby. We love you but I think you might have fucked this up.” Rooster said simply.

“Yeah, what were you thinkin’ baby? Just rockin’ up with divorce papers? I thought you were sposed to be smart. And you ain’t gotta girl. For someone who’s been hangin’ on to somethin’ so long, you’re pretty fast to let it go.” Hangman shook his head as he quizzed him.

Bob sighed deeply he had no idea why he’d done it like that. He hadn’t planned to ask YFN straight up. She had looked surprised to see him but there was something else he couldn’t quite place. He was observant and he was sure that she had breathed him in, and she’d quickly hidden her necklace for some reason. But YFN had just deflected it all in the stubborn way she used always did.  

Part of him was still angry at her after all this time and he also was annoyed because he could tell she was hiding something. And his brain wasn’t working all that well after seeing her in a towel, she was still so beautiful. So he’d just come out said it and then couldn’t take it back. It was pretty obvious she was upset, and he was pretty sure she had cried but YFN just signed them.

Just like that. And now they burned a hole in his back pocket.

“I don’t know… She was… She thought I did, and I never said I didn’t… Don’t know why… I never thought… Fuck maybe I hoped she’d never sign ‘em.” Bob stuttered out as he watched YFN laugh at something Phoenix said.

“I wasn’t sure if I loved her anymore. But maybe I… Shit. It doesn’t matter. YFN didn’t want me back then and she doesn’t want me now.” he finished dejectedly and skulled the rest of his beer and dropped his head. Screw slowing down.

“YFN Floyd! It’s your turn.” Coyote drunkenly called out and Bob’s head snapped up and he dropped the stick he was holding on the floor in shock.

“For fuck sakes Coyote.” Hangman grunted at the man.

YFN bent down and picked the pool cue up, she was pretty tipsy. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t pick up after my husband. Well not anymore I guess, sweet boy.” she said laughed and tried to make light of Coyote’s slip up.

“Floyd? You kept my last name.” Bob whispered wistfully at that and her calling him ‘sweet boy’ again.

“Yeah, I did. Sorry. I guess that’ll be a problem now with your new girl. I promise I’ll change it.” she sighed as she fingered the necklace under her shirt, all traces of her humour gone.

Bob just stared at her. Once again, he didn’t correct her about him seeing someone, he was too shocked to do it.

She’d kept his name all this time. Could that mean something.

“It might take me a while to change it though Robby. I hope she’s ok to wait a little bit. The hardest part will be changin’ it at work and let everyone know that I’m gonna start signin’ my charts…” YFN trailed off quietly.

Bob was ashamed that had no idea what she was talking about. He hadn’t asked anyone about what she had done with her life for a long time. “Charts?” he questioned.

“Yeah, I’m a nurse and a midwife.” she said softly. Her eyes looked deeply into his.

“Oh. Because of your mamma and our…?” he faltered with a whisper not breaking eye contact.

YFN just nodded at him, tears welled in her eyes “I guess I just wanted to…”

“Sweet girl…” Bob breathed as reached for her. And he used his name for her for the first time in seven years.

YFN paled “No! You can’t… You can’t call me that… I just… I need some air.” she choked out. “Mav can you. Can you drive me?” she asked as she ran out of the bar. Maverick nodded and followed her.

So for the second time that day, Bob watched as YFN ran away.

After she left, Phoenix enveloped him in a big hug and then smacked him in the back of the head “Why do you make me be so mean to you?”

“Oww! What the hell. Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout?” Bob grumbled.

“She still loves you, you idiot! And now she thinks you’ve found someone else because you didn’t correct her!” Phoenix shouted.

“What?” Bob said incredulously.

Hangman sighed heavily “You know she went up to your college to see you.”

“Who? YFN? When?” Bob asked surprised.

“About a year after you left. But she saw how well you were doin’. And she thought she’d need more than an apology to win you back. She needed to conquer the world first.” Hangman said sincerely.

“But she broke up with me. Told me she didn’t love me. Didn’t need me. Told me never to speak to her again. She said she was glad she lost our…” Bob choked out.

Coyote shook his head “YFN lied Bob. Your folks put a bit of pressure on her. Called her quicksand. But she didn’t want to hold you back. Didn’t want you stuck with her folk’s debt. So she lied. She tried to call. Wrote you letters but never sent them.”

Bob just stared at them all in shock. He hadn’t been close with his folks for a while. He knew they never approved of YFN but didn’t realise they had a role in their breakup. She had convinced him that she didn’t want to be with him anymore after the miscarriage.

“Why didn’t y’all tell me?” he whispered.

“Honey it wasn’t our place. You gotta understand, it was so hard for her in the beginnin’. She lost her mamma and the baby and then you. But she’s always kept track of you. I helped her get to your college and naval graduations so she could cheer for you. She was always there for you, always thinkin’ ‘bout you even if you didn’t know it. She hoped you might come home one day, but your parents moved away, and you never came back.” Penny said softly to him.

“YFN still wears her weddin’ band on a necklace baby.” Hangman added.

“You need to see something Bob.” Penny said simply as she pointed at the wall a few metres from him.

Bob got out of his seat and walked over to see the ‘Pidgeon Creek Wall of Fame’. It was covered in photos and newspaper articles of former residents who had done something special. His eyes were drawn to the striking paintings in the middle of it. They were beautiful.

There was one of Maverick, Coyote, and Hangman. And there was one of him, the day he’d graduated the academy. It was so realistic and detailed, as if the artist had been there. It looked like it had been painted with love and care. And in the corner where the artist usually signed was the name YFN Floyd.

Shit.

Phoenix stood beside Bob “Wow. She’s really good.” she breathed.

“YFN didn’t think she was enough for you. Wanted to make somethin’ of herself. Between selling her paintings and her work at the hospital, she paid off all her debts. But it had been years, so she thought it was too late to tell you. She’s a stubborn southern girl after all.” Penny said honestly.

She never stopped loving him. And Bob realised he had never stopped loving her.

He immediately sobered up. “Fuck.” Bob whispered as he turned around to face his friends. “Fuck. I… God I’ve fucked up.” he said again louder this time pulling the divorce papers out of his pocket.

He looked at Phoenix, his eyes pleaded with her to help. “Don’t look at me Bob. I’m not responsible for your stupid shit on the ground.” she said.

“Just tear them up and go after her. Tell her you’re an idiot. It’s not official yet!” Rooster exclaimed as he took the papers off Bob.

Hangman then snatched them off his boyfriend and looked at them and laughed loudly. Bob stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Baby you’re as fuckin’ slow as molasses in the wintertime.” he said sarcastically. “YFN signed them, but you didn’t.” he chuckled.

Bob barked out a choked laugh “You mean we’re still married?”

Maverick walked back into the bar and called out “Only if you want to be.”

“Yes! Yes I do want that!” Bob blurted out. “Mav please. Where is she? Can you drive me?” he begged.

“Fucking kids.” Maverick groaned as Penny kissed his cheek.

“Wait right ‘ere y’all. I’m gonna go find my bride!” he said joyfully as he practically dragged Maverick out of the bar.

……..

YFN sat on the beach, illuminated by the moon, and cried. She was in their special spot, the place Bob and her had found together. She heard movement in the sand but didn’t turn her head when she felt someone sit next to her. She knew it was Bob, the smell of sandalwood and vanilla and him settled in the air.

