#HIS ENTIRE THING IS THAT HE’S SEARCHING FOR ONE !!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bountydroid · 3 days

Text

Darlin' pt 7

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt 5 / pt 6 / pt8

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (SMUT)

Description: After a close call Cooper gives in to his feelings for Reader.

Notes: This chapter is half smut. For those who don’t want that I don’t think you’d miss anything of importance in the story if you skip it.

TW: p in v, unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, pretty vanilla (sorry pervs lol love you I'm just not good at smut).

His scarred lips were rough against mine, one of his hands on my hip the other tangled in my hair. This was a moment I dreamed about my entire life. Someone who cares about me was never something I thought I’d have. While having a couple of fleeting flings here and there with my brother's friends, I never had a true romance. This feeling? It was straight out of one of my novels. When he finally pulled away, I couldn't help but let out a breathy sound of dissatisfaction. He gave me a teasing smile before taking the vials from my hand and shoving them into his bag.

"Let's go find you some Radaway, Darlin'. We’ll have ya feelin' better in no time." He said as he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the building.

"Thank god Lucy left the door open." I thought to myself as we made our way inside.

The place was huge and felt like a relic of the past. The rundown storefronts and flickering lights left much to be desired. I pushed my body against Cooper's back as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Noticing my discomfort, he gave my hand a small reassuring squeeze. He was still in bad shape, clear as day, as he stumbled through the building.

After some exploration, we came across a room full of bodies. "Didn't know Lucy was capable of this." I gasped.

"I imagine these fellas did most of it." He said, kicking the boot of one of the men on the ground. He was holding a gun, but it didn't seem to have done him much good. While Cooper scanned the bodies, looking for anything of value, I started to wander over to some of the other rooms. One room in particular caught my eye, some of the things inside reminding me of the medical center we found Roger in.

"Don't go far," Cooper said as he huffed another vial before rummaging through the men's pockets.

"I won't," I mumbled as I looked back at him one more time before entering the room. I swallowed nervously as I looked around the room before setting my sights on some drawers in a cabinet. After some searching, I could some syringes with the word "Radaway" written on the side.

"Found some!" I said happily as I made my way back to Cooper to find him shoving vials of Jet into his hat. “That's so much!" I yelled in shock.

The happiness radiating from the two of us could have probably lit up a city. He looked up at me with the biggest smile I have ever seen on him before his eyes flitted to the syringe in my hand. He dropped his hat on the ground as he held out his hand expectantly.

"Let me help you with that." He stated.

I was perfectly capable of injecting myself, but I liked the idea of Cooper taking care of me, so after a moment of hesitation I passed it to him. While he was looking over the syringe, almost like he was making sure it wasn't fake, I took the time to look over his face. REALLY look it over. His leathery tan skin and his beautiful hazel eyes. I knew that many people looked at him with disgust, but I don't think that after getting to know him I could ever think of him as anything other than beautiful. I was so lost in thought I barely registered the needle going into my arm.

"There," He said with a satisfied tone. "All better."

"Thanks, Coop." I beamed up at him. I had some Radaway, Cooper had a lot of Jet, and he finally kissed me. Everything felt perfect.

Cooper knelt down to pick back up his hat when something caught his eye. A rectangular black box with glass on the front.

"What is that?" I asked curiously.

"That, darlin'." He responded, a look of shock on his face, "That is a television."

I ruminated on the word, trying to figure out if I knew it from anywhere as he grabbed something and inserted it into the television. He slowly made his way to the couch and plopped down. The expression on his face was something I couldn't recognize. Amazement? I sat down next to him as I looked at the television curiously, whatever it was it was affecting Cooper. The box sprang to life, lighting up as he pressed a button on the controller he was holding. The television played a video. "Of course!" I thought to myself as I remembered the stories of moving pictures. The man on the video reminded me a lot of Cooper. The western attire, the confidence, and of course the gun he was holding.

"Reminds me of you," I said innocently, not realizing the weight of my words.

"Nah, He ain't nothin' like me." He said quietly before looking over at me to scan my face before looking back at the video.

The man in the video was talking and I was trying to pay attention, I really was, but It was so long since I had sat anywhere but the ground, and while under normal circumstances I would call the couch uncomfortable, it felt like the most comfortable thing in that moment. I put my head on Cooper's shoulder and yawned.

"Tired already, sugar?" Cooper teased.

"Maybe a lil' bit," I admitted. "I could stay up a bit longer, though."

"For what?" He mused, almost like he knew what I was thinking.

I giggled, blush coating my cheeks as I whispered, "Maybe some more kissing?"

He hummed happily before pulling me onto his lap. I yelped in surprise at his sudden movement, grasping at his shoulders. “Now why would you want to kiss lil’ old me?” He was mostly joking, but an undertone of seriousness hung in the air.

“A better question is why wouldn’t I want to kiss you, Cooper? You are strong, you take care of me, you are handsome-“ I started to explain.

He scoffed, interrupting me. “I ain’t handsome.”

“You are!” I try to explain, “You have pretty eyes.” I said like I did days ago, back when he barely tolerated me. “And the way ya hold yourself is very… sexy.”

His eyes snapped up to mine, they were darkening, hungry. The embarrassment coursed through me and I could hardly stand it, so I buried my face in his neck.

“Awww getting shy, sugar?” He mocked. Before I could respond I felt his lips on my cheek. He stayed there for a moment before he started trailing down my neck, leaving tiny kisses in his wake.

I sighed happily as I pushed myself closer to him. I could’ve stayed that way forever, but Cooper had other plans. His hands were still on my hips from when he pulled me onto him. He slowly started to massage them before pressing me harder down on his lap. I let out a sound that was a mixture between a yelp and a moan.

“You like that?” He whispered in my ear.

I shook my head yes, my face still hidden in his neck.

“I wanna see you, darlin’.” He stated, his southern drawl slurred. He wasn’t demanding it, the tone in his voice was soft and hesitant, like he was worried he was going to scare me off.

Holding my breath I slowly pushed myself up. I was sure my face was red as a tomato as I made eye contact with him. When our eyes met, it felt like a damn had been released, lust flowing through me. “Coop,” I whisper before I start moving my hips on my own.

He let out a growl as he squeezed at my plush hips. “So soft.” He said.

“All for you, I’m all for you,” I say before crashing my lips into his.

The kiss was heady and passionate, I felt like I was drowning in him.

“Too many clothes,” I mumble against his mouth. Before I started to tug at his tattered duster jacket.

“I agree,” he sighed. Instead of helping me with his jacket, he ripped my hands from him and quickly tugged off my shirt, almost tearing it in the process. He sucked in a breath as he took in my bare chest. It was a sight to behold. Hair messy, half naked, and pupils blown. There was no way he could question if I wanted him, not anymore.

“God damn.” He groaned before leaning forward to kiss my chest. It’s like he wanted to kiss every inch of my body and I was starting to get impatient.

“Stop your teasin’,” I grumbled out, tugging at his jacket again.

This time, he obliged, quickly shucking it off before his hands started fumbling at his vest buttons. I cursed at him for wearing so many layers. I took this time to slide off his lap to take off my boots and pants, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. His hands stuttered as he threw off his vest and pulled off his shirt, distracted by the view in front of him.

“You, sugar, are way too good for me.” He muttered, his hands reaching out to pull me back onto his lap.

I moaned at the feeling of his rough jeans rubbing against me through my underwear. I could feel myself getting wetter, smearing my arousal on his pants. I rubbed my hands down his scarred chest before finding myself fiddling with his buckle.

“You want me?” I asked as I bit my lip. “Then take me.”

This seemed to flip a switch in him as he quickly spun me around so my back was on the couch. He hovered over me before kissing me fervidly. I undid his belt before popping open the button on his pants. He briefly pulled away from me to pull on his pants completely before slotting himself back on top of me.

“Darlin’,” he moaned as he rubbed his erection against my core.

I was so lost in the feeling I could barely respond, “Yeah?” I moaned out.

“There was more Radaway, right?” He asked. It was sweet that even in his lustful state he was still worried about me.

“Yes, Coop.” I responded, “Now fuck me already.”

He chuckled before mocking me, “So eager.”

He continued to tease me as he slowly pulled down my underwear, kissing down my legs as he went. I started to get dizzy, the arousal was becoming too much to bear. Finally, he pulled my panties off completely, kissing his way back up my body. I widened my legs as far as they could go, silently beckoning him inside of me. I heard him curse under his breath before slowly pushing himself into me. We let out moans in tandem, reveling in the feeling.

I put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him down so our foreheads were knocking against each other. I looked deeply into his eyes before I started to plead, “Fuck me, Cooper. Make me feel good. Please!”

“I could never say no to you.” He whispered before sheathing himself completely, his head brushing against that sweet spot inside of me.

He gave me a peck on the lips before trailing down my neck again, sucking as he went. The idea of having marks on me that everyone would see made me moan loudly. He was claiming me as his. I started to wiggle, silently begging him to move. After a few moments, he gave in, starting slow. It was intimate, sweet even. He wasn’t fucking me he was making love to me. He had barely started but I was already a babbling mess. Repeating his name like a prayer I begged for him to go faster. It didn’t take long for him to oblige, picking up his pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room. The bodies on the floor were long forgotten as we got lost in each other.

“Y/n,” he groaned my name, causing me to squeeze around him. “Sugar, you keep feeling this good I’m not gonna last long.”

I was feeling too good to respond, letting out soft squeaks and moans as he pistoned in and out of me. He snaked his hand down my body to start rubbing at my clit, causing my body to tremble. I was close and he knew it, trying to get me to the edge before he arrived there himself.

“Cooper!” I cried out as I convulsed underneath him, succumbing to the pleasure. I could hear him swearing above me before he stilled, letting out one last moan as he came inside of me.

The both of us were breathing heavily. Saying we were exhausted would have been an understatement. He took a moment before starting to pull out of me. I let out a sad whimper at the lack of contact, grasping at his arms. He let out a breathy laugh at my actions. “I’ll be back.” He said, reassuring me. I watched him with half-lidded eyes as he went into the medical room for a moment before coming back to me with another syringe of Radaway.

I snorted, “That could have waited.”

He didn’t respond, instead opting to give me a smirk before sinking the needle into my arm. Once he was done he grabbed ahold of me, rolling us over so he was underneath me on the couch.

As he was rubbing reassuring circles on my back he told me, “Sleep, darlin’.”

I hummed happily into his chest before giving way to his request.

Tag list: @bruhidkjustwannaread @msrawog @valdemarismynonbinarylove @whizbang-cap @topiramateagreeable @sitkafay @lightan117 @eykismyfav @ajeff855 @madelinealexandra @justme12200 @sihlaryn @raviolisenpai @ellabellabunny123 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @leviathanleva @v3lv3tf0x @fallout-girl219 @savanahc @booksbabes @gauky76 @green--beanie @fanfictiongirly23 @gobbodoggo @erissco @helveticabold @katgirl05 @tfamidoingwithmylife @miketastic25 @alex-does-art-things

#cooper howard #the ghoul fallout #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout #the ghoul smut #cooper howard smut

461 notes · View notes

utterlyotterlyx · 2 days

Note

ooo i have an idea

just something fluffy where reader loves hugging azriel because he always wraps his wings around her? maybe a little comfort fic after reader and az go on a rough mission together

Your wish is my command x

You Are My Shelter

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - No one can comfort you like Azriel can, and after a mission goes wrong, you need him wrapped around you more than ever before.

Warnings - blood, injury, angst, lots of fluff and comfort, happy-ish ending

It wasn't a rare occurrence for you to accompany Azriel on the odd mission. He would never admit it, but you, his mate, was definitely his favourite partner.

You were quick and nimble, observant, and you held yourself with a feline prowess that had him awestruck each time he saw you prowling through a woodland or the bridge of rooftops clad in your matte black second skin and hugged and kissed ever single curve of your body.

Azriel may have been the Spymaster of the Night Court, the King of Shadow, but you were death incarnate, his Queen.

Though, he and your shared family saw a side to you that no enemy would ever be able to catch a glimpse of. Deep down, beneath that harsh exterior, you were the softest thing any of them had ever encountered, and as Azriel lingered back, watching you stalk along the rooftops of Windhaven, did he know that as soon as you reached the cabin that you called home, would you beg him to hold you, to wrap you up in his arms and furl his wings around your form.

It was your favourite thing in the world, your greatest comfort. Despite knowing of his largest than most wingspan and the certain benefits of it, there was nothing you loved more than to have his wings curl around you and block out all of the negativity of the world. As long as you were with Azriel, nothing bad could ever happen to you.

The situation hadn't been so different that night you had met him and your entire life had changed.

Azriel had been your target once upon a time, the one you had been sent to trail, to learn more about, and the moment you laid eyes on him, the tug you had felt in your soul for your entire life had become unbearable. The feeling didn't stop you from doing what you needed to, sauntering after him down the dark alleys where he stalked, sticking to the shadows of his shadows and going by unnoticed.

It was easy to tell how surprised he was by you the moment he had found himself pinned beneath your body, unable to move as could only watch as his shadows danced to the rich tone of your voice.

The infamous Shadowsinger had heard of you, the assassin whose reputation superseded his own, born in Autumn and the personal spy of Beron himself. Azriel should have been disgusted by you, but as your eyes connected and he saw that gentle fire spark within them, he knew that you had no other choice, no other option but to do what you did best. Kill. Azriel could sympathise with the notion.

Beron's assassin was his mate, and there was no way that he was ever going to let you fall back into the clutches of Autumn, he knew what Beron would do if he knew of the bond between you.

Fond eyes followed you, you could feel Azriel peering upward past the treeline as you hopped from beam to beam, not wavering for a single moment, even when he appeared behind you on that thatched rooftop.

"Don't throw me off of my game, Az," your voice was low and tinted with warning as it sang to him, and he had to reign his shadows in from dancing toward your melodic tone. They had a job to do too.

There was no way that you were going to refuse to stay cooped up in your cabin in Velaris whilst Azriel hunted the males who had took it upon themselves to continue to barbaric act of wing clipping.

Rain pattered against the wooden beams and thatched roofs, the gentle sound of it covering the sound of your cat-like movements as you searched every home, every clearing for a sign of those males, excited to tear them apart for even thinking that they could harm a female and get away with it.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," he purred softly to you, his blue siphons dimly glowing in the night, the rain plastering his hair to the sides of his face.

Azriel ran his callused fingers through his locks and looked to you, "You're extra cold today, my love," he motioned to you, namely to the mask you had put on that evening, a mask that even he found intimidating, so gods help anyone else that crossed you that night.

Damn him.

Twin blades idly twirled in your gloved fingers, you had unsheathed them from your thigh holsters the moment you had landed on the thatched shelter, just in case any Illyrian male was stupid enough to attempt to meet you there. Countless moments had gone by when Azriel had watched you take down men three times your height and build, you were as quick as the speed of light, your agility was something that even he couldn't stand against, and he loved you for it.

He had finally met his match and found his equal in one fell swoop.

The tight coronet that Nesta had styled for you glistened in the moonlight, two thin slices fell over your face and they whipped against the breeze as you turned to face him, "I'm just feeling extra broody today is all."

Azriel cocked his head to the side and smirked, too entranced by you to notice his shadows slithering up his legs and coiling around his thighs, "You're due on your cycle soon."

Your eyes narrowed and you took a single step toward him, the beam creaking under your weight but you didn't falter, you didn't wobble, your balance was pristine, "That has nothing to do with it."

Silly moments like that were what made you happy, how, even in the midst of a mission, he could still find ways to tease you and make you smile. Azriel opened his arms to you, his wings unfurling from the tucked back place behind his back, inviting you in, "Do you need a cuddle?"

