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pedrito-friskito · 9 months

Note

Hiya! New to tumblr here, and I just saw your list! Hmmm I’ll go with 🎲 ROLL FOR FIC 🎲: Jack Whiskey Daniels & Fluff. ❣️ Thanks! 💓

hi lovely!!! thanks for the request!

full disclosure: this is the first time I’ve written dear ol’ Jack! put a bit of my own twist on it (and obvious canon-divergence cuz that’s just how we roll) - and the prompt I rolled was “is that my t-shirt?”

enjoy! xo

a promise - jack “whiskey” daniels x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a bit of heartbreak, we kick canon to the curb, fluff and fluff and sweetness and fluff

You never thought you’d see him again.

That was the long and short of it. You knew him before, before he became one of the top agents for some secret service he wasn’t allowed to talk about. When he was just Jack, eldest son of the farmer that owned the ranch down the lane from the one you’d moved to after your parents inherited it. He was a few years older than you, all broad shoulders and cow-licked hair hidden beneath a dark suede hat.

You still remember the first day you met, the way he’d grinned at you from behind silver-rimmed aviators and tipped the brim of his hat in your direction.

“Well, hey there, darlin’.”

It was never a dull moment, with Jack Daniels living right across the way. He flirted with you endlessly, and you brushed him off more often than not. He was nice, and you got on well, but you weren’t blind or deaf; you knew he had a different flavour of the week that he brought home well, every week. While the rest of his family lived in the ranch house, Jack had taken it upon himself to turn the upper level of one of the barns into his own bachelor pad.

You saw it yourself at the tail-end of a Fourth of July barbeque, a few too many beers and a little too much sun clouding your judgment. Jack was fresh off his latest fling with some sweet little blonde thing, and you were about a month out from your breakup with your college boyfriend — to him, graduation equaled ending things. It was hot, sweat pouring down your back and not even the shade was enough to escape the humidity.

Stumbling a bit, you wandered the Daniels ranch on your own, a Corona dangling from your fingers, flip-flops thwacking against the grass with every step. You’d been gone maybe ten minutes when the barn came into view, you spotted the AC unit in the second-storey window, and found your destination.

You didn’t expect to find Jack sitting inside, mumbling to himself, and as you climbed the steps to his space, gripping the rail like a lifeline, you heard your name mumbled amongst his words.

“Just talk to her, ya big coward. You talk to girls all the time!”

As soon as you reached the top step, the blissful cool air from the air conditioner lifted your hair, and you nearly tumbled back in relief. Your gasp caught Jack’s attention and he shot to his feet, rushing forward and grabbing you, pulling you up and onto the solid floor. “Easy there, darlin’.”

His hands on your waist felt like fire, and he flinched away from you, the tips of his ears turning bright pink and his cheeks following suit. You couldn’t help your chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at his boots.

“You’re cute when you blush, Jack,” you grinned, sipping your beer. “I mean, you’re cute all the time, but especially when you—”

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted, and you were sure you hadn’t heard him right.

“Huh?”

“Please?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, your lips parting slightly, head whirling as you tried to catch up with what was happening. Jack took your beer, setting it safely on a desk near the staircase. There were all kinds of books scattered across the desktop, words you could barely make out. He put one careful hand on your waist next, ducking his head slowly, treading carefully, like you were a horse that might spook easily. In a way, you were; you knew his reputation, your heart was still on the mend. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

You hooked your fingers in the collar of his t-shirt and pulled his face down to yours.

Kissing Jack Daniels was like watching a fireworks display. Bright lights exploded behind your fluttered eyelids, replaced your blood with sparks of excitement. His lips tasted like whiskey and cinnamon and his hands moved to your hips, long fingers nearly meeting at the small of your back. The tip of his tongue touched the seam of your lips and you sighed into his grip, melting as you let him taste you, revelled in the girlish thrill that zipped through your entire being.

Despite the alcohol buzzing in your brain, the sun warming your cheeks, your body begging for him to give you more, you pulled back.

“I don’t wanna be another notch in your bedpost, Jack,” you murmured, your voice suddenly small, the confidence you’d tried to pour into your kiss slipping away like a summer breeze.