“YFN. Darlin’ I…” he whispered.

She had waited a long time to apologise to him, to explain her actions. She took a deep breath and turned to him “Let me get this out before I can’t Robby.” she murmured, tears in her eyes.

“I never meant to hurt you, sweet boy. I thought us bein’ together with our baby, while you followed your dreams was gonna be full of adventure. But then my mamma got sick and died and then I lost… I knew you were gonna stay behind with me and then it would’ve been your only adventure. And your folks… well it doesn’t matter. They were right.” she sobbed.

Bob reached for her, but YFN put her hands up in front of him defensively.

She took another steadying breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I lied about everythin’. I said all those hurtful things, but they weren’t true. You deserved a better life Robby, and it was the only way I could think of to get you to leave and never come back. And you’ve done real well for yourself. I’m so proud of you sweet boy.” she sniffed and gave Bob a small sad smile.

“You know I coulda had both roots and wings YFN. We coulda figured it out.” Bob sighed.

“Maybe. Doesn’t make a difference now. I hope your new girl knows how lucky she is.” she whispered.

“There is no one else sweet girl. I’m sorry I let you believe that. I’m a fuckin’ idiot YFN.” Bob confessed.

He gazed into her eyes intensely and said softly “Truth is I gave my heart away a long time ago. My whole heart and I never really got it back.”

YFN breathed out slowly. He still loved her.

Bob reached for her, and he slid his fingers under the neckline of her shirt and pulled out her necklace, revealing her wedding ring on it. He moved to lift the chain over her head, and she let him.

“I’m sorry I gave you the papers darlin’. I was so stupid. I don’t wanna divorce, I never did. But it turns out I never signed them myself so apparently you and I are still hitched.” Bob said softly, love in his eyes as he removed the ring from the necklace.

“The paintin’ YFN… Why didn’t you tell me you came to see me?”

“You were always too good for me. I needed to make something of myself.” she uttered. YFN’s breath hitched as he lifted her left hand and placed the wedding band on her ring finger.

Bob smiled shyly at her “Are you ‘bout done? ‘Cause I have never thought that ‘bout you YFN. I loved you back then and I tried to forget about you, but I never did. I’m sorry I never fought for you. I love you more than anythin’ sweet girl.” he breathed.

“I love you, Robby. I never stopped. Not for a single second.” she whispered as she gazed at him reverently.

The small smile she wore slowly widened.

“What do you wanna be married to me for anyhow?” she asked coyly as she shifted closer to him.

Bob grinned at her; his eyes shined brightly in the moonlight.

“So I can kiss you anytime I want.” he replied softly, and he lifted his hands to cradle her jaw.

And he did kiss her.

They kissed slowly and deeply.

Honk. Honk. Honk.

Honk. Honk. Honk.

They broke apart and laughed when they saw Maverick standing next to his car. He’d driven it down on the beach.

“Nearly done here? You kids have always been a pain in my ass, and I need a drink.” he sighed dramatically.

……

When they got back to Penny’s bar, Bob looked at YFN with a big grin on his face and she shrieked when he swept her up into his arms bridal style and carried her inside.

“Well folks. Look who finally got their shit together. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr and Mrs Robert and YFN Floyd!” Maverick called out loudly.

The room erupted into cheers.

YFN gasped at the scene in front of her and Bob looked equally surprised. She had no idea how they had done it, but they’d turned the bar into a reception of sorts. And half the town had somehow turned out to celebrate.

Their small group of friends came up and congratulated them.

Jake smiled at YFN “You happy sugar?” he said. And she smiled widely and nodded as they embraced.

“You hittin’ on my wife Hangman?” Bob laughed and Jake hugged him tightly.

Bradley playfully punched Bob in the arm and smiled widely at them.

Coyote and Tash hugged them both and she placed something in YFN’s palm and she gasped.

Bob’s wedding ring.

“How? Where?” he spluttered.

Tash just shrugged “I saw you playing with it a few times. Found where you keep it in your bag. You better put it on him, so he doesn’t lose it. And neither of you better fuck this up again.” she laughed.

“Yes ma’am.” YFN and Bob both replied.

Bob offered his left hand to her with a grin and YFN slipped his wedding band on his ring finger and kissed it.

“I think it’s time for a dance, don’t you?” Penny said with a joyful smile on her face.

YFN grabbed Bob’s hand and led him to the dance floor. “Hey Penny. Make it a slow one.” she said as she smiled back at her.

Penny walked to the jukebox and punched the buttons. The sounds of ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ started to play.

YFN looked at Bob lovingly as they swayed to the music “I love you sweet boy.” she murmured.

“I love you too sweet girl.” he breathed back as he gazed at her adoringly.

Bob cupped her cheek with his hand and lowered his lips to hers. He stopped just before they touched and he smiled “You’re the first girl I ever kissed, and I want you to be the last.”

YFN lips curved up into a matching smile. “Guess you can find your soulmate when you’re ten years old.” she whispered, and she kissed him.

And she didn’t plan on stopping ever again.

……

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert 'bob' floyd #rooster top gun #hangman top gun #phoenix top gun #coyote top gun #maverick top gun #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fic #penny top gun #lewis pullman #Bob top gun

[jenyifer]

Dead Friend Forever Ep 9 initial reaction

HELL YES I WAS FUCKING RIGHT on multiple fronts wooooo I love it when things go the way I want.

Although also I was wrong on one thing which is slightly disappointing but whatever!!!!

I do have new questions because I’ve rewatched ep 1 and there are some things that still ain’t quite clicking. I’ll put the questions at the bottom.

Let’s get into the photo review.

Okay I was suspecting drugging of the water when they showed Non getting drunk on something on the tape White saw. But what is up with Jin MAINLY feeling guilt about the teacher not Non. Very weird. He’s seen the dead teacher multiple times unless that’s Por? Which I don’t think so? Jin doesn’t know he’s dead yet.

Oh Non…. 😭😭 I felt his absence all episode really it felt like he was always just in the background of all the actions.

As an older sister I would never fucking stop if this happened to my little sister. New had obviously tried to be the perfect child for his parents to the point of ignoring his brother. I believe he fucking studied his ass off because in pretending to be Tan we saw how fucking smart he really was again and again.

I’m ready to hunt them all down too. I don’t blame Tan for being fucking pissed at Phee about getting too close to Jin. Because Phee annoyingly didn’t find out anything when we as the viewers know Jin DESERVES A SHIT TON OF BLAME DEFINITELY MORE THAN POR. Anyways. So it is tough to watch the lovey Dovey scenes then see Tan trying his hardest to get justice for his brother Tan NEVER stops.

Okay so White is younger and he’s not in on the scheme then. Idk when Tee starts dating him but I am kind of glad he had some happiness. As much as what he did to Non is fucked he did feel bad about it and was forced into it by his dad needing medication that his uncle paid for also his uncle probably paid for him a place to live too.

Oh so maybe baby is alive. Or he was alive longer than Tee and Top pulling him out of the house anyways.