You could never say no to that.

The resolve within you fractured and fell, and you wasted no time in sheathing your blades, shrugging innocently, you told him, "It would be rude to deny you the comfort."

"It really would."

Azriel was too focused on you, on your bright eyes and curled lips to notice his shadows darting about in warning, and he didn't realise until it was too late.

A metallic tang tinted the air, and you inhaled sharply, stumbling backward a couple of steps before your foot slipped and you were sent tumbling off the beam. Azriel dove off after you, he didn't waste a second, he saw the pain twist in your features, but he wasn't quick enough, and you landed on the ground with a sickening thud, a soft cry flew from your lips.

Arms were around you instantly, his fingers were flittering around the arrow that was burrowed into your shoulder and the nausea hit you like a horse as all of the fire within you vanished from your body. Footsteps thundered from all around you, but you couldn't pinpoint the exact direction of their origin as your world span.

Muffled words enveloped the world where you lay, "Get out of here, Az. They're coming."

Azriel knew it, he could hear their shouting and stalking footsteps, and he cursed himself and his siphons for meddling with you whilst you were so high up, so vulnerable to their arrows. Azriel had stolen your focus.

Faebane held a putrid scent, it had always made his nose burn and crinkle, he clasped your face in his hands, noting your weary eyes that were getting heavier by the second. The arrow was protruding from your shoulder and he could smell your blood mixed with the poison, there was a lot of it, you were loosing too much too fast.

"I'm not leaving you here," he hoisted you up in his arms, cooing soft apologies as you groaned in his embrace with every turn his shadows barked at him to take, half of them scouting ahead whilst the other half wrapped themselves around your wound, applying pressure and doing their best to keep you comfortable, "Eyes on me, Angel."

The sound of his desperate plea gave you enough strength to keep your eyes open, you fought the darkness as hard as you could until you felt the hope that you'd gotten far away enough for Azriel to stretch his wings and soar into the skies.

It was usually a thing you loved, flying with Azriel, he made any excuse he could to take you flying, just so that he could hold you close to him. Not like he needed any reason at all to touch you, but he would always find one.

You had never felt so weak, or so stupid, or so helpless in that moment. Azriel held you close, pleading at you to keep you pretty eyes open, to stay awake, and you tried, you really did, but it was too hard.

Only when Azriel landed in Velaris did your consciousness jolt, purely due to the sound of his roaring voice shouting for Rhys who had appeared moments later with Madja in tow, commanding Azriel to place you onto the bare table thanks to Nesta's quick sweep that sent an array of plates and glasses crashing to the floor.

Sickly paleness clung to your skin, sweat coated your brow and you were shivering so violently that your teeth were rattling in your mouth, and your gaze shifted to Madja whilst Azriel told Rhys, Nesta, and a newly appeared Cassian what had happened with a strained voice.

"Is she going to be alright, Madja?" Rhys' voice echoed, he felt so far away, but from the stoic hand he had rested on your forehead, you knew he was much closer than you thought.

Madja was silent for a moment, her lips were tight as she pulled the arrow from your torn flesh, sympathy flashing in her eyes at the powerful cry that she had pulled from your lips, "She's lost a lot of blood," that much was clear from the red coating the tabletop, "But she'll be fine," Azriel was by your side, releasing a breath he didn't realise he was holding, pressing his lips to your hairline and stroking the matted hair away from your face.

Gauze become embedded into the wound, coated in a healing tonic that made you hiss and trash in Azriel's grip when it touched the gaping hole in your shoulder, and Madja worked as softly as she could as she wrapped thick white bandages around it. Madja left with strict instructions.

Rest. Fluids. Comfort.

Rhys hadn't even finished thanking her before he saw Azriel cradle you in his arms from the corner of his eye and whisk you to the room you two had shared before you had moved to your little cabin in the woods.

He had never been as gentle with anyone like he had been with you, you placed you onto the bed like a feather, pressing a cold cloth to your forehead to cool you down and rid your brow of sweat before he peeled his own clothes from his body and fell into the comfort beside you.

Weakly, you reached for him with trembling fingers, wincing as he pulled you into the position he knew that you needed. Head on his chest so that you could listen to his heartbeat which was racing in that moment, with your fingers tracing serene circles into the muscles of his pecs as his own hands wound around you, his wings drooping over your frame and binding you in their warmth and protection.

"I'm so sorry," he voice was wounded, strained with guilt, his fingers found the back of your neck and he worked slowly to unpin the coronet Nesta had styled for you, dropping the pins to the floor and unwinding the braids as you sighed softly at the tightness diminishing.

A hoarse hum rumbled at your lips, "It's okay, Az," you shivered again and he pulled you in tighter, being careful not to cause you any pain, and his wings curled tighter around your frame, waves of warmth seeped into you and your relaxed, "I'm here, I'm okay," your voice was a hush above a whisper, laced with exhaustion.

"I love you so much," his shadows grazed over your skin, and for a moment you believed that Azriel's hands were roaming over you, but they weren't, it was his shadows waving across every inch of you that they could, soothing you, cooing to you, "Go to sleep, Angel. I'll be here when you wake up, and we can spend all day like this tomorrow. How does that sound?"

The smile that graced your lips was peaceful, your lips parted to answer and Azriel waited, but when soft snores filled the room, all he could do was rake his fingers through your hair and swear to himself that he would never dare to put you in such danger ever again.

Author's Note

Just a little post-work drabble for you all x

381 notes · View notes

omitea · 2 days

Text

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 . . .ᐟ — 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐

☆ how long can the jjk! men make out for? pt. 2 | pt. 1.

. ft. higuruma, choso & toji.

. content. f! reader, somewhat fluffy in higuruma’s, sloppy make out, grinding, thigh biting, thigh kissing, hickeys. tagged as smut but its overall highly suggestive !

. note. dont like this but anyways goodnight…

☆— 𝐇. 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀

╰┈➤ higuruma likes to take his time with you. kissing the spots on your skin that deserve his undivided attention too.

he kisses you softly, with such gentleness; feeling like a feather ghosting over your plump lips. its sweet, tasting like the chamomile tea he just took a sip off before one kiss turned into more.

he soon moves to your jaw, placing wet kisses on the skin before moving down to your thighs. one of his favorite parts. a large hand takes hold of your knee, parting it just for him. the grip he has loosens once he bends down to kiss the inside of your thighs. he looks up through hooded eyes at the sharp breath you take— making you wanna close your legs in anticipation.

soft kisses turn into tiny nibbles before he sinks his teeth in your flesh. sucking and sweeping his tongue flatly against the red marks he leaves behind. it feels so good— the feeling of pleasure overpowering the slight pain that throbs in your skin. a small whimper escapes your bitten lips once he repeats the same action.

“hmm? think you can take a few more, love?” he will make sure to reward you afterwards.

☆— 𝐊. 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

╰┈➤ choso follows your lead, letting you kiss him how you desire. ears picking up the sounds that escape from his now sore throat.

the more you you touch him, the more he feels the familiar feeling brewing in his abdomen. he can’t focus with the way you deeply kiss him— teeth almost clashing in desperation of wanting more.

his hands start roaming, in search of something to touch, anything. so, he starts groping your breasts, thumbs tracing circles over your nipples that are peaking through your shirt. he finds it unfair how you’re handling him while sitting besides him.

body faced his way as your fingers hover above his happy trail and the other hand at the back of his neck. he feels pathetic. almost pleading for you to finally touch him. to pay attention to the already throbbing and leaking mess that’s making him breathe faster and faster.

your mouth latches on the pale skin of his neck, chuckling softly as the dark red blush covers it almost entirely. its amusing how he gets so whiny when not even touched yet. you didn’t expect a semi loud moan from him when you sucked a little too hard. but he didn’t mind, brain turning into mush as his thighs started to shake. he swears he could feel his heart pumping in his ears.

“please,” he managed to croak out— voice cracking slightly,“wanna feel good.” and that was the only thing you needed to hear before your clothes were gone.

☆— 𝐓. 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

╰┈➤ toji loves to shove his tongue down your mouth every chance he gets. the way you’re left wanting more is what makes it all the more fun.

he loves the feeling of your spit covered lips gliding against his. swallowing your soft moans while he continues to grind his bulge against your panties. his tongue enters your mouth with ease— a deep groan escaping his throat the moment the warm muscle starts exploring. a dribble of mixed saliva forming at the corner of your mouths, but neither of you seem bothered to wipe it away

it’s always messy with him. whether its saliva or a messy face due to exploring the other part of you, he absolutely loves it. the view of your hazy expression makes him wanna rip the thin top you have on. already looking fucked dumb by being kissed as if you were the last thing to be devoured.

but he will have a little fun with you for now. he was too busy having his tongue down your throat to notice wetness soaking his pants. one thick finger pressing softly, making you hiss out of surprise. and oh you hated how attractive it was to feel him grin into the kiss.

“guess ya’ want a different kind of mess. eh, doll?” he started while tugging on the fabric of his sweats. “don’t worry, ya’ will get it.”

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

329 notes · View notes

likegoldintheair · 21 hours

Text

It's well past midnight when Tommy steps into the club, the room a cacaphony of music, laughter, and people half yelling at each other. He had gotten the text half an hour earlier, letters and words nothing but a barely readable mess. He'd been able to decipher it eventually, though, typed out a stay there, and then hopped into an Uber.

It doesn't take long for him to find Buck. He's kind of hard to miss, actually, where he's standing on top of a table, phone in hand as he looks out over the crowd searching for Tommy. He might be a little bit disheveled after a night of partying, but when the lights hit him just so, Tommy wonders if Buck isn't the most beautiful man he's ever seen. He might be. Even when he looks like a kicked puppy, he might be.

Buck catches him then, the sad look on his face morphing into something else entirely, a soft smile and even softer eyes. It sets something alight in Tommy's chest. He smiles back, gives Buck a little wave, laughs when Buck immediately jumps off the table, and all but runs towards him. They meet somewhere in the middle, Tommy's hands finding their place on Buck's waist on the own accord, the motion almost too familiar after such a short amount of time. It's only been a few weeks. But then Buck loops his arms around Tommy's neck, crowds in closer and closer until they're pressed against each other. He clings and Tommy lets him.

"You okay?"

"Mm," Buck hums, presses his nose against Tommy's neck, takes a deep breath in. "You smell so good."

Tommy can't help but let out a small laugh, squeezing Buck's waist a little. "Thanks."

"I missed you." Buck's words are a mumbled mess against his skin, barely audible over the loud music. "'s not the same, without you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Buck sighs, presses a wet kiss into Tommy's skin, and leans back. His eyes cheeks are flushed, but his eyes are clearer than Tommy would've imagined. "I just- I wanted you to be here, y'know? With me. I wanted you to be here with me."

"I'm here now."

Buck nods, swallows, his eyes dropping momentarily to Tommy's mouth. "I wanna- we should kiss."

"Here?" Tommy asks, because of course he have to ask. "You sure?"

"Mm, yeah," Buck licks his lips, nods again. "Yeah, is that- don't you?"

"Buck," Tommy breathes out, wondering in what world Buck would ever think that he wouldn't want to kiss him. "Of course I want-"

He doesn't get to finish that sentence, as Buck pulls him in and captures those last words with his mouth. One of Buck's hands comes to a rest at the sharp line of Tommy's jaw, guiding him into another kiss and then another, until there's no pauses at all. Tommy's vaguely aware of the other people there, dancing and singing, moving as a wave around them. It all kind of fades away after a while. The only thing he knows in this very moment is Buck.

It's new and exciting to be so public about it, and Tommy is not afraid to admit that it makes him a bit weak in the knees. But then again, Buck has that effect on him on a daily basis by merely existing. Tommy's not afraid to admit that either.

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #911 fic #spencer i blame you for this #your post got me inspired okay #also posting this at fuck o'clock when no one's online bless

253 notes · View notes

sparks-chaotic-cove · 2 days

Text

So Isla married Fable out of necessity, basically.

When a conqueror is at your door, you must find some way to pacify him- so she did.

I don't think Isla ever thought that Fable was a "good man." sure, she didn't know he was a god. But in her eyes, he was a man killing for his own desire, for control. Maybe she thought he'd be nicer in his marriage. But he wasn't.

As Fable said himself, he didn't know how to be a mortal man.

Fable had all of this power in his hands. The control, the loving subjects, the ruthless armies. The fact that he was the god of creation.

While Isla may have not seen the entire picture- that godhood- there was no evidence that everything would go well. All she could do was hope.

And that hope was crushed as the marriage progressed. Her talks with Enderian, the growing worry for Icarus as he sat under the influence of his father, being pregnant with Enderian's child, the things Enderian told her, the more she saw the "humanity" of Enderian and her people, then Soul, and Athena.

But even if Isla didn't know the entire picture; she still knew a bit. And she still chose to sacrifice her live, her happiness, her hope, her dreams to save her people. And then to save her son.

I think Isla would be proud of Rae. His tireless passion for discovery, his willingness to drive himself to the ground for others. But I do think she'd tell him to breathe. To ask for help. Just like she asked for help.

I think she'd hate that Icarus has fallen into Fable's hands. She knows the "love" he displays firsthand, and that's not something she'd want for Icarus. I'm not sure she'd even blame Icarus- to an extent, maybe, but moreover she would blame the man that manipulated Icarus into that.

Icarus didn't kill Haley because Enderian said so. Icarus killed Haley because he was searching for approval. Approval he never got. Not from Enderian. Not from Centross. Not from his own father.

So while Enderian may have been the vessel for blame in that situation- and she was truly at fault for a lot of it- Enderian didn't make Icarus kill Haley. All Enderian did was (accidentally) emphasize that part of Icarus that desired so much to be loved, to have approval.

But Fable's the one who put that insecurity into Icarus's head.

Anyways, Fable sucks, Enderian sucks but less, and Isla is the one of the strongest and best women to ever exist.

#fablesmp isla #isla morningstar #fablesmp #fsmp #fsmpblr #fablesmpblr #rae morningstar #icarus morningstar #Fable creation #fablesmp rae #fablesmp icarus #fable smp #sparkrambles #Fablesmp enderian #Enderian

66 notes · View notes

obsessed-with-stardew · 1 day

Text

After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?”

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop.

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing.

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair.

“Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket.

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette.

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist.

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils.

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out.

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time.

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm.

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands.

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat.

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks.

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say.

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath.

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you.

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease.

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink.

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment.

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes.

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls.

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair.

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length.

“On your knees baby.”

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls.

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts.

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.”

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties.

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole.

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back.

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man.

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.”

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand.

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night.

107 notes · View notes

starry-eyes-love · 2 days

Text

Calm Me Down

Main Masterlist Joel Miller Masterlist

The next chapter in the Marriage Dynamics series

Pairing | Husband Joel Miller x Wife F!Reader- AU, No Outbreak

Summary | You wake up having a panic attack, and Joel calms you down. This results in the two of you talking, calming each other’s fears, and finally working through your problems. You feel movement in your pregnancy for the first time while Joel silently talks to his unborn child, asking for a gift that he doesn’t know yet but will receive.

Work Count: 5.5K

Warnings | Series is 18+, Minor DNI

Age difference (implied), language, descriptions of anxiety/panic attack, flashbacks, marriage dynamics (these two finally communicate), hurt and comfort, tenderness and love, mentions of pregnancy, you feel baby movement for the first time, mild reference to past cheating (your father and Joel's ex-wife, not from Joel or you), mild references in the past to physical abuse by your father, references to berating your father did to you in the past.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long on this next part, but here you are. As a reminder, I no longer do tag lists. Make sure to turn on notifications for when I post new written pieces.