“You won’t be,” he assured you, shaking his head, tipping his forehead against yours. “I’ve been…I’ve been thinkin’ about you, darlin’, a lot lately. Lot more than usual.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Was tryna pluck up the courage to come talk to ya before you found your way up here.”

Your grin matched his. “Must be fate, then.”

“Fate, kismet, call it what you want, sugar, but I know one thing for certain: I’d like to spend the rest of this night kissin’ you, then maybe you let me take you out on a real date tomorrow night?”

You linked your fingers together at the back of his neck, his wayward curls tickling your knuckles. “Promise me something, Jack.”

“Anythin’.”

“Don’t break my heart.”

He leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth. “As long as you don’t break mine.”

You woke up in his bed that next morning, the warmth of him curled around you. Despite the heat in the air, you basked in it, pushed yourself against him in all the right places until he was rousing beside you, hands starting to wander and lips finding yours again.

“Mornin’, sugar.”

The summer evolved from there. The majority of your time was spent at the Daniels’ ranch, following Jack around like a little lost puppy. He took you on long rides on horseback, exploring the hills and valleys that sprawled behind both your family ranches.

You watched him in the pastures, galloping along on his horse, Whiskey, lasso in hand, corralling the cattle back to their barns. He was a sight to behold, but watching him with that lasso was another thing entirely. His skill was something you’d never seen before. Jack tried to teach you, and by the end of the summer you were able to rope a cow from the back of your own horse, but you knew you’d never be as good as Jack.

Fall crept in, and there was no stopping the pair of you. You crept out of your own house and across to Jack’s barn nearly every night, the pair of you falling asleep in each other’s arms, waking the next morning to do it all over again. Rinse and repeat, there was no end in sight, and you silently berated yourself for every time you’d brushed off his flirting before the Fourth of July.

And then everything changed.

It was an unseasonably warm week. Mid-October and just as hot as it had been in July, and you’d planned a ride to the lake not far from the ranch. You’d packed a picnic, donned one of Jack’s plain white tees over your bikini, and headed over to the barn to start saddling the horses while Jack showered.

When he finally met you in the stables, you knew something was wrong. There was a pinch to his brow you’d never seen before, some unknowable spark behind his eyes that made your gut twist.

“Jack, baby, what is it?” You cupped his cheek in your hand, swiped your thumb across his skin.

“Nothin’, sugar,” he answered, shaking his head and pulling out of your grip, pushing his aviators up his nose.

Whatever it was, he hid it well as you rode to the lake, and it was another blissful day. The lake was quiet, secluded, and when Jack rolled over you on the blanket, planted his hands either side of your head and lowered his body to yours, your forgot any worry you had. You never made it home that night, instead following Jack up to the barn, your fingers twined together.

But when you woke the next morning, he was gone.

His dresser drawers hung open, their contents emptied. His favourite lasso was gone from the hook on the wall where he kept it, his hat beside it also missing. The side of the bed he’d occupied all night was cold, and a piece of paper with your name scrawled across the front sat on his pillow.

Inside, only two words: I’m sorry.

Tears in your eyes, your head spun. Anger spiked — more with yourself than with him — and silently, you told yourself that you had been right all along. You never should have let him in, let yourself get close to him. You’d only ever asked him for that single promise, and he’d broken it the first chance he got.

You collected your things from the barn, realizing you were still in his t-shirt, and walked back home in a blur. It took a few days for you to find the courage to go talk to his parents, if they knew where he had gone, if he was coming back.

“Oh, sweetheart, he didn’t tell you?”

That was the beginning of the secrecy. Even his own family didn’t know exactly where he’d gone, but that he’d been chosen specifically and that he’d be trained to become one of the best. It was what Jack had always wanted, they told you, and with every word, you felt like you knew him less and less.

You thought you were what he always wanted. He’d told you so.

Resigned, you pushed him from your mind as much as possible. It wasn’t easy, with the Daniels’ ranch always within view, a summer full of memories tugging at you every time you set foot outside your front door. You decided not to let it ruin you, and dove into working on the ranch, helping with the cattle and the horses and using what Jack had taught you.

