#of being left behind by the people in his life

[lettersofalover]

-> adore you | paige b

paige x black!fem!college!athlete reader

genre: fluff

authors note: she’s for the girls and yall go together. read bad

from the moment you woke up in your hotel room next to paige until now, about to step on to the espy’s red carpet, you were anxious. you were a famous athlete in your own regard but the spotlight had never quite been on you the way it was now - helping team usa win gold, setting a personal record and a uconn record, all while being in a loving private relationship with paige. everyone knew but nobody told. the athletes at uconn had each others backs and without a doubt, paige had yours. she popped candy into her mouth mindlessly as you got your hair and makeup done in the chair. “when you get on stage, not if but when,” she said matter of factly, “there’s going to be a countdown. don’t pay it any mind. just say what you want. literally, whatever. except curse words, they’ll fine conn for that.”

you couldn’t help having paige’s voice echo through your head, somehow drowning out the noise of the photographers. it was already a sunny day in california and the size of lights made you struggle to keep your eyes open. paige was coming behind you and suddenly all the photographers focus was on the both of you. the speculation had always been there, but there wasn’t any concrete proof. paige shot you a big smile and an awkward thumbs up and you covered your mouth to laugh. the shouts of the photographers were so deafening you couldn’t make out what they were saying until paige approached you and locked her fingers with yours: “they want us to take photos together.” she whispered in your ear before dropping your hand. the moment her hand left yours, the comfort was lost.

“just focus on something in the distance.” she whispered and wrapped an arm around you gingerly. you leaned into her touch, thankful to have her by your side. the contrast of your outfits made for a subtle declaration of your relationship. as the moments passed of you switching between a wide smile and a soft one, paige stopped the photographers for a moment and stood in front of you.

“what?” you mumbled, scared that you had done something wrong. did you look too cozy? was it obvious that you were dating? you were beginning to breath harder as paige reached up to fix your hair.

“wait let me fix your hair.” she mumbled, with her eyes focused on your delicately designed hairstyle. she was taking the job of fixing you so seriously that she had her tongue slightly out of her mouth in the process. “i think i got it,” she said turning away but immediately turned back, “one last thing, hold on.” she smiled and twirled of on the curls around her finger and it immediately came back to life.

“good?” you asked and the flutter of lights and the shutters of cameras began again. paige grasped your forearms and nodded.

“you look stunning.” she said loud and proud before facing the photographers once more.

—

they didn’t sit you with paige and it depleted your spirit. you kept calm conversation with the people surrounding you - a few athletes, an executive board member from uconn and other old men who were keen on getting you to explain your tennis career and why you hadn’t gone professional yet.

“i love uconn, my family is there, my team is there, even my girl- my best friend is there.” you corrected yourself. they all nodded in understanding but one of the more assertive man said, “you know college is always there. you should go while you’re still in your prime. you can get the money and find a nice husband while you do so.” he sipped his champagne with a smile that was confident - as if he gave you the most precious bit of information to skyrocket your career.

“i didn’t come to school to get my mrs. degree.” your voice was laced with snark. men like him wanted nothing but money as their main objective. it was never about the passion. as if she could sense the solemn energy radiating off of you, paige walked to the table and began introducing herself. they fawned over her for a few minutes and you were able to still your beating heart for a few moments. once paige spoke them all, she made it to you and dropped onto the balls of her feet next to your chair.

“you’re up next, yeah?” she said, her glimmering eyes scanning your face. “remember: go at your own pace, don’t let them freak you out.” paige squeezed your hand three times, saying “i love you.” it was a code you two developed when you first started dating. it was a way to express the love you shared subtly.

“you got this.” she said as she rose to her feet and said her goodbyes.

“what a nice young lady.” one of the gentleman said, watching her walk away.

“she’s amazing.” you agreed as the lights dimmed and the first presenter walked to the stage.

—

you couldn’t believe it was you who won national women’s college athlete of the year. you couldn’t move from your seat for a long while, hands covering your face ready to swipe the tears that were pouring down your perfectly made up face. you stood from your seat and held the bottom of your dress, walking slowly and as steady as you could. the yelling behind you was a roar of applause and shouts of your name from your fellow uconn student athletes and the loudest of them - was your girlfriend, paige. you stood at the stairs for a moment, unsure of your balance in the heels that adorned your feet. before you knew it, paige’s hand was in yours, helping you up the steps. she squeezed your hand three times and you smiled at her once you finally made it on stage. she shot you another cheesy thumbs up and the audience laughed.

the microphone was louder than you expected as you loosed a breath. your eyes scoped the audience, looking for that familiar face. everyone was in their seats, except paige. she was recording you and your acceptance speech and it was adorable.

“gosh,” you said looking down at the trophy before back up, “i don’t even know where to begin. i never thought my journey as an athlete would bring me to this moment. i was just a little girl years ago, watching uconn athletes and dreaming to be where they were. to stand alongside the greats and be in the arena where they existed. i never, ever,” you sniffled and wiped at your tears, “expected to be a part of uconn the way that i am now. i never knew love like this existed until uconn became my life. i have a thank you list that’s a mile long - so i’ll spare you all,” you laughed and the audience followed, “there are not enough words to describe the family and love i found while being an athlete at uconn. to my people, i love you and to my girlfriend, i adore you. thank you for believing in me and thank you for all those tough training sessions where you kicked my ass - it got me this trophy!.” you laughed and the crowd erupted in applause once more and you could’ve sworn that your girlfriend paige, was the loudest.

—

paigebueckers: after party with my girl, my national women’s college athlete of the year. she learned it all from me. so proud of her.

kkarnold: she’s really that girl

azzifudd: the dress is stunning just like her

paigefan1: so happy for yall 🥺

paigefan2: my heart, i cannot take it anymore

paigefan3: she’s so in love with her and i love it

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Spencer Reid x reader, Rossi is readers father, she is not part of the BAU, Curvy and much younger than Spencer at 26, loves how smart he is and likes to learn about facts she’s just not as smart, loves baking. Smut?? Maybe?? Thank you!

comfortable (spencer reid x fem!plussize!reader)

in which you & spencer discuss telling your dad, David Rossi, about your relationship

warnings: NSFW!!! MDNI!!! smut, smol age gap, fingering, praise kink, soft!dom Spencer, pet names

word count: 3658

A/N: thanks for this request 🥹 it was really fun and I think maybe a pt 2 where they actually tell Rossi could be a lot of fun, can you imagine the way Rossi’s eyes would bug out of his head 💀

He was standing in the doorway of your off-campus apartment with this goofy grin on his face. He was older than you - only by a few years, but still in an entirely different stage of life - and he worked with your dad, but you’d never felt butterflies like these before.

It felt like movie love. Like romance novel love, and not those cheesy paperbacks with the Fabio-type model on the front. But like the more modern ones, the ones with the cartoon people on the covers and the big, colorful block letters. You had about a hundred of them on your bookcase. You could go reference them right now if you really wanted to.

Spencer Reid blinked those big, brown eyes at you and your mouth flickered uncontrollably into a soft smile. “Your doorbell doesn’t work,” Spencer pointed out by way of greeting. He still had that goofy grin on his face as you stepped aside so he could come in. You locked the door behind him.

“Didn’t I tell you that?” You mused, turning around to face him. He’d been to your apartment before, but usually trailing after you. Never meeting you here. He shook his head.

Then he lifted the bouquet of flowers in his hands and your smile grew into a full-blown grin. “What’re these for?” You squealed, taking the bouquet and immediately raising them to your nose. Baby pink carnations. He remembered your favorite flower.

He remembered everything, you reminded yourself.

“They’re your favorites. You said they reminded you of your mom’s house,” Spencer said, then took one of those sharp breaths that told you he was about to bequeath upon you a boatload of information. You barely had time to swoon over the fact that he remembered why carnations were your favorite.

“Did you know that carnations were actually mentioned in literature as far back as Ancient Greece? The name is believed to come from the Latin corona - meaning crown or wreath, as it was one of the more common flowers used to make laurels and crowns,” Spencer rattled off.

“We should make flower crowns out of them,” you proposed with an excited giggle, walking past Spencer and into the small kitchen of your apartment. He chuckled and followed you, standing behind you as you took the plastic sleeve off the bouquet, holding the flowers over the sink so water wouldn’t get on the floor. “Oh,” you murmured, not realizing how thick the stalks of the flowers were. “We can’t tie these together,” you pouted.

Spencer’s hands found your hips as he stood behind you, his palms contouring to match your curves. His lips met the side of your head, between your temple and your hairline. “You could put them on your table?” He suggested.

You felt stuck with the dripping flowers in your hand and the overwhelming desire to turn around and kiss your boyfriend silly. “Vase,” you blurted out instead of speaking like a normal human being. Spencer made your brain turn into mush.

“Where?”

“Shelf by the fridge.”

Spencer’s hands left your hips, but not before he gave them a gentle squeeze, as if to say I’ll be back soon. You turned your head to the side and watched as Spencer grabbed the vase off the shelf, returning to your side in moments to help you set the flowers in it.

This relationship was still very new. It had been about three months since you went out to lunch with your dad on some random Thursday, and he brought you back to work with him to introduce you to his team. It had been eight weeks since Spencer took you out for the first time - dinner and a walk around the nearest park, where Spencer had grabbed your hand for the first time, where he’d rambled off some fact about willow trees you couldn’t be bothered to remember because shortly after, he’d pressed his lips to yours and you’d made out underneath one.

He was away a lot, which was to be expected, given the nature of the BAU’s work. But he called you when he could, and he made every effort to see you when they weren’t on assignment. You couldn’t really talk with him about work - “it’s classified,” he’d always say with a thin-lipped smile, as if to say he’d really like to tell you, but he just couldn’t.

“What’re you thinking about?” Spencer asked as you floated from the sink to set the vase of flowers on the kitchen table. His voice always pulled you out of your own head.

“Nothing in particular, really,” you told him, turning to face him. Spencer reached a hand out and took yours, tugging you to him. “You, mostly,” you teased as his palms lay against your hips. “I think it might be time.”

“Time?” Spencer asked as he craned his neck down to kiss you, briefly, on the lips. So, his mind was obviously elsewhere.

“Time,” you confirmed. “To tell my dad. About us.”

Spencer pulled his head back so he could look at you properly, his fingers dug into the soft, sensitive flab above your hip bones, and you scrunched your nose up because it tickled, resisting the urge to giggle. “You do, do you?” He asked, a playful smile crossing his lips. “And here I thought you enjoyed the secrecy.”

“No, as a matter of fact, I hate it,” you laughed breathily. “I hate lying to my dad.”

“For the record, we haven’t lied about anything,” Spencer pointed out. “We’ve just withheld information. It’s entirely different.”

That was true, you supposed. When your dad asked you last week at your monthly dinner at his house if you were seeing anyone, you just nodded and told him you weren’t ready to tell him about it yet, and he respected that. You didn’t not tell him it was his coworker.

“I guess so,” you replied, your lips pursing into the corner of your mouth.

To Spencer’s credit, the whole keeping-it-from-your-dad thing was your idea. You’d done it for a multitude of reasons - mostly so you could figure out if this thing with Spencer was going to go anywhere before your dad was in the loop, so you could go with Spencer at your own pace, get to know him without any third-party interventions.

“We’ve talked about this, Y/N. It’s not anything to feel guilty about. Yeah?” Spencer reminded you, lifting one of his hands from your hips to curl his index finger and tuck it under your chin. He guided your gaze to meet his. “You’re an adult, and you can see whoever you want to see. When and if you tell Rossi is entirely up to you.”

“I know,” you nodded, sighing softly, your arms lifting and reaching up to wind around his neck. Spencer’s lips broke out in a soft smile at the action. “Isn’t it weird for you at work, though?”

“Not really?” Spencer phrased it as a question, shrugging his shoulders a little bit. “There’s never really time for personal conversation when we’re on a case, and if there is, I usually just deflect to someone else. Although, there was a close call while we were on our way back this last time,” he began, the hand under your chin dropping and moving back to your hip, guiding you back so you were flush against the kitchen counter.

“Oh, god, what happened?” You asked as you hopped up so your rear splayed out atop the counter, and Spencer moved to stand between your legs. Despite the lack of gap between your thighs, Spencer’s lanky frame fit comfortably between them. His fingers spread palm-side down against the tops of your thighs. You were biting your lip as your boyfriend continued with his story.

“I guess I was grinning down at a text you’d sent me, the one about your Short Fiction Analysis exam,” he explained, referring to one of the classes you were taking this term. “You’d said you thought Shirley Jackson was underrated, that The Lottery was one of your favorite short stories ever and you would stone anyone who disagreed,” you snickered at this, and Spencer’s hands slid just slightly further up your thighs. “That was the same reaction I had,” Spencer pointed out with a small laugh. “And Rossi’d been the one to catch it. He said that my expression was one that could only be caused by a beautiful woman.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. That sounded like your dad, all right. “And what did you say?” You asked, willing the blush in your cheeks to go away. Spencer knew already that he made you feel like you were on fire with just a simple touch, but still. Your lack of experience and the fact that you were younger than him, still in college… it always made you feel even more flustered.

“I said I could neither confirm nor deny,” Spencer laughed self-deprecatingly, rolling his eyes at himself. “And then I changed the subject. I pulled Derek in the conversation and asked him about his girlfriend.”

“Very strategic,” you commented with a bob of your throat.

“But if you want to tell him, and you think you’re ready, then I think we should,” Spencer added, and you smiled just slightly at this.

“Okay,” you smiled hazily, just as Spencer bent down to kiss you. His hands traveled to the waistband of your sweatpants and your breath hitched in your throat.

“This okay?” Spencer asked just as his long fingers curled around the waistband on either side of your hips.

You’d pulled the sweatpants all the way up over your belly button, and your tummy was incredibly ticklish. So your voice was breathy and shaky when you responded. “Mmhm.”

“If it’s not, you need to tell me,” Spencer reminded you in a low whisper, his lips planting along kissing your neck, each one tacky like a postage stamp.

“It’s okay,” you reiterated, forcing your voice to sound more full. Your hands had moved to lay flat against his chest, but now your fingers curled around the crinkly fabric of his blue dress shirt. You’d never dated anyone who dressed so grown up before. “I’m good.”

“Good,” Spencer murmured as his lips traveled up to your chin. He was mapping out your entire face jawline with his lips, until finally your mouths met. He was slow and intentional at first, like he was savoring it, probably making observatory notes in his head. When his tongue teased your lips apart, you allowed him in, a small whimper escaping you.

You had scooted forward on the countertop, squeezing Spencer’s body between your thighs. Your toes curled as one of Spencer’s hands lifted to cradle the back of your head, holding your face to his like an oxygen mask. And he kept breathing you in, his tongue expertly dancing with yours, kissing you so that when he finally pulled back, you couldn’t breathe.

You were panting, your whole face red as Spencer’s hand moved from the back of your head to one of your full cheeks. His thumb swiped across your cheek and the corners of his mouth just flickered upward. “I really missed you,” he whispered, his hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ear. His other hand still rested on the waistband of your pants, fingers dipping beneath it and padding around your stretch marks.

“I missed you, too,” you murmured back, and Spencer just smiled at this lazily. “Do you… do you want to…”

Spencer’s smile slowly turned into a patient smirk. “Do I want to what?” He asked all-knowingly, his eyes meeting yours. Your cheeks flushed again, bashful and embarrassed to even ask him.

“Do you want to go to my bed?” You exhaled, and Spencer’s head dipped to press a brief kiss to your lips.

“What makes you think I can’t take care of you right here?” He smirked, and the hand on your cheek floated back down to your waistband. “Can I please take your sweatpants off, pretty girl?”

Your breath stopped and you nodded. “Yeah, but… Spence?” You pressed the pads of your fingers into his chest. His gorgeous brown eyes met yours.

“What is it?”

“If you’re going to, like, you know, right here,” you began, your chest rising and falling slowly. “I just don’t think I can, like, spread my legs apart enough for you to…”

“Would you be more comfortable lying down, Y/N?” Spencer asked. What you loved was that he wasn’t impatient about it, he wasn’t annoyed. He could just tell you were having trouble articulating your concerns and he wanted to help. He was reading your mind - well, scientifically speaking, he was probably reading your behavior and your body language - but he just got it so quick.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sighing softly in relief that he understood.

“Then let’s lie you down,” Spencer agreed. He kissed you once more, briefly, stepped back, holding his hands out to help you off the counter. Your knees were weak for multiple reasons as you wobbled towards your bedroom, letting Spencer guide you so you were flat on your back, looking up at him. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled as Spencer hovered over you. One knee outside your leg, the other very much in between them, his hands gripping your shoulders. Spencer craned down to kiss you again, as if a car had been jump started, and you were once again lost in it, unable to think about anything else but the man on top of you and how much you loved the way he touched you.

He wasn’t afraid of your body or how you’d react - rather, he seemed to find arousal in you being comfortable. His hands moved down to your waistband once again, obviously his fixation for the day, and he asked you again if it was okay that he remove your pants. You just nodded and told him, “yes.”

Even though the word had come out softly and raspy, in the back of your mind, you were screaming for the love of god, yes. If you stop touching me, I might commit heinous crimes.

Soon your pants were off, with some strategic shimmying over your hips and thighs, and you watched with a slightly amused expression as Spencer tossed them aside carelessly. He never did anything carelessly, so the action was a nice ego boost, knowing you could cause his system to glitch just as much as he could yours.

Spencer’s hands went back to your hips, sliding under the bottom hem of your t-shirt, inching closer to your breasts as your pelvis lifted, searching desperately for any kind of friction, your center making contact with Spencer’s knee between your legs. He dug his knee in a little further, your underpants acting as a thin divider.

“Can I take your shirt off, beautiful?” Spencer asked, and all the nerve endings in your face went numb.

“When are you gonna lose some clothes, pal?” You asked breathlessly, taken aback by your own sassiness. Spencer was too, but he laughed, a brimful sound that would have knocked you over if you weren’t already lying down.

Spencer’s laugh still lined his voice as he looked down at you. “I guess it’s only fair,” he chuckled. “Which would you-“

“Shirt,” you tugged at his collar pathetically, your fingers shaking as you tried to undo the buttons.

That stupid smirk rose on his face and Spencer kissed your nose teasingly before he took his hands in yours. “Need me to get those for you?” He asked, and you nodded. Deftly, his fingers worked the buttons until the shirt was shrugging off his shoulders. You watched with your mouth hung ajar like a garden gate.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

Spencer bent down at his waist again to continue his cartographic exploration of your neck and jaw, his kisses feather light and so, so frustrating. His hands slid up your shirt again, gliding smoothly over your supple skin, his fingertips tracing your stretch marks. “Now that we’re on a level playing field,” Spencer said between kisses. “Can I please take off your shirt?”

A sound escaped you, a combination of breathy laughter and a desperate whine. “Yeah,” you murmured. Your hands moved to run through his perfect hair. It was so soft, so clean. How did he have time to keep it so clean? Your fingertips dug at his scalp as Spencer’s knee dug once again into the space between your legs. You groaned as Spencer guided you to lift your torso so your t-shirt could be tugged off over your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he commented, and you felt your cheeks redden. He kissed your lips, his swollen and plump against yours as his hands traveled down. He swung the knee that was in between your legs over so that he fully straddled you now. He seemed to want to be everywhere - your breasts, your stomach, your lips, between your legs. It was like he couldn’t decide.

“What do you want, Spence?” You asked him, and Spencer’s eyes snapped to yours. Your tongue jutted out to moisten your lips.

“What do I want?” Spencer repeated, looking at you with an incredulous expression. “I want to make you feel good, angel. Do you want me to do that for you? Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“God. Yes.” You huffed. Spencer’s mouth was on yours in an instant, kissing you repeatedly as his hand traveled down. Hovering over your underwear, Spencer’s thumb pressed against your fabric-covered center and you felt him groan, the sound reverberating through your mouth.