“Baby, look at me,” Joel said sternly, turning you around to face him. He immediately searched your eyes to get you to look at him. Joel reached out instinctively and placed a steady hand on your belly, slowly rubbing it and feeling the soft swell of your stomach that was holding and caring for his child. He was trying to help ground you and reassure you that you were okay and that your baby would be alright, too.

These moments come out of nowhere: the sheer panic, the sweaty palms, the narrowing vision. You don't know why, but suddenly, it feels like the whole world is crashing down around you, like you are falling fast off of a cliff, unable to save yourself from sudden death. Your heart races, and you're stuck believing the lies in your head. The lies that you know are not true.

“I'm not good enough. I can't do this. I'll never be more than what I am now: a failure. My husband doesn't love me.”

This feeling inside seizes you, holds you tight, and doesn't allow you to take a proper breath. And that's ok, you think. You don't need to breathe, not yet. But the feeling doesn't stop, and your body eventually screams for another breath. The thing is, though, you can't get any air in, so you panic once again. The cycle never ends. It keeps repeating until you're drowning in your sweat and anxiety. You're having a goddamn panic attack, one that you haven't had in many years. To say you're embarrassed doesn't even come close to describing your emotions. The word you require fails to come to you, so you settle for fear, embarrassment, and loneliness.

You've been way too stressed your entire pregnancy. You're a week shy of being 20 weeks along with your third baby and your fourth pregnancy.

Yeah, we won't talk about that pregnancy. The daughter that you lost at 22 weeks pregnant. To this day, you still don't like thinking about it.

Even though this is a different pregnancy, things seem to haven't gone how you wanted. You finally did tell Joel that you were pregnant at your doctor's appointment when you started spotting blood. You were scared of admitting pregnancy to him, especially when you two had barely talked since Halloween. You didn't know why; you just weren't getting along. It's funny how life does that sometimes, isn't it?

Even though your 20th-week ultrasound was just a few days away, you felt embarrassed that nothing seemed to go as planned this time. You hadn't told Joel you were pregnant technically until you were having bleeding problems. You weren't sexually active with your husband. There was no celebration of being pregnant, just awkward silence, mostly of which came from you. Joel attempted to speak with you, but you'd always clam up and not talk. If you were being honest, it wasn't until late at night on Christmas Eve that Joel and you started to talk and get along again.

Now, you lay awake in bed, your mind racing, running wild with panic at all the scenarios that weren't even happening. But it felt like they were happening now, and you were scared. You were drowning in panic, unable to slow your mind down, wishing for anything to stop it.

I'm not good enough. My husband doesn’t want this and doesn't want to be with me. I'm such a horrible wife for not telling him.

Your thoughts wouldn't stop. Your mind kept racing, and you felt like you were drowning. The walls were once again closing in around you, sucking you underneath the surface. You desperately needed a lifeline to grab onto, something to save you from yourself. That's when you felt your husband reach out to you and pull you tight against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you to him while gently whispering, “Baby, come on now, breathe.”

Earlier in the night, Joel had decided not to sleep with his shirt on, something he hadn’t done in a long time. After his shower, he noticed the way you were looking at him. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, you looked at him like you desperately needed something primal from him.

“What's that look for, baby?” He said, glancing over at you and raising just his eyebrow. He was taunting you, wanting you to voice all those dirty little things that he knew you were thinking. He could tell by the look on your face, the way you were breathing, and how you were slowly squeezing your thighs together that you were turned on and sexually aroused. Joel may not be able to give you penetrative sex yet, but dammit, he could eat his wife's pussy if she wanted it. And Joel secretly hoped that you wished to do that tonight.

“I-uh, I-'' you said, stuttering and stammering at the words. You couldn't voice it or say it out loud for some reason. You were never afraid of dirty talk in the bedroom. But considering it has been almost 20 weeks, nearly five months since the two of you have done anything sexual, you were a bit nervous.

“Why don't you finish getting ready for bed, baby, then come over here, and I'll get ya all nice and relaxed for bed.”

“What did you have in mind?” You asked, hoping Joel would voice it for you.

“Oh, darlin’, you know what I have in mind,” he said, slowly sticking his tongue out and moving it up and down like he does when he licks at you fast when he goes down on you.

You quickly nodded your head and then ran into the bathroom. You needed a shower and desperately needed a shave. You spent the next 20 minutes making yourself feel more sexy and presentable. But when you entered the bedroom, you noticed all your work was in vain. Joel was lying down and loudly snoring already. Immediately, your heart sank at seeing him fast asleep.

Joel intended to give you, his wife, some much-needed affection and attention. But he underestimated how tired he was. When his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light and asleep within seconds. You, however, had laid there with your eyes open, overthinking stuff once again.

You loved being pregnant, but you hated the first part of pregnancy, where the anxiety was horrible. Your doctor said because your hormones change so much in the first stages of pregnancy, anxiety is common among women. And boy, did you ever have anxiety, especially this time around with being pregnant in your late 30s.

Even though your hormones were already leveling out, you were still nervous about knowing if your baby was growing healthy inside of you. You knew that after your 20-week ultrasound appointment, you would calm down. But you just had to get there first. You were nervous about losing this pregnancy. You remember the pregnancy you had lost; that 20th-week ultrasound showed significant problems. If everything would show that you were ok, just like the two other pregnancies did with your boys, you knew you'd calm down. You kept telling yourself that everything would be ok. But that crippling anxiety kept sneaking up at you at the worst times and holding you tight, like tonight.

The longer the night continued, the more you wanted to reach out and have your husband hold you tight to help calm your fears. But he looked so peaceful lying there sleeping; you didn't want to wake him. You both were getting along again, and there was no more fighting between you. So you didn't know where this anxiousness was coming from tonight. Your body felt off, and you didn't know why. You had tried to fall asleep, struggling with your mind to get any rest. At one point, you had dozed off a little bit, but you quickly woke up in a panic, sweating profusely. You were smack dab in the middle of yet another bad panic attack. You haven't had one of these episodes of panic for many years. Usually, stress or something larger would trigger them, but nothing unusual has happened recently. So you lay there silently, trying to will all of these bad feelings that you were having away. But no matter what you did, you could still feel your heart race and your chest constrict. It felt like you couldn't fully take a deep breath. You were drowning fast in terror and panic, not knowing if you could get yourself out of it anymore. You didn't realize in your panicked state that your husband woke up. But then, all of a sudden, when your chest constricted the tightest, and you thought you were going to die from lack of oxygen, you felt Joel’s strong arms wrap around you. He gently pulled you to him, where your back met his chest. He let out a long exhale while slowly whispering, “Baby, come on, breathe.

After Joel had laid down, he had fallen asleep suddenly, too suddenly for his liking. He wanted to cuddle you and give you much-needed attention and affection. Joel could see that you were stressed with work and raising the boys, and Joel's chaotic work schedule didn't help you. He recently hired a manager to work out in the field with Tommy so he could stay back in the office more and focus on the business side of things. His contracting business was expanding, growing at a rapid rate where Joel didn’t need to be out in the field all the time working. He could take that much-needed break and focus his time and skills on the best ways of growing his company.

Joel suddenly was jolted awake by something, but he was unsure of what. When he opened his eyes, Joel saw your back as you were facing away from him. Joel thought maybe it was a bad dream that had woken him up. Slowly, he ran his hand down his face, slightly shaking it and yawning to clear his head. Upon looking over at you again, Joel saw that you were curled up into a ball, looking like you were resting peacefully. He smiled silently, admiring you and what looked like your peaceful slumber. But then he heard it, the small sob that left your chest as you struggled to breathe in air. Joel frowned, knowing all too well that you were panicking and having a bad panic attack yet again.

Baby, I thought we stopped these, he thought, not enjoying seeing his wife struggle. He knew you were drowning in your head, unable to get your head above water as gulp after gulp of quick spurts of air were leaving your lungs. You were like a lost ship out to sea, desperately looking for a way back into port. Joel knew he was your only lifeline, and it broke his heart that he needed to be this again. He loved you and always supported you, but seeing you panic like this broke his heart. Something was bothering you, and he hoped, like hell, that someone wasn’t him.

“Baby, come on, breathe.” He said, slowly reaching out to you and pulling you into his chest.

But you couldn't; your heart was hammering in your chest, and it wouldn't slow down. “I can't breathe,” you said, hyperventilating and sobbing. You didn't know what was wrong or why, but it felt like you couldn't breathe. “Something’s wrong, Joel, I can’t- I can’t breathe.” You said, rushing air in and out of your lungs fast.

As soon as your eyes met his, you started sobbing and saying, “I can't do this. I'm a failure. I'm always fucking up. No one cares about m-me or loves me.”

“No, babe. Come on now, look at me,” Joel said, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes to look at him. “Come on, with me, yeah? Breathe.” Joel then took a slow, deep breath, and you mirrored his actions.

“That’s it, sugar, nice and slow,” he said, breathing with you. He was trying to slow your breathing down. After readjusting himself, Joel sat beside you, gently taking your hand and placing it on his chest, holding it tight against him.

“Feel how I breathe, darlin', now match it. Come on now, slow breath in.”

*Joel took a slow breath in.*

“Now, slowly breathe out.”

*Joel slowly breathed out.*

“And again,” he said, getting you to focus on slowing your breathing down. One of his hands held yours against his chest so that you could feel the pattern of his breaths. The other hand was protectively lying over your bump, gently stroking the skin, centering both you and him that everything was alright with your baby.

After several moments of slowing your breathing and getting you to breathe normally again, you finally sighed and said, “Thanks, Joel.”

Still sitting above you, Joel furrowed his brow as he looked at you. He didn’t know why you were having a panic attack tonight. It stressed him out and worried him, especially since you were pregnant. He didn’t want you to get too stressed out and put the baby you were carrying under any more stress. After a long moment of observing you, Joel finally sighed and asked, “Why d’ya think you’re a failure?” As he waited for your response, he slowly started stroking your belly once again.

“I don’t know, I- I was upset and spouted my mouth off. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Don’t give me that shit of ‘didn’t mean anything by it.’ Christ woman.” Joel said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand while removing his other hand from your belly.

You frowned slightly at his movements, knowing that now he was agitated. You didn't want to have any more arguments with him. You two have been finally getting along for a while, and you weren't in the mood to go back to the way things were, where you hardly spoke, and if you did, it would result in an argument. To you, those days were behind you.

When Joel felt you stiffen below him, he froze. He was frustrated at the situation tonight. Something was bothering you to the point where it made you panic, and he wanted to know why. Why did you think that you were a failure? He felt his heart ache when you continued to look up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at him for fear that it'd start another argument.

Since when did Joel Miller become such an asshole that his wife didn't want to look at him? Since when did he become your father?

Joel took a deep breath and sighed, realizing how harsh his attitude had been these past few months. Yeah, you two haven't had sex since Halloween, almost five months ago. He reasoned with himself that the lack of sexual intercourse was because of the doctor's orders. But you two haven't done anything else either. Joel didn't blame you; he blamed himself for the change. Tommy even commented the other day to Joel that his brother had changed, but not in a good way. Yeah, Joel Miller was an asshole. But what bothered him the most was he's been an asshole to you, and you've never deserved it.

Sighing at this realization, he turned towards you and gently touched your chin. “Hey, look at me, will ya,” he said, cupping your cheek with his hand. When you finally decided to look at him, he smiled tenderly and whispered, “I love you. You know that, right, baby?”

He felt his eyes sting when you didn't answer and just stared at him. Joel Miller has been drastically fucking things up.

“I'm so fucking sorry, darlin’,” he said while gently placing his hand back again on your bump. “I’m sorry for makin’ this. For fucking everything up where I wasn’t there for you emotionally like I should have been.”

You just glared at him, struggling to keep your tears from falling. “Y-you didn't, shit,” you said, brushing a single tear away from your cheeks. I’m not doing this right now. I’m not going to break down again, you thought.

Joel could see you were struggling not to get emotional, and he was trying so hard to find ways to fix what he had already broken. “Baby, I was so mad at what ya told me on Halloween. That I wasn't rockin’ your sexual world anymore. I got, fuck baby, I got mad and jealous.”

“Seriously? What could you have been jealous about?” You said, snapping at him with more force than you intended. You were confused and slightly irritated at your husband. Joel was the one who shut you out after Halloween, not you. He barely spoke to you, held you; hell, he still hasn't even fucked you since that night. Sure, you pulled away, too, and you didn't tell him you were pregnant. But every time you tried to open up, he'd shut you down, yell at you, or treat you like you weren't his wife. You sat in silence, not knowing how to respond to your husband. Joel wasn't moving or answering you either, and for a minute, you thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep. But then you heard it, a sniffle, followed by a choked-off sob.

“Joel-” you said softer, looking over at him as you noticed tears streaming down his face. He placed a hand over his eyes, sobbing into it. You didn't understand what was happening or why he was giving you this emotional response.

“I'm s-sorry. I'm so fucking sorry that you d-don't want to be w-with me anymore.” Joel said, continuing to sob into his hand.

Where the hell was this all coming from? You thought. “Baby, what are you talking about? Of course I-”

“Don’t,” Joel said sternly, quickly brushing his tears away. Joel hated crying by himself, and he hated crying in front of you. After taking a moment to collect himself, he leaned down and whispered to your belly, “I'm so sorry that Daddy has fucked this up. I-I love both you and your mama so fucking much, ok?” He gently kissed your belly and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes away. When he sat up, he looked around the room, admiring the home you two had built together, with the front of him facing away from you.

Joel wouldn't look at you, even when you asked him. You were scared, scared of what was coming next. You knew this scene, knew it well from your father. It would be the moment that Joel would tell you he’s been sleeping with someone else. He’d tell you that you were too much for him and that he couldn’t help it, that it was an accident. You also waited for the words ‘you ruined my life’ to come to his lips, just like your father told you before. But the longer you waited, the longer it was apparent that those words would never come. That’s when you felt your heart begin to race again.

“I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, love. Stop overthinking things. I just wanted to say that you deserve better; you both do. And I know I'm not your favorite human right now and that you’re ashamed to carry my child-”

“Joel Miller, what are you even talking about? I'm not ashamed of-”

Joel stopped you by raising a hand, silencing you, saying, “Please, just let me finish.” He then continued when he knew you wouldn't interrupt him again. “I've, I'm- shit- I'm not good with this stuff, with words. I just- fuck.”

Joel didn't know what he was trying to say. He felt sorry for Halloween and for the miscommunication you two had. He’s been moody since then and not present in his marriage. He was also very sorry for not making you feel comfortable enough to tell him things again, like when you were first pregnant. But most of all, he was sorry for disappointing you as a man and husband.

When Joel realized the last admission in his mind, he felt tears well up again. You had opened your mouth to speak again, but Joel interrupted you by saying, “Ya know, I think my ex-wife was right all those years ago.”

“How so?” you said, tensing at the mention of her.

“She said I always fucked things up, and that's why she was- uh- why it didn't work out between us.” Joel almost said it. The thing he hadn’t told you. That his first wife was unfaithful because he wasn't present in their marriage and didn't give her enough support after Sarah was born.

“Joel,” you said while slowly grabbing his hand. “Baby, I'm not her, and for the record, you ain't fucking things up.”

Joel snorted at your comment, saying, “Darlin', we both know that ain't true. You're pregnant with my child. And you didn't even want to tell me because of it, because of me.”

“Joel, I didn't tell you because I was scared. I'm a woman in my middle thirties who told her husband life was stale in the bedroom. On that same night, he also knocked me up. I wanted to tell you immediately, but as soon as I attempted, you weren't there. You were working 16-hour days and moody because of no help at work. Yeah, I fucked up. I should have said something, but I was scared. I was scared I was trapping you in a marriage you didn't want.”

