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alwaysmicado · 5 months

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never felt so loved

2.5k | Joel Miller x f!reader | one-shot

post-outbreak, established relationship, pregnancy Summary: Your new life in Jackson and progressing pregnancy bring forth fears that haunt your days and nights. Joel finds a way to show you just how loved you are. A/N: This story can be read alone or as a continuation of keep you warm. Being vulnerable is hard. Stay safe, guys, and take care of yourselves. 🤍 masterlist

“If I know what love is, it is because of you.” - Hermann Hesse

The rain outside beats against the windowpane, a steady drumming that matches the rhythm of your pounding headache. Wrapped in one of Joel’s flannels on the couch, you sniffle and shiver, feeling the weight of exhaustion in every bone. You silently stare out of the window, your thoughts racing, your body frozen. Raindrops race down the glass, merging with the icy landscape beyond.

The darkness outside mirrors the tumult within.

Six months pregnant, your body carries not only the physical weight but also the emotional burdens of impending motherhood. The cold seeps through the glass, and you pull the flannel tighter around yourself, as if its soft embrace could ward off the chill that penetrates your core.

Thoughts swirl like the eddying raindrops outside, each one a concern, a fear. What if something happens to him out there? What if he never comes back home to you? The world beyond your window is unforgiving, especially in the darkness of the night. The snow on the ground, pristine and serene, belies the dangers that lurk beneath its frozen surface.

Every creak of the house and gust of wind outside becomes a harbinger of imagined dangers. You glance at the clock, the ticking seconds stretching into an eternity, marking the hours until Joel’s return from patrol.

Your hand absentmindedly rests on your belly, as if seeking reassurance from the life growing within. A soft kick, a reminder of the shared vulnerability, momentarily eases your anxious thoughts. But it’s fleeting, and the worry creeps back in, tightening its grip on your heart.

“I can’t do this without your dad,” you whisper, wiping away a tear that is finding its way down your cold cheek. “I can’t.”

As your eyes begin to grow heavy after hours of silent vigil, the door creaks open, and Joel steps inside, a gust of cold air trailing him. His concerned eyes meet yours, sensing the tension in the room.

“What’re you doin’ up, darlin’?” he asks, a gruff tenderness in his voice that makes you feel a little warmer despite the chills. He removes his wet gloves, coat, and boots before crouching down beside you, gently caressing your cheek and looking into your bleary eyes.

You force a smile, an attempt to mask the turmoil raging inside.

“Couldn’t sleep. Just watching the rain,” you reply, your words a delicate dance around the truth. You don’t want to burden him with your fears, especially as he is carrying the weight of protecting both you and your unborn child.

Joel, perceptive as ever, narrows his eyes but doesn’t press further. Instead, he wraps you in a warm embrace, his presence a comforting shield against the cold that has you shivering. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go to bed and get some rest,” he suggests, leading you to the bedroom.

Underneath the cozy layers of blankets, Joel falls into a peaceful slumber, his rhythmic breathing a lullaby. But for you, the night refuses to offer solace. The worries that were momentarily hushed by his return now clamor louder, echoing in the stillness of the room.

You steal glances at Joel, his features softened in sleep, the worry lines smoothed away. Love swells in your chest, a bittersweet ache. How you wish you could shield him from the dangers that lurk outside, how you wish you could banish the anxious thoughts that dance in the shadows.

You were never this scared before you met him. Not for yourself, not for anyone.

As the night wears on, you press closer to Joel, seeking the comforting warmth that radiates from his slumbering form. As you nestle beside him, your gaze traverses the rugged contours of his face, etched with the marks of a life lived amidst challenges. Your fingertips trace a tender path across his sleeping features, the touch delicate and affectionate, trying to memorize every line and wrinkle.

In the hushed darkness, your mind races, contemplating the uncertainties of your future here in Jackson.

The walls of your existence, once enclosing only you and Joel, now bear witness to the laughter and camaraderie of a community rebuilding. For Joel, this is a return to familiarity, a reunion with his brother Tommy and the comforting cadence of a bustling town.

For you, however, it’s a departure from the solitude and intimacy that has defined your relationship for the past two years.