“You’re so wet, Y/N,” he observed and your back arched instinctively, needing him.

“Spence,” you rasped.

“Say it again,” Spencer’s eyes met yours and his brow arched just as you felt him dip his index and middle fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear.

“Please, Spencer,” you managed to get out.

“That’s it,” he smirked, kissing your lips once as a reward before sliding your underpants down your thighs. You lifted your legs and he helped you out of them, tossing them aside like they were just collateral damage. His index finger was quick to tease at your folds, and you wondered if he had been thinking about this all day. “Open your legs a little bit more for me, angel,” he instructed.

You succumbed to his request almost instantly, and when Spencer’s finger rubbed against your clit, you had to bite back a moan. “What have I told you about holding back?” Spencer chastised you, and your eyes locked onto his. “I told you, don’t ever muffle yourself, baby. I want to hear every noise.”

“Spencer…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Don’t you dare.”

“That’s my girl,” Spencer smirked, and began to pump his two fingers into you. Your legs began to close on instinct, but Spencer’s other hand pushed your hair out of your eyes. “Keep ‘em open, beautiful,” he said patiently, his fingers increasing exponentially in speed. “You hear how wet you are?”

“Mmm,” was all you could say as the filthy, wet sounds emitted from your middle.

“And that’s all for me, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you choked out as your hips bucked towards his fingers.

Spencer’s fingers were relentless as he fucked you with them. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your vision going white and hazy from the pleasure, from your walls tightening around Spencer’s incredibly deft digits.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Just hang on a little longer, yeah?” Spencer cooed, his voice genuinely, tooth-achingly sweet, and you felt his lips beneath your ear. He kissed the skin there, and you felt him move his lips up to your earlobe, taking it briefly between his teeth. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he reiterated in a low whisper.

Your hands clawed desperately against his bare back for some iota of purchase, moving from his back to his hair, to his neck as he fucked you senseless. You were getting so close, whiny, needy little whimpers escaping you as Spencer continued to pump into you. And finally - finally - you reached your peak. Spencer didn’t let up, letting you ride your orgasm for as long as you could. Stars blurred your vision, and all you could see were those dark brown eyes looking so lovingly down at you.

And when you finally started to come down, Spencer’s movements slowed. He was never the type to immediately pull out. No, he merely turned down the intensity as you caught your breath, rubbing your clit gently as his fingers - soaked with you - slowly came out of you.

“How do you feel?” he asked as you panted, your eyes meeting his.

You opened your mouth to say something - anything, but no words came out. “Baby, use your words,” Spencer encouraged, and you huffed, frustrated with yourself, that you couldn’t say much of anything right now.

“G-good,” you whispered with a hoarse voice. Spencer used his clean hand to brush your hair out of your face. “Very good,” you added.

“Very descriptive,” Spencer teased with a smirk, and you were too ravished to play back.

You managed to prop yourself up on to your elbows just as Spencer moved off of you, laying down on his side so he could kiss your neck soothingly. “Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah?” you breathed, turning so you were on your side, so you could face him.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, and your eyes widened. You thought for a second he might be playing some sick joke, but then you looked in his eyes and saw how clear, how serious they were. Your lips flickered into a small, tired yet ridiculously happy smile. “You don’t have to say it back if you-“

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your lips meeting his in a long, slow, lazy kiss, feeling deliriously, stupidly happy.

——

A/N 2: I’ve never actually written smut before (I’ve read plenty lmfao) so if something is weird OR if you have any suggestions plzzzzz tell me I can take constructive criticism on this front xD

#spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x plus size reader #plus size reader #asks

[avawritesthings]

crash n burn | ln4

✦ word count - 1,358

✦ summary - y/n crashed out of the 2024 shanghai gp, and lando can’t help but worry.

✦ warnings - injuries, angst(?), worried lando, racing/f1 inaccuracies!!

✦ ava’s notes - f1driver!reader for this one, folks. sorry for the inactivity, i haven’t had the writing spark in a while. but here i am, and with a new sport, no less! i'm also trying smth new, no Capitalization...not sure if ya'll are into it. i got into f1 a couple weeks ago, so there might be several inaccuracies, but i tried my best. thank you for the support 🫶🏼 (sorry for the long ass note LMFAO)

f1 masterlist & nhl masterlist

THE FAINT SOUNDS OF VOICES reached your ringing ears. you could feel your head pounding from within the totaled car. suddenly, the simple act of opening your eyes was the hardest task for your shuddering body.

“y/n, are you alright?” the voices of your engineers could be heard through your helmet.

“i’m alright,” you mumble, not sure if the words made it out of your dry mouth. as your hands reach towards your harness and disconnect the latches, you let out a sigh of defeat, a whimper slipping past your lips.

you knew the race was over. the helmet was next to come off, throwing it out of your car before shakily ripping off the balaclava from your sweaty head. the act of taking off your helmet meant you couldn't talk to your team, you knew, but you couldn’t care less. 

you felt like you couldn’t breathe with the restrictive head gear on. 

tears burned behind your eyes, but you willed them back, refusing to show weakness. you felt and heard people around you. medics, probably, you couldn’t tell.

they were whirling around you and the war, or what was left of it. you felt them help you out and you let them, too tired to refuse. as your almost lifeless body left the constricted space, you took a heavy, deep breath, the exhale coming out trembling.

hands grabbed at your waist to keep you upright. waving a hand towards the concerned yet roaring crowd, the medics helped you into the van. before the double doors closed, you opened your eyes as much as you could and stifled a sob at what was left of your car. 

you willed the strength to run your hands down your exhausted face. a blood pressure cuff made its way up your arm and you turned to the man responsible.

the thought of your family filled your head; are they worried? are they watching? your boyf-

lando.

you knew he’d be worried sick. turning your head towards the medic, you asked “c-can i speak to him? lando?”

the man – who you felt knew you were going to ask at some point – wordlessly handed you a headset, and you could already hear his yelling.

“-and none of you bloody fuckers have heard from her? complete bullshit. is. she. okay?!”

“lando?” his name spilled from your lips, relief ever so present in your voice, knowing he was okay — as well as he could be after seeing the love of his life crash, hard.

“babe? is that you? fuck- i hadn’t heard from you and i thought the worst.” he spoke, and you knew that if he wasn’t racing, he’d be running his hands through his hair like a madman.

“i’m okay lando, i promise,” you said, your hands gripping the microphone attached to the headset. “i’ll see you soon, okay?”

“yeah- yes, baby. i’m so glad you’re okay. i love you,’ and that was the last you heard before the doors of the medical van opened and you were being whisked away to the medical center in the paddock.

-

a mild concussion and a bruised rib.

you got off easy, they said. it could’ve been much worse, they said.

you just felt tired. exhausted. however many g’s your body was put through would have probably killed a normal civilian. soon enough, you saw the familiar head of dark curls jogging towards you. daniel wrapped you in a comforting side hug, running a hand up and down your back while he placed a soft kiss on top of your head.

“glad you’re alright, sugar,” he breathed out. “don’t know what i woulda done if you hadn’t ended up okay.”

a small, genuine smile appeared on your chapped lips as you leaned against his warm body. danny had dnf’d a couple laps before your crash, and you were slightly glad. it was nice to have a friend after your unfortunate end to the race. 

“thanks, avocado,” you acknowledged, a hand coming to rest on his upper arm. the nickname stemmed from an interview he did with a kid that butchered his last name, saying avocado instead of ricciardo.

“you talk to lando yet?” danny asked, knowing your boyfriend is probably worried sick.

“yeah, spoke to him on the way here,” you answered. “he was worried sick, yelling at his team until i got on the radio. sorry you crashed out, danny. it wasn’t your fault.”

“ah i see,” he teased, knowing how much the boy loved you and worried over you. “and ‘s alright, couldn’t do anything to stop it. appreciate it though.”

you squeezed his arm before letting go, knowing he’d have to do interviews and such. “you got somewhere to be? interviews ‘n whatnot?”

danny turned his watch towards himself and swore, making you lightly chuckle. the sound of your laugh brought a smile to his face and he squeezed your arm back, his worried eyes scanning over your tired body. “you sure you’re alright? i can probably push the interviews back a few…”

waving him off with a flick of your hand, you affirmed that it was fine for him to go. he left you with another kiss to your temple and hurried off, turning around with another wave and his signature large, beaming smile. you blew him a kiss and he pretended to catch it, and you smiled fondly. your relationship with danny had always been friendly and flirty, lando never felt intimidated. a brother & sister bond is what it felt like with danny, being teammates strengthened your friendship greatly. 

sleep was calling, but the crowd and bustling people kept you up. your eyes met the tv broadcasting the race, seeing the drivers come towards their garages. red flag, you correctly assumed.

fiddling with the zipper of your fireproof suit, you couldn't do much other than stay hydrated and watch the race. a few more people came in and visited you, mostly your team, to make sure you were okay and alive.

on the uncomfortable hospital bed, you tried to catch up on sleep. as soon as your eyes closed, you heard the voice of the commentators. “the race has come to an early end. y/l/n’s crash was brutal. we haven’t heard much about her condition as of yet…” their voices faded out as you heard commotion outside of your hospital bed.

minutes later, lando came barreling in. his fireproof suit was still suited up, and his eyes immediately locked onto your worn out body.

“oh y/n,” he whispered out. lando walked closer to you and carefully wrapped his arms around you, and you could feel his body buzzing from adrenaline. 

“hi, lando,” you spoke softly, wrapping your arms around his slim torso. you could feel him hug you tighter. “they didn’t have to call off the race, y’know…i’m honestly fine.”

lando stood up straight and his eyes raked over you, similar to when daniel checked up on you. “fine my ass. you look like shit, y/n. but i’m so glad you’re okay.” his hands ran up and down yours, seemingly to calm himself and you down. “fuck the race, i had to see if you were okay.”

“just a bruised rib and-”

“and? there’s more?” lando’s concerned yet exasperated voice berated you. 

you rolled your eyes before continuing, “-and a concussion. honey, i swear, i’m fine. they gave me meds for the headache and i’ve just been in here waiting for you.” you turned your head and grabbed his hand, your lips meeting the inside of his wrist. a smile formed on your face, trying to comfort him. 

he sighed out in relief, glad you were okay. he brought you into his arms again. “i just- i don’t know what i would have done if it was worse. i’m so glad you’re okay.” you could feel him press a million kisses to the top of your slightly throbbing head. 

a few seconds passed before you spoke up, teasing clear in your voice, “you’re gonna have to apologize to your team, y’know. your yelling was quite loud, baby.” 

he groaned out dramatically and chuckled, “oh, fuck off.”

--

italics they could never make me hate you :/

(like/reblog/comment/follow, if you want! if ur a little ghost reader, i appreciate u xo)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula one #formula 1 #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #lando norris fanfic #my writing!

[hazbinsimp777]

Hey

Can i please fanfic (Hazbin Hotel) Adam x fem reader x Lucifer

the reader is in a relationship with Adam, lucifer is intrigued by the reader and starts flirting with him

how does Adam react when witnessing this scene (Lucifer flirts and accosts the reader but the reader is not interested in him)

❗the reader does not know about Adam's connections with his previous wives (due to his pride, please use it)❗

LUCIFER X READER X ADAM

A/n: I love this concept so much! Thank you for the request anon! <3

✅️ Loyalty ✅️Protective and Violent Adam ✅️A little spice (end) ✅️ Fluff

!Warning: Reader is read as female and LONG before the battle in the season finale!

You are Adam's third and final wife, he had met you when you two had met in heaven. You only had died recently, having a good life on earth and genuinely being a good person. At first, you were very hesitant of Adam when he had asked you out. Seeing him only with his fuck boy personality, how he proudly bragged about how many people he has hooked up with.

Despite being in heaven and being the first man.

Nevertheless, your colleagues at your job had encouraged you to do so. As to being known for rejecting suitors who had asked you out. With much hesitation, you had accepted his offer. You recall being very nervous on your first date.

Soon you came to realize, under all of that masculinity, he was a total sweetheart to you. Behind closed doors of course, he started to become more trusting towards you. Coming to the conclusion on his true intentions, eventually, the two of you started dating. Which had lead to you having an wedding ring on your finger.

At that moment, Adam had given you the title of, "My sexy as fuck wife." Sure, you were never too keen on that title and Adam going around and announcing so. But you knew that only met Adam was proud to call you his. People had informed you of his past marriages, which lead to many questions in your mind.

Why hadn't he told you about these past relationships? As his new wife this puzzled you, was he not supposed to tell you everything? When confronting your husband about this, he suddenly had a change in attitude.

"Oh it's not important babe! I got you now and that's all I need!"

Noticing he obviously did not want to talk about his past, you had left the topic alone. Wanting to be a good wife, you promised to never ask about it again.

That is, until Lucifer questioned for an meeting with heaven regarding the growing population of hell. As one of heaven's biggest leaders, Adam was required to go. He tried to convince Sera to not go, but his request came denied. Adam was complaining to you all day when he was forced to go. You, for some support, asked Adam if you can, by any chance, accompany him to this meeting.

In your shared home, while Adam was bitching about this, you approached him, taking off his mask, cupping his face, "Maybe I can come with you. I know how much you dislike Lucifer, I can perhaps be your support or source of comfort."

Adam's eyes widened, his lips turned from a frown to an smirk, "Babe...." He started, picking you up, placing you on the counter, "You are a fucking genius! This could be my chance so show him my sexy ass wife!" He said, placing himself between your thighs.

You placed your finger on his lips, "Or...you can call me your beautiful and intelligent wife."

He rolled his eyes, "Yes Hot Stuff you are that too." At that it was decided, you are going to be at Adam's side of the meeting.

At the day of the meeting, you and Adam were called to meet in Heaven's meeting room, where as you can guess, the meeting will be held. For an odd reason, you were nervous, finding yourself fidgeting with your fingers. Sitting beside Adam, who he himself looks uneasy, it was quite obvious, even with his mask on.

"Babe?" Adam called you, turning his head towards you.

"Yes Adam?" You asked, turning your chair to the right, facing him.

He sighed deeply, "Stay beside me, whatever you do, do not leave my side." He warned.

This request confused you, "Why so?"

Adam groaned, "Just don't leave my fucking side okay!" His voice was firm and assertive. Not aggressive, but to the point it got his point across with you.

"Okay Adam." You said, turning your chair back toward the table. Continuing to fidget with your fingers. It only took a short moment until the door swinging open rung throughout the room.

Standing in the middle, Lucifer you assumed. The short man had a white top hat, a snake and apple wrapped around it and an cane with an apple on the top of it. Wearing long black boots, red eyes and blonde hair going back. You had to admit, he wasn't anything you would expect, very much shorter than you had pictured him. And he had no nose?

Nonetheless, Adam's grip on your hand had tightened, wrapping around your hand. Noticing this, you squeeze his hand, as an act of reassurance. Giving him a nod and smile. Looking down, you seen a small smirk appear on his face, his masked eyes softened.

The other angels had not arrived yet, you Adam and Lucifer being early for the meeting. Which meant, you all three were alone for the time being.

"Ah! Adam! We meet again." Lucifer walked up to Adam, swinging his cane in hand as his boots tapped against the floor.

"Lucifer, meet my hot wife right here, she is sexy, did I say she was my wife?" Adam bragged, showing you off to Lucifer.

Which was not out of character for Adam, but this was....a bit much from Adam. Why was he so determined to show you off to a man you hand't even met until now? Regardless, you weren't complaining, you loved it when Adam showed you off.

Lucifer's eyes scanned you, looking up and down, as if analyzing you. In which he hummed, putting both of his hands on his cane, "She is a looker I'll give you that." The short man smirked, taking a seat across from you. Adam was suprised that Lucifer had not mentioned Adam's past wives.

Something that was unknown to you or Adam, is that Lucifer was intrigued with you on first sight. Taking in your attractiveness, when he had seen Adam's arm around you, he instantly knew you were his new wife. But that did not bothered him whatsoever. Adam was giving Lucifer the most dirtiest glares known to man, occasionally glancing at him while he was talking to you.

In a matter of what seemed like hours, the other higher ranked Angels have arrived. Taking their seats, annoying the meeting had begun. During the whole meeting, Lucifer kept darting his eyes at you. You felt his sharp gaze on you, making you uncomfortable, not wanting to make this meeting worse for your husband, you brushed off the feeling.

The meeting had taken two hours, you and Adam were on the verge of falling asleep due to all of the boredom. You didn't even know what they were discussing, Adam didn't even say anything, what was the whole point of him coming in the first place? This truly did irritate you!

"Adam, a word please?" Sera called Adam, standing from her seat to the door. A serious expression written on her face.

Your husband looked at you with pleading eyes, then back at Sera, "Can we just talk later Sera? I need to stay with my fucking hot wife." He tried sounding normal, but his voice kept cracking.

"No. This will not be negotiated." Sera commanded.

You got up and gave Adam a kiss on the cheek on his mask, to give him more confidence. "I will be fine Adam, I promise, go do what you need to." You assured him.

Adam groaned, "M'kay Sweet Cheeks, be right back." After that statement, he went on his way, walking beside Sera. Turning to look at you occasionally before the doors had closed.

Now, it was just you and Lucifer in the meeting room, it did not help that he was seated right in front of you across the table. With a hum, Lucifer pulled his chair, walking around the table towards you. You felt your blood go cold, eyes widening, why was he walking towards you? Surely you are no interest to the sin of pride, right?

A tap of his cane hit the ground echoed the room, being the only source of sound.

"Tell me Dear, why are you with Adam?" He leaned on the table, putting a finger on your chin.

With pure disgust, you gently take his finger off of your chin, "I love him very much and because we are married." You told him, "And I see you are as well." You point at his own wedding ring.

Lucifer simply brushed this off like a spec of dust on his coat, "Oh that is not important gorgeous." He leaned on the table with his arm, "You do know Adam's history with his wives right?"

"Not much at all and I do not intend to know more." You said firmly, tapping your finger against the table.

"As it is known knowledge is power Beautiful, and I know you must be smart as you are divine." Lucifer held your hand, giving it a gentle kiss.

"Ew! As I have said before I am a taken woman!" You slip your hand away from his grasp.

"What the fuck is this?!" Adam exclaimed, staring at everything in disbelief. Rushing to your side, using his wing to pull you closer to him, staring at Lucifer with pure fury and hatred.

"What? Me and your supposed wife were just having a conversation between adults." Lucifer said.

"Listen here you nose less fuck! Stay away from my wife, you know what? Get the fuck out of here, NOW!" Adam commanded, pointing to the door.

"Why? Afraid I might take this one too?" Lucifer teased, both of his hands rest on his cane as he gave Adam a smirk.

Your eyes widened, "Adam, what is he talking about?" You ask.

Adam's face went tense, his masked eyes widening, "N-nothing hot stuff, I uh- don't know what he is talking about." He stuttered, not even looking at you.

"Too prideful to tell her-" Lucifer got cut off by Adam punching him, Lucifer was not able to defend himself in heaven. Due to his abilities being taken away from heaven.

This action from your husband has taken you by surprise. There have been times when Adam had been jealous, he would simply tell them off, maybe a punch or two. And you two will be off your way.

But this was different.

This was fill with many emotions. Ones with pure jealousy, rage and fear.

Every punch he gave Lucifer was personal, Adam was laughing like an maniac, "Your in MY house BITCH!" He kept saying with every punch. You had to get Sera and other higher ranked Angels involved.

With being dragged away from the sin of pride, Adam kept lying, "You get the fuck away from MY WIFE YOU SLITHERY FUCK!" After that, Sera demanded Lucifer to return to Hell. While you were right next to Adam once he had calmed down.

You were compressing his wings, which always calmed him down when you did it. He had his arms crossed and a cute mad expression on his mask, grumbling curse words under his breath.