Before you knew it, years had passed. You knew he came home for Christmas and his mother’s birthday each year, and you made it a point to make yourself scarce. Christmas was harder, especially when your families started celebrating together on Christmas Eve. The first year he was there, you’d nearly burst into tears when he cornered you in the kitchen and called your name softly, but instead, you pushed past him and spent the night in your room with a bottle of whiskey.

He didn’t come on Christmas Eve again, and now, it’s been nearly ten years. Ten.

Ten years, and yet when you gallop toward the road that cuts between the Daniels’ ranch and your own, broad shoulders come into view, and you know it’s him. Same hat on his head, mirrored aviators glinting in the sun, plain white t-shirt that strains in all the right places.

It’s been a decade, but as your horse gallops another few feet closer, you know instantly that something is wrong.

Your brow furrows as you get even closer to the fence separating you from him, tugging the reins until your horse halts, sliding from the saddle. Your chest is tight, your heart racing as you close the distance.

“Hi.”

“Hey there, sugar,” he drawls, and you inhale deeply, ignoring every girlish instinct you’ve buried so deep over the years. “Been a long time.”

“What are you doing here, Jack?” you ask, your voice blunt. You feel uneasy, unsure what’s going on, and you don’t have the time — or the emotional space — to beat around the bush with him.

He reaches up and pulls the aviators from his face. Those bottomless brown eyes are on full display, and in an instant you can feel yourself getting lost in them, but then something catches your attention, just beside his left eye. A scar of sorts, round and raised.

Following your gaze, he rubs at the mark. “I…I messed up, darlin’. Made some big mistakes, took a big hit, and they put me on leave, sent me home.”

“What d’you mean, a big hit? What happened to you?” The curiosity is obvious in your voice.

“I got shot,” he says, blunt as you’d been, and your heart skips in your chest. “M’alright, sugar, I swear. I’d lost some of memory when they woke up, but they found a way to bring ‘em back.”

Your brow lifts. “And how’s that?”

The corner of his mouth quirks, but it’s a ghost of the Jack Daniels smile you fell for that summer. It’s different, softer, sadder. You watch as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out something square. He hands it to you.

It’s a polaroid picture.

A picture of you.

You recognize it. The day at the lake. You’re sprawled back on the picnic blanket, your hair a fan around your head, Jack’s t-shirt covering your top, bikini bottoms peeking out beneath. You remember him standing over you, camera in hand. Is that my t-shirt? Smile, sugar, c’mon and gimme a good one.

You don’t know what to say. The words swirl around in your brain, some anger and some happiness, some relief and some fear. You just stare down at the photo, the younger version of yourself grinning back. “I…”

“You brought me back,” he says, and leans forward, resting his forearms on the wood of the fence. “More than once, I might add. But this time…this was different. I’m done, I think. For a long time, maybe forever. And I…”

“You thought you could waltz back into my life?” you snap, your fingers bending the edge of the photo. The anger has won out. “After what you did?”

“No,” he replies instantly, staring up at you from under the brim of his hat, “I don’t. I know what I did, how I hurt you. I know tellin’ you that what I did broke my own damn heart worse than anything I’ve ever experienced before doesn’t make up for it.”

There are tears brimming along your lash line, and you blink furiously, trying to force them back, but one betrays you, slipping down your cheek.

“I’m not askin’ for you to give me your forgiveness, sugar, but I am askin’ if you’d let me try and earn it.” He shakes his head slowly, and you can see the sheen in his eyes, made worse when he sniffs and rubs at his nose. “I know I don’t deserve it, but maybe if—”

You reach out suddenly, two fingers pressed to his lips, cutting him off. You know you should be angry, you know you should be a lot of things, but now… “Promise me something, Jack.”

“Anything.”

Another tear slips down your cheek as he wraps his fingers around your wrist lightly, squeezes his fingers at your pulse.

“Don’t break my heart again.”

You see his sharp inhale, the sudden lift to his chest. “Never, sugar. Never again.”

#my fics #a promise #jack whiskey daniels #sleepover sundae #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack whiskey daniels fluff #jack whiskey daniels fic

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maddennfl86 · 7 months

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Richard at the Venice Film Festival for A Promise

#richard madden #venice film festival #a promise

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hrefna-the-raven · 11 months

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Tome of Fate

Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 5 (finale)

Summary: This is basically an AU story about Loki, prince of Jotunheim, and the reader, princess of Asgard, meeting in the Utgardhall's library.