Okay so I haven’t rewatched all of the early eps but I don’t know if Phee is aware Jin leaked the vid of Non. Also I find Jin’s approach to relationships psychotic. He’s extremely possessive and focused on his interest but he doesn’t really consider them people. When Phee tells him ‘oh we are just friends’ Jin doesn’t talk to him in two years?! I mean maybe Phee had a bad day or whatever it seems insane for Jin to assume he’s desperately in love with Tan and did it all to shame Jin in some way when what Phee did was consensual causal fling. But then again didn’t Jin go fucking crazy when he saw Non and Phee together from behind. Jin wanted non to be his but was ready to hate him at the drop of a hat. Jin didn’t love Phee or Non he loved the idea of being in a relationship with them for himself. He’s a narcissist.

Oh so Tan/New is fucking desperate his mom and dad are dead his brother has been missing for years and he doesn’t have any leads. The police have given up. Phee his only ally has basically given up as well.

Okay so the bathroom scene with Tee there was smoke. I guess the alcohol at the party is what Por was tripping on before he went into the woods. But also… someone had to have cut on Por…? Idk. I guess Tan drugged Top although I’m still iffy on that. So everything we have seen are the boys biggest darkest fears interesting.

So things I got right

New = Tan

Early events were hallucinations

Thing I got wrong

Phee doesn’t know what Jin has done

White is not involved with Phee and Tan

Questions I have.

Is Top mega drugged? Or did Tan get close to Top and he’s made Top confess already and while he is on drugs he’s actually in on the revenge thing. We did see Tan is probably closest to Top.

Is there another person involved still? Who slashed Pors arms with Non’s knife and left it in the basement? I previously thought it was the teacher but the teacher and Non’s fates are together I think they either both survived or are both dead probably the second one.

Still like to know more about White.

Is Non alive? He was dressed differently in that bus photo.

Why are Tee and Por’s personalities so changed when they meet Phee and Tan.

Is the cult thing real then? Because Tan said he got the herb from that cult right? I thought it was a set and made up for movie.

Why didn’t they make another movie I assume Por’s parents would have wanted him to do that.

#dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #dff the series #dff #dff episode 9 #dff ep 9 #dff meta #Jenny’s watching

[sepublic]

Acknowledging that I may be missing the point by trying to figure out the in-universe explanation and logistics, rather than focusing on the metaphor and symbolism behind Emesis Blue;

I think the Plague Doctor might be Fritz Ludwig from the future, possessed and/or under control of his alter ego (Hence the uncharacteristic act). There’s the obvious fact that Jeremy treats Fritz with hostility and fear, and Fritz’s own hallucination of killing Jeremy’s mom. He has the gouged-out eyes and smile, which Fritz receives at the end of the film after crashing.

At the end of the film, Fritz is brought back in the respawn machine, amidst a bunch of fire. In Archibald’s PSA to newly-respawned mercenaries, there’s an inexplicable fire that enters the room just offscreen, so I think there’s a deliberate connection. The only other possibility is that Fritz respawns as the Conagher Slaughterhouse burns down near the end of the movie (note that this would require someone to perform the manual input on the respawn machine, possibly the Plague Doctor). The abrupt fire at the end of the PSA feels too deliberate of a detail to otherwise ignore. Note that right after the video ends with fire, we cut to some photos taken presumably around that time, including of a burning Fritz…

Likewise, we have an example of time travel being an actual thing, and not just a Diazepam-induced hallucination (note Soldier claiming to have never taken any of the pills, only to later interact with his future self). This would explain how Fritz is in two places at once, which he needs to be, given we see him drive past Soldier in his ambulance, followed by the Plague Doctor’s hearse arriving just moments afterwards.

Now Fritz normally would have no reason to kill Jeremy’s mom, but that’s assuming it’s him in control; More than likely, it’s his alter-ego. Now I’ve watched TheWhat Show’s video on Emesis Blue, so I’m inspired by a lot of what he suggested here. But if we go with the idea that Fritz is being possessed by the spirit of the Tenth Class, this may explain a bit...

Dell’s Bar seems to be the limbo, the purgatory, the waiting room that the mercs and others who go through respawn wait in. And we know the respawn machine creates a fresh duplicate of one’s body, meaning respawned mercenaries can interact with their previous corpses; Hence the motherload of identical dead bodies all over the place. 

There’s also the hallucination Fritz has, where he’s trapped in a casket inside the church, while the Plague Doctor watches; Foreshadowing both the church he kills Pyro in, and later his own funeral assassination. But it could also symbolize Fritz’s mind/soul being locked away in his body, or perhaps in a briefcase/limbo, while the Plague Doctor takes over...

If we go by the theory that the Plague Doctor is the vengeful ghost of the Tenth Class who has possessed Fritz, I think things begin to come together. After crashing at the end of Emesis Blue, Fritz’s soul is stuck in limbo, awaiting his next respawn. Due to time loop shenanigans, he is respawned in the past as Archibald records his PSA, possibly with only the Tenth Class’ soul inside; Fritz’s soul may have been left behind in limbo, which may be located within the briefcase. Either way, the Tenth Class in total control now.

The fire is an interesting detail; Did the respawn machine malfunction? And this malfunction caused both the flame and the retrieval of future Fritz, instead of his current self? Or maybe, and this is a bit out there but I just want to say it; Maybe the Tenth Class’ soul was plucked straight from Hell, and in doing so brought some hellfire with him that burned the Conagher Slaughterhouse, the first time. We see an apparition of the Tenth Class when Soldier is about to jump over the chasm leading to ‘Hell’, after all; Maybe the Tenth Class went there.

Something I find interesting is that the Plague Doctor seems to be working with BLU Heavy, Pyro, and Zed and Maynard Conagher. Somebody else was holding up Mama Scout’s head when Pyro kidnapped Jeremy, and it appears BLU Heavy was supposed to pass the briefcase to the Plague Doctor near the start of the film. The Plague Doctor’s hearse is a convenient vehicle to transport BLU Heavy’s body to the Conagher Slaughterhouse, to later be revived by RED Medic into a Mr. X reference.

We know Maynard was the one to lock up Jeremy, “according to specification” as he tells Zed. And the Plague Doctor’s hearse is seen right outside the Conagher Slaughterhouse, burning just as its driver did when he first arrived in the past... Obviously the Plague Doctor isn’t being totally honest with the Conagher brothers, since he presumably gave the key to Jeremy’s casket to Fritz; Zed is confused as to how Jeremy escaped.

If the Plague Doctor is a possessed/evil Fritz from the future, that could explain how he has the key; That, or there's a second copy of the same key that Zed and Maynard don’t know about. Maybe there’s only one key and they threw it out, only for the Plague Doctor to retrieve it behind their backs... OR, Fritz held onto the key after freeing Jeremy, bringing it with him all the way to the film’s end; So when he respawns in the past, he has the key with him. And he slides it under his past self’s door near the start of the film.

What puzzles me is what the Plague Doctor’s goal and motive is; Did the Emesis Diazepam lead to memory loss, meaning he doesn’t realize he’s reliving the same events, just from a different role? Is he trying to end the cycle? Set up Soldier to arrive at the Conagher Slaughterhouse, learn the truth, and kill Redmond and Blutarch, breaking free? How did he convince BLU Heavy, Pyro, the Conagher brothers, and presumably RED Sniper into working with him? Is Archibald aware of and working with these guys? Being led to believe they’re helping him lay low, when in reality he’s just bait for Fritz, BLU Soldier, and BLU Spy? 