“What do you mean a marriage I didn't want? Baby, I love you and want you, always. I've never felt trapped, not ever. Why are you thinkin’ that?” Joel said, screwing his face up and not understanding why you thought he didn't want to be married.

“I don't know, just something my dad said when-”

“I ain't your old man,” Joel said, grinding his teeth and flaring his nostrils. At one time, your father, Pat, was Joel's best friend. But that abruptly ended when Pat laid his hands on his daughter and unforgivably hurt her.

“I know it's just- I was worried you didn't want this, want me. I know I'm a lot, a handful, that-” Your voice started to tremble, and your lip was quivering. You couldn't say it out loud. But Joel knew it was the last thing you heard your father say before you walked out of his life, forever.

Flashback

“Joel, I know my daughter, ok? She's a handful, a complete pain in the ass, and a liability. One that I wish like hell wasn't my damn responsibility anymore. So do yourself a favor; don't get involved. She'll just ruin your life. She’s already ruined mine.”

You had stood there and heard your father tell Joel, your new fiance, he didn't want you as a daughter anymore. That you being around was a burden to him and his life. You were standing in the kitchen as Pat, your father, talked to Joel in the living room. You weren't supposed to hear the conversation, and you knew that. But with what you heard, it had shattered you. You walked out of your father's house with tears in your eyes, never returning. It was good that you walked out before you heard your father's last comment. The one comment that yet today made Joel grind his teeth and see red anytime he thought about it.

“Joel, that girl of mine is nothin’ but a goddamn whore. A bitch, just like her mother. She'll just hurt you in the end. My advice, make sure you have a little something on the side, a nice piece of ass as I did, just as a pick me up. Trust me, you'll get sick of looking at her pathetic ass day in and day out. I did with her mother, and it felt great to go and get some much-needed attention from the girls I had on the side…”

After your father called you a whore and told Joel what took place when Joel had you hang out at his house, he felt sick and saw red with anger. Your dad's weekend trips and late-night house calls were due to him fucking around on your mom, a woman who was battling cancer and eventually lost. But the worst thing that Joel found out was that all those black eyes you were supporting in high school and college weren't because you got into a fight or that a boyfriend hit you. No, Pat was getting drunk and using his fists against his daughter's face. Joel also had a sneaky suspicion that the two cracked ribs you had in college also came from Pat. Joel couldn't believe that his best friend did that, and worse, you never said anything. Joel would have stopped it immediately if he had known. Pat was no longer in either of your lives anymore.

Present Day

“Baby, you ain't too much, so stop thinking that. C’mere.” Joel said, having you come and sit on his lap while he placed his back against the headboard.

He helped you straddle him, putting your hard baby belly against his softer belly. Your bump prevented you from getting as close as usual, but it was close enough that Joel could still wrap his arms around you and rest his forehead against yours.

“Now, darlin’, I want you to take a deep breath for me, ok?” After you took a deep breath and slowly let it out, you felt your heartbeat return to normal, along with his.

“I’m so sorry, Joel, that I didn’t tell you-”

“Don’t. Please darlin’. I-I don’t care what we’ve done before. I care about the right here and now. Please.”

You could feel how stressed Joel was. How his muscles tensed with you, referencing you were sorry again for not telling your husband at the beginning of your pregnancy that you were pregnant. If you could do it again, but differently, you would. But that’s not life. Life is about living in the moment, feeling emotions, and allowing yourself to experience it in its messy glory. It’s about making mistakes and then learning from those mistakes. But most of all, it’s about forgiveness, hope, compassion, love, and understanding. You both understood that the choices made these past few months were out of anger, frustration, and loneliness.

With your eyes closed and your understanding of the situations that have surrounded the two of you for a while, you quietly said, “I love you, old man.”

Joel let out a small snort at your teasing. ‘Old man’ was a nickname you gave him long ago when the two of you started dating, and now it was a term of endearment.

“I love you too, baby girl,” he said, slowly nuzzling his nose against yours.

When you pulled back and opened your eyes, you saw your husband looking at you lovingly. His eyes were so soft, tenderness seen behind them. He was your lifeline that tethered you to this world, keeping you anchored and not drifting. When he slowly kissed you, you felt him tell you in the kiss that you were loved and that everything would be alright. He was your rock, your protector, your soulmate. But more importantly, he was your Joel. The man who saw you for what you were inside. He saw past your faults and insecurities, of you believing you were too much. He gave you a safe place to land and be in the moment. You had a lifetime with him, helped him raise Sarah, and gave birth to two strong-willed little boys you loved dearly. And now you were pregnant again, with a baby that was half him and half you growing inside of you. This little one was very much a surprise, but the best possible surprise. It forced you both to stop your chaotic lives and slow down to remember what life was all about Love.

After several tender kisses, you started to giggle against his mouth. Joel pulled back at your giggling, confused at your antics. “Darlin’, are you laughing at me?”

You continued giggling and said, “No, Joel, I’m not,” but then you giggled again.

“Baby, please-”

“Joel, I just felt the baby move.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, surprised, looking at you with excitement. “R-really? Just now?”

“Yes, just now, when I was thinking how much I loved you and how much this child is teaching us that we need to communicate still, to be strong, and-”

Joel slowly moved his hands down to your stomach and rubbed it tenderly. He knew he wouldn’t feel movement for another few weeks. But seeing you feel life for the first time was the best possible gift one could experience with you. The joy on your face at the realization that a baby was growing inside you, one that he helped create.

“There it is again,” you said, smiling and giggling. You placed your hand right over Joel’s hand, right where you felt movement. It felt like a cricket, or something ran across your stomach, but from the inside. It was always the oddest feeling that you’d feel. It wasn’t a full kick yet; those would come in a few weeks. But in this movement, it always made you laugh when you’d feel it for the first time.

When you looked up at Joel, you were beaming with the biggest smile, while he had the most tender look in his eyes. Softly, he rubbed his thumb back and forth over your skin, giving you and his baby affection. “She's telling her mama that she loves her.”

“Joel, it’s too early. We don’t-” you said, choking up with emotion. Joel knew you wanted a girl so badly, especially after the two of you lost the only pregnancy before where you were pregnant with a girl. It was a sore subject for the two of you.

Before, when you were pregnant with a girl, Joel had come home early from work because you said you weren’t feeling well. He noticed you were sleeping on the couch when he entered the house. Joel quietly went upstairs and showered, but you yelled for him while he was washing his body. Joel quickly rinsed himself off and ran out to the living room, wearing nothing but a towel with water still dripping down his back. When he got to you, you were sitting up and crying. When he had asked you what was wrong, you pulled back the blanket, and Joel saw a large pool of bright red blood on the couch. You were rushed to the hospital by ambulance, but it was already too late. The girl you were pregnant with had no heartbeat detected. You stayed in the hospital for observation, delivering the tiny baby that night.

After you were asleep in the hospital, Joel had gone home. He took the sledgehammer to the couch, tears streaming down his face while hitting it. Tommy found him beating the hell out of the sofa, crying and screaming at how much he hated the world for taking the one thing that you wanted away from you: a little girl.

And now, all these years later, when you hear Joel reference a girl, you can’t help but get scared. Sure, you hoped for a girl and dreamed of it again, but you also didn't want to go through losing another baby once again.

“It’s just a hunch, darlin’, and don’t worry, mama; I’ll keep you both safe. Now come on, time for you both to go to bed.” Joel said, wrapping you in his arms to help silence your fears.

Joel laid you down and got you situated after he brought you some water to drink. He pulled you tight to him, your back against his bare chest as he traced small circles on your belly, helping you quickly fall asleep. After Joel knew you were sleeping soundly, he quietly whispered, “Little one, please stay in here no matter what, ok? I don’t know if you’re a girl or a boy, but I think you may be a girl this time. Regardless, your mama needs you to be healthy, and Daddy needs you to be healthy. You’ve heard bad words these past few months when your mama and I have been arguing. But please know, I’m beyond excited to be a dad yet again, your dad. I love you both so much, ok. Stay in there, and let your mama have a nice, easy pregnancy, ok? I love you.”

Joel stilled his hand on your bump, gently holding it snug while he drifted off to sleep. Neither of you knew that deep inside your belly, a tiny baby girl was growing nice and strong. Even though this pregnancy was difficult at times, that baby had no plans of leaving anytime soon. She would be the miracle and the one thing that helped you focus on fixing your marriage once and for all.

They say that life throws the most challenging curveballs when you least expect them and that sometimes those challenging events shape you into a better human being. That’s always been the story for you and Joel, and now, you both are about to enter the exciting part of your pregnancy—the one that will reshape your current Marriage Dynamics.

End of Chapter

119 notes · View notes

the-badger-mole · 10 hours

Text

In a Time of Adversity

It was just his dumb luck, Zuko thought. All year he had been butting heads with the city's most annoying overachiever. Katara, the prodigy with a 9000 IQ, who'd managed to skip a grade and end up in all of Zuko's advanced placement classes, had been thorn in his side since the day she'd corrected one of his physics equations in front of the whole class. Ever since they had been locked in an increasingly heated battle of who would earn the highest marks in their class, and every week felt like a new face off.

Sometimes he would come out on top, but he had to grudgingly admit that while gave as good as he got on tests and assignments, she had the upper hand when it came to quips and put downs. Too often Zuko had been left sputtering in her wake, struggling to find a comeback from some scathing retort she'd just delivered. It wasn't until after yet another one of these exchanges, when Zuko in his frustration had the thought that he would love to throw her against a locker and kiss her until she didn't have the breath for one of her smart remarks, that it occurred to him that there might be more to his feelings towards her than animosity. And that was the last time he ever spoke to her directly. Disaster averted.

So, of course, when their science class goes on a weekend long camping trip in the middle of Backwoods, Nowhere, he would end up being partnered with her to find a rare fungus. Of course they would end up losing the trail and wandering through the forest with no clue how to make it back to camp. And of course, it would start raining, sending them scrambling up the mountain to a cave that was hopefully abandoned.

"At least we won't have to worry about dehydration," Katara said, pulling the water from their clothes.

"Sure," Zuko replied gruffly. He looked around for something to burn, but there wasn't anything but some leaves and twigs around. Not exactly the makings of a bonfire.

"I'm sure they're looking for us already." Katara sat down against a wall and drew her knees up to her chest.

"Great." Zuko wasn't optimistic about the prospect. Their science class wasn't exactly full of the great outdoors types. Katara had the most camping experience of anyone. The best they could hope for was that the chaperones would call search and rescue early the next morning.

"Do you think we should look for some firewood or something?" Katara suggested. She was shivering a bit, and Zuko could feel the chill settling onto his skin, too.

"It'll all be wet," he told her. "All we'll end up doing is smoking ourselves out."

"I can dry it," Katara reminded him. There was a sharp edge to her voice now. Zuko looked over at her and realized she was scowling at him.

"What's your problem?" he asked, irritably.

"You!" Katara shouted. Her voice bounced around the shallow cave jarringly. "You're my problem."

"Me?" Zuko drew back, affronted. "You're the one who got us lost, Katara, Queen of the Jungle!"

"Alright, fine! I'm sorry, alright?" Her voice cracked dangerously. "I just thought we could work together on this and things could go back to normal between us." Whatever Zuko had been expecting her to say, that was not it.

"Normal?" he repeated, completely baffled. "Normal between us? What are you talking about?" Over the sound of the falling rain, Zuko thought he heard Katara sniffling. Was she crying?

"You-you've been avoiding me for weeks," she said. Zuko was stunned. He'd heard Katara laugh (usually at him), and yell (again...usually at him). He'd heard her confidently dressing down a teacher that once made the mistake of telling her that women didn't get far in the science field. But this...this vulnerability in her voice. That was new.

"I haven't been avoiding you," he said. It wasn't entirely a lie. It's not like he turned the other direction when he saw her in the hall. He just didn't engage in their verbal sparring matches.

"You won't talk to me," Katara said. "You barely acknowledge me when I talk to you. When Piando assigned us as partners, you looked like he had just told you to eat a raw snail. I don't know what I did to offend you this badly, but I'm sorry, okay?" She was definitely crying now, and Zuko was panicking.

"I'm not...I'm not angry at you," he told her hesitantly. "I just...it's just that our bickering was beginning to feel....I don't know...childish?"

"So it's because I'm younger?" Katara demanded. Zuko winced. That was a frequent sore spot for Katara. Because she'd been moved ahead in school, some of her teachers and classmates made a big fuss over her age whenever she did something they didn't like. Zuko thought it was stupid. She was a year and some change younger than him, and only two years younger than the oldest people in their grade. Hardly a mind bending gap, especially given how mature she was generally.

"No, that's not it," Zuko said. "It's not about your age, or grades or anything like that. I just don't feel like having an enemy I don't need to have." Katara fell silent for a moment. Zuko thought he could still hear her sniffling every so often.

"I didn't think we were enemies," she said softly. It took a moment for Zuko to understand what she'd said. Then he snorted.

"Right," he scoffed. "That's why you called me a spoiled brat who probably paid someone to do my homework for me."

"Okay," Katara huffed. "I'm not saying we were besties or anything. But I thought we were at least friendly rivals. I wasn't seriously accusing you of cheating. It's just...school isn't always a challenge."

"Egghead," Zuko muttered. Something small-an acorn, probably- hit the wall next to his head. He smirked at Katara in the dark.

"That's more of a criticism of our curriculum than a brag," she said defensively. "Anyway, I was saying that you challenge me. If I wasn't trying so hard to be better than you, I would be so bored."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Katara's soft spoken vulnerability hung in the air between them for a long moment. Then Zuko laughed. He sensed Katara stiffen, draw into herself, and he slid over to her side of the cave.

"I'd be bored without you, too," he admitted. "And for the record, the only one in our school who would be worth paying to cheat from would be you." Katara scowled up at him, Zuko was actually close enough to see it in the dark. Then she laughed, too.

"So what did I do to piss you off so bad, then?" she asked him. Zuko drew back, feeling the heat rush to his face.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "You didn't say or do anything. I just wanted to be different, I guess."

"Oh." Katara wrapped her arms tightly around herself and a hard shiver ran through her.

"You're cold," Zuko said.

"Aren't you?" Katara asked through clenched teeth.

"Firebender," he reminded her. "Um...if you want, you can..." Zuko opened his arm towards her, an awkward invitation. Without hesitating, Katara scooted over and curled into his side, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"You're better than a heating pad," she sighed contentedly.

This was a mistake, Zuko thought immediately. Katara lay her head against his shoulder and every thought he'd had about kissing her until she was dizzy came rushing back. He would be a complete gentleman, of course, but he prayed that sleep would come quickly and end his torture.

"Hey, Zuko?" Katara lifted her head to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here with me." Zuko's mind screeched to a halt. What did that mean? After a moment he decided it didn't really matter.

"I'm glad, too," he said honestly.