Loki drinks up some courage to confess his feelings to you :)

Words: 2013

Warnings: drunkenness, smut (18+)

As all of you stumbled into the local tavern, the air thick with the smell of stale ale and sweat, he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest. He'd never been drawn to the rough and tumble atmosphere of the local watering hole, full of brawny warriors, foreign merchants and rough-hewn townsfolk. But tonight felt different. Tonight he was here with you and the anticipation just as the anxiety of ruining the blossoming friendship were almost too much to bear. At the same time, you were busy fighting your own battles against your anxious mind, being torn between the curiosity of observing the full spectrum of the inhabitants and visitors of Utgard and the discomfort caused by being stuck amidst so many people, this was a foreign place after all. As you sat down at a table in the corner of the tavern, you scooted close to Loki, your hand finding his under the table, holding it tightly, giving him a shy smile. Bjalki continued to bring the finest and strongest ale to the table and you started to ease up after the third drink, coming to the conclusion that Loki's friends actually were good at heart despite mostly acting coarsely. You believed it to be the Jotun way and you could somewhat relate to it, almost sure that you might have grown up to become the same if you had to survive in Jotunheim's rough climate. As the night wore on and the group was shouting, laughing and drinking to their hearts' content, Loki became increasingly talkative and it seemed as if he tried to impress you with his jokes and antics, recounting the tale of him getting into a heavy flyting with the brother of an elven princess in a desperate attempt to escape the marriage to be arranged between him and her. Loki levied several insults on the prince, accusing him of being a coward and mocking his arrogance for doubting a frost giant to be neither intelligent nor good enough to become his sister's husband.

"You did what?", you laughed at his antics.

"I called him the greatest coward claiming that when arrows are loosed, here barely dare peep from behind his shield.”, Loki slurred.

"Why didn't you just marry her?", you asked, a slight tremble in your voice.

"She was not my type", he stated quietly, swaying a little on his seat while he took another gulp from his jug.

“His type seems to rather revolve around tiny Aesir women”, Simul chuckled, winking at you.

The prince shot her an angry glance which only earned him a hearty laugh from her. A few drinks later, Guma started making out with Bjalki at the counter while Simul disappeared with another Jotun, leaving Loki and you alone, while he felt a sting of jealousy at his friends finding love and company so naturally. He sighed, knowing that this was probably his only chance to make a move before you headed back to Asgard. He downed mug after mug of ale until he was too drunk to stand but finally lost that last bit of his composure and restraint, that last part of the wall holding him back from the wave of undeniable attraction towards that beautiful soul of yours. So he took a deep breath and held your hand on his chest.

"My Princess!", he slurred, "I have something to tell you!"

"What is it, Loki?", you rolled your eyes in a faint attempt to hide the blush.

"I know this is probably the ale talking, but I just had to tell you," he slurred, “I've had feelings for you since the first time I met you in that library!", his voice cracked at the last part, being louder than he anticipated.

You couldn't help but laugh at his drunken confession, not failing to notice the touch of sincerity in his words.

"I mean it," he said as he leaned in closer to you, his warm ale ridden breath fanning over your face, his raspy voice growing dangerously low and urgent, "I've never felt this way about anyone before."

You smiled, your eyes sparkling in the dim light of the tavern.

"I believe you, my prince" you said softly, pecking his cheek, “even though you're very veeeery drunk”, you giggled groggily.

"Yes, I am drunk. But that doesn't make my feelings any less true. I would do anything for you, my lady. I would even...I would even fight a dragon for you!"

"Loki, there are no dragons in Jotunheim."

"Well, then I would find a dragon and bring it here just to prove my love for you!", Loki pouted playfully.

"Loki, you don't need to prove anything. Just be yourself."

"That's the problem, my princess”, he purred, “when I'm myself, I can't help but be mischievous", Loki grinned, suddenly feeling very dizzy.

His hand wrapped around your neck and he pulled you close, his lips crashing on yours in a heated drunken kiss. His lips felt cold but soft at the same time and you almost whimpered as his tongue ran over your lower lip, demanding entrance. You pulled away, panting, your mind racing to desperately decipher what just happened and what consequences giving into it would drag along.