"Do you mind telling me what was that about?" You asked softly, but in a gentle but demanding tone.

"Fuck..." Adam cursed under his breath. Looking down at you, "Do you really have to know?"

You only nodded, "As your wife, I want to know. Not out of curiosity, but because I want to know you better. So I have a better understanding of you. Just know I will love you no matter what." You assured him, putting your forehead against his.

"I am so lucky to marry you...." Adam started, then that is when you two shared a kiss. You felt Adam smile against your lips. He told you everything about Lucifer and his past wives. In which you comforted him and assured him, Lucifer would never steal you away from him. Or any other man for that matter.

"You know, you standing up to Lucifer was kind of hot and sexy as fuck Babe." Adam whispered in your ear, "Makes me want to fuck a baby in you." Adam said, gripping your ass.

"And wholesome moment ruined." You muttered.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

A/N: I hope this was up to your standards Anon! Request are open, terms in pinned post!

Drink water and Stay Healthy Lovlies! <3

#hazbin lucifer #hazbin adam #adam x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader

[castiwls]

willow - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'I'm begging for you to take my hand. Wreck my plans, that's my man'

Requested; anon

Notes;tysm for the request <3 the yellow lights mentioned are like the one in the video (anon requested!)

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Sam Winchester was a relatively new addition to your life. It had barely been a month since he and his brother had waltzed right into your life and seemingly derailed it from the almost perfect track it had been on.

In that time you’d found yourself falling fast and hard for the younger of the two. Falling in love was something which seemingly came easy to you, free falling into a relationship was something which gave you a thrill like no other yet this was different. Falling this time didn't mean simply moving your toothbrush into a new bathroom a few streets down, no falling this time was life-altering almost.

But you were more than willing. The idea excited you almost. Getting to experience a whole new world while being around someone who made butterflies swarm in your stomach was something which you only saw in novels you’d read as a teen. 

You were under no illusion that hunting was an easy life, both Sam and Dean had been very straight with what you were walking into, especially with them but you were willing. And being here now made the hell that was slowly becoming your reality seem to melt away and become nothing but an afterthought.

The small streets of the town were bustling with people as the two of you slowly weaved your way through. You noticed every so often the way Sam would glance back making sure you were still behind him before quickly turning back whenever you met his gaze. The simple act sent butterflies swarming in your stomach and made you even more curious as to why he had dragged you from your bed at midnight.

Sam would never admit it out loud but you weren’t the only one who’d seemingly fallen hard and fast. The thought of a relationship had never even crossed his mind until you’d appeared in his life and suddenly it was all he could think of. 

His life was less than ordinary and part of him had begun to believe that the obstacles that constantly between him and love were simply a sign from above that maybe he wasn’t meant to find a connection like that. But then he’d met you.

“Just up here.” Sam pointed to a small hill not far from where you were both currently standing. You nodded sending him a small smile. As you both continued to walk the crowd of people only seemed to grow larger and larger causing you to reach for his hand on instinct.

He didn’t say anything as he reassuringly squeezed your hand navigating you both through the crowd until they slowly began to disperse the closer and closer you got to the clearing. “Why did you want to come here again?” You asked taking a seat on the grass in front of a large tree. 

Sam quickly sat beside you leaning back against the trunk a smile growing on his face as he watched the sky. “I read about a festive they do here around this time of year.” A small glint of excitement appeared in his eyes as he turned his attention to you. “Just watch.” He nodded forward.

“Alright.” You sat forward curious as to what he could have possibly read about. You’d only been in this town for a day and so far you’d seen nothing of a festival, yet the crowds you’d seen said differently.

A comfortable silence fell over you both after a moment. After a moment something in the distance began to glitter against the dark sky. The small yellow light stood alone for a moment, slowly rising into the sky before another light joined it. 

A small gasp left your lips as what seemed like hundreds of other yellow lights began to dot the skies over the town. “It’s beautiful.” You turned to him in awe before quickly turning back to watch as the lights drifted across the sky.

Sam smiled his heart fluttering slightly at the look of pure awe etched on your face as you continued to watch the small lights pass by. After a few more moments he felt you relax onto the trunk beside him, your gaze still locked on the sky which was now full of small yellow lights.

Slowly he moved his arm around you, he felt his breath almost stop in his chest as your head dropped to his shoulder with a small contented sigh. At the movement, he felt himself relax as he turned his attention from the sky to you.

The lights were dazzling but he was much more infatuated with the sight in his arms.

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fluff #jared padalecki x reader #jared padalecki #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles #spn fanfic #spnfandom #spn x reader #spn imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural drabble #supernatural fanfiction #.mine #.spn #.samwinchester #dean winchester imagine

[yuuuhiii]

Hellloo! Here for your even! Can this match-up happen in JJK?

How about a reader who is very selective with their peers but hold those people very dear. They're also a big bookworm and astronomy nerd so do with what you can! They're also concious of being left behind and alone and wouldn't show it, thus would constantly do everything to help and be kind under a perfectionist but reassuring chatacter.

I hope this isn't too confusing! Thank you for reading this request!

I match you with KENTO NANAMI

Kento holds you to a high standard in his books. You’re wife material really, however, he thinks maybe he’ll talk about that another time.

You guys are alike in many ways but different as well. He values your self-proclaimed flaws even though he tells you you're perfect.

Both of your guy's groups are small, having been in that group for most of high school both of you grew and learned to keep it small. Losing people or just being careful with who to bring around was helpful for both of you.

Kento feeds your reading obsession. If you guys aren't home then you're in a cafe or library. He spoils you to the absolute max.

You mentioned a book sounded interesting? It's wrapped with a ribbon on your bed.

Do you stare at a ring for more than a couple seconds? It's your new promise ring.

You scold him about his tendencies but he always says the same thing. “I'm just pampering the woman who holds my heart.”

Now other than the libraries and cafes you guys are at observatories. Or even out where you have a full view of the night sky and shimmering stars.

More times than not, he falls asleep to your voice, explaining to him which constellation is which. Your fingers trace the structure onto his bare skin.

He thinks you're the prettiest like this. The moonlight illuminating your features enough that you resemble a star yourself.

He tells you all the time you'd be the sun. Since you've always seemed to brighten his day every waking moment.

When he misses you and he's away at work he knows where to look. While it's day, he treasures how bright it is. While it's night, he admires the stars.

Kento knows what it’s like to feel and be alone. He’s always enjoyed solitude, although meeting you has changed him. Now when you aren’t with him he finds himself counting down the hours until he’ll be with you again.

He wonders if when your wedding day arrives he’d be able to access a sample of the moon in your ring. Just so he can prove it when he tells you he loves you to the moon and back. He remembers a poem you wrote, you said it was of him.

“Like the moon. Everyone admires me. But I’m always alone.”

He thinks back to it and he brings it up to you now. He tells you that if he’s the moon then you’re the sun and that doesn't make him alone. Because his life revolves around you.

Without him there’d be no moonlight.

And without you, there’d be no gravity to ground him.

© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms

#—ai’s 1k event٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ #kento x reader #kento x y/n #kento x you #kento fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #nanami imagine #nanami drabbles #nanami headcanons #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk scenarios #jjk fluff

[capriciouswriter207]

Kristen stands in front of him. She looks behind him. There’s nobody behind him but Gavin Pundle, up high in a tower.

Pain. It shoots through his throat. Kristen stands and looks horrified.

Not her. It can’t have been her. This does not feel like divine magic turned foul; instead, it feels like cold steel against his skin.

Buddy falls. He doesn’t hit the ground. Instead, he falls and falls and falls. He falls through the pale tiles of the arena and continues to fall.

Death. That’s what happened. 

Death. He is not unfamiliar with the sensation, nor is he afraid. Death happens to everyone, even young adventurers. If Helio has deemed that it was Buddy’s time to go, then that is how it will be. Everything grows dull and numb, and Buddy waits for the darkness to give way to his promised afterlife.

It does not come.

He waits patiently. Many people die each day. Helio must be up there, at the pearly gates, awaiting every follower with a smile to give them access to what is rightfully theirs. Buddy can wait, for Helio will give him the same courtesy.

That is coming. His afterlife. He’s getting there.

Any minute now.

No longer falling; now weightless in this void. There is no light, not even a flicker or a hint. Buddy clutches his staff and whispers a prayer. Surely Helio would remember him. Surely Helio would await him.

Sensation returns to him. It starts in his chest, deep within his stomach. Negligible at first, then growing. It beats, almost like a heart. With each beat, more and more of that searing sensation spreads across his chest and stomach. It is difficult to breathe (he’s dead. he doesn’t need to breathe. let go) and it spread through his neck to his mind.

Rage. He clings to it. Helio is the only one who can call down righteous fury onto the unbelievers and lash out with hatred. He has never known Helio’s wrath, but he has seen it in action.

He welcomes it. He expects to be wrapped up in it - not as its target, but a witness. Righteous fury by a god aimed towards themselves, for forgetting one of their most loyal, dutiful followers. Hasn’t he been loyal? Hasn’t he been dutiful? The Rat Grinders prove difficult to convert, yes, but Helio knows he hasn’t stopped trying.

It’s not righteous. It burns through him, it hurts in a way that nothing has ever hurt before. It is not righteous rage, but rather uncontrolled. Unbridled, untapped rage that lashes out like a wildfire, that cares not about who stands in the way and what gets destroyed in its path. It similarly lashes out at Buddy’s soul and being, whatever is left of it after this murder.

A hellscape. He blinks and he is no longer within this lightless void. Instead, he sees a terrifying hellscape such as his grandfather has warned him about. He tries to block it out and quell the rising panic in his chest, but he doesn’t need to. The rage is all-encompassing that he almost can’t feel that terrible dread sink into his chest.

He shouldn’t be here. He has been loyal and dutiful. He should not be here.

A voice. Or perhaps there isn’t. Perhaps he wishes to hear a voice. It whispers in his mind all the same.

A promise. An impossible choice between life in service of rage, or eternal death in this hellscape. 

Buddy wishes to stay true. To make a well-informed decision. Yet unbridled rage clouds his mind and time, he feels, is running out. He needs to make a decision now. 

Helio has abandoned me.

The thought sneaks into his mind. He wishes to cast it out, but once taken root, it spreads like the wildfire ignited by rage. 

Helio has abandoned him. He cares not for the mortals who would follow him. If Helio cared, he would have shielded Buddy from this hell and this decision in the first place. If Helio cared, Buddy would be on the other side of the pearly gates - where he belongs.

Helio has abandoned him. Helio isn’t here.

But this god is.

He doesn’t need to agree verbally. He doesn’t need to think about his answer to be heard, because this god knows his answer.

A breath. He sees the sky of the plane where the Last Stand takes place. A deep breath in as he sits up straight.

A scream. A hateful, guttural scream that has been sitting at the bottom of his throat finally is released. It felt good to release it at last and to feel all the things he’s always felt but never acted on. A scream, heard only by himself and the giant that towered over him. 

The rage stops burning. Instead, it settles in his stomach. His chest hurts only a little.

Buddy looks up. The face of the giant is obscured. He knows this being brought him back. He knows this is a servant of the one he now worships.

It’s a funny feeling. When he thinks about Helio, he feels no devotion at all. Only the now omni-present rage colors his view. Though his new deity does not have a name - it doesn’t need one, he still follows it - he can feel that devotion that once belonged to Helio. It now belongs to her.

Buddy belongs to her.

“Dang, y’all,” he says. “I worship a nameless god of rage.”

#buddy dawn #ankarna #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high spoilers #fantasy high junior year #dimension 20 #just a bit of creative writing about that moment #don't know why it stuck with me so much - but it did #capricious writings

[dwtdog]

Nursing Home AU, from the list of reverse tropes

DNF, ~1.7k words, fun little drabble as a break from finals :33

George’s walker catches on a stray piece of carpet and he grumbles, waving off the nearby nurse who turns her head toward him. He can handle this himself, thank you very much.

He straightens his back as he nears the door that he knows opens to the room just above his, all the complaints he’s built up in the weeks since his upstairs neighbors moved in at the tip of his tongue as he raises a fist to knock, grunting slightly at the way his shoulder creaks with the effort.

After three quick, hard knocks that he’s sure will be audible through whatever hearing impairment burdens the person behind the door, he studies the decorations with a careful eye. There are unframed pictures scattered across the door, some close to falling off the weak adhesives that secure them. George has to hold himself back from pressing them back down, telling himself that whoever is pictured in them probably deserves to have their treasured family pictures swept up by the night workers.

Because they’ve made George’s life a living hell.

He didn’t think his time in a nursing home could get any worse, until this neighbor moved in. It was like they had bricks attached to the bottoms of their shoes and frequently performed tap dancing routines, or like they had a particularly rambunctious pet elephant that traipsed around the place at all hours of the day.

George had done his best to be patient. He really had, but it’d been long enough. He’s dealing with this here, and now.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door handle turns, and the solid wood slowly eases open towards him. He shuffles back to avoid being hit, because he doesn’t exactly trust them to be caring of his health now.

The deep frown that he’s been wearing since he was awoken that morning by thundering footsteps directly above his bed shifts to something softer when he sees the man opening the door.

The first thing George notices about him are the eyes- a golden yellow that he knows is really green, set in a kind face weathered with smile lines. The second thing George notices is that he does not, in fact, have bricks attached to his shoes, and that brings the frown right back to his face.

“Uh- Hello. How can I help you?” the man asks, and he sounds nice enough. George thinks it’s an elaborate front.

“Are you aware,” George starts, bringing his eyes up from the mans shoes. “That there are people living below you?”

He blinks. “It would be pretty weird if they didn’t, yeah?”

“So you are aware them,” George clears his throat, crossing his arms. “That you should consider that before stomping around up here like a bull with dementia?”

George almost finds it satisfying, to watch the way his expression goes from open and friendly to sour, the way his stance comes to mirror George’s, down to the crossed arms. 

“So it’s a sin for a man to walk around his own house now is it?” he says, and George finds it hard to take him seriously with the ridiculous hat covering silvery hair- it’s pointed at the corners, taking a shape similar to the ears of a cat. “Just turn down your hearing aids.”

“Don’t need them,” George says curtly, rubbing a finger over the skin of his left ring finger, a habit he hadn’t dropped since his divorce. It draws his eyes to the same place on the man across from him, and he notices that he wears no ring either. “And it is a sin if you’re disrupting my sleep.”

He looks ready to argue back, but his eyes dart down to the movement of George’s finger, and he seems to change his mind. “Listen if you want to debate the bible, the lady three doors down can go for hours. Let’s say, instead, you come in for a cup of hot chocolate. Get all your complaining out.”

George shifts on his feet, feeling his hip pop as he does, and it reminds him that sitting down sometime soon would be nice….

“Fine. But if there’s no vodka in that chocolate I’m stealing something.”

With a small smile that makes George’s heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in decades, the man steps aside, pushing the door all the way open. “I’m Dream, by the way. I don’t think you introduced yourself.”

“George,” he replies as he steps forward, struggling for a moment to lift his walker over the edge between the hall and Dream’s carpet. “Strange name.”

Dream laughs, and George is distracted from looking over every inch of his apartment when a small animal appears, walking with its tail held high. 

“You have a cat,” he observes, and Dream turns from where he’d been pouring milk to heat up. George sets his walker to the side as he ever so carefully crouches down to pet the thing, smiling to himself when it purrs.

“He likes you,” Dream says, and there’s a note of fondness in his voice. “That’s Spirit. He probably hates my stomping just as much as you do.”

“Oh, you’re a smart one then, aren’t you,” George coos, rubbing under the cats chin. He’s a big cat, with long orange fur and some spots of gray on his muzzle, and ridiculously long whiskers that tickle where they brush against George’s leg. “You ought to bite him more. Maybe piss on his bed,” George says in a faux whiper, leaning down as much as he can.

“Oh, so now you’re trying to turn my cat against me?” Dream says, and George nearly jumps from the sudden proximity. “Need a hand up?”

George huffs, glaring at the offered hand but taking it anyway, groaning loudly as he stands. “So you can walk quietly,” he grumbles, eyeing the distance between he kitchenette and his current position.

“Only when I want to” Dream says with a wink, and George really wishes he still had his own cane- a much better weapon. “Come here, sit down before I have to call someone to help you. God forbid that new one- what’s her name- Rosa, god forbid she shows up. She’d have you on the ambulance in a matter of minutes.”

George laughs, following as Dream leads him to a chair in the living area, acutely aware of their still connected hands. “She on this floor too? Sent my neighbor to hospice for a cough. Haven’t seen her since.”

As George lowers himself onto the chair, Dream still doesn’t let his hand go, and George can feel a blush, of all things, creeping up his neck and staining his face.

“You planning to hold my hand forever, or-” George suggests, just as the microwave beeps. “Don’t tell me you microwaved the milk.”

“How else would I do it?” Dream asks, pulling his hand back and turning back to his microwaved milk. “You want peppermint?”

“I want vodka. And I don’t know, on the stove, maybe?”

“Too much work,” Dream says cheerily, and George sighs, long and exaggerated. 

He looks around Dream’s living space as he waits, noting the various pictures with his seemingly excessively large family. It’s not the only thing he’s looking for, but he can’t help but notice the lack of any sort of spouse.

“Snooping around already?” Dream asks as he returns, two steaming mugs in his hands. “You could probably find my whole life’s story on these walls.”

George meets his eye as he hands a mug over, wrapping his easily chilled hands around it gratefully. Dream takes the chair opposite his, and watches as George takes his first sip. As much as he wants to hate whatever microwaved monstrosity is swirling in the mug, he has to admit that it tastes damn good.

“‘T’s good,” he says into the mug, not missing the way Dream’s face lights up at the admission. “Family recipe?”

“Nope, all mine,” Dream says with a grin. “Come on, I know you have questions. Hit me.”

George hums, making a show of thinking it over. The burning question feels too obvious, and too revealing. He’s only just met this man a few minutes ago, he shouldn’t be asking about his love life. And yet-

“No wife?” he asks bluntly, taking a big sip right after. 

Dream laughs, setting his own mug aside as he leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “Nope. Never settled down. Always felt like I was chasing something just out of reach, like I needed to wait until the perfect person came along. And now look at me,” he laughs again, this time sounding more forced. “Left in a home to die alone. Probably doesn’t help I only realized it wasn’t a wife I should have been looking for what, ten years ago?”

George leans back in his chair, studying Dream in a new light. “Trust me, men aren’t worth it either. My husband filed for divorce, what, 20 years back? Never even bothered to tell me why. One day there, the next, gone. Took everything too.”

“That why you ended up in Florida? Don’t meet many British people around here.”

“Wanted to die under the sun,” George says easily, the alcohol warming his veins. “London was too grey, too many memories. I always loved it here.”

They sit in silence for a bit after that, only broken by Spirit jumping up to George’s lap with a loud meow.

“So no kids?” George asks, easing one of Spirit’s big paws away from where it’s kneading at his shorts, claws digging into his skin.

“You’ve got the only one on your lap,” Dream says. “Well, grandkid, technically. His mom was mine too.”

George nods, tangling his fingers in the long fur. “You ever think about second chances?”

“I think I’m on third’s by now,” Dream chuckles, meeting George’s eyes curiously. “Why, you rethinking the way you introduced yourself?”

“In your dream’s,” George says with a grin. “But I wouldn’t mind coming over again- to tell you off, probably.”

“And to pet my cat. And drink my vodka.”

“That too,” George nods. “Might need to visit a lot, then.”

“Well,” Dream shifts in his seat, and he appears to be fighting off a smile. It still reaches his eyes, and George can’t help but think of the man he sees on the walls- happy, glowing. Hopeful. “Then I guess I’d have to let you in. As an apology for the stomping.”