#atla #zutara #zutara month #day 1: reluctant allies #modern hs au #battling brains #they were rescued the next afternoon #the chaperones begged them not to tell their parents #zuko finally got the nerve to ask Katara out a month later #she said yes

62 notes · View notes

tamrielic · 1 day

Text

pairing – scaramouche | wanderer × f!reader

fandom | media – genshin impact

word count – 4,659・AO3

summary – you’ve been avoiding him, and he needs to know why.

tags﹠warnings – smut・porn with plot・degradation・dirty talk・angst・hurt/comfort・fluff・scaramouche being scaramouche・scaramouche is his own warning honestly・vulnerable scaramouche・emotional reader・reader is very subtly implied to be plus-sized・reader has afab!genitalia

originally posted on – 11/07/2022

author’s note (11/07/2022) – if you’d told me a month or so ago that i’d write an almost 5,000 word smutfic featuring scaramouche, i would’ve laughed in your face... but here we are! i dedicate this fic to one of my most beloved and beautiful besties, gen aka getousimp aka gixxie, because she’s absolutely amazing and is the #1 scaramouche fan!!! i really hope that i did him justice, and i hope y’all enjoy – this is only my second ever smutfic that i’ve written and/or posted online! ALSO – i wrote this entire thing before the archon quest that features him (archon quest interlude chapter: act iii – inversion of genesis) and before he was (finally) released as a playable character, so... his characterization is questionable!

The smell of incense and the crackling of the fire in the large marble fireplace greet you as you step inside the mansion in the adepti teapot realm you call home, shutting the doors as quietly as possible behind you and releasing a soft sigh of relief when there is no noise to imply you’ve been heard.

Slowly, you make your way across the main area of the house to the room that was designated as the library and office, slipping inside silently and quickly sliding the doors shut behind you.

Inhaling deeply, you march over to the desk to begin sorting through the large pile of letters that had accumulated during your absence.

You’ve been traveling with Paimon, helping the Aranara in Sumeru and avoiding… well, avoiding multiple things. Searching for your brother, your various promises and responsibilities, and most importantly a certain short-tempered Anemo wielder.

Coming out of the haze of your thoughts, you notice the messy stack of books that had undoubtedly been made by some of your numerous guests and you huff as you grab them and go to put them away.

It wasn’t that Scaramouche had done anything wrong per se, it was more the issue of you being so naturally affectionate and showing it via physical touch and honest words… and worrying that it was becoming too much for him, or too annoying. Or both.

It hasn’t been that long since he’s joined your group of friends… only about two months, though could you honestly say that the two of you were friends?

He was so hot and cold, at times he was standoffish and rude, snapping at everyone and everything and it was during those times that you swore he hated you… but then the next time you’d come across him or have him join you while adventuring, he’d look at you with an unreadable expression and allow you to touch him without bristling, especially when you two were alone, and the back and forth of it confused you.

You’ve been oddly drawn to him ever since you had first met him in Inazuma, his voice sticking in your head and repeating his taunting words and the vision of him sauntering towards you with that insufferable smirk wouldn’t leave your mind…

In truth, your feelings have only gotten stronger as time had passed, especially after he’d reluctantly joined your adventuring team and you’d inevitably gotten to know him better.

If you are being honest, the sexual tension between you two could likely be cut with a knife and served on a platter… in addition to there being purer, deeper romantic feelings present.

It’s far too early to call it “love”, but it is certainly well on its way to becoming that dreaded word… on your end, at least.

You can feel your face heat up in response to the direction your thoughts have gone and as you shove the last book onto the bookshelf you lean forward and bonk your forehead against the hardwood in an effort to clear your mind.

In your distraction you haven’t noticed that the subject of your thoughts has snuck into the room and is moving towards you with purpose.

A pale hand suddenly slams down to grasp onto the shelf right behind you, the other hand gripping your waist and spinning you to face the intruder.

Purple eyes meet yours, anger making them almost burn from their intensity as he leans in so his face is mere inches away from yours.

Gasping, you shrank back against the bookshelf. “Scaramouche? What–?”

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” He bites out, eyes narrowing slightly and the fingers at your waist twitching in what you assumed to be frustration.

Blinking at him while you try to gather your thoughts, you can’t help but notice that he isn’t wearing his usual amount of layers – just the tight black high-collared shirt and his shorts and sandals rather than his familiar complex ensemble – and your face heats at the realization that so much of his skin was now visible to you.

Swallowing to try and moisten your suddenly dry mouth, you’re sure that your face openly shows how flustered you are.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ve been busy but I haven’t been–”

“Cut the bullshit. Do you think I’m an idiot? It’s not like you’ve been subtle about it, and it’s pissing me off,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he moves the hand that has been pinning you to the bookshelf to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin of your nape.

Eyes widening at his actions and words, you clear your throat and square your shoulders.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, Scaramouche, but–”

“Why are you calling me that?” He snaps, scowling at you with narrowed eyes.

“Calling you what? Your name?” You reply, eyes darting away from his prying gaze.

It was true that you haven’t necessarily been subtle, but you had assumed that he wouldn’t take much notice of the lack of attention and affection that he seemed to find barely tolerable – this vehement reaction was very unexpected and it was leaving you reeling.

He lets out an angry sigh before his fingers grasp your chin and force you to meet his eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He demands, eyes flickering over your face as his lips turn down into a slight pout.

Glancing down at his mouth, you unconsciously wet your lips and his gaze immediately hones in on it.

Gasping softly, your mouth gapes a bit in surprise as you observe how his burning purple eyes darken as he focuses on your mouth, leaning ever so slightly closer and tilting his head as if entranced.

“Scaram–mmph!”

Lips pressing to yours cut you off, a low groan escaping him when you immediately reciprocate.

Eyes fluttering shut as you breathe him in, you bring your hands up to scratch your fingers through the coarse hair of his undercut.

Scaramouche growls then, shoving you up against the bookshelf as he presses as much of his body as he can to your own, the hand on your waist now groping at your soft skin.

Whimpering, your eyes shoot open and you tear your mouth from his to gasp for air as he starts roughly kissing down your jaw.

“Don’t lie, you were avoiding me. Because of this?” He whispers, lips and warm breath brushing the shell of your ear.

Exhaling with a whine, you nod before his lips press to your own again for a brief moment before he pulls away, nipping at your bottom lip.

He smirks at your dumb expression, tugging you over to the table in the middle of the room and reminding you that he was much stronger than he looked by easily lifting you up to sit on the edge, pushing the letters off and out of the way.

Gasping indignantly, you open your mouth to reprimand him but he takes the opportunity to kiss you again, sliding his tongue in your mouth with a muffled groan.

You can’t help but to close your eyes as your tongue glides against his, feeling that insufferable smirk of his against your lips.

Sliding his hands down to your thighs, he roughly pulls them apart so he can step between them and press his body to yours once again.

He chuckles at your resulting moan, slowly pulling back and licking his lips as if savoring the taste of you.

Your eyes flutter open as you unconsciously follow after him to chase his lips, his smirk growing at your resulting frustrated pout.

“You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid,” he teases, chuckling at your resulting scowl – but you didn’t deny it.

Before you could formulate a response, he grasps your hips and slides them towards him, making you yelp and slam your hands down on the table behind you to keep from collapsing.

Keeping his dark eyes locked with yours, he leans over you and slides his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tilting his head and tugging ever so slightly in question.

Biting your lip, you lift your hips in response, wiggling a little in impatience.

Inclining his head towards you, he pulls your pants off roughly and your arms give out as you collapse back down on the edge of the table, panting.

His hands tug at the hem of your shirt next as he bends over you, lips pressing bruising kisses to your neck as he slowly lifts it, fingertips tickling along the soft skin of your stomach.

Gasping, you reach between you and nudge his hands aside, practically tearing your shirt up and over your head to get rid of the offending garment.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He murmurs, chuckling lowly as he goes back to mouthing at your neck.

You whine and grab at his back as he bites down on your collarbone, his muscles flexing in response to the feeling of your fingernails digging into his skin as you jolt and cry out.

Groaning, he tears himself away from you to do a slow perusal of the skin that’s been bared to him.

You feel like you’re going to implode, the way his eyes manage to get even darker and his expression more severe in its blatant lust, and you jerk your hips up uncontrollably in response.

His eyes immediately flick down to where you’re soaked and burning for him and his throat bobs with a swallow before he looms over you, skimming his hand slowly down the curve of your waist before sliding a finger against the wetness of the fabric concealing you from him.

“Look at you, look at how wet you are – is this all for me?” He questions, voice gone rough from arousal.

Nodding and biting your lip, you can’t help but to grind up into his fingers.

“So needy,” he grunts, crouching down to nip at your inner thigh.

“Scara, I–!”

“Oh, we’re back to Scara now, hm?” He laughs harshly, making quick work of tugging your panties down and off your legs as he shakes his head at you.

“Scara, I’m sorry–!”

“You should be,” he interrupts you again, glaring up at you from between your legs.

You’re a desperate whimpering mess at this point, and you don’t manage to form a response before he runs his fingers up your inner thighs and jerks them open as much as your body will allow.

“Now be a good girl and say “please” and maybe I’ll give you what you want,“ he growls, brushing the tip a finger through your wetness.

“Please, Scara, I need you!” You whine, embarrassed at how needy you sound but also so turned on that you can’t bring yourself to care.

Smirking, he finally takes mercy on you and slowly slides a finger into you, eyes widening at the feel of your slick warmth.

You keen and writhe against the table when he slowly adds another finger and crooks them, expertly massaging a spot on your inner walls that makes you see stars and causes more heat to pool between your thighs.

“Look at you, getting all worked up over nothing! Your pretty pussy can barely handle my fingers – what a pathetic little thing you are,” he laughs mockingly, thrusting his fingers into you roughly.

Panting, you bite your lip and glance down to meet his eyes, silently begging him for more as your thighs tremble and your back arches.

Breath hitching at your desperation, he suddenly shoves his head between your thighs and licks a broad stroke through your folds, swirling his tongue around your clit before lightly grazing his teeth against it.

You wail, your walls contracting around his fingers as you feel like you’ve been hit by lightning as the tension snaps, little whines escaping you as your hips shudder and grind against his face.

Chuckling, he laps up your release as you ride out your high before getting up and looming over you, smirking at your fucked out expression.

“We’ve barely gotten started and already you’re being such a good little slut for me,” he murmurs, licking his lips suggestively when your eyes flutter open to blearily look at him.

You want to pinch yourself because you swear this has to be a dream, it is all happening so quickly and you’ve just had one of the best orgasms of your entire life but are somehow still so unbelievably horny for him.

His face is flushed and he still has some of your juices on his chin, but his eyes burn with the depth of his want for you as your gazes meet and he smirks, smug about having made you cum.

Glancing down and seeing the tented fabric of his shorts, you lift your still shaking legs to wrap around his waist and pull him into you, rolling your hips against his clothed cock and watching his face intently.

His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a strangled moan, back bowing and lips hovering over your own as he clutches at your hips and ruts into the warmth between your legs.

“Scara, I’m all yours – take me,” you whisper, reaching up to cup his cheeks and pull his head down to kiss him.

Jolting his head back just as your lips brush his, his eyes shoot open and he pants while looking at you incredulously.

You furrow your brows at his sudden change in attitude, your thumbs lightly brushing his cheekbones and you bite your lip, suddenly afraid that you’ve said the wrong thing.

After a moment of his eyes frantically scanning your expression – looking for what exactly, you weren’t sure – his hands slam down on either side of your head.

“Always so honest about your emotions,” he hisses, eyes becoming unreadable as he nips at your lips yet refuses to let you close the gap. “It’s really fucking infuriating, you know that?”

Huffing in exasperation to hide how his seemingly indignant response hurts your feelings, you glare up at him.

“Fine, then – can you just fuck me already, Kunikuzushi?”

He pulls back, smoldering eyes glaring into your own as he releases a shattered breath in response to you calling him that name.

“Oh, now you’re making demands of me?” He rasps, regaining his composure with a harsh thrust against your cunt.

Suddenly hit with a wave of irritation and frustration, you push your hands against his chest in an attempt to get him off of you.

“If you don’t want to, then nevermind,” you mutter, turning your head away to hide the “if you don’t want me” implied from your tone and expression.

Lunging to press your wrists down into the table above your head with one hand, he turns your head back towards him with the other, a deep scowl on his face.

“Why are you putting words into my mouth? What gives you the right to assume what I do or don’t want?”

You glare at him, trying to jerk your face out of his harsh grip which only makes his fingers dig into your jaw harder as he crowds you against the table with his body.

“Stop being such a fucking brat,” he growls as he presses quick, bruising kisses against your lips.

“Make me!” You snarl back at him, body writhing under his own.

He chuckles lowly before it morphs into him laughing loudly and mockingly as he observes your struggles.

“Gladly.”

Letting go of your face to swiftly pull down his shorts just enough to free his erection, he groans as he slides it between your folds.

“Fuck… this is my pussy, it belongs to me and only me, doesn’t it?”

Whimpering and nodding in response, your hands struggle to escape his grasp as you grind your hips against the tip of his cock, trying miserably to get it to catch in your soaking wet opening.

He shudders against you, grabbing your hip with his free hand to hold you still.

“No, no,” he chides, his signature smirk back on his lips. “Only good girls get rewarded, and you’ve been such a brat.”

“Scara, fuck, just take me!” You keen, so overwhelmed with frustration and pleasure that there are tears gathering in your eyes.

Scaramouche laughs, one that borders on a cackle, before he presses his lips against your temple.

“Are you crying? You want me that bad, huh? You’re so fucking pathetic, you did this to yourself you know,” he whispers roughly, tongue flicking out to run along the shell of your ear.

“But don’t worry, I’ll take pity on you.”

He suddenly thrusts into you, bottoming out and leaving you a moaning and babbling mess as he holds himself still to allow you to adjust to his size.

“Oh Archons, please–!”

“Don’t pray to them, they can’t help you, pray to me,” he snarls, pulling out of you just enough for you to whine at the loss before roughly thrusting back inside and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Scara, Kuni, please – fuck – more, faster!”

He grants your request with a strangled moan, hips slamming into your own at such a desperate and brutal pace that you know there’s going to be bruises.

Leaning down so your foreheads are pressed together, you stare into each other’s eyes and pant as the sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the air.

The hand that has been keeping your wrists bound lets go, fingers instead curling into the sheets as he continues his merciless thrusts – eyes observing your every reaction hungrily.

“Kuni, feels s’good!” You sob, your now free arms reaching up to wrap around his neck and your legs tightening around his hips.

“F-fuck!” He whimpers, cock twitching against your walls and hips stuttering against you.

Your body feels like it’s melting, fingers carding through his hair to shakily push it out of his face so you can view the way his brow furrows as he grits his teeth.

“Say it,” he commands shakily, jerking your face up so he can stare into your eyes. “Say that you’re mine. My slut, my whore, my everything.”

“Anything and everything that I am is yours, Kunikuzushi,” you choke out with a sob, following up your declaration by tilting your hips and pressing your lips to his, gliding your tongue in and tasting him as he groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock.

His thrusts grow even more frantic and deep and you roll your hips up to meet his movements, your sweaty bodies writhing together as you fully succumb to each other.

“I’m gonna paint your insides,” he gasps into your mouth, sliding a hand down to rub your swollen clit. “I’m gonna fill you up–!”

Those words and the added stimulation flood your body with overwhelming heat and you wail as you are thrown over the edge, gushing around his cock as he delivers one last powerful thrust before spilling into you with a choked moan.

His trembling body slumps over yours and he buries his head in your shoulder, gasping for air as your bodies continue to twitch with the aftershocks.

After a few moments pass, Scaramouche slowly peels himself away from you, his eyes darting away from your unintentionally open, loving gaze as he slowly slides out of you with a quiet grunt.

Sighing at the loss of him, you inelegantly scoot forward to hop off the table, squeezing your legs together to keep his cum from trickling down your legs.

He snatches the clothes from where they are strewn on the floor and puts his shorts back on before turning to you and holding out your panties and trousers with a blank expression.

Your face feels hot from embarrassment at how drastically his attitude has changed from just a few moments ago and you reach out to grab your clothing, eyes searching him for a sign of… anything, but finding him to be totally unreadable.