RED Sniper asks Soldier if he wants to die for something worth dying for, after deriding Archibald; Indicating he’s knowingly a part of some plan to end the Gravel Wars. But why try to kill Soldier at the start? Was that just Plan A, and Plan B was to inspire him to end it? Is BLU Heavy even collaborating with the others after being revived, or has his undead state turned him into an uncontrollable monster on nobody’s side? 

#emesis blue #tf2 #team fortress 2 #fritz ludwig #speculation #theory #analysis

[abnormalityjoseph]

SAGAU Idea Part 2: Electric Boogalo

SAGAU, but [Reverse] Isekai type beat

Can you imagine the Genshin Characters being thrown into the reader’s world instead of the other way around?

The chaos

The way I’m thinking of is more like.. some of the characters suddenly appear in the reader’s house world. Like they broke out of the game

Temporarily, ofc. At least initially

Since, while they’re in the reader’s world, that character(s) presence seems to disappear in the reader’s game.

Just— the reader vibing, watching some anime or smth, then Thoma just walks out of the closet confused as hell

“Hello there!” “WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE??”

Both parties confused as hell

Are they dreaming? Are they dead? What?? How??

Since this is SAGAU the character(s) that show up prob think they’re dead. Since they’re meeting their creator/overseer/the player and that shouldn’t be possible—

But… Funny slice of life opportunities? Where the reader has to house whatever character shows up until they leave

If the reader does want to help them figure out a way back or not…can vary

And the point in time the characters show up could vary as well!

Like, you can meet a Post-Sumeru Scara, Raiden Shogun before the Inazuma Quest, Signora before she goes all Crimson Witch, etc! At all can vary!

That also means the interactions can differ. Awkward, funny, angst, crack-fic-esque, angst, angst/comfort, you get the idea.

The amount of time a character is in the Reader’s world can also be insanely different. You’ve got Thoma there for less than a day, and then Razor’s there for a whole week. It’s wild

Not to mention if there’s more than one character that showed up—oh boy, that’s gonna be hectic to manage.

When the character(s) return home, it can be weird for the reader

But it’s probably weirder for the Reader if a character keeps coming back with all the memories of what happened before

So it’s not a dream or hallucination. Lovely.

If the Reader gets Isekai’d into Teyvat, they would get a very big welcome party. And a lot of people who would be willing to show them around, as you did help them while they were in your world.

But if the Genshin Cast get’s isekai’d into the Reader’s World?

Oh boy..

They’d have to teach everyone about the world.

Some of them have to work, because you can’t support such a large group without help.

Also have to explain to the cast just how popular Genshin Impact is, so they’re going to be seen as cosplayers if they don’t change up their identities and looks.

Ofc the cast has been aware they’ve been in a game, but this is…a lot to take him

And probably a big ego boost for some of the characters, since people seem to love them so much.

The cast have to realize that, divine or not, they’re all now on an even paying field.

Not to mention they can’t use their visions openly, lest more suspicions are made by the Reader’s Neighbors

Tbh, the entire cast could do a ‘group Cosplay’ channel where they’re all ‘cosplaying’ Genshin Character’s to do vlogs and possibly make some cast.

And use of their visions can be passed off as video effects

If they do that, the cast would probably be very popular in the Genshin community for being the Cosplay Icons.

Bonus points if you also have to explain the fandom shenanigans

“What’s a Scaranation? What the fuck?”

“Is there..a reason? Why all of the anemo boys care being called an idol group..?”

“[Reader], what is a ‘simp?’ And why are there so many of them?”

Extra bonus points if whenever a new character enters the Genshin story they show up at the Reader’s house as well.

You’ll need one big ass house to keep all the Genshin Characters under one roof. Rip to the wallet.

Now, imagine the crossover potential in SAGAU

Reader is from the Bungo Stray Dogs Universe, Port Mafia Executive. Cool right?

Not cool when characters from the Reader’s favorite game (Genshin) start materializing in the real world.

Try explaining that to the rest of the PM executives. Good lord.

Random opinion but I think Scara would love Q to death.

Meanwhile the Armed Detective Agency is investigating the strange case of ability users, that look like characters from a video game, are appearing in the city.

Oh! Or a Twisted Wonderland Crossover type beat! People that the Reader knows, who many assume are also from their world, started appearing and now Night Raven College needs a new dorm to house all of them.

For these crossovers, imagine if the worlds were actually merging. Or well— mixing in some ways

People are getting visions, slimes are causing havoc, teleport waypoints are appearing along with the statues of the seven

And the only way to revert it would be to send the Genshin Cast back.

How would they react? Would there be a permanent gateway established, or would it be a one way thing? Would the Reader choose to stay in Teyvat with them?

Oh but someone would totally say “Hell no” and start trying to prevent any progress of sending them back.

#Joseph’s Think Thonks #genshin sagau #SAGAU #also sagau crossovers are talked abt here but dw abt it #sagau brainrot lmao #no but crossovers would be the same #except it’s SAGAU #which doesn’t change much

[cockslutpadalecki]

Seven Minutes In Heaven

Summary: There’s no escaping your crush when you’re literally locked in beside him.

Characters: Nathan Drake x F!Reader.

Words: 1.8K.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, heavy sexual tension, mention of panic attacks, claustrophobia, female masturbation, male masturbation, 18+.

A/N: Got inspired by the scene in Uncharted where Nathan and Sully are hiding in the trunk of Moncado’s car which led me to this… Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine.

The darkness is overwhelming, but the heat— oh god, the heat— the heat is stifling to the point where you think you’re going to start hallucinating. Sweat gathers across your forehead, on the nape of your neck, between the valley of your breasts, in the crease of your thighs— anywhere it makes you uncomfortable and you ache to wipe it away, but the lack of space means that’s practically impossible. Your skin itches from the warmth, prickles every time you move.

But above being unable to see and the heat and sweat making you delirious, it’s the feel of Nate behind you that truly drives you to the brink of insanity.

You can tell it’s unbearable for him too. You can feel in the minute movements he makes as he tries to get into a position that doesn’t cause his dick to brush against your ass. But regardless of how hard he tries, you still feel him pressing up against you, the hardness of his cock making your stomach tighten.

Whose idea was it to lay like this? And more importantly, what jackass decided hiding in the trunk of Moncado’s car was even an option? You’ll kill Sully the next time you see him. You know he did this on purpose. He’s always mocking you for your crush and what better way to force you to confront your affection than locking you away with the person who holds it?

It’s like the hell version of seven minutes in heaven.

Sucking in a shallow breath, you close your eyes and try to concentrate on focusing your mind elsewhere. Snow. Iced tea. Root beer floats. Winter. My refrigerator at home.

“You alright?“ Nate whispers from behind you. His breath is hot against your shoulder, but somehow it cools you for a fraction of a second as he speaks.

“Yeah, just… hot,” you huff out.

He lets out a little laugh. “I feel that.”

You try to shift your ass away, but your knees knock hard against the side of the trunk and you curse through gritted teeth.

“What did you do?” he asks.

“Hit my knee,” you hiss, trying to rub the throb away. “If we don’t suffocate in here, I swear I’m gonna ring Sully’s neck.”