#cq.writing #dnf #old man yaoi 🎉 #if yall want any of the other prompts lmk this was fun

[daffi-990]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @wikiangela @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard

I’ve been tagged by so many people for so many different wip games but after finishing Rival Firefighters 🚒 .. I’m a bit burnt out and the writing beans have taken a little vacay.

That being said, have something I wrote a while ago for my Daylight Series (which I would love to revisit .. just need inspiration to strike and stick around).

(Btw this is the song that Buck is singing ⬇️)

Eddie knocks on the front door, fiddling with his car keys as he waits for Buck to let him in. When he gets no response he tries again. Still nothing. Wondering whether Buck went down to the beach or if he’s fallen asleep on the hammock out back, Eddie makes his way around the back of the house.

He’s halfway along the side of the house when he hears the sounds of a guitar. Ah, so that’s why Buck didn’t hear him. Eddie is about to step up onto the porch to make his presence known when Buck starts singing, halting Eddie’s movements.

I can't tell which way is home

I've been gone for so long

It's an empty world up here

I skip stones and wonder

How long 'til I'm discovered

It's a quiet life up here

The song is hauntingly beautiful, and Eddie can hear the raw emotion in Buck’s voice that tells him the pain of the song was very real, is very real. He quietly moves forward, being careful not to interrupt Buck. The man in question is sitting on the back porch steps that lead down to the beach, guitar held comfortably against him like it’s a part of him.

What If I run away to Mars?

Would you find me in the stars?

Would you miss me in the end

If I run out of oxygen?

When I run away to Mars

Three, two, one I miss you.

I’m sorry, I’ve got issues.

Eddie hasn’t known Buck for long, but he feels a deep ache in his chest for his friend. What happened to Buck to warrant this heartache? Is that why he came to Hartlan Shore? Buck’s told him and everyone else who’s asked that he moved because he needed a fresh start and why not Hartlan?

Eddie’s starting to think maybe that’s not all to Buck’s story. Whatever Buck left behind to come here is Buck’s business and Eddie’s not going to push him for information, but her hopes that one day Buck will trust him enough to share that part of himself.

Would you miss me in the end

If I run out of oxygen?

When I run away to Mars

The song comes to an end, Buck staring blankly out towards the ocean. Eddie blinks back the tears from his eyes and gives Buck a few minutes before stepping onto the porch into Buck’s peripheral.

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @the-likesofus @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @steadfastsaturnsrings @shitouttabuck @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz @devirnis @fiona-fififi @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @captain-hen @neverevan @bekkachaos @missmagooglie @monsterrae1 and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your official tag 🏷

#daffi writes #daylight series #music #buddie wip #buddie #I’ve written a sentence here or there for my Eddie Breakdown fic and LA Lonely #but not too much writing happening atm #I have started playing Minecraft though 😅 #my eldest is really into it so I thought I’d give it a go so we could play together #and just like with the Sims .. I love building and creating #no surprise there haha

[fuyuu-chan]

Hi bestie! You told me to drop in so here I am. I'm gonna leave a request while I'm at it hehe Hope you don't mind.

Can I request a Neuvillette fic inspired by Taylor Swift's "Anti-Hero"? I particularly like the lyrics "Hi, it's me. I'm the problem, it's me. At teatime, everybody agrees." It gives me the vibes of a reader who is shunned by society, y'know? Perfect for some angst if I do say so myself 🫣🫢

Anyways, do whatever fits your vibe. I just love the way you write our dear Iudex 🥰 No pressure though! If it's too much, then just consider this as me dropping in to say hello to you and your lovely readers. Have a good day!!!

Love,

Mayaree

It's me. Hi. I'm the problem it's me :)

Fuyuu-chan: Hiiiii beshy hahahaha thanks for dropping in lol 😆🫶 also for being the first to request 😚

Pairing: Neuvillette x Reader

Summary: Everyone doesn't like you and thinks that you're not worthy for Neuvillette, and so they make fun of you, some even ignored you. By the way people in Fontaine treat you it makes you feel insecure and question your relationship with him.

Warning: Mention of break up, a bit of yandere ish at the end?? It might not look like it for some of y'all but just in caseee hehehehe (Not Proofread)

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

The moment everyone in Fontaine knew about your relationship with Neuvillette would probably the worst thing that happened in your life, because of what people think about you, for not being worthy as the Ludex beloved partner.

And the worst part is that Neuvillette didn't know about any of this, they only talk about it when you're the only one around, when you're not with him. You consider to tell it to him but of course you don't want to bother him, especially since he's busy with his duties as the Chief of Justice.

Now, you got invited to one tea party held by one lady that has been "kind" to you, so of course you accepted it... 'I shouldn't had my hopes up, of course she is gonna be like the others' you thought. Who would've thought that she would be like that? She appeared to be kind to you the first time you met but when with everyone, with her friends and some other ladies, she had just embarrassed you.

She told everyone that (name) is just a common girl, basic, and compared to Neuvillette she's not on his level. She even told everyone that "She's just a problem to our dear Ludex, only a burden for him" she chuckles and everyone at that tea party laughed agreeing to what she said.

Feeling embarrassed, angered, saddened, you just excused yourself saying you'll go to the restroom but after you left you never came back but one thing's for sure, everyone hated you, talked behind your back while laughing. You can't handle it anymore, everyone is insulting you and the fact that you may be ruining Neuvillette's reputation, you feel furious but at the same time what can you do? I mean they're all right aren't they? You're just a problem.

Because of everyone saying things about you, spreading rumours around Fontaine, it's hard for you to go outside because once you do people would look at you and whisper to each other.

Some even threatened you, saying you should stay away from Neuvillette or you'll regret it. You thought it's probably just his admirers that's going way too far, but to be honest it's already affecting your mental health.

Well you did distance yourself from him, like when he ask you out like go to dinner, or have some date you would decline saying you have something to do or you're currently busy. But let's be honest you really wanted to spend time with him. He was at first: "It's alright, next time we could go." But as time pass he was getting worried and confused as to why you were not seeing him anymore.

Always rejecting him. 'What happened?' He thought. You two aren't like this in the past, you two would even date every time there's a free time like after work or weekends. But why are you distancing yourself from him?

This thoughts always bother Neuvillette and the way you act. And now he found himself walking towards your house to talk to you and ask you.

Once he arrives, he knocked on your door. It took you minute to open the door which definitely isn't like you at all since you always open the door immediately when it comes to him (he have like a pattern when he knocks at your door so you know it's him).

You were about to ask him but he just got in your house and closed the door. Now you two are just standing looking at each other, the air seems tense.

"...so uhhh...why did you come here?" You said finally breaking the silence.

"Am I not allowed to come here anymore?" He asked.

"That's not what I meant, what I mean is what's the reason for your sudden visit here?" You clarified.

"It's about you...us...why are you distancing yourself from me? What happened?" He asked.

"What do you mean?... I'm just busy that's why I can't really spend time with you..." You trail off hesitating.

"Don't lie (name)..." He said as he looked at you worried.

"Did I do something wrong that makes you distance yourself from me? If I did I'm sorry... but please tell me so I can fix it." Neuvillette asked as he looked at you in the eyes.

"You?.." you asked as you scoffed a bit. "No it's... it's me Neuvillette, I'm the problem..." You continued as you try not to tear up in front of him.

You can see how Neuvillette's furrow his eyebrows as he heard you speak.

"What? You're not the problem (name), what are you talking about?" He asked as he stepped closer to you.

"So you still don't know?" You asked.

"What do you mean?" He looked at you confused on what you mean.

"People in Fontaine don't like me, they hate me the moment they knew about us, they said I'm not worthy...for you... I'm just a problem...and a burden for you" you said as your voice is starting to break, you didn't even notice that you were now crying remembering everyone's word, insults, threats.

Neuvillette was speechless the moment those words left your mouth. How could he not know about any of this? Did all of the people hurt you like this everyday? He thought that everything was alright but it turns out it's not, how could he let this things happen to you?

Neuvillette wanted to comfort you but when he was about to approach you, you step back and said "I think we should... separate ways, I don't want you to get ruined or people thinking bad things about you because of me" you said as you try to look at him.

He stood there, frozen in his place. He was processing your words inside his head. "W-what?..." He finally get to asked after a few minutes.

"We should break up" you said.

"...But why?"

"Because of me...I was causing you problems, I might ruin your reputation in the future and I don't want that" you answered as you finally looked at him teary eyed.

Neuvillette then approached you as he pulls you closer to him, he held you in his arms. "(Name) please...I don't want to break up with you...Besides you're never a problem, people is just jealous of you and that's why they did that. Besides you will never ruin my reputation because when you came into my life, you taught me how to understand people, how to be considerate and many more. My reputation became much better with you."

You lean on him while you tear up, even if you don't want to but his warmth that enveloped you, you missed it.

"B-but.." you stutter.

"Sshh..." He hummed as he pat your back in order to comfort you just like what you did when he was crying. "I'm sorry I didn't know any of this, I'm sorry you have to go through all of that alone, I'm sorry that I turned a blind eye...and I'm sorry that I'm not there when you needed me the most." He apologized.

After you calmed down you replied to him. "...It's not your fault...so don't apologize" you sniffled as you finally looked at him for him to only wipe your tears away. "No love...it's my fault too for not knowing any of this, for not seeing how much you suffer everyday."

You kept silent as you just let him comfort you. Eventually you found yourself apologizing "I'm...sorry Neuvi...for saying we should break...up".

Neuvillette only shake his head "Its alright... I know you dont mean it, you might had said it but at that moment I can see in your eyes that you do not mean those words" he said as he smiled gently at you. "But...I hope to not hear those words again...I must say my heart ache when those words left your mouth." He continued as he looked a bit sad.

"I'm..sorry, its just that...that was the one I thought would be better for us..for you" you said as you looked down only for Neuvillette to grab your chin gently to make you look at him.

"Its alright...you dont mean that anyways right?" He asked and you nod and that was enough for him to smile again. "It's those people that made you think that...I cannot believe they had the audacity to say those vile things to my beloved, to my partner, who I love dearly from the bottom of my heart. I serve them for so many decades, I protected them yet they return all those things I did with this?" he said as he tucked your loose hair behind your ear. "They didn't even repsect the person I chose to be with me forever" he looked so mad that he let these things happen but you hugged him to calm him down a bit.

"What are you gonna do?" You asked while you lean onto his chest, he reciprocated your hug as he wrapped his arms around you waist.

"Don't worry love...I will handle it all...you just rest here and relax while I fix these, alright?" Neuvillette said as he rubbed your back. "It would also be nice if we could leave Fontaine for a few days to have your mind forget this for a while, don't you think?" He asked as he looked at you.

You hummed and nod. "I guess that would help...but how about your work?" You asked as you now looked at him to meet his gaze on you.

"I'll take a few days off, I'm pretty sure the others could handle the court for a while. Especially since there's no big cases as of now." He explained and that's enough for you to relax a bit.

You finally smiled and that made Neuvillette happy, seeing you smile again made his heart finally calm down and his mind to finally rest. For now he let himself relax on your warm embrace and for later...he would deal with those people that dare hurt his beloved (name).

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Please do not copy, translate, repost to any other social media, Thank you.

#fuyuu chan writes #fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #genshin impact neuvillette #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #request

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 31

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/infertility

(I meant for this to be funny/lighthearted but it turned slightly angsty? Don't worry though. It's sandwiched between fluff.)

Consequences

Killer woke up before you did. At some point in the night, the positions changed until you were now the little spoon and he was curled around your back, face pressed into your hair, inhaling the way you smelled. His hand rested on your stomach, having very innocently moved your shirt out of the way so he could feel the soft skin underneath. It slid down to gently knead at your love handle. He wanted to stay like that for longer; unfortunately a ship of hungry pirates was not pleasant to be aboard. "Y/N," he whispered. "You're gonna help with breakfast, aren't you?"

You groaned, pulling the sheets over your head. "Not now, boss. M'sleepy." Clearly, you were somewhere else in your head.

His fingers prodded your ribs until a soft giggle came from under the sheets. "Wake up, breadcrumb."

"Killerrrrrrrrrr." You turned to face him with half-lidded eyes, barely peeking out from the sheets. You were about to plant a kiss on him, but shrunk closer to him when you heard boots approaching the door to the bathroom. He was also turned on his side, facing you, so you were hidden behind him, still under the sheets.

The door opened and Killer half-turned to see Kid standing in the doorway. "Killer, why are there three toothbrushes?" Kid's eyes were narrowed. 

"You must have taken out another one when you were drunk." Killer didn't feel like dealing with Kid this early in the morning. 

"No. Mine is blue, yers is red, and now there's a purple."

Killer straightened slightly. "Mine is blue."

"Pretty sure mine is the blue one."

"Kid!" Killer knew all too well what Kid did with his mouth and frowned at the implication they had inadvertently been sharing. "Why the fuck would I use red when that's your color? I'm blue. You're red."

Kid shrugged. "I like blue." He shook his head. "Wait that's not what I'm here to argue about. Why is there a purple!?" Kid walked around Killer's bed to see who was in it. He had a suspicion that Killer hadn't invited him to your nighttime activities like he promised. Kid grabbed the covers and yanked at them, but they didn't budge, firmly in your grip. So he did the next best thing and snaked his hand underneath, finding a small foot. "Aha!" He dragged you out from the end of the bed.

You tried to grab something to hold onto to no avail. "Killer, help!" You reached for him and giggled. "Noooooo!" You yelled as you were rudely pulled out and left to plop onto the floor. "Ow, Kid." You sat at the foot of the bed on the floor, letting your head fall back against the mattress behind you. 

"I knew it! Ya fucked without me!"

"No, we didn't, Kid." Killer rolled his eyes and reached for his helmet on the side table. "Swear on your life."

Kid looked confused. "Why not? On yer period or somethin?" Why else would you be in the same bed as Killer and not fuck?

Killer scoffed. "What does that matter?" He got out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't even remember when the last time I had one was." You didn't think anything of it. Kid was, again, ruining your nice moments with Killer and it was annoying you. "Believe me. I tried." You added, "We just... cuddled. It was... nice." You felt yourself starting to flush and took that as your cue to leave before Kid could make fun of you. You moved in the shadows, trying to avoid being seen leaving Killer's room in pjs and simultaneously praying you didn't get a splinter in your bare feet. Somehow, you were successful on both fronts. Emma and Quincy noticed your absence all last evening, but they assumed you had been helping Killer in the galley and then stayed with Kid. You didn't correct them. It was weird. You could care less if people talked about you and Kid. Killer, though, you wanted to keep that to yourself. It felt wrong to talk about it, especially since it respected his privacy, too.

You met Killer in the galley to help with breakfast. Every time he put his hand against your back to push past you or grabbed something from you, brushing your hand, you felt hot. You kept feeling hot. Really hot. The feeling didn't go away and you were sweating. You leaned against the counter, feeling lightheaded.

Killer stopped his buzzing around the kitchen to put his hand on your forehead. "Are you ok?"

You shook your head. "I think I need to lay down." You felt fine when you woke up so why did you suddenly start feeling cruddy? 

"Do you want me to come check on you later?" Killer probably would have just done it, however he didn't want to overstep, afraid that you would feel suffocated if he gave you too much attention too soon.

"I'm okay." You didn't want Killer wasting his time looking after you. After all, you were the doctor.

You headed directly to the infirmary, rifling through the cabinets for a few things. Before you had the chance to take the rainbow of pills sitting on the counter, a wave of nausea overcame you. Sprinting into the bathroom without a second to spare, you were hung over the toilet, heaving your guts out. Mostly bile came up since you had digested the previous night's food already. When your stomach decided to calm down, you dragged yourself to lay on one of the gurneys, promptly passing out.

The captain was in his workshop, still miffed about being left out. So what if there was no fucking? Maybe he wanted to snuggle, too. So what if he was a brute? He liked soft things, too. The sound of you entering your side of the involuntarily shared space directed his thoughts elsewhere. Kid heard all the commotion through the massively huge hole in the wall, still not fixed. "If yer gonna puke, at least shut the door. Damn," Kid mumbled. He wondered what had you feeling like shit. Surely, it wasn't Killer's cooking. He couldn't think of a time when he had ever gotten sick from his first mate's food. But there was an itch in his brain. Something you said earlier. It sent him into a cold sweat. "I don't even remember when the last time I had one was."  One by one, every time he fucked you played in his head, and by default, every time he came, some times on you, but mostly in you. "Shit." Kid, paler than ever, went to find Killer. 

Kid burst through the galley doors, trying to be cool, but the shifting of his eyes gave away that he was in his head. "Hey, Kil." He pretended to be interested in the food, which was hardly pretending except for the fact his stomach was doing flips. "Did ya, uh, notice anything about Y/N this morning?" 

That got Killer's attention. Kid had never referred to you by name before, always using 'Rotten' or his other nicknames. Killer continued to cook, "Yeah. She didn't feel good." Where is he going with this? 

"I heard her puking in the infirmary bathroom." Kid seemed anxious.

Killer was immediately concerned. "You think it was my spaghetti?" He sounded dejected. The pride he had in his food would be severely wounded if he had accidentally gave you food poisoning. He felt fine, though, and you had eaten the same thing. 

Kid rubbed his arm. "No. I think it possibly, may be, slightly my fault." He was sweating.

The first mate knew his captain well, and knew that he was struggling to say something. "Kid," he said lowly. "What did you do?" Killer didn't know what to think. Did Kid pull a prank that went wrong? Maybe he accidentally poisoned you. Killer knew Kid had been annoying you by moving stuff around in the infirmary. What if he switched the bottles of something and you took too much of the wrong thing? "You better go apologize for whatever it is if you're sweating this badly over it."

"I don't think an apology will do much." Kid took a deep breath. "Remember earlier this morning? When I said the thing about the period and then she said she couldn't remember the last one." 

Killer put 2 and 2 together. "Kid... We've talked about this." The world didn't need any more red-headed pirates in it.

"I know. I know! But in the moment... And she didn't stop me! So it's not all my fault!"

Killer wasn't all that worried. Sure. It was a very real possibility, but he doubted a woman so hellbent on revenge and being reckless would even allow it to be a remote one. "She's not stupid, Kid. If she wasn't worried, then either there's not a reason to be, OR she wanted to have your kid. And I HIGHLY doubt the second possibility. She can't stand even the one of you."

Kid looked a touch offended. "Killer, you aren't taking this seriously." Kid ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't put that much thought into thatpart of his future. 

Killer shrugged. "It's not my kid." He knew that would rile Kid up, but couldn't resist poking at him. If he was actually concerned, he would be more empathetic. 

Kid huffed. "Well the way the two of ya are getting on, yer gonna be the step-dad." He folded his arms, reminded of being left out.

"Oh my god, you're jealous." Killer chuckled. Kid was so cute when he was jealous. His pouty face and grumbling voice made Killer grin under his mask. Killer shook his head and sighed. "Why don't you leave her alone for now, and later I'll go with you to check up on her, unless you want to go by yours-"

"No. I need ya to come with me." Kid quickly interjected. It's not like he was scared or anything. It was for you, in case you needed Killer's support.

After an entire day of Kid pacing the ship, freaking out in his head, Killer had found him and the two went to check on you. At first Kid was freaking out about the presence of a child on a pirate ship, though none of them were raised in savory conditions in the first place, so maybe it would be fine. Then he was freaking out because the combined personalities of you and he would be an absolute demon of a child, and how would he make it listen. Kid didn't really love the idea of a kid, but he would be damned if he let it grow up like he, Killer, Wire, and Heat did. If you even stayed, or wanted it, or wanted to participate in raising it. There were a lot of uncertainties. Unwarranted, as he would soon find out.

Killer knocked and entered. 

"I told you not to check on me," your voice was strained. They didn't see you initially. You had opted to lay with Mini on the floor, instead of the gurney. Lay was a strong term, you were curled into a ball, shivering. "Don't come closer!" You held your hand out in a gesture to stop. 