As Joel immerses himself in the pulse of Jackson, contributing to patrols and engaging with neighbors, you are left grappling with the familiar contours of loneliness settling in, accentuated by the struggle of your changing body and the emotional tumult of impending motherhood.

The battle you are facing is not against tangible foes but against the intangible specters of fear and uncertainty. The fear of losing Joel, the fear of bringing an innocent child into this unsteady world, the fear of being a bad mother, the fear of being alone again.

You never truly grasped the depth of your loneliness until Joel entered your life, and the realization that you can sense him drifting away now, even as he lies beside you, his heartbeat beneath your palm, stirs a poignant surge of tears in your eyes.

Frequently, you grapple with feelings of guilt for harboring these thoughts, yearning for nothing more than to witness Joel’s happiness. And he is happy here in Jackson, you can feel it.

You just cannot seem to shake the looming sense of dread that grips your heart, leaving you adrift in a sea of questioning, unsure of where you truly belong anymore.

In a soft whisper, almost imperceptible, you plead, “Please don’t go,” as though the words might linger in his dreams and anchor him to your side.

The next morning, anxiety tightens your chest as Joel readies himself for patrol, a shadow of worry growing inside you with each passing second. Ever attuned to your emotions, Joel senses your unease as he observes you standing in front of the stove, waiting for the water to boil.

He sets down his backpack to approach you from behind, his warm presence enveloping you. Softly, his lips press against your neck in a tender kiss, while his hands find their way to your belly, caressing it with a gentle, comforting touch.

In this quiet intimacy, his voice murmurs sweet words, a whispered symphony resonating against the nape of your neck.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he implores.

You turn around to gaze into his sincere eyes, his calloused yet gentle hand cradling your cheek, his soothing voice weaving a reassurance that lingers in the air.

“You’re gonna be alright, my love,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing away the traces of unease etched on your face. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Joel’s eyes linger on yours for a few seconds longer before he places a soft kiss on your lips, grabs his backpack, and leaves.

As the day unfolds, you seek purpose in routine, venturing outside for a breath of fresh air. However, the weight of anxiety proves too overwhelming, prompting a swift return home.

Simple tasks, like eating, washing your hair, or talking to your neighbors, morph into arduous challenges. Each passing minute feels like an eternity in the hollow spaces left behind by Joel’s absence.

Later, as the moon casts its silver glow over Jackson, Joel returns from patrol to find you, not nestled in the warmth of your shared bed, but cowering in the embrace of the shower’s relentless cascade. Your sobs, like a haunting melody, echo in the confined space, unveiling the unbearable weight of your struggle.

Through the half-open bathroom door, Joel’s gaze falls upon you, and for a few seconds, he simply stands in silent observation. Heartbreak paints his features as he witnesses your tears, and a profound sense of awe washes over him at the sight of your now prominently rounded belly. He hasn’t seen your naked body since you two arrived in Jackson a month ago, despite engaging in moments of physical passion with you a few times.

The pronounced swell of your growing belly, an undeniable testament to the life burgeoning within, has become a wellspring of anxiety for you. Seeking solace, you’ve chosen to conceal it beneath loose clothing. The fabric transforms into a shield, a buffer against the reality of your imminent future. It’s a subtle act of self-preservation, a way to momentarily distance yourself from the profound changes and uncertainties that come with carrying a child.

Joel steps into the bathroom, his voice a soothing balm in the woeful symphony of your distress. He slowly approaches the tub, lowering himself on his knees. “Darlin’, what happened?” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to gently stroke your back. The intimacy of the moment reveals itself in the vulnerability of your trembling frame and the cascade of tears that mirror the relentless stream of water.

You struggle to put your fears into words. The anxieties about becoming a mother, the overwhelming sense of isolation, and the fear of losing the solitude that once defined your relationship—your world—intertwine in the knot of your emotions.

“I just feel so lost, Joel,” you finally admit, your voice a fragile whisper. “I’m scared of what’s coming, scared I won’t be enough, that I am not enough.” Amidst tears and heartache, your attempts to articulate your emotions are punctuated by hiccups, the involuntary spasms adding a raw and visceral layer to your words.

Joel’s warm eyes soften with an emotion that transcends words as he gently guides you out of the tub, wrapping you in a soft towel, his touch a manifestation of the love that has weathered storms and stood resilient against the trials of a broken world.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulls you close, the strength of his embrace offering a sanctuary against the tempest within. His thumb gently traces the curve of your belly, a silent acknowledgment of the life you created together.