Nate laughs softly. The harmonious sound sends a wave of arousal straight through you, and you quickly chastise yourself. 

Now is not the time to get horny, no matter how good it feels to have him this close.

He moves again and the swell of his cock is more prominent now. You groan under your breath, but in the quiet confines of the car, no sound is lost.

“Did you hit your knee again?”

“No, I… I’m fine,” you quickly shut down.

He doesn’t respond this time, and just the sound of his breathing fills the trunk. Steady but shallow. You wish you could say the same. Your chest is getting rapidly tighter and each intake of air hurts the back of your throat. Despite the lack of sight, you can still envision the sides closing in around you. Claustrophobia is starting to get to you, and you begin to feel a panic attack building.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you snap a little too firmly, but your shaky voice gives you away.

“Hey,” Nate says softly, placing a hand on your waist, “breath with me.” You stiffen beneath his touch as he talks you through your anxiety, calmly breathing in and out while encouraging you to do the same. You’d usually be annoyed by the way he’s mollycoddling you, but the slow, gentle tone in which he speaks helps to focus your thoughts away from your rising panic. “I’m right here, you’re gonna be alright.”

He rubs his thumb back and forth across your flesh, perfectly in time with his directions. Your breathing levels out, but the feeling of his skin in contact with yours makes you tense further— replacing panic with prurience.

Nate stops. “Is this not helping?”

“Um yeah, it i-is, I j-just…” you manage to stutter as your hips unconsciously roll against his crotch. This time, it’s Nate’s turn to stiffen and you can practically hear him swallow inside the blanket of ebony.

“How about this?” he croaks, his hand sliding over the curve of your hips and splays it wide across your stomach. Your voice is lost in your throat as you try to answer him, instead a pained whine escapes. “Do you want me to stop?” he adds, pausing his touch just above the waistband of your pants.

The silence feels like it’s extending on forever as, ‘yes’ teases across your lips. You want Nate so much, but do you really want your first intimate interaction with him to be like this, where you can’t even see him?

Not having him be able to see the giddy look in my eye might be a good thing.

You take too long to answer and he starts to move his hand away, just as you stammer out a shaky, “N-no.”

Nate’s hand resumes its path down your front, slowly— testing— just in case you suddenly change your mind, but you don’t.

Something tickles at the nape of your neck, followed quickly by wet heat.

Oh god, he’s kissing me.

Tender, soft kisses that make your thighs tighten.

“Feeling better?” Nate checks between pressing his lips to your neck and then to the curve of your shoulder. You nod, forgetting he can’t see you.

“Mmhm,” you hum when he pauses again and almost instantly, his fingers move beneath the waistband of your pants. You suck in a sharp breath, your need for him now desperate as he reaches between the slope of your thighs and slowly rubs you through your drenched underwear. 

“I’d say you’re feeling a lot better,” he laughs, giving your shoulder a little teasing bite. 

You don’t hold back your whimper as you grind into his lap, your inhibitions lowering the minute you hear Nate mutter, “oh fuck,” into your skin. The corners of your lips twitch, threatening a smile, the more you feel him swell against you. 

The harder he strokes you through your panties, the more you roll back into him, and in turn, it causes the whole process to repeat itself until he’s groaning heavily in your ear. 

“Roll over. Face me.”

It’s tough given the limited space, but you manage to do so, placing your hands against his chest when you’re finally in position. One hand slips down to your ass, and with a light tap, he encourages you to lift your leg over his thigh. It’s not comfortable by any means, but the pain in your knee rubbing against the roof of the trunk is long forgotten when he moves his hand back between your thighs. Expertly popping open your pant button with his thumb, Nate finally shoves his fingers beneath the fabric of your panties and cups your pussy tight.

He eagerly gathers your wetness across his fingertips, coating them liberally until he’s slowly breaching your velvet heat. The stretch is magnificent.

As he slides knuckle deep, you let out an involuntary cry and you suddenly feel his spare hand searching for you in the dark. When he finally finds the nape of your neck, he tugs you towards him and presses your lips messily together. You groan into his open mouth, and Nate swallows it down with a moan of his own. 

His grip around your neck loosens, curling his hand around one of yours, and pushes it south until it rests on his hard cock. You gasp a little as he helps you to unbuckle his belt, his urgency palpable even beneath the curtain of obsidian. 

Nate’s heavy and silky hot in your palm when you finally wrap your fingers around it, and the noise that escapes him is nothing short of disgusting. 

He uses his thumb to nudge your clit each time he fucks his fingers back inside you— dirty, sloppy wet sounds that threaten to shatter the once awkward silence between you. Hungrily, he licks along the seam of your lips, whispering instructions to you in between kisses. 

Harder. Faster. Right there. 

You don’t even need to tell him how to get you off— it’s like he already knows what you crave and you’re soon on the edge, gasping against his damp lips, begging to come. 

“Shit, can’t wait to get out of this car,” he grits out, teeth nipping at your lips and jaw. “Show you what I really wanna do to you when I have more room.” 

“Oh yeah? Li-like what?” you breathlessly ask.

“I’d make you come on my tongue,” he puffs. “Then bend you over and fuck you across the hood.”

Jesus.

You splinter at his words, your cries muffled by Nate’s mouth heavy against yours. Stars explode in your vision as your body tenses, only sagging against him when the last of your euphoric tremors subside. You nibble down on his lips, whispering how good he feels in your grasp and he’s soon coming with a deep growl, his seed hot on your skin as it spurts all over your hand. 

A sudden thud on the top of the trunk makes you both jump. You quickly let go of his cock as Nate removes his hand from deep inside your panties and he hastily tucks himself away, his knuckles occasionally knocking against the side of your thigh. Another thud makes you welp in fear and Nate shoves his hand over your mouth to stifle any further noise. You can smell yourself on his fingers. Can feel the dampness of your orgasm still clinging to his skin, and it makes your stomach tighten all over again. 

Yet another sound comes from above you— like the distinct shift of a key in the lock and you stiffen in fear, preparing to meet your maker at the hands of Moncado’s men. Sudden bright light floods into the tiny space, making you squint as your eyes try to adjust. The rush of cold air is like heaven against your skin and even though Nate’s hand is still over your mouth and sticky from your juices, you don’t hesitate to suck in a huge gulp of oxygen, your lungs swelling in content. When the temporary blindness passes, you both catch sight of Sully standing over you, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he takes in the messy scene below. 

“Can’t leave you two alone for five minutes,” Sully jokes, and you finally look towards Nate for the first time since being locked in the small space together. He still looks the same, but inexplicably there’s something different about him now— a new kind of twinkle in his eyes, a distinct curl in his lips, a dewy sheen to his skin. 

Nate smiles wide at you, dropping his hand from your mouth, and runs his thumb over your plump bottom lip. He lets out a light, airy laugh, eyes still trained firmly on you while his words are aimed at Sully, “Don’t sound so disgusted man, you knew what was gonna happen when I asked you to lock us in here.”