"You look like shit." Killer saw how green and clammy you were. Sweating, yet shaking like you were freezing. He could plainly see that you were sick. 

Lifting your head to look at him, you didn't think Kid would be there as well. You assumed Killer would probably come check on you or send Heat even though you said not to. Kid, though, he wasn't the type to show concern for another person. You pulled yourself up to be sitting. He had a weird energy about him. "What's your problem?" You directed it at Kid.

"YER PREGNANT!" He blurted it right out. 

You stared at him blankly. How the fuck did he reach that conclusion? A bunch of things went through your head at once. It was something you didn't go telling everyone. But you realized you probably should have mentioned it to the guy who was shooting loads in you basically every day for weeks off and on. You didn't feel bad, however, because you were still mad at him for a variety of reasons and he deserved to sweat a little. "Well, fuck I would have stopped drinking if I knew that." You got serious and frowned at him. "And what do you plan to do about it?"

Kid stammered. "I-I- uh." He didn't have to struggle for long. He thought you were crying before realizing you were laughing at him.

"Kid, relax. I'm not." You smirked. "Is that why you ran out of here like a scared animal this morning?" You shouldn't be laughing at his mental torment, but seeing Kid a little scared was interesting and you were a little delirious from whatever concoction you whipped up for yourself. 

"Told you." Killer stated, matter-of-factly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

"Shut up. I wasn't worried." Kid grumbled, though visibly relieved. "But explain anyways," Kid demanded. "You were puking and... you know all the times-"

"All the times you couldn't pull out because this pussy is too good? Yeah I recall." Mainly, you didn't want to go about your day dripping cum into your panties. You gave up on asking him to pull out however, because he simply couldn't. "I would have been a lot angrier with you if there was a risk of getting pregnant, dumbass. But now I can't help but wonder how many brats you have out there in the world with that shitty ass pull-out game." You were giggling. 

"I'm more careful with whores! Shut up!" Kid was fully red. 

Killer shot you a dubious look.

"Aw, does that mean I'm not a whore to you?" You decided to grace him with an answer. "It's physically impossible for me to have a kid. So you can continue to nut as you please, when I decide to fuck you again." '

"When?" Killer questioned, a cheeky look on his face.

You corrected yourself. "If. If I decide."

Normally Kid would have been focusing on the part about the nutting. However, he was stuck on the first thing you said. You weren't a whore to him, but what were you to him? Both you and Killer had assumed he was jealous of the time Killer spent with you instead of with him. Kid found himself strangely jealous of your attention. He wanted more of it. "Why can't ya?" Kid didn't mean to be rude, for once. He just wanted to know, to be sound of mind.

Killer hit the back of his head. "You can't ask that!" 

"It's fine." It didn't really bother you. You never wanted kids in the first place and in this life, it was a blessing in disguise. A really painful, terrible disguise. You pulled up your shirt, holding the hem in your teeth, and unbuttoned your pants, pulling the waistband down until it was at the edge of your pubes. "You probably never noticed it since you were preoccupied with... other things." There was a pale, silvery, jagged scar about 2/3 of the way from your belly button to your mons, just above your pubic ramus. "Katana got me." You shivered and put your pants back on. 

"Oh," was all Kid said. 

"You really don't look good. Do you need some soup? Water?" Killer saw how uncomfortable you were and also wanted to change the subject since he wasn't sure how much it bothered you. 

"M'fine." You let yourself slide back down on your side. Mini picked up her head and licked you.

Stubborn. "Ok. Will you have someone get me if it gets worse?"

"Probably not."

"It wasn't a question," Killer put on his first-mate voice. He continued, "Kid, why don't you keep an eye on her?"

"I'm not fuckin staying here ta get sick."

"Lucky for you, someone installed an observation window," Killer motioned to the big fucking hole in the wall, "so you can sit alllll the way at your workbench and still see." 

Kid grumbled, walking over to his side of the space and Killer left. 

You barely moved over the next day and Kid couldn't stand the sight of you shivering. So damn annoying. He tried to ignore it, ignore you. Every noise or sudden movement you made had his head snapping up to see what was wrong. He couldn't focus on anything he did. With a frustrated growl, he stomped over to look down on you. "Yer so damn irritating." Shrugging his coat off, he laid it over you. "If ya barf on this, I'm throwing ya into the sea, got it?" You didn't give any response, deep in sleep. His eyes flicked to your right ear. The top part of the helix was missing, damaged from the attack you had endured. He didn't know what came over him the other day, but as he fiddled with scraps, he had an idea. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small, crescent shaped piece of metal that he hid from Killer earlier in the week. It was cuffed and made from a nice silvery-colored metal. With a gentleness unbecoming of hands so rough and calloused, he moved your hair out of the way and slid the metal prosthetic, though it was more like jewelry, over your ear. It attached to the helix that was left to resemble the part that was missing, like the tip of your ear was dipped in silver. "Hmph." A small flicker of pride lit inside him. It looked good. Of course it does. I made it. He didn't know why, but he did.

#bro if someone was using my toothbrush I would puke on the spot #idk why that's so nasty to me #It's Kid's turn to be a sweetie but he's still a meanie about it #idk about y'all but when I read the fics with blatant unprotected sex I get anxious about the reader and pregnancy #be safe y'all fr #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #marooned #kid x reader x killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #x reader #one piece #anyways it was supposed to be lighthearted but I didn't want to make light of infertility bc it's extremely serious for some people #I hope I respected that

[inawickedlittletown]

You Can Always Find Me Where the Skies are Blue (BuckTommy fic) - 1/4

Summary:

Soulmates are rare. So rare that it's actually incredible that Buck has two soulmate couples in his life. Statistics tell him it's very unlikely for him to meet his soulmate. Of course, then he meets Tommy. Too bad it happens at the worst possible moment.

Canon compliant soulmate AU where Buck is still a mess and Tommy is still very understanding.

Words: 4,378

Ao3

-

Part One

The truth was that Buck never quite got an understanding for how the whole soulmate thing worked. His parents were soulmates which was strange to think about considering his childhood, but then Buck hadn’t known about the older brother he’d been born to save, the one he’d failed to save. 

From what he’d learned in school, soulmates had been more common in the past. They said it was something to do with population growth or something about cultural life experience and technology. 

There was a lot of research on why soulmates had dwindled, but no one had concrete answers. There was some kind of database where soulmates had to register. So while it wasn’t impossible to find a couple that were actually soulmates, more often than not people settled down with someone that wasn’t their soulmate. A lot of them were happy. 

Buck thought that one day, it would seem like some kind of myth. Instead of viewing Aristophanes’ speech in Plato’s symposium as an explanation, it would become legend. It would no longer be an early explanation of soulmates. It would be like Plato’s allegory of the cave, a thing to consider without real life application. 

And so, before Buck had even reached the age of eighteen, he was sure that he would never find his soulmate. He wasn’t resigned to it, he just knew enough about statistics and probability. Most people wouldn’t meet their soulmate. It was just how math worked. 

When he joined the 118, he couldn’t deny that a part of him had been surprised when he learned that Hen was married to her soulmate. He’d asked so many questions that Hen had eventually banned him from continuing to ask. 

It hadn’t stopped Buck from thinking that it was amazing. More surprising was his sister and Chim and how Buck had missed the whole thing even though he was the one to introduce them. That whole thing had made Buck well aware that even among soulmates things could be complicated. 

So, when Buck followed behind Chim and Eddie onto the tarmac of LAFD Harbor station air operations, the worry in his gut growing and growing the more he thought about Bobby and Athena being unreachable and Hen being correct about the need to go out and rescue them, he didn’t expect to meet his soulmate. 

In the books, it never described what it was like. It only said that you would know it if it happened to you. The book was right. 

Buck knew it the moment their eyes met. 

It was the world snapping to focus, narrowing down on that person and saying: “this one is for you”. It was a feeling in his gut. Tommy Kinard missed a step and as for Buck, he froze on the spot. What felt like minutes translated to seconds, but it was enough for them to both know. 

They were soulmates. 

Chim was explaining, expanding on what he’d said to Tommy over the phone as their uber driver drove them to Harbor. Tommy was nodding, but his eyes were on Buck and Buck couldn’t look away from him either. 

It was only when Tommy looked away that Buck dropped his eyes from Tommy. He tried to shake it off, remembering why they had faked stomach issues and left in the middle of a call. Yes, he might have found his soulmate, but it wasn’t the time or place. Of course, what they were about to do was verging on stupid and reckless…but if Hen was right — and she most likely was — then they had to and Buck couldn’t complicate matters because their pilot turned out to be his soulmate. 

He could tell that Tommy seemed to have decided the same from how quickly he began directing them to a helicopter.

“Thanks again, Tommy,” Chim said. “We’ll for sure owe you one. Collect from any of us.”

“That would require I know who exactly I’m allowing onto my helicopter,” Tommy said. 

Eddie stepped forward first, hand out to shake Tommy’s. “Eddie Diaz,” he said.

“I’m Evan Buckley,” Buck said, and he knew his voice was shaky. 

None of them noticed because it seemed that Hen had arrived. Tommy’s hand touched Buck’s shoulder. “Get situated. I’ll get Hen.”

His shoulder felt warm, it was in Buck’s head, but still it lingered even as he climbed in first. He took a few breaths to center himself. They would have time to deal with it later. He had to focus on that. By the time they were in the air, that got a little easier. When Tommy mentioned that they might all die, Buck felt the loss of what he’d just found and he wanted to scream. In a way, it also made perfect sense for his life. Of course he would meet his soulmate, get into a life or death situation, and perish. 

When they found the capsized cruise ship, he almost felt relieved, followed by the fear of what they would find once they got down there. Bobby and Athena had to be alright, they just had to be. 

Focusing on the work kept him from thinking about Tommy and about everything that came with it because there were so many layers to get through. It was a while before Bobby, the kid, and Eddie had climbed into the back of the helicopter, leaving Buck to sit up front. 

Tommy glanced at him right as he settled himself in and he smiled a smile that scrunched up his nose and the corners of his eyes. Buck shouldn’t have found it so endearing, then again, this was his soulmate. Buck smiled back and he wanted nothing more than to bring it up, to confirm with Tommy what they both knew to be true. He couldn’t, though. He didn’t want to do it over the open channel. So, instead, he turned away, admiring the clear blue skies and the water below. It was as if the storm they flew into hadn’t been there at all. When he looked back at Tommy again, it was even harder to look away, but he forced himself to when the helicopter touched down on the ship. 

His mind couldn’t quite wrap around it. He had a soulmate. He, Evan Buckley had a soulmate and he’d met him. Him. His soulmate was a dude. A man. It was hitting him secondary to the initial thing, that he had a soulmate at all. 

Same sex soulmates were a normal thing, Buck knew, it was just that in most instances soulmates were romantic and Buck wasn’t gay. He loved women. He slept with women. He was attracted to women. 

Bobby walked ahead of them and Buck heard Hen calling out to Athena. Buck stopped to watch as Bobby and Athena ran into each other’s arms and he was caught up in the moment. He hadn’t gotten a lot of time with Athena when Tommy first landed the helicopter on the capsized ship, but he’d seen her worry for Bobby. That was the devotion and love that Buck wanted…what he’d been searching for and failing to find for years. 

Athena and Bobby weren’t even soulmates, though they may as well be. They had always given Buck hope that he could be happy without a soulmate…but now he’d found his soulmate. Tommy. 

Eddie was next to him, but Buck was a little more focused on Tommy approaching. It all still felt like the wrong place or time and as Eddie headed towards the other side of the ship, leaving them seemingly alone, Buck had no idea what to do. Slowly, he turned to look at Tommy. Tommy was smiling wide. He looked beautiful. Buck didn’t think he’d ever thought that about a dude before and yet it was true. Their shared look was enough to confirm what Buck already knew. 

“You’re—” Buck managed to get out, his throat closing in on the word. 

“Yeah…we are,” Tommy said. His eyes were shining. 

Buck’s mind went blank, words and thoughts jumbled up in a way that had never happened before. Tommy seemed if not similarly affected, then willing to wait for Buck to be the first to say something. Buck also realized that he didn’t mind just losing himself in staring at Tommy. 

He only looked away when Eddie was back, bumping into his shoulder and delivering a bottle of water to him and Tommy each, entirely oblivious to what was going on between them. Buck’s hands shook as he opened the bottle, but he was grateful and drank almost all of it in one go. 

Eddie was talking about their ETA back to LA when Chim appeared at Tommy’s side. 

“Can’t thank you enough, man,” he said, clapping Tommy on the shoulder. 

Tommy laughed. “I’m always a call away, Howie. But, thank you…I really…thank you.” 

Chim just shook his head, but Tommy’s eyes were on Buck and Buck inhaled a breath. He’d have to thank Chim too, eventually. It wasn’t lost on him that he had introduced Chin to his soulmate and that Chim had now introduced Buck to his. 

Bobby and Athena approached, arms still around each other. They looked exhausted, but happy. 

“I was so glad to see you two,” Bobby said, directed at Buck and Eddie. Then, he turned towards Tommy. “And you…thank you, for helping these guys out.” 

Bobby reached out a hand and Tommy grasped it and Buck could tell he was shocked by Bobby pulling him into a quick but meaningful hug. Athena for her part just pat Tommy’s shoulder. 

It should have bothered Buck that he had yet to have a single moment alone with his soulmate, but he liked having him there among his family. They would talk about it, figure out what it meant later. It gave Buck a bit of time to think, too. He had a soulmate. His soulmate was a man. His soulmate was Tommy, a ridiculously impressive LAFD pilot. 

Buck was an ally. He always put a rainbow up on his social media in June. He’d gone to a few pride parades since living in LA. He’d never dated a guy before, though, never even thought that it was a possibility for him. Looking at Tommy, he wondered if Tommy had known that men were an option for him. All that Buck really knew about the guy was that he’d been with the 118 as far back as when Chim had become a firefighter and that he hadn’t stayed too long after Bobby took over as Captain. 

Maybe they were meant to be platonic…have some deep understanding about each other that no one else could ever comprehend. A little like he and Eddie, maybe. That wouldn’t be too bad. 

He stole glances of Tommy as Bobby and Athena started to tell them exactly what had gone down even before the hurricane. Buck was having a hard time focusing, but the few things he caught did make it seem like it had been far more eventful than any cruise had a right to be. 

He couldn’t deny that Tommy was attractive. He was tall and his arms were kind of huge. Tommy’s attention was wholly on Athena and Bobby, eyebrows a bit furrowed as Bobby explained how it had felt when the ship capsized. Buck’s attention was on the way Tommy’s mouth moved as if out of surprise for what Bobby had just said. His attention was drawn to Tommy’s storm colored eyes and on the slight curl of his hair. 

“I wish you had been there to see him, Buck,” Athena said. 

Buck refocused. Eyes reluctantly going to Athena. 

“Well, if Buck had been there, he would have been the one doing that climb,” Bobby said. “I’m going to be sore for days.” 

“I don’t think that’s the only reason,” Athena said. 

Tommy was called away before Buck could find a reason to explain wanting to talk to him on his own and then the next time he saw him, he was saying a quick goodbye and heading back to the helicopter. Buck watched him as he took off and wished that somehow he’d had a reason to go with him. 

“Cool guy,” Eddie said. 

“Yeah,” Buck said and he knew he sounded awestruck. 

—

Tommy had known from the moment he saw him. 

When his phone rang and Howie’s name appeared, Tommy had sort of known that Chim probably wanted something from him. It was why he called at all these days, but Tommy didn’t mind. He wasn’t wrong and as Chim explained something about Hen having a hunch and how she was probably gonna not pull off whatever she was thinking she was doing, Tommy had already mostly agreed to help. After all, Chim did save his life and he had a lot of respect for Hen too. 

Then, Chim arrived with two firefighters in tow. They both looked the part, strong and sturdy kind of guys. Attractive, though Tommy tried not to notice that type of thing while at work and most definitely about colleagues. It wasn’t until they had gotten nearer that Tommy got a better look at them, a better look at his soulmate. 

Tommy had never known that he would ever replicate the feeling of flying while on solid ground, but if asked to describe it later, that was what it felt like when his eyes landed on his soulmate right before he paused mid-step and almost lost his balance. He didn’t even know his name. 

Chim was giving him a more in depth explanation about the cruise ship and storm and Hen’s part in it, but while Tommy could hear him, he couldn’t process the information. He led them to the helicopter, glad it was already out on the tarmac and that it had been refueled just a few hours earlier. 

“Thanks again, Tommy,” Chim said. “We’ll for sure owe you one. Collect from any of us.”

“That would require I knew who exactly I was allowing onto my helicopter,” Tommy said, sure that if he didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t get to know his soulmate’s name. 

“Eddie Diaz,” the one that wasn’t his soulmate said, reaching his hand out for Tommy to shake.

“I’m Evan Buckley.”

Evan. Tommy repeated it inside his head. Evan. 

They didn’t shake hands like he and Eddie had, and Tommy had heard how shaky his voice sounded. He also didn’t miss the slight pink on Evan’s cheeks.  It was horrible timing. He could see the shock and awe in Evan’s face, but it was going to have to wait. So Tommy did the thing where he pushed aside the personal to focus on his job. He got Hen to the helicopter where the others were already stashed and then they were in the air. 

Tommy had been flying for so long that his focus didn’t need to be on it 100% of the time. It let him linger on the moment from earlier, what it had been like to see Evan Buckley for the very first time. He held onto that moment as they flew, even as he realized that what they were doing verged more on the dangerous and reckless side than anything he’d ever done. He had to get them through it, even when he had to make awful fake static noises at the chief and ignore his orders to get back to Harbor. 

In the end, it all worked out. 

They found the cruise ship and they were lucky they did, none of them talked about how easy it would have been for them to miss it. It was hours of work after that, not that Tommy minded. Eventually, he made a final trip to pick up Bobby, the kid he’d rescued, and Eddie and Evan. 

Evan wound up up front and maybe it was presumptuous to think about how good Evan looked right there at his side. Tommy hoped it would happen again and soon. With the skies having cleared up, the sun shone through and in the moments that Tommy allowed himself to take Evan in, there was no denying how gorgeous this boy was especially when the light hit him just right. 

With everything going on, they didn’t get more than a small moment to acknowledge it once they were on the ship and Tommy felt warm because it was real. He had a soulmate. 

It wasn’t until he was back at Harbor that he realized he hadn’t exchanged numbers with Evan — not that it was a big deal. He’d just have to call Chim. Yet, as much as there was an urgency, Tommy was still at work and he still had to write up a report about the night and explain to his Captain exactly what had gone down before he could finally end his shift. 

He texted Chim as he walked to his car almost an hour later, but got no response. When his phone did start vibrating, it was an unknown number. He picked up at once, heart in his throat because it had to be Evan. 

“Hello,” he said and hoped he sounded normal. 

“Hey, Tommy, it’s Eddie.”

He tried not to be disappointed, but of course he was. It was nothing against Eddie…it was just that he wanted to hear from Evan. 

“Got your number from Chim. I hope it’s okay I’m calling. I was just wondering if you’d want to meet up sometime,” Eddie said. 

For one very strange moment, Tommy wondered if Eddie was trying to ask him out. He probably had no idea that he and Evan were soulmates and…but, no, he didn’t think that Eddie had seemed interested in him like that. Tommy did wonder if it would be rude to ask Eddie for Evan’s number. He missed something that Eddie said, but caught:

“....drinks or something. Maybe as a thank you for helping us get to Bobby and Athena.” 

“Uh, sure,” Tommy said. 

“Cool. Cool. How about later tonight?” 

Tommy wasn’t great at saying no to things. He also had no reason to put Eddie off. “Yeah…yeah that sounds good. And if you want to invite anyone else from the 118 that’d be great.” 