“Loki, I...”, you whispered, unsure of what you wanted to tell him, avoiding his gaze.

“We should head back to the palace”, he leaned his head against yours, his nose nudging your soft hair, your sweet floral scent filling his nostrils as a dark groan rumbled deep in his chest.

Both of you got up and left the tavern, staggering along the way back to the palace, or more precisely, your room. You weren't sure what exactly you would allow to happen when you arrived at your destination but the warmth of the alcohol cursing through your system and the pooling heat between your legs inevitably pushed you to continue walking.

As soon as the door fell shut, Loki pinned you against it, one hand sneaking around your waist as he slammed the other against the wood beside your face, bending down so he faced you directly, gaze flickering to yours, his crimson eyes filled with primal desire and a hint of nervousness.

“Princess, I-”, he breathed but you cut him off, capturing him in another heated kiss.

Your tongue slipped past his lips, dancing around his while your hands wrapped around his neck in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. Loki could sense the urgency and need in the swirls of your tongue and it ignited a primal need within him. He broke the kiss with a feral growl, lifted you effortlessly and carried you towards the bed, placing you gently on the furs. His ruby eyes gazed deeply into your soul, leaving you captivated and yearning for more.

“Loki”, you moaned, eyes falling shut while your hands tugged at his tunic.

Loki yearned for intimacy with you, to experience the sensation of your touch and your soft skin pressed against his chilly, blue form. He desired to express his affection for you by satisfying your every desire in a sacred union of body and soul, a moment that would last for eternity. Nonetheless, his heart was riddled with doubts as you moaned with delight beneath him.

“Princess, I-I-I”, he stammered, the drunken courage suddenly leaving him as a barely audible confession left his lips, “I've never done this before.”

He anticipated being ridiculed when he revealed that despite being a formidable Jotun prince, he had never been intimate with a woman until now. However, to his surprise, you did not judge him and instead when he looked into your eyes, he found nothing but comforting affection once the initial surprise subsided.

“Then I would love to be your first, my prince”, you spoke softly, your hand cupping his cheek.

You felt a strange tingling sensation and your eyes widened at the sight of a pale blue mist engulfing both of you, dissipating your clothes, revealing his large cock as he positioned himself above your suddenly naked body. You gasped in surprise, your right hand instinctively moving up, fingers delicately wrapping around his throbbing member. Loki moaned your name, his hips bucking into your touch. Your hands on him felt divine, filling him with warm sinful bliss. You stroked him slowly, smearing the drop of precum around his tip, eyes hungrily fixed on him as you licked your lips. In the twinkling of an eye something snapped in Loki. His usual calm restraint self vanished, replaced by an overwhelming untamed craving, unleashing the beast he didn't know was trapped within him. One of his hands shot to your chest, pressing down with force and pushing your entire body further up until his face was dangerously close to your slick folds. He bit your inner thigh before he ran his nose up to your wetness, deeply inhaling the scent of your sweet arousal before burying his tongue inside you. Your head fell back, your hips jerking at the sudden sensation and a shiver ran down your spine as Loki's feral groan rang out to your ears, his tongue eagerly thrusting deeper inside of you, lapping at your juices like a thirsty animal.

“Loki ooooh”, you moaned, your fingers scratching at his scalp, pushing his head down while you were grinding against him.

The prince instantly stopped, lifting his head, staring mindlessly at you, his thoughts growing increasingly hazy as your taste and smell invaded all his senses as you laid trembling before him. His body moved up, the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance while his hand now wandered to your shoulder, his long fingers digging into the soft flesh, still holding you in place.

“Princess, I-I-”, he hissed, a last faint attempt to pull himself together and resisting the unbearable urge of ruining you, “don't know if I can resist this an-”