***

4EVS: @amirra88​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @cheesyclaire​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @daughterofthenight117​ @dandywinchesterbras​ @deangirl93​ @doozywoozy​ @foxyjwls007​ @geekofmanyforms​ @heyyouwiththeassbutt​ @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets​ @ilovefanfic86​ @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay​ @letsby​ @letsdisneythings​ @mogaruke​ @maliburenee​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @nik2write​ @obsessivelycapricious​ @patrick-hockslutter​ @princessmisery666​ @phildunphyisadilf​ @roxyfan14-blog​ @sea040561​ @sweeterthanthis​ @slutformarvelmen​ @simpformarvelmenandwoman​ @smokeandnailz​ @stoneyggirl​ @stoneyggirl2​ @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91​ @thegirlnextdoorssister​ @unfortunate-brat​ @warriorqueen1991​ @xoxabs88xox​

#nathan drake #nathan drake x reader #nathan drake x you #nathan drake fanfiction #tom holland fanfiction #uncharted fanfiction

[watching-sam-and-dean-again]

Season 7: Deaths Door

So, I’m watching a reactor who just got to this episode. Yes, this is another post based around reaction videos. No it’s not the same one I wrote about last time (if I have any followers who keep track). Yes, I have a reactors on the go currently, and sadly, two of them are on seasons I don’t like much (Season 7 and Season 15), so it’s a bit rough going right now.

Anyway, I think the episode where Bobby dies is a good one, though it is definitely sad. There are quite a few moments that really stand out for me. First, Dean punching the glass when the organ donor guy comes to talk to him while Bobby is still alive is really impactful. You understand and empathize with Dean so hard in that moment, and I think he showed unusual restraint in punching the glass rather than the man. My guy, what the hell are you doing asking someone about organs while their loved one is fighting for their life? Next, Sam pressing on his palm while he tries to wrestle with the reality of Bobby dying is heartbreaking to me. I think this is a moment that some people miss, but it hurts so much while it reminds me that Sam, while he mostly looks okay on the outside, is still dealing with the aftermath of his soul being locked in the cage with Lucifer for 180 years. The guy is struggling with reality on a daily basis, thinks he doesn’t have it so bad just because others experience "worse," and is now losing his surrogate dad. Finally, Bobby's memories of the boys being just totally average little moments of them acting like typical brothers is very wholesome. Though, I enjoy all of Bobby’s memories (Rufus!) and what they show us about Bobby. Really good episode overall.

Now, here is where my … problem (I guess I’ll go with that term) comes in. I like this reactor because they are entertaining, and they tend to try look at things from both brothers' points of view most of the time, but they said two things that irked me a bit while watching the episode, especially because they seem to be opinions shared by a lot of viewers. Obviously opinions are going to be subjective, so I don’t think this reactor is being unfair. I just don’t fully agree. First, they said that they feel especially bad for Dean in this episode because he has been through so much. Second, they suggest that Bobby's death might be harder on the boys because Bobby was more of a father to them than John was.

Please see my thought under the cut

So, tackling the first idea, I don’t object to feeling bad for Dean this season or the idea that he has been through too mich. At all. I object to the implied idea that he has somehow been through more or worse than Sam at this point in the show, and thus deserves more sympathy. Excuse me, but, what!? Let’s not delve all the way back through their history because that could go on forever, instead let’s just look at Season 6 and Season 7 (up to this point).

Let’s start with Dean. He experienced the pain of having a soulless Sam back, who didn’t particularly care about him. This is essentially one of his worst nightmares, so I understand him reeling from this for a while. He gained and lost a family, and picked up a heap more loss and guilt to deal with from leaving them. He was betrayed by his "best friend," who also hurt his brother just to stop Dean from interfering with his purgatory plan. He has to "deal with" Sam suffering from hallucinations. He broke a leg. He’s had to temporarily give up his baby. And now Bobby, his surrogate dad, is dying. These are all very hard things, and I truly feel bad for Dean having to go through them, but he’s also done things to add to his own misery this season, like kill Amy and lie to Sam about it and drink his face off instead of coping with his depression and guilt. Dean is his own worst enemy, and it sometimes affects the empathy I have for him.

Now, let’s look at Sam. Since Season 6, Sam has to come to terms with the fact that while he was soulless he did absolutely terrible things, things that he has to now remember and live with, even though in his normal state he never would have done them. He was also betrayed by Cas. First, Cas brought him back soulless, and while I don’t think he knew what exactly was wrong with Sam, he knew something was off and then proceeded to ignore Sam when he reached out to him about it. Then, he betrayed him by breaking his hell-wall just to distract Dean; he risked destroying Sam's mind entirely just to get Dean out of his way. Now, Sam is the one who is actually suffering from hallucinations, which have never gone away up to this point, rather he just learns to distinguish them from reality and go about his business. The show doesn’t remind us of this constantly, so I kind of understand audiences not actively thinking about this. Still, what Sam is experiencing in Season 7 is horrific. On top of all this, he’s worrying about Dean because of his drinking and depression. And now he too is losing Bobby, and he didn’t even have a sweet one-on-one memory to fall back on with Bobby unless he did and it just wasn’t significant enough for Bobby to remember. While Cas' betrayal probably hurt Dean more because Cas was closer to him at this point, what he did still has to hurt Sam, too; it even made him wonder if Cas brought him back soulless on purpose.

Now, my whole point with this is not that people should feel worse for Sam than Dean, but that it seems crazy to me to feel more empathy for Dean than Sam at this point. Dean has to worry about Sam's mental state, but Sam is the one living it. Meanwhile, Sam is worried about Dean's mental state, which is poor partially because of what’s happening with Sam these codependent boys have both been through way too much in the last Season and a half alone. Just because Sam isn’t as demonstrative with his emotions as Dean a lot of the time doesn’t mean he isn’t also in pain. So, I empathize strong,y with both of them in this situation of losing Bobby on top of everything else.

Finally, the idea that Bobby is Sam and Dean "real" dad is one I always take issue with. John is not perfect by any means, but he did love his sons. He literally sold his soul to save Dean. This is not nothing. Dean has fond memories of him, and Sam had a nice moment with him and laughed with him in "Dead Man's Blood." When John first sees his boys after months (years for Sam) apart, he hugs them both. This is not a dad who doesn’t love his kids. His harshness was a result of fear for the boys most of the time, not unlike how Dean treated Ben when he was worried about him and Lisa at the end of Season 6. I’m not saying this is right, or that he couldn’t be too harsh, but they are living extraordinary experiences. John raised his kids like soldiers, but if he hadn’t they’d probably have died sooner. And the fact that they called him Sir, didn’t mean that he was only a Drill Sargent to them. Moreover, even though John made a ton of mistakes, his death was absolutely devastating for both Sam and Dean. Bobby on the other hand, may have "adopted two boys" in his heart, but he wasn’t perfect either. He’s been harsh with both of them at times, sometimes fairly, other times not as fairly, and he clearly has a favorite, which isn’t ideal in a father figure. Yes, he brought Dean to play catch, but an uncle might do that too, and did he ever do something like that for Sam? I like Bobby, I really do, and I think he’s a good surrogate but he is not their "real" dad, either. And while a terrible blow, I don’t think his death has equal impact on the boys to John’s.

Anyway, that’s it on this one. Thanks for reading, if you made it this far.

What are your thought any of this?