Eddie chuckled. “I think they’re all pretty beat. It might just be us two, unless you want to bring along a friend or something.” 

Tommy wanted to ask about Evan. He wanted nothing more than to beg Eddie to bring Evan along. Knew if he did he would be giving away what they were or even just his interest in Evan. He couldn’t do that. 

“I’ll text you when and where,” Eddie said. “Just gotta secure a babysitter.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. “Sounds good.” 

Chim still hadn’t answered. Tommy texted Hen next. No response. Maybe it would be Eddie that would give him Evan’s number…Tommy would just have to show up for that hang out and get the number out of Eddie. Or maybe, Evan would call him first. He hadn’t known that this was going to be complicated and actually it kind of wasn’t, it was that he was impatient. 

Tommy managed a nap out of sheer exhaustion. He’d learned a long time ago how to sleep almost anywhere, which didn’t change that sometimes he just couldn’t sleep. Yet, despite not having contact with Evan, there was peace in knowing he was out there and knowing that he was his soulmate. 

Evan didn’t call. Chim and Hen didn’t respond. Eddie texted him the name of a bar that Tommy knew well. Some of the guys from Harbor liked going there to play pool. They also had Karaoke night every Wednesday night and trivia on Thursdays. Maybe he knew a little bit too much about that bar. So, he texted back a thumbs up and got ready to meet up with Eddie. Eddie was already at the bar when he arrived, a beer in front of him while he made small talk with the bartender. He looked relaxed, in a way that Tommy almost hadn’t expected him to be. 

“Hey!” Eddie threw out. “Glad you made it.”

He took the stool next to Eddie, ordering a beer and then turning to him. “How’s it going? I was surprised to get your call.”

Eddie smiled easily. “Well after Buck turned me down for drinks, I thought maybe you were like me and needed this a bit after everything.”

He usually didn’t. Not that it wasn’t welcome. The bartender passed him his beer. 

“Evan turned you down?” Tommy asked.

“Uh…yeah, guess he was really tired.”

“Right,” Tommy said. “It was a long night.”

A longer night than Eddie knew. Tommy took a gulp of his beer and tried to figure out a way for him to keep the conversation on Buck…Evan. He was Evan to Tommy especially knowing that everyone else seemed to use the nickname. 

“Well Bobby is kind of like a father to Buck, so even though he didn’t show it…he was really worried.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “It’s actually like a family over there.”

“You could say that,” Eddie said with a smile. “I guess it wasn’t that when you were at the 118?”

“Farthest thing from it,” Tommy said. “I guess I left right before things changed.”

He had never once regretted leaving when he did. Tommy had always meant to get back in the air. It was where he was freest and the thing he missed the most after leaving the army. So, when he had completed the required years as a firefighter, Tommy had started looking for a transfer to any of the air operation stations. His experience as a pilot helped, and he’d found a place where he belonged. He felt freer than he ever had and it had allowed him a brand new start. One in which he could explore parts of himself he hadn’t ever thought he would.  

“I should say I’m sorry you missed out, but I’m sure you love what you do.” 

“I do,” Tommy said. 

If there was one thing, it was Evan. Would he have met him earlier if he stayed? Of course there was no changing the past. There was also who Tommy had been then and Tommy could admit to himself that he hadn’t been ready for a soulmate, much less Evan. 

Eddie drew the conversation in another direction. They started exchanging stories then. Stories about their time at the army which led into conversations about what it was like to return to a civilian life. It was hard, Tommy knew, to talk about it with regular people that hadn’t served and hadn’t seen the things they had. It was clear almost right away that Eddie didn’t have anyone to talk to about stuff like that. Tommy did still have a few friends from back then, but they weren’t all that close anymore. He figured it was exactly why Eddie had reached out. 

Past that, though, they had other things in common and it wasn’t that Tommy forgot about Evan — he was always there in his mind — it was that Tommy found himself having a good time with Eddie. They got talking basketball when the scores of a game were being reported on the tv, and when an ad for a MMA fight came on Eddie made a comment about how he missed going to see fights live. 

“Shift ran late when tickets went on sale,” Eddie said. “Didn’t even get a chance to try and get at them.” 

“I have tickets for this one,” Tommy said. 

“I hate you right now,” Eddie said, but he said it with a grin. 

He hadn’t bought them. A buddy of his had asked if Tommy wanted to go and then because he was a promoter, given him the two tickets. Tommy had meant to ask someone from Harbor if they wanted to go with him, but he’d forgotten. 

“Hey, you want to go with me?” 

“What? Wait, are you serious, man?” 

“Yeah. I mean, it was gonna go to waste, so why not? Fight’s in Vegas. I can probably fly us there.” 

Eddie’s grin grew wider. “Hell yeah, that sounds amazing.” 

“Yeah?” 

Eddie’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You just made my night, man. This is awesome.” 

They talked MMA fighting for a while and he could tell that Eddie had probably dabbled in it a bit. 

“So,” he said two beers in. “Is this the norm for you and Evan? Going out after a shift?” 

“When my kid allows,” Eddie said. “Half the time we’re at my house or his apartment with Chris. Marisol’s gotten used to it.” 

“Marisol?”

“My girlfriend,” Eddie said. 

“Ah. And uh, what about his…partner?”

Tommy braced himself. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that Evan would be involved with someone. It was one of those things that you heard about, people that were happily in a relationship and suddenly one of them met their soulmate. It wasn’t like most people were out there waiting for their soulmate convinced that it was something that would actually happen.

Eddie laughed. “He broke up with his last girlfriend a little while ago. She was a death doula if you can believe that’s a real thing.” 

“I can’t actually,” Tommy said. “But clearly it didn’t work out.” 

“Nope,” Eddie said. “He has the worst luck.” 

“Maybe that’s changing,” Tommy said. 

The conversation shifted again somehow and Tommy couldn’t ask more questions about Evan without giving away that he was looking for information on him. Tommy didn’t want to tell Eddie about Evan being his soulmate, not without first speaking to Evan. He did garner that Eddie and Evan were close, but despite trying several times, didn’t manage to finangle a way to ask for Evan’s phone number. 

He felt a little bit pathetic. After all, who met their soulmate — a rarity in itself — and then not insist on taking a moment to talk even in spite of the circumstances? Insist on exchanging numbers? 

By the time he made it home, a little buzzed from the beer, he realized that somehow he’d made lots of plans to hang out with Eddie and none with Evan. He was a mess.

#911 abc #911 fic #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #bucktommy fic #soulmate au #tommy kinard #evan buckley

[greyfics]

entry 8.5: a side-plot in which norm gets the fuck out.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

subject: norm maclean

fic type: smart relatable underdog side character gets spotlight,

word count: 2.85K

inspo: I really just need to see norm gtfo of that vault lol, I feel like he's got a fighting chance you know?

cw: spoilers for fallout season one  

summary: an overseer that is a brain in a vat. a series of experiments concealed behind the front of a subterranean utopia. the convenient relocation of the last of the people norm cared about- the last of the people questioning the fragile reign of the overseers, and what they might be hiding. norm desperately needs to leave, to find his sister- before he becomes just another one of bud's buds..

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"I suggest you wait it out in your father's pod, unless you want to starve to death- not much food in here, except the occasional large bug."

He is frozen. A small, quivering fist slowly slips down a firmly sealed door- were these vaults reinforced havens, or were they preemptive tombs?- the fist unfurls, as the wrist goes limp and the body connected numbs spare for the pitter patter of palpitations spawned from that very realisation.

His face is absent of blood, and despite the fact he has not yet fatalistically marched over to a cryogenic chamber to further bury himself in this pit, the numbness fades to a chill that kicks his feet into a frenzied pacing.

The robo-brain does a slow, awkward 180° twist, "All that is going to do for you is burn valuable energy that I simply don't have to give back to you, Norm. See, I'm sure you know this if you paid attention during your pristine pre-years education programme, but the human body requires-"

"Just shut up for a second." Is the flat-toned, snappy response Norm gives as he rubs his temples, the repetitive sensation a focal point to ground his shaking limbs, to ground a flurry of rarely seen irrational thoughts in that calculating mind.

Right now, it looks as though his only options are slamming himself against the door fruitlessly until he collapses from exhaustion and inevitably dies of dehydration or starvation, or to get into a pod on the other end of the room and pray that somehow, he is woken up- but what then? what would I even have to wake up to? Norm reflects upon the denizens of Vault 33- the way they force a smile and idle onwards so ignorantly; treating murderers as naughty houseguests, ignoring the slow dissimilation of their vault's security, it's vital resources and population becoming more sparse by the week. Even if there was hope brewing for a better future somewhere on the surface, there's no way that help would reach him down here.

Besides, he was just a problem for Vault 33- he always had been. He recalls the bitter comments about his unenthusiastic demeanour- the fearful confusion directed at his monotony- how lonely, how isolating a life down here is as an anomaly of the herd. With him removed from the equation, and Betty able to sleep at night thinking of him not as dead, but simply as in a rather permanent state of sleep, she would have no reason to wake him up- he who might expose the secrets they had desperately tried to keep locked away for so long. He was better left removed from the vault- left down here.

The reminder of his present predicament begins to suffocate him again, as his eyes flit between the walls and his breath picks up pace, the panic attack coming back for a dizzying second wave. Breathe. Breathe- I can't breathe. I'm going to die down here- this place is a big heaping metal tomb and I have to get out- Norm had never felt so overencumbered at the thought of being buried so deep beneath the surface before, but for the first time ever the urge to scratch his way to the surface was overriding in him the fear of the vultures circling above. He thinks about this- pauses his pacing entirely, and thinks some more. The buzz of an idea begins to spark slowly to fruition in Norm's mind.

It was true that it was better for Betty that he be kept somewhere outside of Vault 33- but maybe he'd even less of a threat left somewhere... else outside of 33? Maybe somewhere he could be more useful? He almost leaps from the exhilaration of having any kind of possible plan c at all in this situation- but his temperament keeps him still- and though his lips remain a flat, pursed line, a playful light dances behind the young genius' eyes, "Locking me in here won't stop Vault 33 from falling apart- it will just guarantee it. I'm your solution." He calmly declares- naturally, Bud's first move is to shut him down, but he is prepared for that, "Norman, you know I can't do that- and you really shouldn't worry about Vault 33 anymore, Betty has things completely-"

"-under control? If Betty had things under control, then how and why did a vault dweller manage to break into her office and trick you into letting them into Vault 31?" Bud stammers, juts to one side and then the other as he awkwardly attempts to give some justifiable explanation to Norm's question.

The bot stills, and lets a sigh out of its speakers, "There may be some... complications to the planned course of action- you being here being one of them, I should remind you- but I'm sure Betty will work through them and get everything back to normal soon enough. What good will it do us to send you to the surface? That would mean opening the vault doors, and risking the safety of everyone inside-" Norm shakes his head at this, takes a step towards the bot as he parries back, "-raiders managed to infiltrate our vault through 32 already, and the main vault door was opened twice after that. Do you really think one more time could hurt?"

The little brain in a pot makes an exasperated crying noise, and shakes itself as emphatically as it can, "But what would be the point in that, buddy, if we can just keep you tucked safely away in the most secure vault of the three down here, and... not open the door at all? None of our problems will be solved by another person leaving." A rare, triumphant grin floats onto Norm's face, and Bud makes a reflexive sharp shuffle backwards at the unnatural site, "If we don't replace our water filtration chip, then eventually Vault 33 runs out of water- and if the vault dwellers don't overthrow the overseer and leave by then? Everyone will die.-"

"Oh my god, why did he smile when he said tha-"

"-Just listen. Vault 32's supplies clearly ran out a long time ago, and evidently no-one from Vault 31 was gonna get up for a glass of water during their 200-year long power nap. By the look on Betty's face when she found out, I'm guessing there isn't a back-up." Bud is back to being completely still and silent now. Norm basks in a moment of captured quiet, takes a couple slow steps to steady the nervous shakes as he deployed as much charisma as he was capable, "You could just keep me in here, and let Betty send someone else to the surface for a replacement- but those people? The other dwellers? They're built for vault life- they fit in here-"

He wavers a little, a lump forming in his throat- but digresses, "I don't. I'm not strong- but I'm quick, and I'm smart... and, I might be a coward- or I was, once- but I'm beginning to realise this place is no better than whatever might be waiting up there. Nobody really knows what they're doing- not you, not Betty- maybe not even my dad. And I don't want to keep sitting around waiting to die when I could be doing something."- I could be helping Lucy, I should have- "So send me. I'll go find a replacement. I'll bring it back- and then neither you nor Betty will ever see me again. You'll be solving two problems with one stone."

The brain-in-a-vat that is Bud spends a painfully long time just sitting there and glowing, still taking in all that Norm had argued, malfunct in his dilemma between maintaining protocol or deviating from protocol for the sake of maintaining the protocol, honestly upset that he was having to do any deep deliberation at all regarding what he had been informed would be a rather simple and satisfying job. When he makes his decision, it comes with a disappointed, exasperated breath- and then a slow, clumsy spin once again, as he veers himself back into the door terminus access point.

With a blip and a hiss, the door that Norm had believed not too long ago to have sealed his fate begins to steadily unlock itself once again. He cries out with desperate relief and punches the air, before maintaining his composure and striding over to the door. He gets as close as he can, in case his thankfully not forever-friend decides to change his mind last minute. He hears the awful creaking of the vault door opening ahead, and dashes for it without even bothering to say goodbye to Bud- no time to spare, I need to leave now- Betty might not be so stupid. The door rolls to the left, his feet hardly make a sound as they dance across the metal grated platform to freedom-

And falter, pause, reverse a few steps when the figure of Betty Pearson is revealed but a few seconds later, arms crossed, already waiting for the door to roll back open.

Oh god, I think I'm having a heart attack. I think I might just die right now. I think that might be for the best.

...He does not die, and though he is grateful, he is also mildly disappointed that he still has to face Betty. She remains still, silent- her expression does not reveal much surprise at finding him here, but her stasis demands him to speak. Thinking of all she has done to this vault, and what little good she has done for it, he steels himself, and he glares back at her, his tone assertive as he speaks, "I'm going to the surface, and before you say anything-"

"Yes, you're right. You are going to the surface." She replies, steady and quiet,"I-" he is the one to stammer to a standstill this time, "I... am?" She steps towards him, and it takes all his will not to flinch away as a superficially endearing arm firmly braces around his shoulders, guiding him away from Vault 31, "Although at times I'm sure it seems as though I have... overlooked certain hardships that have come to challenge us all in this vault," -'overlooked' is an understatement, and a pretty ironic thing to do when your job title is overseer- "-but I've simply been thinking about the best options for our future. With our friends and family... rehomed, and our guests taken care of, I think it's time we begin dealing with some of our more long-term problems, too." The phrasing sends a chill across Norm's neck, which flows through the rest of his body as Betty guides him around a corner to bear witness to the remaining dwellers of 33, whooping and clapping in celebration for something he did not yet know.

Look closer. He notices the pause, the way they look past him to the overseer before they burst into their frenzied display- there are a couple eyebrows knitted upwards, the faintest flicker of a tear in the corner of an eye or a puffy redness where tears were wiped away to conceal the evidence of a negative emotion.

Some have slanted postures, clap a little slower- don't meet his gaze; they seem guilty of something, guilty of the relief that their body betrays.

Do they already know I'm leaving? How could they, unless-

"As I was telling everyone, Norm selflessly asked me for permission to go out onto the surface and solve our water chip crisis- of course, we do not often open our vault doors, and I felt too close to the matter to feel capable of making the decision myself- especially given the possibility that opening the vault door might threaten our friends in 31 too! So, I sent Norm to speak with Overseer Askins in Vault 31 to see whether he believes that this brave quest should be allowed. Of course, this affects all of us, too- but after talking it through with everyone, we've all agreed that however sad it will be to see you leave us- for a while, of course- it is definitely for the best."

A couple dwellers nod- some intentionally, some just in a lull of subconscious agreement even as their faces feign sadness. It stings to see how fast they were willing to get rid of him- it stings to be let go without a fight. The 'for a while' is simply salt in the wound; insulting to even pretend at this point that anyone in this cramped little gathering genuinely held any belief he would return.

"So!" The overseer pipes up chipperly once again, "Norm..."-not so enthusiastic-"Did you have a productive meeting with the Overseer? Did he give his consent to your proposed assignment?"

He could expose her right now, dismantle the order they had wrought horror and fear to maintain- but he knows he could not lead them, he knows how secretly glad they are to see him, of all people, sacrificed to the world above- he knows they would not survive up there, nor would they survive down here without a figurehead to fall behind, to hide them from reality. So he speaks a truth of kinds:

"The Overseer permitted my leave after I explained the importance of my departure, and how it was the best course of action." His tone lacks conviction in the vague, avoidant choice of words he spews, but a half-hearted cheer and a series of awkward hugs follows them anyway.

It's all just a big show. I'm starting to think I might be the only normal one here.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

A solemn march through the armoury and pharmacy to (ill)equip Norm for his journey through the wastes precedes a long, awkwardly still and quiet elevator ride towards the surface. Norm is the first to step out, bursting ahead into a fast stroll until he found himself standing at the precipice, waiting for the bridge to bring him to his salvation (or his doom). She gets into place-

and lingers, before she presses the button- they are alone now, and they are not so different, really- she just got better at hiding her discontent, "Norman." her voice is different to how he has ever heard it before- it was just... normal. When the calm and collected persona dropped away, she was the most human-sounding person he had yet encountered in his sheltered life. He turns, just his head- makes a point to pay attention, to show some enthusiasm- "You might think you're different, but... being different to most those folks down there is probably more of a good thing than not. You are extraordinary, never forget that. Even without everything that's happened, I think you were always going to be a problem for us. You've always been good at seeing things other people don't."

She pauses for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to bring something up- she chews her cheek, looks off to the side as she weighs up the power of her words- remembers her job, her duty, and the mask goes back on with a sympathetic smile, "We really do need that water chip- our vault has enough water to last about 150 more days, but after that, we'll be out. If you head north-east, ask around and you'll find a place that used to be a town called Shady Sands; it's not exactly close to here, but if it's any motivation I'd bet that's where your sister, Miss Maclean, will have headed too. When you get to Shady Sands, go directly east- I only know of a few vaults outside of ours, and I hear there's an old vault somewhere in the hills there- Vault 13. I'm sure they'll have a water chip to spare. Get the chip back to us, and you'll be a hero to this vault forever..." She certainly makes it sound appealing, but Norman knows better, "...but I'll never be allowed back inside." He finishes the sentence for her.

She hits the button, and Norm finds himself overcome with trembling uncertainty once again. Was he crazy? Just because he wasn't built for vault life didn't mean he was any more suited for the wastelands just beyond the door- the tomb unseals. Once again, a thought occurs to Norm at an inconvenient time- as he tentatively steps towards the radiating light that blinds him from above, he turns a final time to look at his now-former overseer with a quizzical expression, "Does... does Vault 32 not have a water filtration chip?"

Her smile doesn't change, but it takes a sinister feel as her next cheery words come out, tainted and barbed, "I did say our Vault has 150 days of water left- I'm afraid I can't speak for Vault 32, Overseer Harper would know more about that. Unfortunately, until we have a functioning filtration chip of our own, we won't be able to spare any of our own resources. But I'm sure everything will be just fine."

Norman began to run.

#image in my head of 'pick me! choose me! love me!' but its norm screaming 'pick me! choose me! send me!' so he doesnt become buds new bud #greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ norman maclean ] #greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ fallout ] #fallout fanfic #norman maclean fanfic #norm maclean fanfic #fallout tv fanfic #fallout series fanfic #norm maclean #norman maclean #fallout fanfics #fallout 1 reference

[stromuprisahat]

Can you help me to understand the tether between Alina and Aleksander? I've seen people say that it was formed when he collared her but if that's true then why not use it when she's on the run from him? I always thought that's why he got his nichevo'ya to wound her and why he thanked her, because it allowed that connection to form. Am I wrong here?