Mortified, you turn to the side and shake out your pants, the realization of what had just happened finally hitting you. You haven’t even fully undressed, too engrossed and desperate for each other that you just… went at it like animals in heat.

You don’t notice when he turns and goes to the desk in the corner to grab the box of tissues and bring it to you, clearing his throat as his eyes drift to where your combined fluids were beginning to slowly trickle down your inner thighs.

Flinching at being torn from your downward spiral of second-guessing everything that has happened within the past hour, you look up and slowly reach out to take the box from him, being careful to not brush your fingers together – you aren’t sure where his mind is at and you don’t want to scare him off by being clingy.

“Thank you,” you breathe, pulling his gaze back up to your face and flashing him a quick smile before you turn away to clean yourself up as much as you can.

He turns and walks over to stand in front of the window to give you privacy, which you find very amusing considering what you had just been doing, but you can’t help but watch him out of the corner of your eye as he crosses his arms and seemingly becomes lost in though, his hair mussed and his lips still flushed from the plethora of bruising kisses.

Finding him attractive obviously wasn’t a new development, but it suddenly hits you with the beam of sunlight shining in through the window that was illuminating him just how… beautiful he is.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts and hurrying to pull your clothes back on, you take a deep breath and summon all the courage you possess.

He turns to look at you as you come to stand next to him, and you were hit once again by how pretty he is; the slope of his nose, his eyelashes, his–

“What are you looking at?” His voice, still a little rough from your activities, snaps you out of your admiration and you blink at him.

He’s staring at you with his brow raised, lips ever so slightly turned down.

“So pretty,” you whisper, eyes widening in panic when you realize that you’ve spoken your inner thoughts aloud.

Scaramouche blinks at you in disbelief, processing your words before letting out a short, humorless laugh.

“I can’t believe it, I actually fucked you dumb!” He snickers, but the smirk on his lips doesn’t reach his eyes.

You gape at him, mouth opening and closing as you try to figure out how to respond to his dismissive attitude.

He grasps your chin in his hand, making the decision of closing your mouth for you, and rolls his eyes.

Grabbing the hand holding your chin, you place soft kisses on his palm, staring into his eyes and pleading for him to understand how truthful you’re being.

Scowling, he wrenches his hand away from you, taking a step back and shaking his head.

“Scara, we need to talk ab–”

“Do we? I disagree,” he snaps, turning and stalking towards the door.

“Kunikuzushi,” you whisper in desperation, and he freezes in place as he’s reaching for the door handle.

“This whole situation started because I was avoiding you, and it made you angry and upset. And yet you’re about to go and do the exact same thing to me. How is that fair?” You demand, voice shaking from all of the emotions you’re trying to keep in check.

He slowly turns to face you, eyes narrowing.

“Life isn’t fair – what do you want from me?”

It’s like you’re talking to a different person, the man in front of you is not the man that railed you into oblivion and ruined you for all others just a minute ago. This man reminds you of a feral cat – suspicious, mistrustful, insecure…

Your hands are shaking, the anxiety over bearing your heart to him causing you to hesitate briefly.

“What do you want from me?” You snap back. “Is this what you wanted? Just a quick fuck? Is that really all I am to you? Some poor, pathetic sap who’s attention and affection makes you feel good about yourself?”

Scaramouche stood there staring at you, unmoving and unblinking, for what felt like ages.

“Okay, you know what – nevermind! You’re free to go, but honestly at this point I almost hope that you just never come back,” you scoff, eyes watering, throwing your hands up in the air and turning away so he can’t see you cry and so you don’t have to look at his stupid perfect face anymore.

All you hear is a faint whisper of fabric before he spins you around and cups your face in his hands, his mouth pressing a desperate, bruising kiss to your lips.

Gasping, you put your hands on his chest and shove him back, your embarrassment making you feel fragile and hostile.

“That isn’t an answer, Scara, and I’m not a mind reader so I can’t–”

“Everything,” he rasps, closing his eyes and nudging his forehead against yours.

“... what?” You furrow your brow, confused.

“You asked what I wanted from you. I answered. Everything. I want everything from you. I want you to be mine,” he whispers, warm breath brushing your lips when he follows up his statement with a shaking sigh.

Your bottom lip trembles as you try to keep your voice from cracking with emotion.

“If I am yours, then you have to be mine. I want everything from you, too. I want to kiss you, touch you, hold you, love you.”

He inhales shakily, opening his eyes.

“If you can’t tell that I’m already yours, that I’ve been yours since you aimed that fucking smile of yours towards me, then you’re an absolute fucking idiot.”

“It’s kind of hard to tell when you’re always so wishy-washy on whether you tolerate me or not, Scaramouche,” you respond, blinking at him innocently, his sudden reveal of his feelings giving you courage.

“What did I say about calling me that?” He growls, stepping closer to press himself against you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir – is Kunikuzushi acceptable then?” You simper, mimicking his usual smirk to the best of your ability.

His eyes widen and his cheeks and ears flush a faint pink as he grumbles, dropping his arms to wrap them around your waist.

“Keep it up and I’ll have to drag you to your bedroom and teach you a lesson, brat,” he growls, pressing his mouth to your ear.

You turn your head to press a kiss to his neck, grinning uncontrollably now as you both shift seamlessly back into the dynamic that had been created when he had gotten settled in your group – the usual snarky banter and the easy affection you give him comforting after the unsureness that was present just now.

“Is that a threat or a promise? Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, pulling away to grasp your arm and drag you out of the room.

“Wait, what–?” You stammer, following him gracelessly.

“It seems that I still have to teach you some fucking manners, slut.”

Glancing back at you as he leads you through the door, the look in his eyes and his smirk makes your face heat.

“But you’ll be a good girl and cooperate with me, won’t you?”

You swallow, overwhelmed with all of the filthy thoughts that run through your mind before you shake your head to ground yourself.

It had required a lot of vulnerability and a rollercoaster of emotions, but you finally know your feelings are reciprocated… and as you let him take you to your room you realized that Scaramouche was about to show you just how much in long, excruciatingly wonderful detail.

© kaeyaphile | tamrielic – please do not modify, repost, plagiarize and/or claim any of my work as your own and please do not promote any of my works on other social media platforms (tiktok, facebook, wattpad, etc.)

56 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 2 days

Text

Bonus:

Campaign 2 episode 92/Campaign 3 episode 92 parallels (with some assistance from 3x89)

Transcription of the text in the above images (screenshots from the Critical Role Transcript Search) below the cut:

The following is excerpts from Campaign 2, Episode 92, and Campaign 3 Episode 92 (except one from 89, noted below), interspersed. Travis is playing Fjord, Marisha is playing Beau, Laura is playing Imogen, Liam is playing Orym, and Matt plays Thoreau Lionett in the Campaign 2 excerpt and Liliana Temult in the Campaign 3 excerpt:

First image:

TRAVIS: Your histamine reactions are going again.

MARISHA: Yeah. I've been away from Zadash for a little bit, so the pollen, it's kicking a little, you know?

TRAVIS: I take it you don't fully, fully hate your dad. It's got to be hard to hear this.

Second image:

LAURA: I'm going to heard toward Orym who's at a distance and approach slowly.

LIAM: Hey.

LAURA: Hi. I'm going to put my hand on your shoulder.

LIAM: Sorry, I know how hard all that is for you.

Third image:

MARISHA: Everyone wants to make their dad proud, you know? Just hoping he could, he could show some of that.

TRAVIS: You don't know that he can't. It's been years. You've grown, you've changed. I'm sure you were even more of an unbearable shit before. I'm not saying he deserves a second chance, but he is your father, and you do have a mother, and a brother that you've never met.

MARISHA: (sniffs) I guess it's hard when... the word inevitable has been brought up several times in the past 24 hours amongst us. I feel like I've found my family with The Mighty Nein. I don't like looking at my past, because it doesn't have The Mighty Nein in it, and I think I put off the inevitable, because I'm going to-- I'm afraid it's going to be like my past.

Fourth image:

LAURA: Don't apologize. I can't begin to understand how hard it is for you.

LIAM: You know, every one of us makes our decisions with the lenses or prisms we see life through.

LAURA: Mm-hmm.

LIAM: I can't take mine down. (sobs softly) It's not even about revenge for me. (sniffles) I just try and honor what they sign up to do. (sniffles) I just try and honor what they sign up to do.

LAURA: I didn't know them, but I can't imagine they wouldn't look at you and not be proud.

LIAM: (sighs sadly)

LAURA: I think you've gone farther than anyone could ever expect you to, and you're still going.

Fifth image:

TRAVIS: I don't think one contaminates the other. You've got good, solid footing here. I mean, shit, if we want to run, we run. If we want to kick his ass, we'll kick his ass.

MARISHA: Yeah. (sniffing) I kind of want to kick his ass, and I don't want to run.

TRAVIS: Could I ask you, in your wildest dreams, and feel free to say you don't want to tell me, what would you have happen when we go there?

MARISHA: I think I've worked so hard because I scripted this day, in my inevitable future that I would go back to him, successful woman, respectable member of society, Cobalt Soul, an Expositor, the thing he threw me away to, and I embraced. And then, I would get mad at myself, because I felt like I was doing exactly what he was doing to me my entire life, scripting me to be something else. And I'm still doing it. I haven't seen him in three years, and I'm still trying to be... something. And I think what's scary is that I like this, and what I've found, and I don't think it was until Nott started talking about having to go home and go away that it truly started terrifying me. Because for the first time, I'm happy. And what if that goes away?

Sixth image:

LIAM: (sighs softly) (sniffles) So far. I'm going to miss him.

LAURA: Yeah. Yeah.

LIAM: I'm going to miss Letters.

(sniffles)

LAURA: They were-- They were alive.

LIAM: Out of any of us, he just wanted to help.

Seventh image:

TRAVIS: It could always go away. It could go away tonight. The Gentleman's debtors could come calling.

MARISHA: (chuckling) And I think I know that, and I think I say things to Nott like, "You don't have to put those stipulations on yourself" because I've convinced myself that destiny or the inevitability won't come knocking. If you ignore it, it won't exist, and that's not true.

TRAVIS: (sighs) It'll be interesting either way. Your face is leaking.

MARISHA: I hate it.

TRAVIS: I won't tell anyone.

MARISHA: Don't tell anybody.

TRAVIS: Yep. You're a good friend. You're a good trainer.

Eighth image:

LAURA: I want you to know that that for a while it may have felt that you and I were not seeing eye to eye or maybe you felt that I, I didn't have the same goal in mind that you did. But don't worry about that anymore, all right?

LIAM: I understand family.

LAURA: Yeah. Yeah.

LIAM: I want for all the world for you to have your family.

LAURA: I wanted that, too, and (chuckles) god, that back and forth is a pretty funny thing, but choices were made. If nothing else, then at least we've got a little bit of knowledge on the inside now.

LIAM: Yeah. As much we'd like to, you can't turn back the clock.

LAURA: That's right. But you've got us.

Bonus image 1:

MARISHA: Mom already fucking mentioned that life gets difficult and it's hard. So you're right. Maybe it's easy to justify the easy way out, just get rid of the problem.

MATT: "That's not what this was about. You were on the self-destructive path. We didn't know what to do. I've never been a-- no one teaches you how to be a good father. I regret choices I've made, and you don't think I don't hold myself responsible for-- I thought I was doing what was best for you, truly."

MARISHA: You did. It was probably the best thing you could've done for me. So thank you. Tell me the story again, and then I'll go.

Bonus image 2 (from 3x89):

MATT: "History is filled with evil men. But few have the courage to stand up and try and stop them. Where I'm standing, I don't think we're on the opposing sides like you think we are. We just have a different myth, that's all. That's all. Please see it in yourself to understand why I've done and given up all of this."

LAURA: Maybe it's your turn to run. And I wake up.

#critical role #fjord stone #beauregard lionett #imogen temult #orym

68 notes · View notes

things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 1 day

Note

1, 3, 39 Adamsapple pirate au please 🙏

1. “If you felt want and longing the way I did — the way I still do — I promise you’d be driven fucking mad.”

3. “You really couldn’t have been any more obvious.” “That’s because I didn’t have anything to hide. I was being obvious, because I needed you to know, without a doubt, that I love you.”

39. “Chasing you is like chasing the rainbow… It’s impossible. You’re always slipping away no matter how fast I run after you.”

Thank you for sending this in! 😁 Please feel free to send more if you'd like! Any au you want. 😎

Adam struggled against the firm grip of the Krakens tentacles that were wrapped around his body keeping him in place. A hand came out and gently plucked his hat from his head and placed it on the ground next to the mountain of treasure that the King of the seven seas surrounded himself with. "Let me go, asshole!" Adam snarled, but he was only brought in closer to the king. The hand that removed his hat caressed his jawline from ear to chin.

Lucifer hummed as he gazed adoringly at his most prized jewel. "Never again my precious gem."

"The only reason I'm here is because you threatened to destroy an entire island full of innocent fucking people. You're crazy!" Adam tried to move again but the grip only got tighter.

Lucifer leaned in closer to Adams face, he gripped his jaw to make the sea captain look him in the eye. "If you felt want and longing the way I did — the way I still do — I promise you’d be driven fucking mad, too." He placed a kiss on Adams nose, he laughed when the captain wrinkled it and was practically cross eyed looking at his own nose. Or at least as much as someone could with only one good eye. "I've waited so long to have you."

Adam scoffed. "After what you did?"

"For the last time, your eye was an accident. Why the fuck would I purposely damage one of the things I love most about you?" Lucifer said feeling like they just kept having the same conversation.

"Right." Adam looked Lucifer over. “You really couldn’t have been any more obvious. Wearing your heart on your sleeve like that."

“That’s because I didn’t have anything to hide. I was being obvious, because I needed you to know, without a doubt, that I love you.” Lucifer pulled Adams back flush to his chest, he started to kiss the humans ear, cheek, jaw and neck. Hands rubbing up and down on his chest. Lucifer smirked when he heard Adam gasp softly, he licked a strip back up to his ear to whisper. "I searched the seven seas high and low for you all these years. Imagine my surprise when I see you working for the Royal Navy."

Adam wiggled against Lucifer, he really hoped that was a dagger poking him in the ass. "I needed a job."

"As my queen you'll never need to work again." Lucifer kissed his cheek. “Chasing you is like chasing the rainbow… It’s impossible. You’re always slipping away no matter how fast I run after you." He got back close to Adams ear. "Now that I've caught you, I'm never letting go."

Lucifer turned Adams head and smashed their lips together, stealing the air from Adam's lungs. He let his magic flow through him into Adam, if he was to rule by his side he would need to breathe underwater. When he pulled away from the kiss he watched as his magic did it's job.

Adam's brown eyes turned to gold, even the injured one was a pale golden color. Gills opened up on his neck, his skin changed from tan to a slightly more blue shade. His hands became webbed, Adam groaned in pain as tentacles of his own grew out of his back golden in color. "The fuck did you do to me!?"

"Made you perfect." And Lucifer kissed him again.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #ask #pirate au

50 notes · View notes

lets-try-some-writing · 1 day

Text

Forbidden Sight

With the threat of the Fallen forcing Bumblebee to act and Megatron long since out of the picture, he is left with no choice but to seek out the aid of the divine. Unfortunately, meeting the divine is not all it is cracked up to be, and sometimes the price is not worth the sacrifice.

(Please note: This is LONG and there is body horror going on so do be aware.)

“No, I am not going down there again.” Ratchet clutched his dented arm possessively, his optics flaring in fear of all things. Bumblebee stilled as the Doctor’s plating flared, his servo doing a terrible job covering obvious digit shaped imprints. What could have possibly caused such damage?