#supernatural #spn meta #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Bobby Singer #7x10 #Death's door #Castiel critical #mildly

[covetedbrother]

most days i’m like “yeah i’m pretty over my ‘sam is me i’m him we are the same and he’s also my bbg my son and my dad’ phase” and then i see one (1) bad take about him and i genuinely get murderous and i’m like “ah. nevermind”

what the fuck has he ever done????

(insane samgirl ramblings under the cut bc i’m losing my fucking mind)

if you’re mad at sam for starting the apocalypse: you’re telling me that if you were dealing with the effects of dying, watching your brother die, addiction, and actively being manipulated by your DEALER and also genuinely operating under the belief that that killing a demon would be a good thing, that you wouldn’t have killed that demon?

this bothers me especially bc sam broke seal 66. because he thought it would prevent the apocalypse. dean broke the first seal. because he tortured ppl in hell!!!!!

leaving for college: imagine getting mad at an 18 year old for leaving to go to stanford on a full ride scholarship. he did that in a “household” where he never lived in the same place for more than 6 months. ever. and his only family members thought it was emasculating to do well in school.

“choosing ruby over dean”: hey. hey. look at me. imagine the person you love most in the world. that you have a toxic codependent relationship with to the point of literally getting murderous if you are separated by more than a room without your choice. you’ve known each other for forever. you’ve killed for him. he’s your brother. you have spent a full year trying to figure out how to save his life. now imagine watching him die knowing he did it to save you. and you can’t get him back. now you are actively suicidal and someone comes along and acts almost just like him and offers you this thing that gives you the power to kill the things that killed him. this person says that you have the power to stop a horrible thing from happening. you believe her. and then your brother comes back from the dead and he’s. different. he doesn’t trust you anymore. and the person who gave you power tells you that it’s because he’s being lied to and manipulated to start the tragedy you are bent on preventing. so you’re hurt and scared and trying to save the world so, just this once, you choose to work with someone other than him.

the shit that happened in s8: again. same scenario as above but now you’ve both killed and died for each other multiple times. you’ve endured over centuries of torture by the devil himself and have just started recovering from the hallucinations that you had of the literal devil torturing you and telling you that you can never feel happy bc this is just another way of torturing you. making you feel happy for a moment only to bring you back and hurt you. then your brother disappears into a pile of black goo in front of you. you have no idea how or why. you do months of research and come up with exactly nothing. life without him isn’t worth living. you’re about to drive your car off a bridge. the car you grew up with him in, the one you both engraved your initials into when you were 8 and 10. with the legos shoved into the vents that you’ve never been able to take out. you’re not paying attention so you hit a dog. shit. he doesn’t deserve to die. not like you. you take him to the vet. his medical bills need to be covered by someone. it can only be you. the vet there treats you like you deserve to live, to be loved. you fall for her. you move in together and adopt the dog you hit. maybe,,,, just maybe,,, you can be happy.

and then your brother comes back. and he’s best friends with a vampire… the vampire’s name sounds like yours.

and your brother is mad at you. then your girlfriend discovers the husband she thought was dead is alive. your brother wanted you to break up with her anyways. you’d do anything for him. always. he doesn’t forgive you. it’s what you deserve.

you take on the trials of hell to try and do something right. it’s actively killing you. every day you wake up and cough lungfuls of blood into the sink. it’s fine. these trials will probably kill you, but it’ll be ok. you’re finally doing something right. the final trial requires you to confess your greatest sins in a church. you spend hours there, and the biggest sin you confess is disobeying your brother. you confess the times you’ve let him down. you’re clean now. you’re ready to die, ready to stop any demon from ever coming to earth again. and your brother calls you an idiot and stops you because he doesn’t want to watch you die. but by now, your body is going to die with or without completing the trials. your brother coerces you into being possessed without your knowledge for a year in order to keep you alive. the thing possessing you kills your friend. your brother blames you for it. it’s fine. he cares. you know he does. he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t care.

it never. ends. THERE ARE FIFTEEN FUCKING SEASONS OF THIS SHIT

ARE YOU MAD AT HIM FOR TRYING TO GET DEAN TO NOT BE AN ALCOHOLIC? TO EAT BETTER?

MAYBE YOU’RE MAD AT HIM FOR THINKING THAT THE PERSON WHO MADE FUN OF YOU FOR DOING WELL IN SCHOOL WOULDNT KNOW WHO VONNEGUT IS?

FOR NOT FALLING TO HIS KNEES AND WORSHIPPING DEAN EVERY TIME HE ENTERS THE ROOM?

are you mad at him for forgiving his father?

maybe you’re mad because dean had bad things happen to him that didn’t happen to sam.

are you mad at the man who got into stanford on a full ride scholarship and was about to get into law school before he dropped out for thinking of himself as smart?

i think they’re mad at him bc he’s not a perfect brother who gives into dean’s codependent tendencies 100% of the time. dean has a codependent personality, and sam has a rebellious streak of independence a mile wide. his rebellion just looked like choosing school over hunting, or studying over weapon training, or reading over sparring. not that he didn’t also do those things, he just also did other things.

#meta #gencest #sam girl #sam winchester #dean crit

[oldfashionedmorphine]

“Sometimes I wanna write Will’s POV of the same scene and that was one of those times”

me to @boahey and 1k words later…Oops! 🤭

[ spoilers if you haven’t read it yet ]

Below the cut is Will’s POV from chapter 14 of I’m a Wreck Without You Here for the glasses scene 🤓

enjoy!

If you don’t want to read Will’s POV to keep up the mystery of what he’s thinking, that’s totally fine. I really just couldn’t help myself. This scene just won’t leave my brain!

tagging my fans: @across-thestars @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @rebellius @booksandpaperss @sparks-olivarpente (again you guys don’t have to read it, but if you’re curious what he was thinking before… 😉)

——————

All in.

That’s what Will told himself the second he decided to allow Mike back into his life. Being all in meant being there for him. And it was easy to do because he was still wildly and ridiculously in love with him even after all these years and all their drama—which also made him really angry over how easy it was. He hated that he still had so much love for Mike, because he’s tried for so many years not to.

And that love for Mike was the only reason he agreed to walk all the way back to his car from the cemetery in eighty-three degree weather while wearing a suit and uncomfortable dress shoes through a grass field. Well, the shortcut was his own idea, but that’s only because his feet hurt in these stupid shoes. Maybe it was unconventional, but Mike actually had the right idea wearing an old pair of converse to the funeral.

But again, he was doing this for him. Because Mike needed him and he was all in. At least he didn’t remotely mind their conversation, they were getting to know each other again, so that part alone was worth it and he’d do it again in a heartbeat if he had to.

Even so, Will was thrilled when they reached his car. He’s quick to open the door for Mike, but then Mike tells him they should check to see if they acquired ticks along their short journey. Okay, fair point. He was smart to suggest it. And once they were finally in the car, he turns the engine on and puts the air conditioning up to full blast. He was so sweaty and sticky and it was uncomfortable as hell. But again…it was worth it to be there for Mike.

Will pulls out of the parking lot, with the sound of classical music filling the air, and he muses to himself about what it would be like to kiss Mike. He blames it on the romantic music of course, but it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it over a thousand times already. Will’s hopes for finally getting to kiss Mike, after so many years and so much heartbreak, was at an all-time high. Beyond delusional really. Ever since that night in the basement…

He’s wanted to ask him about it, because he almost doesn’t believe he heard him right.