Okay, well, I'm still re-reading, but...

They're written as two halves of the same whole. They're supposed to be complimentary opposites, that's why Aleksander's waiting for the Sun Summoner instead of settling for just any immortal, why he believes they're meant to be even after encountering other immortals' different worldviews and Alina's refusal to accept her own greatness. She won't only live long, they're bound by the Making, so she's predisposed to ~understand~ (And there are moments, when she does. Only her upbringing, issues and moral police companions prevent her from embracing what's between them.).

The first clear sign of their interconnection's showed during Winter Fete, although from the wording, I've missed at least two earlier ones:

The moment his lips met mine, the connection between us opened and I felt his power flood through me. I could feel how much he wanted me—but behind that desire, I could feel something else, something that felt like anger. I drew back, startled. “You don’t want to be doing this.” “This is the only thing I want to be doing,” he growled, and I could hear the bitterness and desire all tangled up in his voice. “And you hate that,” I said with a sudden flash of comprehension. He sighed and leaned against me, brushing my hair back from my neck. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, his lips grazing my ear, my throat, my collarbone.

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 14

"... the connection between us ..." suggests it's something Alina figured out exists before this time, so she didn't experience it only once.

Then there's the Collar that gives Aleksander access to Alina's powers, although it's not exactly clear how it works.

I had spared the stag’s life. The power of that life belonged to me as surely as it belonged to the man who had taken it. ... The Darkling looked momentarily confused. He narrowed his eyes, and I felt his will descend on me again, felt that invisible hand grasping. I shrugged it off. It was nothing. He was nothing.

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 19

Like: Sorry honey, either the power belongs to you both, or you have the upper hand.

I would kill for Aleksander's LOGICAL explanation.

The nichevo'ya bite deepened the Bond, that's why Sasha did it. My guess is it might be something about merzost affecting the Making, therefore the connection formed by it, AND the tiny little detail the creatures might be created with use of said force, but from his own being. He's basically running around donating his body fluids essence to his closest "enemies"... *wink wink*

We don't know more than what he tells Alina, so perhaps he could feel her presence before that. Perhaps Alina's youth and inexperience played bigger part in her use of their connection, than we think. Perhaps her many issues did. (I hate repeating this phrase, but THE WASTED POTENTIAL!) Why tell your stubbornly uncooperating soulmate you have an in-build compass to help you track them, if they left a trail of more profane kind?

#reply #Grishaverse #Darklina #The Tether #The Darkling #Alina Starkov #grishanalyticritical #S&B Chapter 14 #S&B Chapter 19 #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo #He's a bit of a spiritual whore. #You've crossed me? #I'll punish you with black goo from my own soul!

[marvelstoriesepic]

Breaking chains (3)

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x reader

Series Summary: Leaving behind an abusive and possessive boyfriend, and finding refuge in the hometown you once yearned to escape, certainly wasn’t a chapter you anticipated in your life’s story. Yet, eyes as blue as the sky at dusk, belonging to a mysterious biker drew you into a world of unexpected possibilities, where a job at his bar becomes more than just a means of survival - it’s a pathway to freedom and self-discovery. Though, breaking away from your past proves daunting when shackled by chains.

Chapter word count: 6k

Warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship; mentions of an accident (no explicit content); self-loathing; self-preservation (reader and Bucky)

Author’s note: Here’s the third part my people! Hope you enjoy the little lone time with Bucky :) Let me know if y’all want to be added to the tag list.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Laughter pulsated through the air, echoing off the walls and mingling with the soulful tunes emanating from the jukebox. Slight off-key singing wove its way through the dimly lit room of the bar, creating a harmonious backdrop.

Glasses, adorned with frothy beer clinked together, liquid slouching over the rims. Patrons sat shoulder to shoulder, their arms interlinked and swaying to the gentle rhythm, while others tapped their fingers on the bar counter.

You lost count of how many glasses you filled this evening, the bar being crowded with men and women enjoying their time. It was stressful but in a good way. The anxiety that had clung to you like a stubborn shadow since you left Michael was forgotten, shoved back into the recesses of your mind. If only for a momentary reprieve.

As you wiped down the counter in front of you, the damp cloth leaving streaks on the polished wood, an empty beer glass materialized before you, its base meeting the wood with a muted thud. A deep, slightly slurred voice accompanied it.

“Fill that up again, sweets, will ya?”

You looked up then, seeing Will - as he had told you the first time you served him beer - leaning on the counter in front of you. He was surely about ten years older than you, his smile a little crooked and his brown eyes, though a little unfocused from the many rounds you had poured him, still held a glimmer of charm.

He was harmless though, you were sure of it. All he did was throw you a wink when you handed him his beer back, his eyes not flying to your chest and his lips remained untouched by his tongue. He was just here to flirt a little - a harmless way to pass the hours. He didn’t make you uncomfortable and he gave a great tip, so you didn’t even have to force out a smile in return. It was endearing, really.

Yet, Sam beside you, filling a glass himself; shot you a quick, cautious glance to check in on you and it made warmth rise within you.

You had been pouring drinks for about three hours now. Steve was the one to show you around earlier the night since Sam was busy bartending. Said guy had thrown you his bright, toothy smile and a wink from behind the counter when you entered the bar for your first shift.

Steve had introduced you to a few of the bikers of the gang, lingering in the bar right now. You had recognized the three guys you saw the first time at the bar at the dartboard and learned them to be Thor, Clint, and Tony.

The blond hair, mountain of muscle - Thor - crushed you in a bear hug that threatened to squeeze the breath from your lungs, claiming you were practically one of them already. Clint rescued you from the momentary shock of Thor's unexpected embrace with a witty joke that had you laughing, Clint seemingly pleased with himself. Tony's gaze had swept over your figure briefly, his smile a practiced curve as he introduced himself. They seemed to be nice people. You heard Thor's boisterous laugh every now and then from behind the bar counter.

Nat, the only woman of the gang was absent tonight, off on business, Steve had told you.

Bucky wasn’t around either, you had noticed - ignoring the fact that your gaze swept the room, seeking out his brooding figure, clad in all black - who had haunted your thoughts since the first time you’d seen him. Steve didn’t mention him and you didn’t ask.

The bar elicited an unexpected ease that enveloped you and settled in your stomach, spreading within your body. Sam's unconventional 'job interview' at the gardening store had been a whirlwind of spontaneity, yet it led you here and you couldn’t be any more grateful for the guys. Steve had welcomed you with his gentle smile and his glinting blue eyes. He treated you like an old friend coming home from a long journey.

It had barely been a week since you came back to your hometown and the sense of comfort it already restored was almost overwhelming. The bar's cozy ambiance wrapped around you - the creaks of leather booths, the soft murmur of conversations and shared laughs, the scent of aged whiskey. It was a refuge from the chaos that had torn through your life, leaving you battered and bruised - literally.

Having had more time to take in the walls, you let your gaze sweep over the photographs adorning it. These weren’t just random snapshots; they were glimpses into the gang’s history - them standing together, faces etched in laughter.

But one picture held you captive. You looked at Steve and Bucky, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, caught mid-laugh. Steve faced Bucky and Bucky's head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. Laugh lines formed at the corners of his eyes and the edges of his mouth pushed high up his rosy cheeks. He looked so carefree and unguarded in this picture and it lured you in, almost feeling like you were intruding into something intimate.

It made you wonder if you ever were to see him laugh like that in person.

You deftly poured the next rounds of beer. The patrons around you blurred into a sea of faces, their features indistinct, lost in the swirl of conversation and clinking glasses as Bucky’s brooding presence lingered in the corners of your mind. Your eyes scanned the worn leather seats sagging under the weight of countless patrons in search of his stoic figure, his cerulean eyes shadowed by mystery.

At the dartboard, its surface pockmarked with missed shots and bullseyes, stood a rowdy group huddled around it, their laughter punctuated by the thud of darts hitting the board. But Bucky was conspicuously absent like he had been for the last hours.

Remembering the hidden staircase he descended from on the day you met, your eyes flickered to the wooden steps. The dim light of the bar cast elongated shadows, making the steps appear eerie.

Wanda had told you that one of the guys lived above the bar and you wondered if it might be him and if, perhaps the stairs led up to the apartment.

Silver rings knocking on the counter ignited you to swirl back to the front, where an impatient woman stood before you, her dark eyes boring into your skin and you gave her an apologetic smile, quickly beginning to fill up her drink. You poured a little extra into her glass and she seemed to be pleased, gaze softening into a half-smile and a curt nod.

As she retreated, you noticed Sam looking at you out of the corner of your eyes. There was an unreadable glint in his eyes and that smirk you came to like but it made an uneasy chuckle spilling from your lips as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” you asked, your voice a soft challenge.

Sam shook his head, eyes flickering towards the floor for a split second before coming back up to you. He considered you for a moment and you couldn’t read his expression. You hated when that happened. It left you feeling defenseless. When his eyes flickered to the staircase over your shoulder, the same you’d fixated on earlier, he spoke without taking his eyes off it.

“He doesn’t really come down here.”

His voice was strangely soft, considering it was Bucky he was talking about. He seemingly talked about Bucky gentler than he did to him.

“He’s not exactly a guy for crowds,” he explained, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, “never has been. But he still plays his role here. We all are.”

He told you that everybody in the gang had their part in managing the bar. Tony was the brains - navigating the labyrinth of paperwork, licenses, and permits required to keep the place afloat. Steve and Pietro took care of the kitchen, keeping it clean and preparing snacks. Thor was the bouncer, practically towering above everyone and seeing everything - he took care of heated situations and rowdy drunks feeling too comfortable being inappropriate. Clint took care of the light and music and helped out Sam behind the bar when he was needed. Nat took care of business beyond the walls of the bar, but Sam didn’t elaborate on that.

And then there was Peter. He was still in college but helped out as a barback - stacking crates and polishing glassware. Sam mentioned that his aunt was worried he might get tangled up in dangerous affairs, but Peter seemed insistent on at least helping out a few times a week. You hadn’t met him yet, but Sam laughed as he told you he was a bubbly kid, always eager to help out.

Bucky took care of deliveries and closed up the bar after everyone left, cleaning it for the next day. He liked it that way - needed it even, although he would never admit it - Sam told you, and since he lived right above the bar it was practical for the rest.

You wondered why Bucky was the one living above the bar when he was craving solitude and silence, and how it came to that arrangement. It could have been a coincidence or he offered to take the place so nobody got disturbed and fleeing arguments.

But maybe, you pondered, he actively desired it - the rhythmic symphony of laughter and songs, clinking glasses, and animated conversations. You knew all too well that being alone and being lonely was a whole different thing. Perhaps he found solace in the cacophony, using the noises from below to keep himself anchored. Sitting in silence, alone with your thoughts could be scary. Perhaps he craved proximity to the motley crew he might consider his family, without the obligation of direct interaction.

You didn’t know if that was true, he was a complex man.

But you would understand.

You observed Sam talking with keen interest, captivated by the way he wove his words. His voice carried a warm fondness, a sense of ownership that resonated through the room. The pride he felt for this place was palpable. The smile on his lips remained unwavering as he fluidly balanced glasses, wiped the counter, and served the regulars all while talking to you - It made you understand why Sam was the bartender.

The bell above the bar’s entrance chimed once again, its sound slicing through the air. The patrons, caught up in their own worlds of laughter and conversation, remaining blissfully ignorant of its intrusion.

You envied it.

Every time that bell went off, a jolt went through you, an electric shock that reverberated through your nerves. You forgot how it felt like not to be afraid all the time - the constant, gnawing fear that clung to you like dampness. The fear that made you startle at the slightest noise, your heart racing as if it were trying to escape your chest. It seemed like such a long time ago when you weren’t jumping at shadows, at the rustle of leaves, at the creak of a floorboard.

The bar did offer a sanctuary. It cocooned you to some extent, keeping you busy enough to not lose yourself inside your mind. You could laugh with Sam and the smiles you threw the patrons while preparing their drinks were genuine enough.

But you knew that healing wasn’t a swift process. It didn’t happen overnight, especially not when Michael was out there and might find out about your whereabouts at any given moment. And maybe the next time the bell tinkled, it would indicate his figure walking through the doorway.

Acknowledging the woman who had entered the bar, you watched her walking in your direction. Her red hair cascaded around her face, framing sharp features. The corner of her lips was slightly lifted and her gaze was surprisingly clear through the chaotic ambience around you.

The leather jacket she wore reminded you of the ones the other bikers were clad in and you remembered her from the photographs on the wall you looked at earlier. She was Nat, as Steve and Sam had referred her to - a member of the gang.

You busied your hands by wiping down the counter as she drew closer. The smirk on her lips widened and she unabashedly assessed you from head to toe. Leaning her elbows on the counter, she exuded a natural confidence. There was a time when you wore the same swagger but now you felt unsettled under her gaze.

“I see why you gave her the job so easily, Wilson,” she drawled, her eyes shifting toward Sam with a playful glint.

Sam shook his head while his eyes rolled back and he pointed a finger at her, the towel in his hand swinging with his movement. “Be thankful she’s good, or you’d be in her shoes right about now.” His tone lacked any kind of malice, a playful smile sporting his lips.

Nat chuckled lightly and her eyes locked on yours again. “Call me Nat,” she offered, her smile turning genuine. She extended her hand and you met it with your own as you told her your name.

“Oh, I know,” she conceded, the smirk returning.

Just then, Steve emerged from the kitchen, his eyes landing on Nat at the bar and she pivoted toward him. You watched him raising an eyebrow - a question she seemed to understand - and she responded with a subtle shake of her head.

“All clear,” you heard her murmur, before another customer beckoned and you were forced to return to your task, pouring liquid with practiced ease.

****

Sam had rung the bell for the last call ten minutes ago and patrons stumbled out the door, their voices fading into the night as they disappeared down the cobblestone street. The air was thick with the lingering scent of whiskey and beer.

Sam had insisted you leave a few hours ago, but the bar was bustling until the end and you didn’t want to leave him alone. You had met his chastising glances with determined smiles and brushed off his concern. And although he was reluctant, his gratefulness was clear.

“You’re a stubborn one,” he had grumbled, but his eyes were soft. “Thought I’d only have to deal with Bucky.”

Glasses clinked as you restocked the shelves and Sam finished off the counter. You started wandering the room - Tables were littered with half-empty glasses and crumpled napkins. You paused at one and reached for the glasses when a voice startled you.

“Let me.”

Nearly knocking the glasses off the table, you were about to collect, you whipped around and there was Bucky - dressed in his signature black attire, hair tucked neatly behind his ears. The hand that had reached out in your direction fell back to his side, and his face wore an apologetic wince.

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, cheeks flushed at the embarrassment of your jumpiness. You didn’t even hear him coming down the stairs.

“Oh, no it’s fine. I can get those,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t come out wavering.

“You’re stealing his job, sweets,” Sam called from the bar. “Cleaning up is all he’s good for.”

Bucky sighed but his attention remained fixed on you. “You don’t have to do this,” he claimed, voice gentle.

“I’m happy to help, really,” you insisted, meeting his eyes briefly before picking up the glasses and walking back to the bar.

“Let her, man. She’s as stubborn as you are,”Sam called out with a laugh.

As you all worked together to tidy up the bar, the atmosphere settled into a comfortable rhythm. You cleaned the glasses, while Bucky placed more on the counter from the tables and booths scattered around the room.

Silence settled over you as you worked and when you finished restocking the freshly cleaned glassware, your gaze shifted to Bucky, who was diligently wiping down the tables, his back to you. He looked more at ease than you‘d ever seen him. His shoulders weren’t rigid, and his movements weren’t as tense as they normally were. You couldn’t take your eyes from his relaxed state.

Curiosity tugged at your insides as you noticed him wearing that glove on his left hand again. He never seemed to put it off. Though, you couldn’t delve deeper into the topic because Sam was watching you. Anticipating the usual playful or teasing smile, you met his gaze, but instead, his features held a softness - a fondness that seemed to reach deeper. There was something in his expression you couldn’t unravel and it made you turn away again.

A few more minutes spent in silence passed before Sam clapped his hands together after stowing away the broom. “Alright, ladies, I’ve got to head out,” he announced, slipping into his coat.

You caught Bucky stilling in his movements from the corner of your eye.

“Do you want me to give you a ride home, Y/n?”

Sam looked at you expectantly, his question sincere and his gaze soft, but you hesitated. You felt like you couldn’t accept his offer, and honestly, the thought of getting on a motorcycle made your stomach churn, so you waved him off with a smile. “That’s nice Sam, but I’ll just walk. I’m not too far.”

“You shouldn’t walk home,” Bucky chimed in as he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours. You had a hard time holding it. His expression was serious, yet somehow still soft, although the dim light traced the edges of his jawline, accentuating its sharpness. The cloth he had used to wipe down the tables dangled from his fingers.

“I hate to say this, but I agree with Barnes here. It’s dark and it’s pretty late. You shouldn’t walk.”

Your gaze returned to Sam, still standing at the entrance. “I could just call Wanda, I’m sure she’ll pick me up,” you said, a shy smile gracing your lips. You didn’t want to inconvenience anyone - a sentiment Michael had ingrained in you.

Sam shook his head, about to respond, when Bucky interjected.

“I’ll walk you.”

You blinked.

Sam blinked.

“There’s no need to ask Wanda. We let her walk over to take care of Pietro lots of times already. So I’ll just walk you,” he explained, his words casual, yet underlaying with a kind of nervousness that was endearing to you. He looked tense again, with his left hand tucked in his pants pocket, while his right fisted the fabric of the cloth. His eyes darted around the room slightly, before they met yours once more.

You cast a swift glance at Sam, who stood there with his arms crossed, thoroughly entertained. Then, your attention turned back to Bucky. “Are you sure? I mean, you’re practically home already, I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Bucky shook his head slightly, his hand waving in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t mind,” he assured you and a gentle smile tugged at his mouth.

You held his gaze, searching for any hint of insincerity. His eyes were dark in the shadows of the bar, but they still held the depth you came used to by looking at them. He looked at you as if it were your choice - as if it were merely an offer you could take up. It had been a while since you got to make your own decisions and you took a second, glancing at the ground to absorb this weight.

These people, strangers just days ago, had embraced you with open arms and it stirred something within you. Bucky’s gentleness, the way he looked at you thawed the ice around your heart.

Sam shifted from the entrance after you took a few seconds too long to answer. “Well, you kids go figure that out. I’m leaving,” he declared, throwing open the door. His smirk lingered as he glanced back at the two of you before stepping out into the night with a playful goodbye on his lips.

The door swung shut and the silence hung over you again. You shifted on your feet, nerves fluttering. Bucky’s gaze remained patient as you met them again.

“Well, uhm,” you began, your voice coming out a touch uncertain. “If you’re sure…” The words hung in the air, a tentative acceptance. Bucky’s response was immediate, his smile widening - a confirmation that sent warmth blooming within you.

“Give me a sec,” he said lightly, already moving to get rid of the cloth in his hand and getting his coat to slip on.

The solitary figure of Bucky’s motorcycle occupying the place in front of the bar caught your attention immediately after Bucky held open the door for you and your worn shoes met the pavement outside. Earlier in the evening, it had been one among several parked bikes, but now it stood alone since everybody in the gang went home.

The sleek, matte black frame of the bike seamlessly merged with the surrounding darkness, save for the occasional glint of metal catching the faint glimmer of moonlight. Your gaze lingered on the machine for a few seconds. You took in the curve of the handlebars, the gleam of chrome accents against the black backdrop, and the pronounced dent in the front that stood out in the soft glow of a lamppost a few feet away.