“Ratchet, you are the only one who knows the way. You went with Optimus when he-” Ratchet cut him off with a look of pure terror and grief that ran so deep it was clear to see in his body, field, and expression. Bumblebee couldn’t help but stare in shock as the Doctor shook his helm frantically.

“No. No. I will give you the path I mapped, but I will never go down there. Not again.” Something had shaken him to the core. Ratchet was never like this, at least not around anyone who could see or hear what he was dealing with.

Bumblebee took a moment to meet the gazes of his team. They were worried. They looked to him for guidance. None of them said a word, but Windblade’s dipped wings and Strongarm’s nervous twitching told him everything he needed to know.

None were looking forward to the journey ahead, even in light of its necessity.

“Ratchet…” He trailed off as everyone fell silent. Guilt radiated in Ratchet’s field, but he did not budge. He wouldn’t be guiding them, no matter how much Bumblebee pleaded.

In order to defeat the Fallen, they needed information that no living mech, save for perhaps Megatron, possessed. With Megatron lost to the stars, Soundwave stuck in the shadowzone, and other possible sources similarly scattered or deceased, there really was only one choice. It was a faint hope, but Optimus had made the journey to Primus’s core long ago in search of both an end to the war and a way to restore their world. There were none left alive who knew the exact details of what went on that cycle, but Ratchet and a small cohort had journeyed with Orion Pax and they knew that when he emerged, he was greater than he was before.

Orion Pax gained knowledge on that dark cycle. Bumblebee’s hope was that he could do the same.

Optimus was gone, dead, and given to the Well. There was no one else except Ratchet, who might have had the faintest idea as to how to get to Primus’s core safely. And yet he was shaking, terrified to the point of being unable to move, regardless of how badly his field flared with the desire to flee. Something had happened, and that fact did not give Bumblebee any confidence.

“I… I will wait for you here. But Bumblebee, you must listen to me.” Ratchet released his death grip on his damaged arm, leaving it free for all to see. Sideswipe cursed softly somewhere behind him, but Bumblebee could only stare at the damage in horror.

Deep, dark, and dangerous dents that turned into tears ran across Ratchet’s arm. Rust and dried energon bordered the wound, nonlethal, but a testament to something powerful down in the depths. There were four clear imprints, huge and imposing digit marks—dug into metal that for all intents and purposes, appeared delicate now. If Bumblebee looked closely, he could see a fifth imprint running along the underside of Ratchet’s arm.

Ratchet had been grabbed by something. And whatever that horror was, it had destroyed the long maintained stoicism of a mech that had never so much as flinched in the face of danger, save for the sake of another.

“Don’t touch him. Don’t even try to damage him. He will not hesitate to leave a far greater mark.” Ratchet’s entire being spoke of desperation. His plea rang with true terror, not unlike the horror that had been evident in his voice when the Unmaker woke. Still, this was deeper, more… personal.

“I understand.” Bumblebee didn’t bother trying to convince Ratchet to come. He was dead set on remaining, and based on his reaction, it was a miracle he wasn’t already high tailing it all the way back to Iacon.

“Here are the coordinates of the tunnel entrance and mapped paths I recorded.” Ratchet sent a message over a private link, a file quickly blaring red across Bumblebee’s vision. He accepted it easily and shared the information with his team.

“Be careful. You won’t like what you see.” Ratchet stepped away, his gaze turning anywhere except the giant hole in the ground leading down to the core of their planet. Bumblebee nodded and gestured for his team to follow. There was no more time to waste and he couldn’t afford to think too deeply on Ratchet’s warning.

Bumblebee half expected to have to rock climb down the Well in order to get to his target, but according to Ratchet’s map, there was a path for him to follow. It did take him and Drift arguing over the thing for half a groon before they found the entrance, but once the journey began, any mirth evaporated in an instant.

“I don’t like this…” Strongarm muttered, breaking the silence for only a moment before it became suffocating once more. She shivered, and not even Sideswipe was willing to talk as they delved into the depths. Bumblebee did his best to lead confidently, but the road was long and there were things that shifted in the dark the deeper they went. The entire area felt oddly… holy, but only in the vaguest sense.

Controlled seemed like a better word. The path was controlled. Everything was methodical, placed with purpose, even if Bumblebee was unable to parse it out. Drift and Windblade made a few awed comments off and on, but as the light dimmed and the tunnels became more cavernous, his team refused to speak. Bumblebee couldn’t blame them, especially not when there were pedeprints in the dust from mecha who traveled with Optimus Prime millennia ago.

This place carried too much history to be disrupted for longer than absolutely required.

“We are almost to the core. Stay together, and don’t touch anything. This is a place for Primes and Primes alone.” Bumblebee shivered instinctually as his internal map alerted him to the fact that they were close. It was hard to keep track of the time so deep beneath the surface, but he assumed they had been on the move for around a cycle. He expected the trip to take longer. Wasn’t Primus at the very core of their world?

The tunnels made no sense. They hurt to think about.

“Sweet Primus…” Sideswipe cursed, but it was lost in the void as they stepped through a final arch, quickly finding themselves basked in the light of their maker, or at least, his core. Bumblebee had to pause and look on in both awe and a degree of existential dread as cogs larger than life turned in a rhythmic manner, adhering to laws and designs long forgotten by any living being save for the one who ordered their continued functioning.

A thin pathway led closer to the core, one large enough for a mech or two depending on frame type. A few stray Predacon corpses long rusted littered the ground, dark energon leaking from their battered frames. They were lifeless, but they were a reminder of the battle hard fought and won.

“Everyone, keep a ways behind me. If something goes wrong, one of you needs to get out of here and regroup with Ratchet and my old teammates.” He held out an arm, not thinking too deeply on the motion as he cautiously moved forward. He could sense his team moving slowly a few dozen feet behind him, watching him like techno-hawks as he followed the curved pathway toward where he assumed he could address the slumbering god of Cybertron, or at least attempt to commune with the Primes of old.

Everything seemed to pulse and hum around him as he walked. And yet, there was no noise. Not a sound, not a creak, not even his own pedesteps as the light of Primus washed over him in waves. He might have been imagining it, but everything about the area felt intelligent, even alive. If mythology was to be believed, then his senses would be correct. However, it only served to unsettle him as he noted the marks of small pedes moving forward and far larger pedes heading toward the entrance.

How long had it been since the soil was disturbed? Were these Optimus’s marks? Or had someone else made the journey down to Primus to cry out to their absent god? He didn’t think so. The marks matched Optimus’s specs. That thought bothered him, although he could not pinpoint why. The dust should have moved. Something should have changed. Despite that, the echoes of a darker time remained engraved in the very path he walked.

He stepped cautiously, his optics drawn to a series of cables and connectors hanging down from where Primus’s core reached an accessible level. He momentarily wondered if Optimus’s body was stuck amongst those of the Predacons, or caught in wires beneath the thin path he carefully tread. Was the body of his leader hanging limply, forgotten by all but the void that embraced him?

Bumblebee wished that were the case. By Primus he wished that were the case when he finally ascended, following the path as close as it came to Primus’s core.

He wanted to purge as he set optics upon the tattered mess that hung from countless wires and cables. There was no denying who it was. No other mech bore red and blue so proudly or carried a relic of a forgotten age within his spark chamber. He was thinner now, seriously emaciated with rust and dried gore of all kinds spattered across his frame at various intervals. His plating hung off him at odd angles, some pieces even missing altogether. His left finial was broken and the optic on the same side was damaged to the point of almost appearing crushed.

The connectors attached to him dug beneath armor and protoform alike, bloating his frame in strange, unusual places. Blue tinted ooze dripped from unnatural wounds, falling down into the void beneath. The cables seemed to slither into him, creeping into every seam and strut, pulsing with the waves of Primus’s light. The Matrix glowed in time with it all, seemingly content even as its bearer hung lifelessly.

“Optimus, I’m so sorry.” His digits shook, and it took all his willpower to not turn away and purge as he stared at what remained of his mentor, his leader, and the only fatherly character he had ever known. The Prime was not honored in death, not like this. His body hung up like some sort of twisted trophy.

It wasn’t right. Optimus deserved better than this.

“I wish I could bury you properly, but this will have to do.” He stepped forward, doing his best to not look at the deep gashes along Optimus’s back where his jetpack had once been. He could see cables slithering there, sliding deep and along Optimus’s spine. He fought the urge to gag as he readied himself to act.

He would take the Matrix out of Optimus’s chassis and use it to find a way to commune with the Primes of old. His leader’s body would then be cut free, and he could rest without being strung up like a tormented attempt at taxidermy. It was the least he could do. After everything, Optimus should be allowed to pass without being held up in a grim state of disrepair.

“I wish you weren’t like this… I wish things were different.” He found himself murmuring softly as his digits barely brushed against the relic. However, his movement seemed to stir it, and Bumblebee leapt back with a yelp as the Matrix became encased in arcs of electricity. Optimus’s body convulsed, the cables holding it up twitching and shifting as the body was lifted higher, away from Bumblebee’s reach.

“Bee!” Sideswipe was the first to move forward, with the rest of the team following behind him. Bumblebee wished he could curse and ward them all off as what remained of his leader contorted in horrible ways. The legs squirmed, kicking at nothing, as power rippled through the living corpse. The arms tensed up, digits twitching madly as the body’s optics began to flare without rhyme or reason.

His spark flared in its chamber, terrified as the corpse gave another unfortunate spasm, a deafening crack echoing amidst the eerie silence. The entire chamber seemed to lurch in a spiritual way before the lights all dimmed, Primus’s very core lowering in intensity. Nothing happened for a klik, and Bumblebee was half tempted to try and reach out again as the body fell still. Maybe it was just… lingering processor function acting up. Perhaps the Matrix was trying to awaken a host that had long since gone offline. There were always possibilities-

“Bumblebee.” The garbled designation in that oh-so-familiar voice shook him, freezing Bumblebee in place as the corpse’s helm raised. The lone functional optic blazed bright enough to blind a mech as it settled on Bumblebee and his team. There was no way Optimus was alive. He couldn’t be. That… the thing hanging from wire and cables was a corpse. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be real.

“You have come to seek wisdom.” The corpse shuddered, its staticky voice steadying with every glyph uttered. Its helm tilted, the lone functional optic cycling in on Bumblebee in what could have been interest if it weren’t for the fact that there was no spark to power the frame that continued to defy reality.

“You come for my knowledge, that which has been lost to you, dear children.” The cables holding the corpse shifted, growing as more came down from the void. They slithered and writhed beneath the corpse’s plating, allowing the body to lower closer, almost to the point of being within touching distance. The blazing optic that illuminated the entire chamber flickered off and on, its gaze seemingly so glued to Bumblebee that it felt like fire on his plating. Yet, at the same time, it seemed the corpse was looking right through him, not seeing so much as observing.

“Little Orion came to me long ago. He too sought out my guidance.” The living corpse shifted, its arms moving in haphazard, jagged movements. Its digits twitched, seemingly trying to gesture and grasp at nonexistent objects. It hurt to watch as ooze leaked from between cracks, forced out by movement that should not have been possible. A few of the cables loosened, allowing the corpse to move a degree. It leaned forward, its tattered frame straining as its derma failed to match the syllables of the glyphs being uttered.

It was sickening. Bumblebee wanted to retch and flee, but his very spark lurched in his chassis, frozen before the entity that wore his father figure’s frame like a suit. There was no escape. Not for him, not for his terrified team.

“What will you give for that which you seek?” The corpse’s neck cracked and energon so old that it was little more than a tank churning goo dripped from torn ligaments and connectors. The corpse remained focused on him, a smile beginning to form on its face, cracking the delicate facial plating that once gave Optimus his classical reputation.

It reached out. Its arms gestured to Bumblebee as the light of Primus’s core pulsed behind it, shadowing it while also making it impossible to look away. It was a mockery of all Optimus was, and Bumblebee couldn’t help the rage that began to pool in his spark alongside the dread.

“What will you offer when my Champion gave me everything?” The Matrix flared, power arcing off it as the entity spoke. The corpse’s helm tilted a little too far to be possible for a normal mech, almost shifting a full ninety degrees. It grinned, its arms pulled close to itself as viscera and torn cables seeped out from between cracks in the corpse’s armor.

This thing was not Optimus. It merely wore his frame and mimicked his voice. Bumblebee’s desire to flee quickly found itself overshadowed by grim determination. Whatever the entity was, it could not be allowed to continue desecrating the frame of his leader and father.

“Who are you?” A slight tremor entered his voice as he spoke. His team huddled close to each other, stepping back from Bumblebee as the thing descended lower, its smile wide enough to tear through facial plating with ease. Bumblebee could see molar derma showing through the gashes that formed as the thing pushed Optimus’s body beyond its limits.

“I am the one below, he who formed your sparks from fire and starlight.” The entity’s smile softened, although it did nothing to take away from the rotted scent that emanated from the corpse. Rusted metal, stagnant energon, and the rancid smell of corroding internal fluids long since left to rot. That one optic blazed with renewed fury as Primus’s core brightened for a moment, joining the entity, the god as it, he spoke.

“I ask you again, what will you offer? How much are you willing to give for victory?” The cables slithered ever deeper into battered protoform, puppeting limbs as the god of all Cybertronians hung within the confines of Optimus’s corpse. Bumblebee’s digits shook as the being known as Primus continued to stare through the optic of his father.

This was so very wrong. What use would a god have for a mortal frame? Why would Primus do this to his chosen? Why would he demand sacrifices when already they had given all they could?

“I… I will give whatever is required.” He clenched his jaw, steeling himself for whatever was to come as Primus continued to stare, uncaring, unnatural, and yet so very loving all at once. His team’s fields flared in horror, and distantly he was aware of Windblade and Drift dropping to their knees in submission, be it out of fear or reverent respect. Strongarm and Sideswipe continued to step away, terrified as more cables wrapped around Optimus’s frame, supporting it so that the god could pilot it more freely.

“How noble of you. Optimus tended to you well. I can sense his touch, feel his influence all throughout your very being.” The corpse moved, the cables dragging it through the chamber as it did a slow circle around Bumblebee and his team. The god kept a safe distance away, remaining half submerged in shadow at any given moment as the spotlight that was Optimus’s optic continued to illuminate Bumblebee and those with him.

“I was right to let him keep you.” The voice echoed from all around and yet nowhere at once. Primus hung directly above Bumblebee for a moment, the corpse of Optimus Prime dripping fluids that made him want to gag. He resisted the urge, trying with all his might to not show how frightened he was as the god returned to his former position in front of the core, seemingly content.

“What does that mean?” The implications of the god’s words were startling to say the least. He spoke as though he controlled Optimus as easily as he did now, moving his body and commanding his voice. Would Optimus have left him if Primus had not ordained the Prime’s acquisition of Bumblebee after the destruction of his home city? Did Optimus have no free will? Or was the god toying with him just as Unicron had all those years ago?

“Nothing to you. It is of no consequence.” The god continued to smile in that sickly way that was only found on corpses where the mortician simply couldn’t manage to make the expression look natural. Optimus’s other finial snapped and fell into the void below as Primus contorted Optimus’s frame again, forcing it to jerkingly return to a somewhat comfortable position resting within the wires.

It didn’t look comfortable at all, not with wires and cables threatening to burst from every line and seam. If Optimus were alive, Bumblebee had no doubt that he would be in agony. He sincerely hoped his father figure wasn’t still functioning, trapped by some divine will within his frame as it twisted and shifted in ways it wasn’t meant to.

“Why are you doing this? Why can’t you let him rest?” Anger returned in full force as Bumblebee shook. Why did the monster that called himself a god have to do this to his chosen? Had Optimus not served enough?