What if I was hallucinating the whole thing? What if that’s not what he meant to say? Maybe I heard him wrong?

Will didn’t want to make a fool of himself. The truth was, Will had resigned himself years ago to the reality that Mike was straight and that his love for him was a waste of time and only a recipe for heartbreak. Which it ultimately was, the heartbreak was the main reason he had to cut Mike out of his life. But maybe he was wrong this whole time. And if he was wrong, what were the chances that Mike could finally like him back? Will started to entertain the possibility that Mike could actually reciprocate his feelings this time around the morning after that night drinking in the basement. It was when they were standing together in the kitchen and conversing so easily as though they hadn’t spent almost fifteen years barely speaking a word to each other. Because it felt as though the stars had aligned for him—like Mike was already his and he was always meant to be. He wanted to ask, he needed to know. Or was he merely going crazy for simply considering it? But then Jonathan walked in, reminding him why they were even talking again at all. And he hasn’t found the right moment to ask him about it since. Because later that day they said their final goodbyes to Nancy, so he felt the timing wasn’t right. And today, less than an hour ago, they buried her. It felt selfish to bring it up. He had to wait for the right moment.

Will glances over at Mike to find he was staring at him, or rather smiling dreamingly and looking a little lovesick. Then he looks back at the road perplexed.

Maybe I’m not wrong at all…

And so Will laughs at him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Hm?”

It would be wise for him to rule out anything obvious first, so he asks, “Is there something on my face?”

“Oh…uh, yeah actually…” Mike starts to say and there was a slight pause before he adds, “I was just thinking you look really good in glasses.”

Will snorts.

What the hell, Mike? That came out of nowhere… Okay, calm down, it’s just a friendly compliment. Don’t read into it.

Of course, staying calm was a bit tricky, because his heart was beating horribly fast.

“Seriously, Will, I’m not messing with you. I promise…I really like ‘em!” There was considerable strain in Mike’s voice, like he was shocked that he didn’t believe him or something, and now he was trying extra hard to prove his point.

Okay, this could be fun…

“Well, they help me to see,” he says plainly, because now he wanted Mike to think he didn’t care.

“But, I really mean it…they look so good on you, y’know?”

Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, don’t even smile…

“They do. I swear!”

Will shrugs. Yup. Keep pretending like you don’t care.

“Are you fucking serious? I’m basically telling you that your glasses make you look hot, so would you just take the damn compliment?!”

A wicked smile spreads across his face. Mike thinks I look hot, huh? “And who said that I didn’t?” And then Will decides to be bold and turns to give him a quick wink, but of course he turns away to look back at the road just as fast, because that was part of the fun. And yet he still shocked himself with how he even managed to pull it off at all. His heart was ready to leap out of his chest.

After almost a minute he can hear Mike sighing. If they weren’t about to walk into a funeral reception in less than two minutes, this would be the moment. He would ask what he’s been dying to ask him. And Will is sure he knows the answer now. Though he can still have a little bit more fun first. “Besides…you were so adamant to prove your point that you think I look hot with glasses, why would I ever stop you? Please, tell me what else you like.”

“Jeez, I forgot how insufferable you can be.”

Will chuckles. “You know you missed it…well anyway, we’re here.” He states as he pulls the car into the parking lot and finds an open space. Their comfortable little bubble had to burst again.

#iawwyh #rare Will POV #in fact it’s the second time ive ever tried writing his POV so idk if it’s any good but #this scene makes me crazy #will has glasses #byler fanfic

[boasamishipper]

Night Court anon here again - oh wow, all your Dan/Harry WIPs sound amazing, and I especially can't wait for Code of Conduct, I was *hoping* for Harry's POV of Judicial Impropriety and I'm very excited!! 💜

hello again! i'm so glad you're excited for Code of Conduct - i'm about 3200 words in right now, with the expected word count to be a little under 10k (just because of who i am as a person lmao).

snippet below the cut:

“Answer this for me, Harry. True or false.”

Harry takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand, half-hoping that Dan’s sudden appearance is a stress-and-slight-stomachache-induced hallucination. No dice. “Okay.”

“True or false. If you decide to get back together with your boyfriend, it’s polite to inform the handsome attorney from whom you accepted an offer of a night on the town,” even Dan’s eyebrow waggle looks put out, “not six hours prior that your situation has changed, so said handsome attorney can avoid driving all the way to Queens and looking like an idiot in front of you, your three insipid roommates, and your stupid doctor boyfriend.”

“I’m sensing this isn’t a hypothetical.”

“True or false, Harry.”

“True,” Harry says, and Dan throws his arms into the air triumphantly.

“Thank you. My God, Harry, I bought Veuve Clicquot for this woman! Okay, I paid Phil to do the buying, but it was still my money! What the hell am I supposed to do with eighty-eight dollars worth of champagne now?”

“Return it to the store?” Harry suggests.

“Non-refundable.”

“Donate it to charity?”

“The whole point of the less fortunate is that they remain less fortunate, Harry. I’m not upending that hierarchy by giving them luxury champagne.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll get a Cabinet position,” Harry says, and Dan’s eyes light up.

“You think so?”

“Sure. You’d be the most human of the bunch.”

“Gosh, sir, you say the sweetest things,” Dan deadpans, somehow simultaneously rolling his eyes and batting his eyelashes. “Got any more ideas?”

“You could save the champagne for my next New Year’s Eve luau.”

Dan’s whole face scrunches up. “I’d rather donate it to charity. None of your usual guests have the class to fully appreciate such a gift. Well, you do, I suppose,” he says thoughtfully. “But Bull? Absolutely not.”

“Thanks,” Harry says. For the sake of his fluttering heart, he wishes Dan flirting and Dan trying to suck up didn’t look and sound so similar. “I think.”

“Don’t mention it. What’re you doing here so late, anyhow?”

“Said the kettle to the pot.”

“The kettle forgot his keys and saw the light under your door. And the Honorable Judge Pot?”

“Bail reports,” Harry says, gesturing at the files. The stack on the floor is midway to his knees. The five remaining stacks on the desk are approximately the length of his arm. 

Dan sucks a sympathetic breath through his teeth. He stands up, and Harry figures that he’s going to go home. He’s surprised when Dan says instead, “Well, such an occasion ought to be celebrated.” A smirk tugs at his mouth. “If only we had a bottle of champagne lying around.”

“Dan, we’re off the clock,” Harry says. “You don’t have to suck up.”

Dan looks a little hurt. “Who’s sucking up?”

“You—well, I-I thought you were offering me your bottle of champagne—”

“I was offering to split my champagne with you,” Dan says archly. “No ulterior motive, nothing up my sleeve—unless you count wanting some champagne for myself.” He winks. “So, you game or what?”

Harry bites his lip. He has to get these bail reports signed, sealed, and delivered, otherwise they’ll just be waiting for him on Monday. On the other hand, being alone with Dan and a bottle of good champagne is the basis of at least three of his favorite fantasies. Which is exactly why he should say no. But naturally, his traitorous mouth says, “I’m game.”

Dan grins. “Back in five.”

#thanks for asking! #night court #harry stone #dan fielding #dan x harry #my fics #fic: code of conduct