“You’re more than enough,” Joel assures you, his words a steady cadence in the otherwise silent room. “You’re gonna be an amazin’ mother. Our child is gonna know nothin’ but love and warmth, darlin’.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you sniffle before getting up to put on your clothes. Joel watches in silence as you bend and stretch, tracing the contours of your body with his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. You’re the most beautiful creature he has ever encountered. Inside and out.

You let him see you, vulnerable and exposed, finding comfort in the familiar connection you share.

But your fears, like tendrils, persist, and the specter of anxiety continues its haunting presence, casting shadows on your nights. You hold back, reluctant to unburden your heart completely, fearing the weight of your worries on Joel’s shoulders. And yet, Joel knows you. He knows you’re scared and he senses your need for support, for reassurance, for love.

As he watches you navigate the tumultuous waves of fear and sadness before finally succumbing to sleep, a profound ache settles in his chest. Your vulnerability tugs at his heartstrings, and an unspoken promise forms within him – a promise never to be the source of your pain. Unbeknownst to you, he burdens himself with your fears, and a quiet determination ignites in his thoughts.

He silently vows to be the fortress that shields you from the storms, the anchor that steadies you in turbulent seas. Your happiness becomes his mission, and he swears to dispel the shadows that threaten to dim the light in your eyes.

With a resolve that mirrors the steadfastness that has defined his character, he decides to show you the depth of his commitment. Seeking guidance from Maria, a beacon of warmth in the community, he embarks on a journey to learn a skill that defies the stereotypes of his rugged exterior – knitting.

Weeks pass, marked by the rhythmic clicking of needles, an intimate symphony played when the world around him is hushed. In the stillness of the night, while you’re lost in the embrace of dreams or during the quiet moments of his patrols, Joel’s hands weave a tapestry of love with each carefully placed stitch.

The blanket he creates, an act of devotion whispered in the language of stitches and yarn, becomes a tangible expression of his unwavering commitment to you and your unborn child.

Recognizing the shadows that linger in your heart, Joel makes an effort to weave moments of warmth into the fabric of your days. Despite the demands of Jackson and his duties, he deliberately carves out pockets of time to be with you, bridging the distance that has settled between you. Inviting you to properly meet his little brother becomes an extension of this effort, a gesture to include you in the layers of his life and reaffirm the unity of your shared journey.

One day, with the soft blanket cradled in his arms, Joel walks home to you as fast as his bad knees will allow. The living room, bathed in the gentle glow of twilight, becomes a canvas for his heartfelt gesture. He hands you the blanket, the colors a mosaic of warmth, and his eyes carry the weight of unspoken emotions.

“I made this for you and our little one,” he says softly, watching in awe as a confused but genuine smile forms on your lips. How he has missed this sight. “A blanket to keep you warm and remind you how much I love you.”

As you run your fingers over the intricate stitches, a warmth blossoms within you, dispelling the chill that clung to the corners of your heart.

“I never thought knittin’ would be so much fun, but I guess you’re never too old to learn new things… especially for the people you love.”

In the silence that follows, the weight of your existence lifts, replaced by the assurance that you are not alone.

“You learned to knit for me,” you murmur, your voice shaky with a mix of disbelief and gratitude.

You’ve never felt so loved.

Joel’s heart skips a beat when you look up to meet his gaze with your watery eyes. He can see the spark he fell in love with all this time ago. That beautiful spark that led him to believe in life again after living in darkness for almost two decades.

You always talk about how Joel saved you, but he knows the truth. It’s you who saved him.

With the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, he pulls you close, kissing your temple and running his hands along your back. “You are my world,” he murmurs. “And I’ll be right here, protectin’ you and our little one. You’re not alone, darlin’, remember that.”

“I love you, Joel,” you whisper as you bury your head in his chest.

---

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bluemusickid · 1 month

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The Heiress

Pairing: Lucien Flores x Heiress Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (don't be silly wrap your willy), slight dub-con (if you squint), slight dom-sub dynamics, just in general smuttiness, read at your own risk.