His words fell silent at the luscious sensation of your hips jerking up, his cock being swallowed by your wet folds, gliding inside. You shuddered at the coldness of him buried deeply in your heat, he felt unlike any other man and you weren't sure if you'd ever want another after this. He was like an unblemished sin. This tall gorgeous chaste and yet wild prince filling you up so perfectly, the sound of his deep groans echoing through the room as he continued rutting into you at a fast pace, bringing you both closer to the edge with every thrust. Loki lowered his torso, burying his face in the crook of your neck, dragging his tongue over your sensitive skin as he kept on grunting into your ear like a feral creature, drowning both of you in the abyss of the purest form of pleasure. As your walls clenched around his cock and he spilled his cold seed into you, coming undone broke any barriers that held both of you up, a mist of pale blue and emerald surrounded your bodies and the crackling sounds of your combined seidr grew louder. Suddenly, your control caved in and the mist exploded, shattering the mirror next to the bed into a million fragments, the frame hitting the floor with a loud thud. Despite the chaotic outburst, the closeness between you remained unbroken. Loki panted heavily, feeling as if he was floating, lost in his own thoughts and emotions. The room spun around him, a blur of colours and sounds that he couldn't quite make sense of invading his hazy mind as he blinked and looked down at you. He had never felt this way before, never experienced such a rush of sensation that seemed to consume him entirely. As you lay there, catching your breath and basking in the aftershocks of your orgasm, you couldn't help but marvel at the man who had brought you to such heights. You could have never foreseen that a simple conversation with the prince of Jotunheim and a drunken night at the tavern would result in something so profound, just like how you never thought you would develop strong feelings for him. However, now you found yourself entwined with Loki Laufeyson, forming an unbreakable bond that was sealed with the intimacy of your bodies intertwined.

Note: I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter but I'll post it for now to avoid withdrawal symptoms from the lack of Jotun Loki smut :-p

#loki marvel #loki #jotun loki #jotun form #loki x reader #loki x female reader #jotun loki x reader #jotun loki x female reader #jotunheim #odin #laufey #fluff #seidr #a promise #blooming friendship #loki smut #drunk loki #jotun loki smut

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angeart · 3 months

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[hhau] — the ribbon

I almost forgot to talk about the ribbon-

Only one person asked about it, but i am very easily convinced to give in to hype and rambles. i love being excited about things i enjoy, and i love sharing them, so thank you for being interested!

This is about the hunted hybrids au, where both mine and @linkito's art features a dark ribbon tied around Grian's pinkie:

[art 1] [art 2] [art 3]

(I'll admit it should be tied in a bow, even though i draw it loose—)

So what is this ribbon?

It comes to play early in the story. Just after Scar finds Grian and saves him from the hunters. Grian's in a bad shape. He's exhausted, hungry, dehydrated, and he just lost a lot of blood. He's in a world of pain, after being viciously attacked and almost killed, terrified and barely conscious.

Scar needs to keep him alive, no matter the cost.

Grian needs water.

Scar doesn't have water.

But he knows where to find it.

Except going to get it means leaving Grian alone, and— He can't. He can't. (He has to.)

Hopeless, desperate, aching, he soothes Grian, brings back the memory of something simpler, woven with promises of returning soon. (They're just on a sleepover. He's only going to fetch him a glass of water. It's okay. It's okay.) And he leaves something behind.

Something for Grian to hold onto.

Something to remind Grian that this happened. That Scar was here and he will be back. That he isn't alone.

Scar undoes the ribbon around his neck. And he puts it in Grian's weak, uncomprehending hands. (The fingers twitch and try to curl around it anyway.) (It feels important.)

He asks Grian to hold onto it for him, and he leaves.

Now, Scar makes it back safely. But Grian's dizzy and dazed and confused, and he feels the ribbon slipping, and he panics. (He was told to hold onto it.) (He needs to hold onto it—) (It falls out of his grasp so easily and he can't do a thing to stop it—)

Scar catches it, tells him it's okay, he's back, he's here now, thank you for keeping it. And he considers putting it back around his neck, but... It no longer feels like something just his. It feels like it turned into something else.

A tether. A lifeline. A heartstring.

And Grian needs it.

So he ties it around Grian's pinkie, in a loose but secure bow, for Grian to have it near and to feel it without fearing losing it. And Grian keeps it.

---

Here's some out of context rp bits that feature it, just to drive home what it really means for them in this wretched, hopeless world:

Grian:

Black ribbon rests securely wrapped around his finger, a piece of Scar’s attire, a piece of, maybe, his soul. A tether. An anchor. A lifeline.