“Lead the way,” Bucky said quietly, extending his arm for you to step forward. With a faint smile on your lips, you glided past him and he was quick to follow, making sure to match your pace as he fell in step beside you.

Silence hung between you, but it wasn’t as awkward as you had anticipated. Bucky took a deep breath beside you, taking in the scents of the night, as you took in your surroundings. A shiver ran down your spine, both from the cool night air and the unexpected closeness to Bucky as he steadily walked beside you, his worn leather jacket almost brushing against your own coat.

In Seattle, the night was always alive with activity - the honking of cars, the murmur of voices from nearby restaurants and bars, the rhythmic beat of music drifting from open windows. The air was filled with the rich aroma of coffee, intermingled with the savory scent of street food. The streets bustled with people and passing cars that left whiffs of exhaust for you to smell.

Here though, the air is quiet, carrying a crisp and clean scent. There was the gentle chirping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl echoing in the distance. Bucky’s boots made a steady, rhythmic thud against the pavement, punctuated by the soft shuffle of leaves as you both walked side by side.

The silence between you felt almost intimate and you assumed Bucky felt the same as he softly cleared his throat beside you. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, as if not wanting to disturb the peacefulness that surrounded you.

“So, how long do you know Pietro and Wanda?”

His gaze remained fixed ahead, on the darkened storefronts lining the street. You stole a quick glance at him, captivated by the way the moonlight sculpted the planes of his face. He maintained a relaxed posture, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his expression relaxed.

It was nice seeing him like this. You didn’t know where this feeling came from, since he was still a stranger to you, but seeing him this comfortable left your heartbeat pick up, the usual stoicism and scowl on his face lost in the soft breeze of the wind that brushed by, and let you shiver slightly.

You took a breath to answer him. “We met in elementary school,” you answered, a faint smile touching your lips. “And have been friends ever since.”

You caught Bucky’s nod from the corner of your eye. A low hum escaped his throat, the sound almost swallowed by the darkness.

“I hope Pietro doesn’t cause you guys any problems,” you mused, your gaze fixed on the cracked sidewalk ahead. The rhythmic crinkle of Bucky's leather jacket reached your ears and you tried to suppress the jolt, that ripped through you when it lightly brushed against your own coat.

“Nah,” Bucky replied, his voice a touch deeper, “he’s a good guy. Helps out as much as he can.”

It was your turn to nod as an answer.

Somewhere between the life you left behind with your hometown and this new, uncertain existence, the ability to weave words and spark conversation had deserted you. The vibrant, witty you of your old life was a stranger now, replaced by a hesitant shadow. You were drowning in unspoken thoughts and questions, the weight of them settling heavily on your shoulders.

Yet, Bucky’s presence ignited a sliver of comfort within you, and a sense of relief washed over you. He didn’t seem to mind the quiet or the lack of an answer from you.

The silence stretched for a beat, punctuated only by the crunch of your footsteps on the sidewalk. Then, Bucky swallowed and began talking again.

“I’m sorry about Sam,” he started, his voice gruff. “He can be…a bit much sometimes. Talks a lot. And doesn’t really care about boundaries.” A sigh escaped him, and you stole a glance upwards to see him grimace in apology as he looked down at you.

You huffed out a laugh, looking back down at the sidewalk. “Oh no, it’s fine.” A smile played on your lips. “I actually like him.”

Bucky chuckled slightly, a deep rumble that echoed from his chest, vibrating through your own body. It only lasted a second, but that sound would stay with you longer after this conversation ended, you were certain.

“Don’t let him know,” he warned, a smile in his voice. “It takes one pretty girl telling him she likes him and his ego bursts.”

You darted a surprised glance up at him, his words sinking in. Did he just call you pretty? As if realizing the same thing a bashful smile spread across Bucky’s cheeks. His gaze darted upwards, feigning interest in the moon casting its silvery glow upon you both.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed lightly, your voice laced with a newfound warmth. A pleasant heat spread through your chest at his comment and his lightly flustered state. You couldn’t help but steal another glance at him. Bathed in the moonlight, his features seemed even more striking, the sharp angles softened by the slight curve of his lips, a little contemplative. He was beautiful.

You blinked surprised at the familiar brick facade of your apartment building looming ahead already. The walk with Bucky had been so comforting, time melted away under his presence.

Coming to a slow stop, you turned to him.

“Well, uhm, this is me,” you stated softly, gesturing towards the building with a tilt of your head.

Bucky mirrored your halt, his body turning slightly to face you fully.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you said sincerely, a grateful smile gracing your lips. “You really didn’t have to, but I truly appreciate it.” Your fingers fidgeted with the fabric of your coat.

Bucky’s smile mirrored yours and he shuffled on his feet slightly. “It’s no problem at all, Y/n.” Your name on his lips sent a pleasant tingle through you. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” you replied lightly, turning towards your doorway. “Get back home safe,” you added, the warmth of his gaze lingering on your back when you faced your door.

You didn’t notice Bucky remained rooted to the spot, swallowed by the shadows between two lampposts, only moving again after the door fell shut behind you.

****

Bucky’s boot picked up a lone pebble on the sidewalk, sending it skittering across the uneven pavement. It bounced once, twice, the dull thuds echoing in the stillness of the night, before coming to a rest nestled against a jagged crack.

The night air felt a little colder suddenly, prickling with a sudden chill. Yet, a warm sensation bloomed in his chest, something he couldn’t quite define. It was some sort of contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time. Perhaps never truly, when he thought about it.

Bucky liked going for walks when it was night. He felt like he could hide away in the cloak of darkness. The many people, the harsh glare of the sun, the cacophony of car honks, and children’s screeching laughter - all these things were absent in the night. It was only him and the watchful moon, providing him the little flicker of light he needed.

He listened to the symphonies of the night, a chorus often drowned out by the relentless chaos of the day.

But tonight, those noises were merely playing in the background as Bucky continued his trek back to the bar.

His mind remained tethered to thoughts of you.

You had become a persistent presence in Bucky’s thoughts for the last few days, an enigma that he couldn’t unravel ever since the first encounter at the bar. There was something about you, an unmistakable vulnerability - a weightiness that hung in the air around you, hidden beneath a forced smile.

He noticed it in the way you carried yourself - the subtle restlessness in the way you moved, the nervous energy that danced in your fingertips as they toyed with your jacket, the restless flicker of your eyes as they darted around the room.

And of course, he had seen that fleeting flinch, barely perceptible yet telling, as Pietro mentioned a name. Michael, Bucky believed it was. Tension had gripped your frame, the wary glance around as if making sure nobody had seen that involuntary reaction.

But Bucky had, and it made him wonder.

It was clear that you carried around a burden. You instinctively closed yourself off, becoming awfully guarded whenever inquiries veered too close to the reasons for your return to your hometown. He had seen it in the gardening store when Sam asked you those probing questions.

It wasn’t that hard to guess that it had something to do with that Michael, Pietro had mentioned.

Bucky became good at reading people in the times he closed himself off - after his accident. He fell into a hole, a chasm of solitude where he sought refuge from his harsh realities. He withdrew into himself, staying within the confines of his own silent anguish.

The gang tried to respect his sense of distance, but a chill settled around him like a shroud, enveloping him in an aura of icy detachment. His demeanor turned frigid, his responses curt and clipped when he provided his friends with an answer at all. They got used to his stares and the frostiness that cloaked his every interaction.

Until Sam put a stop to it.

He was the one to give Bucky shit about it and forced his sorry ass back up with annoying persistence, urging him to claw his way back to the surface.

Or as Sam had put it: “Get your ass out of wherever it’s stuck, man, this can’t go on like that”

Still, there were certain things his accident had taken from him that even Sam couldn’t force back. He lost parts of himself - pieces of his identity, fragments of his former self, leaving behind a fractured semblance of the guy he once was. In its wake, insecurity crept in, entwining his being, and strangling the remnants of his confidence.

It made him grow out his hair and hide away those ugly scars that littered his left arm behind long sleeves and those damn gloves that made him sweat underneath.

He grew into a new version that had lost interest in flirting with every pretty girl he came across in a town he knew he would only pass through. He no longer reveled in the transient pleasures that once left a trail of satisfaction in his wake when getting back on his bike and leaving her and her town.

After it happened, his nights had unfolded in a predictable, almost monotonous way when he and the gang had entered a new town to stay for a couple of nights before moving again.

Always moving.

He stayed in those dingy hotel rooms with their flickering fluorescent lights and stale air, oftentimes sharing a room with Steve and Sam because money was always rare.

Or, he would find himself hunched over a bar counter with a white-knuckled grip on the beer glass in front of him. Each swig of whiskey, each shot of bottom-self bourbon, was a desperate attempt to drown out the echoes of past mistakes, to numb the shame that gnawed at him from within.

He had hoped the alcohol would help get rid of that uncomfortable itch under his skin that made his back prickle with a cold sweat at the lingering stares of some of the women in the bar. Unfortunately, though, nothing could help distract himself from the onslaught of unwanted attention, so after he couldn’t take it anymore he left the bar to take a walk in the dark.

Just him and the moon, a silent communion with the vast emptiness that mirrored the hollowness within.

His past behavior irked him - the fleeting pleasure he sought, now a bitter residue staining his conscience. It had been a momentary high, but at what cost? Perhaps he had left a trail of hurt feelings after fleeing another girl’s apartment before dawn’s first light could even peek through the curtains, just for her to wake up to the fading rumble of a motorcycle - his motorcycle.

His ma had raised him better than that.

Thinking of his former actions always had bile rising in his throat. Disgust at himself coiled in his chest, a viper he couldn’t seem to dislodge.

So it left him bewildered that he was so effortlessly flirting with you earlier, the word ‘pretty’ tumbling from his lips as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was true, undeniably so - you were beautiful, but the ease with which the compliment flew out left him stunned.

He didn’t know where that came from. All he knew was that your presence afforded him a strange sense of calm. He didn’t feel himself retreat into his usual shell. It was unnerving to some extent, this unfamiliar territory. The way his thoughts buzzed with you, a constant undercurrent, sent a tremor of apprehension through him. He was out of his depth.

Earlier tonight he had been grappling with the thought to leave his apartment and walk down those stairs to the bar. He knew you would be there, attending to your first shift and it would be an opportunity to see you again, but he had hesitated. He knew you barely a week, and surely he would have to deal with a few questioning glances from his friends and that inevitable teasing smirk of Sam - one he had threatened to wipe off with a fist more than once - that he seemed to wear more often since you came to town.

But then he did get to see you and of course, the first thing he did was startle you. He had cursed himself inwardly. Yet, as you prepared to walk home alone in the dark, a surge of protectiveness washed over him, compelling him to ensure your safety. It was a sensation foreign to him, yet undeniable in its intensity.

He had never experienced such a pull towards anyone before. You ignited something within him, a dormant spark that stirred to life in your presence. He was intrigued by you because although he could read people well, there were things about you that remained a mystery to him.

Perhaps, unbeknownst to the both of you, there may be deeper similarities hidden beneath the surface.

Tag list:

@heletsmelovehim @moonlightreader649 @jbbarnesgirl @differenttyphoonwerewolf

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #biker au #biker!bucky #leather biker

[nyrasproblm]

Ignorance

part 1/?

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: You confess to Joel and are rejected.

Word Count: 2K

Warning: angst, rejection, mention of the Apocalypse (don't tell me), mention of deaths.

Ignoring the bad part of things was your favorite thing to do. It made you less sad and gave a false sense of normality in the destroyed and rotten reality you lived in. Not that Jackson was destroyed and rotten, but the world outside the gates was. So that's why you ignored everything, the spores, the cordyceps, the clickers, runners, lurkers, all of them. You did everything to escape being put on patrol, you wouldn't leave Jackson unless it was a matter of life and death. His tasks in the community were taking care of the gardens, the stables and cleaning the community cafeteria.

It seems like a lot, but it's good for not looking idle and useless, it takes up your entire day and gives you a feeling of work accomplished and satisfaction at the end of the day, when you climb the few old wooden steps to the porch of your house. Those steps really need replacing, actually. If you stood still for more than a few minutes on top of them you ran the risk of falling. But you left that aside, you had something else in mind. In fact, you had one person in mind.

That almost completely gray-haired man, with a grey beard, robust, deep and serious voice, strong Texan accent. Joel Miller. You couldn't stand being around him for more than a few minutes, your heart was beating very quickly and you felt butterflies in your stomach. The man was Ellie's father, a girl a few years younger than you, she was a bit foul-mouthed but nice, you had already spoken to her a few times.

You held your breath from the first time you saw him in the community a year ago, and it's never been the same since. Whenever you passed him on the streets you held an idiotic sigh, you felt like a teenager for acting like that, but you couldn't help it. The man had your heart in his hands and you couldn't do anything to get it back.

Some people in Jackson spoke badly about Joel behind his back, saying he was a surly, violent man who had a lot of mood swings. One of your few friends, Emily, said the same thing when you mentioned Joel to her, but you ignored it. It wasn't like he was that bad, it should just be that the hard years he lived outside the gates were taking a toll on him, but you were sure he was a good person.

You said this to Emily, but she reiterated that Joel was an extremely violent and bad-tempered man who had done terrible things in the outside world. You chuckled and said 'and who hasn't done terrible things out there?'. Emily sighed and the conversation ended there

Holidays in Jackson were celebrated without fail, especially the most famous ones, like Christmas and New Year, but Maria began to innovate and encourage other things, like spring food festivals, Mother's Day, and Valentine's Day. It seemed strange to celebrate Valentine's Day at the end of the world, but the young people in the community seemed to get excited, you included, so hearts and pink things were hung on the doors of the houses and some lights were painted pink too, in the community bar.

Oh, one thing that wasn't mentioned: his house was almost opposite Joel's house. A coincidence. You took advantage of the Valentine's Day arrangements and picked up some decorations to hang in your house, a medium pink paper heart was glued, and next to it two small red hearts. You pulled away and smiled widely as you looked at the minimal decorations that gave some life to the almost colorless landscape.

You heard heavy footsteps trampling the snow and turned to see the man himself, shotgun slung over his shoulders, backpack on his back and a tired expression on his face. Joel looked directly at your door, then looked at you and shook his head and turned to enter his own without saying anything.

You let out an excited squeal along with other women whenever someone confessed to their loved one or handed over a hastily made card. The number of these events had been increasing since the community was dressed up for the holiday. You couldn't wait to do the same, you had already planned everything, you had handmade a card for Joel, it wasn't pink or red, he didn't seem to like those things very much. It was a nice card that could be used to decorate his room, or something like that, if he didn't actually have a room.

You wouldn't do that in front of everyone, you knew Joel was an older and reserved man, he didn't seem to like attention. You didn't know his schedule, you only saw him occasionally passing home at dusk, so that's what you did: you sat on your sofa below the window and waited until Joel passed by. As soon as he appeared in your field of vision with the same thick beige jacket, the same shotgun slung over his shoulder, the same worn brown backpack and the same heavy boots you stood up and took a deep breath. She watched until he entered the house and closed the door, then took the card from the coffee table and put on his coat, opened the door and took the few steps it took until he arrived at Joel's house.

The card you had prepared was made of yellow paper, folded in half, it had a bee drawn with your best artistic gifts and right below it there was the phrase 'Bee mine?' in large black letters. You let out a giggle through your nose and walked up the few steps to Joel's house, knocked on the door softly and waited.

You didn't notice, but the window curtain moved to open a tiny crack, where Joel peeked out. A few seconds later the door opened and you caught your breath. There he was, he looked tired and you felt bad for going to talk to him at this time. Shaking your head slightly, you were about to start speaking, but before you could open your mouth, Joel spoke:

"May I help you?" the hoarse voice spoke.

"Oh, good night." you said shyly after a few minutes. "I... I wanted to, uhm–"

"Listen, young lady, I don't mean to be rude, but I just got here and I'm tired." he continued.

You swallowed hard and took the card from behind your back, holding it towards him.

"I-I was hoping to talk, but you're tired, so... here it is, I made it for you." you waved the card but he didn't move to take it. "It's for Valentine's Day."

Your stomach was churning, his expression didn't look very good, he looked very seriously at you, then looked at the card.

"You can take it, it’s for you–” you tried to extend the card to him again.

"I'm sorry, but, did you really think this was a good idea, girl?" the tone of voice was rude now. "Coming over to my house like that and handing me a piece of paper?"

"I– uhm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." you swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I just wanted to give the card I made."

"And why do you want to give me this bullshit so much?"

You had your face lowered but you looked up, slightly wide-eyed at his aggressive sentence, consumed by a wave of angry courage you blurted out:

"I really like you."

"What?" he said mockingly after a few seconds. "Do you really like me?"

"Yes." you answered bravely, still feeling the lump in your throat. "I– I really like you, I mean… I mean I'm in love with you."

Joel stared at your face for a few seconds, as if studying you, then let out a light nasal laugh and said:

"I'm old enough to be your father, girl. Go home and don't bother me again, you seem like the pushy type."

"Listen, please, I've loved you for a long time–"

"What are you talking about, stupid girl?" he looked very angry now, his brow was furrowed and his nostrils were flared. "Love? You don't know what you're talking about."

"If you give me a chance to–"

"Go home, I told you." he said. "There's no chance of that, or anything else, I don't want anything to do with someone like you, understand? Don't bother me anymore."

Then he went back inside and slammed the door in your face.

You knew very early and came home very late to avoid laying eyes on Joel. Maybe she shouldn't have ignored the warnings about him after all, but he was still present in your heart. You shoved the card deep into your dresser, you were embarrassed to look at it now.

Ironically, now that you wanted to be more busy you had less work, winter had arrived and the ground was frozen, so the garden was at a standstill. So you dedicated yourself to the horses and cleaning the mess hall, returning home at almost the same time as always.

You hadn't told Emily what you were going to do and you hadn't told her about the rejection either, she was going to throw it in your face that she had warned you. You felt so stupid now, how could you have thought you had a chance? So much self-esteem.

The days passed quickly and you were thankful for that, but it wasn't like you forgot what happened. Your first interaction with Joel since the incident was when you were cleaning the cafeteria to close, it was already dark and it was practically empty. Mopping the floor repeatedly and sighing every now and then, you didn't see him walk through the large doors.

"Are you guys finishing early?" the thick Texan accent spoke from behind you and you froze momentarily, then turned to him with an effort of blank expression.

"This week, yes, we are down one person." you replied and went back to mopping the floor.

"Okay, thanks." he seemed to hesitate for a moment before walking outside again, and you let out a sharp breath.

The universe seemed to make fun of you and a few days later you had your next interaction with Joel.

Someone covered you in cleaning the cafeteria, so you used the free time to try to fix the rotten steps on your porch. As you repeatedly hammered the nails into place, you felt a poke on your shoulder and stopped your movements, feeling your stomach turn in knots when you saw Joel behind you.

"Can I help you?" you asked, standing up and brushing the snow and dirt off your knees.

"Do you realize it's already night? I need to go out on patrol tomorrow and you're making too much noise." he said rudely.

"Right. I'm sorry." You turned around and started picking up the tools you used, holding them against your chest and seeing the best way to climb without falling.

You had only fixed one of the steps, the one closest to the ground, so you climbed up on it and stretched your leg to try to climb over the others, but the new step wasn't securely fastened and you slipped, letting out a pathetic little scream.

You heard footsteps approaching and his arms lifting you off the ground quickly.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Joel's deep voice asked and you glanced at him sideways.

"I'm fine, thank you." you replied and saw him come closer to rest his hand on the small of your back. "Don't touch me." you exclaimed.

"I just wanted to see if you were hurt." he took a few steps back, looking embarrassed.

"I am well, thank you." you responded quickly and walked away from him, picking up the materials you used earlier again.

You balanced yourself and took a little jump to the porch, entered and closed the door.

#writing #writers on tumblr #fem reader #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader angst #joel x reader #tlou2 #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #rejection #rejection fic