He got his answer as the god paused, and then laughed.

It was a deep guttural and almost pained sound, one that bordered on a wheeze and the buzz of radio static all at once. Fluid must have been gathering in Optimus’s vocalizer all throughout his time rotting in the Well. The laughter merely emphasized that fact.

“Sweet child, have you no optics to see? Look upon this form, see that which it is and what it represents.” The god haphazardly threw Optimus’s arms open in a mock mimicry of an embrace. Primus smiled even wider, shattering further pieces of Optimus’s face as he forced it to match his design. He must have seen himself as benevolent and holy. He did not seem to understand the sheer horror of a god speaking through the deceased and rotted frame of a Prime.

“That means nothing to me.” Bumblebee stood defiantly, his door wings locked in place as he forced his hydraulics to stiffen. He refused to shake, to show weakness in front of an entity that bordered on maliciousness at every moment.

“A pity. No others have ever matched this one, my dear Optimus.” Primus spoke and almost lovingly forced Optimus’s arms to wrap around himself. The god tenderly caressed the Matrix, lovingly looking down upon it with what would have been an adoring expression if not for the rust that crept along the corpse’s face.

He looked so serene, and strangely enough, even holy. In Bumblebee’s mind, what he saw before him was a true depiction of their god. A rotting power of the old world who in turn chose new champions to pilot, corrode, and ultimately make just like him. Broken, and so very divine.

“So strong, so dutiful, so very faithful.” A look of pure joy spread on the corpse’s face. A piece of Optimus’s shoulder plating broke away and fell into the darkness. Primus did not react as he forced the arms of the corpse to stretch beyond their limits, as if to embrace the god’s chosen Prime with even more adoration.

“Always obedient and kind. He was, he is perfect. A true beacon for all my wayward creations.” The frame shuddered, almost like a clockwork engine as it let off steam. Energon long unused began to sizzle as the spotlight that was the god’s borrowed optic again returned to Bumblebee.

His team shook behind him. Sideswipe and Strongarm had long since fallen, their plating rattling as they unknowingly found themselves bowing. Bumblebee refused to budge. He clenched his servos into fists, unwilling to show the god before him just how frightened he was. Primus could destroy him in an instant, he was sure of it.

“How could I relinquish such perfection? He gives himself to me so very freely. Total submission, true supplication. Much unlike others who have come before and after him.” Again, the corpse moved forward, coming closer and closer to Bumblebee until it hung only a little ways off. He could almost touch his father’s broken face if he so desired.

But what truly set him off was not the proximity of the living corpse. Rather, it was the red and white paint that had been transferred onto the left servo of Primus’s borrowed vessel.

“You, did you-?” Realization dawned on him like a lighting strike. The corpse merely tilted its helm with its ever present smile.

“You think of the doctor, my Champion’s dearest friend. Yes, the damage was done by this borrowed servo. He dared to try and take what belongs to me and me alone.” Primus clenched the corpse’s fist, cables bulging within the limb in question as they were forcefully bloated with energon to facilitate movement. Bumblebee bit his lower derma as images of Ratchet’s terror and possible experience conjured in his processor. This thing had hurt him, that much was clear.

“He might have been a fine vessel once. But he is too tainted, no longer pure. Wise perhaps, and dutiful indeed. But he would never heed my call.” Primus reached up to cup his, or rather Optimus’s face. Weathered servos touched scuffed and dirty facial plates with all the delicateness one would give a porcelain doll. Bumblebee wanted to recoil in horror as the implications hit him. No mech should be subject to whatever in the name of the Thirteen this was.

“Optimus… my beloved Optimus. His faith has been a delight after so many ages of silence.” Primus maneuvered his borrowed servos down, brushing up against thin and frail armor plates. The singular functional optic Primus had to use trailed every movement, watching those servos which he controlled as they caressed the body the god inhabited. It was disturbing to watch. It almost looked like some sort of convoluted assault with how pleased the god looked as he forced Optimus’s body to examine itself.

“He gave himself to me willingly. Anything to win his little war. He called himself a sacrifice, but I have named him my Chosen.” The body shivered in what looked to be pleasure. Bumblebee couldn’t help the gag that he let out at the sight. The corpse merely continued to grin as it forced Optimus’s body to embrace itself, prompting a series of cables to burst and oozing energon to slide from new wounds.

“He obeyed my every command, listening to my whispers and calls for my brother’s return to slumber. He was so dutiful that he chose me over all others, even the likes of you.” The god laughed again, a sweet chortle that did not match Optimus in any capacity. Then, as if that weren’t enough, its helm tilted again, this time even further than before. Something snapped as Primus forced the corpse to comply with his wishes, ensuring the rotted frame’s helm all but swiveled into an impossible one hundred and eighty degree angle.

Anger swelled in his spark at the mere idea of Optimus throwing everything away for some dying deity. It wasn’t like him. Optimus was a Prime for the people. He would never cast away everything just for… some god who hardly cared. But what truly shook Bumblebee were the tears that began to fall from the singular functioning optic Optimus’s body still possessed. The tears were discolored due to rust and other contaminants, but they were real, and he highly doubted it was Primus who ordered Optimus’s coolant stores to empty themselves.

“He gave himself back to me entirely, and yet as he fell, he thought of you.” Bumblebee took a step back as Primus’s tone turned sharper, edging on something akin to agitation if not hatred. The god rattled, his borrowed frame shaking as the smile fell away.

“You and your fellow companions, his little playthings meant to guide and serve.” The god’s helm swiveled back into proper position, another unsettled crack echoing as something or other broke in Optimus’s battered frame.

“Be quiet. You don’t know him.” Bumblebee shot back, wrath, anguish, and everything else he had been doing his best to bottle up swelling to the surface of his mind and spark. Primus didn’t know slag. He had not been there as their people died off during the great war. He had not so much as offered one vague prophecy through his Prime throughout all the time Optimus carried the Matrix. He had no right to speak on the behalf of a mech who gave everything for their world.

“But don’t I?” Primus’s tone was sweet like freshly purified energex, but he did not smile.

“I know his spark. I lived within him throughout your entire war. His thoughts were mine to glean and his affections mine to allow or deny.” The corpse was moved, again shifting away from its lighted position and into shadow. Bumblebee couldn’t see it as Primus maneuvered through the dark, silence reigning for a long klik. The urge to activate his weapons was almost suffocating as he scanned the darkness, desperately trying to pinpoint the lurking threat.

His team didn’t so much as twitch as they remained in various states of terrified worship. Their optics flicked around, following Bumblebee’s lead as they too tried to track the threat. Not a spark spoke, not when the core of their world pulsed so calmly, serenely even. There was no acknowledgement of the body that hung in living chains, lurking in the dark and almost certainly observing.

“Do you miss him? Does this voice make you wish he were here?” The corpse called out, this time without any undertone of Primus’s interference. It sounded almost exactly like Optimus, and it came from all around. He had to fight back the instinctual urge to cry as the familiar gruff softness reached his audials.

It wasn’t Optimus. That wasn’t his father. Optimus Prime was dead and a god was making a mockery of him.

“Come. Come greet him.” He turned around, facing the way he came to try and determine where the voice was coming from. But when he returned to his previous position, the corpse was a mere few feet away, far closer than ever before. He let out an undignified scream as the corpse leaned in, its arms outstretched.

How had it moved so fast?

“You must come closer. He cannot hear you so far away.” The tone of the thing was sing-songy, but Bumblebee shook his helm rapidly in primal terror. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t HIM. The thing that smiled and watched him with one wide and far too bright optic was not his leader. The mech he wished he openly called father would have never done this. Optimus would have never beckoned him like some sort of… creature.

He stepped back, his bravery falling in the face of true fear. His venting hitched and he prepared to run as the corpse tilted its helm again, a snarl forming on its features for the first time since it began to speak.

“Why do you flee from me? Am I not your maker?” The thing lurched forward, its movements so stiff and unnatural the Bumblebee scrambled back just in time to dodge its attempts to grab him. The god seethed and Bumblebee’s team quickly floundered in their attempts to get to their pedes as a wrathful field pressed against them from all sides.

“Come here.” Primus looked enraged. His borrowed face contorted into anger so rarely seen on Optimus in life that to Bumblebee it looked like the mech he once called his leader was possessed by the Unmaker himself. The god looked a klik away from forcing his borrowed frame into combat before he stuttered, power arcing off him until at last, he stilled.

“You… must… run.” The voice of the corpse whirled to life once more, but unlike the clear sound that Primus produced despite the state of his borrowed frame, this sound was pained. It came in a wheeze that gurgled and croaked, finally matching the tears that stained the corpse’s face.

“Leave. Go before he can take you.” The body looked up, and the movement was smooth, evidently practiced. The optic that settled on Bumblebee was not nearly as bright. Rather, it was dim and flickering, sickly in the purest sense. It was a light that should not have been there with how badly the frame it was emanating from was damaged.

Bumblebee’s processor scrambled for an answer, but the conclusion was obvious. He didn’t want to believe it. A part of him hoped that his leader was at peace, if only in spark. But seeing the desperate expression on Optimus’s face… he knew who it was that spoke to him, and he wanted to kick, scream, and cry all at once as the body spasmed and control returned to the god of their world.

“How dare you.” The corpse bore no expression now. Only the words came out with a thick vile venom that stung just to listen to. The ground began to shake as Primus’s core pulsed rapidly, wires convulsing and ancient gears stalling for nanokliks at a time.

“How dare you taint him.” The voice rose in volume, no longer sounding like Optimus at all. A maelstrom of sound and sensation assaulted him from every conceivable angle as voices that were few and yet singular at the same time all converged on him. Energon and thick viscous fluid exploded out of Optimus’s throat as Primus’s speech shattered more and more of its components.

“He belongs to me.” The corpse stiffened, its singular optic blazing so brightly that smoke rose from places, prompting more tears to fall. But instead of smiting him as Bumblebee expected, the god instead fell still once more, his borrowed optic flickering as something seemed to change.

“He is innocent. Merely a child.” Optimus, the real Optimus spoke out in the gloom. His words were slow and agonizing, grating just to listen to. But Bumblebee found himself crying all the same as his leader began to plead, desperation evident in every glyph he uttered.

“I serve. I serve willingly.” He sounded like he was in agony.

“Glory to the one below. He who slumbers and gives us life.” Prayers flowed from his torn derma, regardless of the absolute torment he was likely enduring. Optimus held his servos in a loose symbol of the Primacy, his gaze unsteady as he spoke.

“Praise be to His holy station. His will is our demand.” He did not look up, but his stuttered venting spoke of life forced to continue operating regardless of its viability. Bumblebee couldn’t find the strength to wipe away his tears, not when his Prime pleaded for his very existence.

“There is no greater purpose than to offer Him our loyalty. For He is the truth where lies fester.” The prayers continued for kliks. There was no pause between them, nor did Optimus look up even once. Eventually, the prayers changed and strange glyphs that made no sense began to emerge in something akin to a babble. Bumblebee couldn’t tell if Optimus was too pained to continue or if something deeper was happening, but ultimately, the shaking stopped and everything returned to its previous state.

“What will you give to achieve victory?” The question was repeated and Bumblebee was not given time to move before the corpse swept down, grabbing his face with one monstrous servo so tightly that he could feel his jaw creaking. That lone optic all but blinded him as the god held him in place, all but lifting him off the ground as Primus demanded his answer.

“Would you give me your spark?” The servo that was not holding him still wandered to Bumblebee’s chassis, sweeping over his plating in a seemingly fond manner. He wanted to curl in on himself in shame, horror, and something that had long since evolved beyond terror. However, he was helpless to stop the god as he ran his borrowed digits along transformation seams, his expression hopeful as if he expected Bumblebee to open for him.

“If not yours, would you give me theirs?” Seeing his lack of reaction, Primus looked over his shoulder, down at Bumblebee’s team. He flailed, but the death grip the god had on his face was all but unbearable. Fear ran so deeply in his spark he couldn’t find a way to produce words. Linguistic codes were gone, far out of reach as he stared, meeting Primus’s gaze properly for the first time.

He saw his team reflected for a moment in that lone optic as it flickered and struggled to remain online. They were terrified, but similarly frozen. They were at the mercy of their god, and they had no say in the matter once he decided what to do.

“I am not a cruel maker. I am willing to make deals.” Digits reached up, dirty from energon, rust, and years of contamination. They brushed his derma, tracing around his optics and facial features like a lover would. He wheezed, tears falling from his optics with greater ferocity than ever as the god watched him with that strange apathy and love all balled together into a disgusting mix that left him wishing it could all be over.

Primus continued to touch him for a long few moments, a hum bubbling in his borrowed throat. Bumblebee sobbed softly all the while. This wasn’t right. Optimus was his father. All of this was wrong on a fundamental level. He only wanted information, a way to save their people. Why this? Why did it have to be like this?

“Ah… it seems the debt has been paid by another.” Suddenly, without warming, Primus let go of his face. Bumblebee fell to his knees gasping in sheer relief as the corpse pulled back, slowly returning to its original position.

“There shall be no sacrifice from you this cycle.” It spoke soothingly, as if nothing at all had happened during their interaction. Primus smiled in that divine manner that should have been comforting but only served to remind Bumblebee that this entity was a god more than capable of violence.

“You shall have your victory, when the time is right.” Weathered arms stretched out as the corpse performed a mock bow, at least as much as it could with the way it was bound.

“I will lend him to you for a time, at least until the threat is removed.” It straightened, more cables coming from the walls of the chamber to connect to Optimus’s battered frame. Bumblebee continued to shakily vent, observing in silence as the god pulled his puppet back, far out of reach.

“Go now. Tell the doctor and prepare yourselves.” Optimus’s arms were crossed over his chassis, an almost respectful position if it weren’t for the sheer amount of damage inflicted all over him from Primus’s attempts at controlling a mortal frame. Optimus’s lone optic flickered and glanced around for a moment before Primus uttered a final statement that haunted Bumblebee throughout his return journey.

“I know he was too afraid to stand before his god once again.”

Huh.

So what if he was?

Bumblebee couldn’t say he blamed Ratchet for much of anything anymore. He couldn't help but wonder if getting Megatron would have been the easier decision. At least the warlord wouldn’t condemn his spark to the void if he failed to show proper respect. At worst, he would be disemboweled. And quite frankly, compared to Primus’s little attempts at touch, he would prefer that any cycle of the vorn.

“I told you not to touch him.” Ratchet’s first comment was simple, but without any malice. Bumblebee all but collapsed into his arms, the aching marks on his face clear to see.

Ratchet didn’t comment after that.

No one did.

What happened that cycle was never spoken about, at least not in public. Bumblebee did his best to forget, especially when Primus seemed to keep up his end of his supposed… deal.

Optimus came back, pristine and shiny as if he’d never been dead to begin with. He showed no signs of distress or the vaguest recollection of events down in the Well. He played it all off as if he had been peacefully deceased and promptly returned to existence at the drop of a hat. But after everything, Bumblebee now knew the faint look in his optics, the shadow that followed him wherever he went.

Primus was watching. There was no escape from the god of Cybertronians and his precious Champion.

Over and over again Bumblebee found himself haunted, hearing the words replay again and again in his mind whenever Optimus’s optics met his.

”The debt has been paid by another.”

By the Thirteen. Just what had Optimus given to ensure no others suffered as he did?

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #transformers robots in disguise #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #sideswipe #strongarm #windblade #drift #primus #the matrix of leadership #robogore #religious imagery #body horror #yupppppppp here yall go #another brain worm that went nuts

47 notes · View notes