Scar:

He watches the black fabric shake with the same tremors that plague Grian’s reach, fragile like he is, and Scar resolves that he must have done something right, that he’s not a failure, that he didn’t ruin everything if Grian still wears the ribbon around his finger. They still have the connection, the tether from one brittle heart to another.

Grian:

The ribbon tingles against his skin, a strip of fabric that seems to be a manifestation of the tether Grian feels stretching away from his weak, wounded heart, leading him straight to Scar.

Grian:

So with a tattered heart beating painfully against his bruised ribs, he swallows down the guilt of what his wings will do to both of them, and he makes his decision.

Tired and sore, he lifts his hand up, reaching out to Scar. The ribbon falls from his hold as he uncurls his fingers, left to dangle in the air and shadow his motions, still tied around his finger just the way Scar is tied around his weak, traitorous heart.

---

(Yeah i think a tether is a good word for it, clearly. Mhm. That's what it is. A very important little strip of fabric, that once used to rest against Scar's pulse point, soaking in the beats of his heart, now given to Grian for safekeeping <3)

#ange rambles #hunted hybrids au #hhau #featuring the ribbon!!!#because we're a little bit insane about it #look it's very important #it's comfort and safety #a promise #something tangible that whispers “you're not alone” directly against grian's skin #something for scar to see and understand that grian needs him #as long as he keeps that ribbon on him #(wouldn't it be a shame if it ripped and he lost it—)#scarian

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aengelren · 6 months

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I’m sorry the way they were reaching for each other I will never get over this

#that’s a promise #a promise #I’m screaming internally #so loud #it’s a disco up here #</3 #Eren Interview #eren jaeger #attack on titan #eren #shingeki no kyojin #aot #eren yeager #anime #Carla Jaeger

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rookthorne · 2 years

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

Promises were not to be broken in this family, no matter what.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 1.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Hospital environment, background character death, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied spice, panic attack

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✰ The moment my extensive knowledge of hospital environments pays off, for once.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ Whumptober 2022 — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The continuous and steady beep of monitors in the hallway and the low tone of conversation in the waiting room was no comforting melody. The chair was hard on your back and the place reeked of clinical cleanliness; bleach, iron, and dare you say it, death.

Don’t be dramatic, you thought quickly. That was no way to think when Steve was laid in a bed down the hallway since that afternoon.

Natasha, who almost pulled her hair out from the stress, had finally laid her head in your lap at your insistence and was watching the program on the mounted TV - some sort of news bulletin covering the price hike of vegetables, of all things. Her fiery red hair was tangled as you ran your fingers through it gently, soothing and easing the hard line of her shoulders on every pass.

It was never easy when one of the boys landed themselves in a hospital bed. The consequent stretch of rest needed after was almost impossible to achieve, more often than not you and Nat had to threaten the one laid up on bed rest to be actually tied to the bed and not in a kinky way, much to their disappointment.

“You do know, Nat,” you started gently, your hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “You’re gonna have to threaten Steve with bed rest.”

Natasha snorted and shifted slightly, the back of her head now resting against your thighs so she could look up at you. “Wouldn’t be so bad.”

“No?” You questioned, a brow raised. “Why’s that?”

She shook her head and stared at the ceiling. “I could have some fun, he has to stay still after all.”

The two of you laughed quietly when suddenly a set of heavy boots walking down the hall caught your attention. Nat sat up with a soft groan and stretched, smiling when she caught your eye.

“Hey.”

You looked back to the doorway to see Bucky entering, looking just as tired and weary as you felt. His kutte was still as immaculate as ever, but his jeans were covered in dirt and there was a slice through the denim of one of his knees.

It had been a long day.

“Hey, babe,” you said as Bucky leant down to kiss your forehead. Straightening up, he smiled softly and rested his hand against your jaw so his thumb could rest against your cheekbone. “What’s going on?”

Bucky looked at Nat then and spoke quietly, careful not to disturb the children playing on the playmat a few feet away. “You can go see him soon, the nurses are just finishing cleaning him up.”

“That’s my cue to freshen up, then,” Natasha sighed. Bucky looked at her and chuckled, that mischievous glint in his eyes back on full display. Natasha only glared and shoved his shoulder so he stumbled to the side. “Get your mind out of the damn gutter, Barnes.”

You gave Bucky a withering look and he winked back, moving to take Nat’s seat as she stretched. Wincing slightly, she cursed. “Damn these chairs.”

“Agreed,” you chuckled. “We’ll wait here, give Steve our love.” She hummed her acknowledgement and made her way out to the hallway, her boots thudding against the floor steadily to match the rhythm of the monitors.

Once she disappeared, Bucky slumped against the back of the chair and rubbed his face roughly. You took his free hand and held it between your own, tracing the tattoos and fiddling with the rings in an effort to comfort him. “What happened, Buck? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nat that afraid, that woman is fearless.”

“Steve-” Bucky stopped when a loud giggle came from one of the children on the playmat. He smiled slightly and sighed. “Steve went down because an ass-” you watched as Bucky’s eyes flicked wearily over the mother sitting with the kids before continuing. “A car cut him off.”

“A car… cut him off?” You probed, not believing a single word. Bucky only gave you a look that screamed ‘not here’ and gestured to the kids still playing on the playmat. Understanding dawned on you and you fell silent, content to know the details later - when there were no nosy parents or innocent children about.

“What did you get up to today, baby?” Bucky questioned, fiddling with a loose thread in his jeans. Happy for the subject to steer away from your injured friend, you informed Bucky of how much progress you had made towards your current project - much to your boss’ satisfaction. Bucky smiled proudly and pulled you closer so your head rested on his shoulder. “That’s my girl.”

You sighed happily and placed your joined hands into Bucky’s lap.

“No!” Someone screamed and the comfortable silence between the two of you was shattered in an instant. “No, you have to-” a sob broke off the plea and you straightened, back as rigid as a board.

“Is that Nat?!” You hissed and made to stand but Bucky pulled you back, his face set and void of any emotion.

“It’s not, sweetheart, c’mere,” Bucky tugged you further back into your seat. “It’s not her.”

There were more rushed footsteps and a crowd of nurses passed by the doorway, all looking worried with deep frowns etched on their faces. It was harrowing.

“No! Please!” Another scream tore through the steady beeping of monitors and the mother of the children gathered them close, covering their ears the best she could.

“Bucky, please-” It dawned on you. That scream was pleading, begging, for life - the life of someone, and it seemed like there wasn’t any hope left. “Oh god.” You gasped. The sudden rush of panic came with the feeling of a vice around your chest and the tears that blurred your vision.

You were terrified that one day, that would be you.

“Doll, look at me.” Bucky ordered, and it sounded as though he was underwater, his voice muffled and coming from afar. You could feel the pressure of his hand against your cheek as he tried to direct you to look at him, but you were transfixed on the doorway, stuck in a loop of hearing that same scream over and over as more nurses and doctors walked by.

There wasn’t enough air in the room. The walls were closing in and all you could do was freeze, your chest heaved with stuttered breaths that burnt on both the inhale and exhale.

Suddenly, you were suspended in the air, weightless and no longer in the seat that made your back and hips ache. The pressure around your waist and against the side of your head made you come to slightly.

Bucky. Bucky was holding you, one hand on your waist and the other cradling your cheek to his chest. The soft feel of his shirt in your balled fists and against your cheek was enough to ground you back to reality. “Come back to me, sweetheart, I’m here.”

The sob broke free before you could stop it and it was the tide against the dam, it crumbled to dust when Bucky’s thumb brushed against your cheekbone. He held you while he whispered softly against the crown of your head and you curled into his chest, desperate to get as close as possible while the sobs wracked your body.

“I need you to breathe for me, doll, can you do that?” Bucky questioned softly, the hand on your waist now rubbing up and down your side softly. You nodded and mimicked the slow rise and fall of Bucky’s chest. “That’s it, that’s it,” he reassured, “good girl, proud of you.”

You whimpered quietly and uncurled your head slightly so your ear rested directly over his heart, the beat steady and strong. Reassuring.

“Bucky,” you whispered. There were no more screams in the hall. “I can’t-”

“Hey,” Bucky hushed. His hand - callused, tattooed, and warm - rested against your cheek and you could feel him gently press your head into his chest. “You hear that?” His heart.

You nodded, sniffling quietly.

“It beats for you, sweetheart,” Bucky urged, his grip never faltering. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Bucky said quietly - sealing the deal with a kiss to your temple.