A/N: The collective brainrot those clips have brought us as a fandom (thanks for that, Tony ;3), is INSANE. This is just a smalllll effort in keeping that alive till we get the full movie. I have to confess: this is just shameless PWP at this point lmaoooo (don't judge me, i'm just a girl after all). enjoy and please reblog if you liked it thankssss <3 <3

Note: By clicking read more, you consent to my terms and have heed all warning mentioned above.

(Photos/Gifs of P, credz: @a7estrellas, the dividers are by the lovely @saradika-graphics)

Dull.

That's what these parties were to you always. Dull. Throw in a bunch of old men in stiff suits holding onto champagne flutes like their lives depended on it. Even worse, they tried to sell themselves to you, as if their sad marketing convinced you. You still entertained them, owing to a lack of anything fun happening around those parts.

That is till you met him.

Lucien, he had introduced himself. A cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, a champagne flute in his hand as he was engaged in a conversation with Hermann Astor, owner of the art gallery that was hosting one of the many boring do's you simply HAD to attend.

Truth be told, you weren't really listening to him. The whole "I'm-a-man-of-culture-so-of-course-I-know-art" spiel was boring. So many men trying to dazzle you with their "expertise", but you couldn't care less. To your surprise though, Lucien didn't mansplain or explain the intricacies of art missed by many. He let Hermann drone on, only piping in when something piqued his interest. He only met your eyes a few times, his dark brown hues holding his secrets.

But you knew what he was thinking. It was quite obvious, isn't that what most men wanted in this room? A chance to talk to you, an heiress to a hefty inheritance, maybe a chance to woo you, wine and dine you and then pop a ring on your finger. Maybe get you pregnant. Secure the bag.

Atleast that's what you assumed he wanted, but he didn't seem like the type to talk you up. He was mostly interested in having a chat about your life, why you hung out at these places especially since you gave no fucks about fine arts, and so on. It was surprising, true, but maybe men changed up their tactics ever so often. So you played along, as you always did. Answering with as much truth as you could.

You found yourself on the balcony standing next to him, staring at the vast grounds with its fine cut grass and neatly trimmed hedges, the moon casting its glow upon it. Turning to him, you decided to cut to the chase. You were bored, and only a quick fuck could break the tedium. Running your hand along his arm, you pulled him to one of the bedrooms, pushing him against the door. Leaning towards him, you brought your lips close to his, waiting for his permission to continue. He leaned forward, as you latched your lips to his, guiding his arms to wrap around you, deepening the kiss as you pushed yourself further into him. That's odd, you thought. This actually felt nice.

His lips, while hesitant at first, tangled with yours, the heat warming your bones. He ever so slightly placed his hands on you, running them down your body down to your hips, squeezing gently as he rested them there; pulling you towards him and his growing erection.

Itching to taste him, you knelt down, licking his growing manhood over the fabric of his tight dress pants. With a growl, he pulled you up, gripping your shoulders as he turned you around and walked you over to the bed behind you. Pushing you down, he bent you over so your ass was up in the air as your face was smushed into the soft bedding eagerly waiting in anticipation.

You felt his hot breath as his lips trailed along your thighs, his tongue running over the divots and the stretch marks that adorned your skin. You squirmed, wishing he would turn his attention to the place you needed him the most. He seemed to have heard your unspoken wish, because the very next moment, his lips moved over your core, his tongue lightly ghosting over your wet folds, your swollen core. You panted, your hands grabbing the duvet with a force that you weren't even sure was possible.

Lucien started off slow, and then dove in, his tongue swirling over your swollen nub, as he gathered your wetness on his finger and pushed a digit inside; his tongue and his finger working in tandem. You groaned loudly, pushing your hips onto his tongue, not realising that they were moving of their own accord, ever-so-slightly undulating and moving in rhythm to his licks and thrusts. Through the haze of pure lust, you realised that you were meant to be in control of this entire situation. Reaching behind, you tangled your fingers into his soft brown curls, pulling him even closer to your nub as you fucked yourself on his tongue, moaning loudly as he groaned at your act of dominance; the vibrations shooting through your core, making their way through your body. He added another finger, doubling his efforts as he felt your legs shake, and your core tightening as you neared your peak.

You screamed into the duvet, muffling your cries as your orgasm took over. You would've collapsed into the mattress had Lucien not been holding on to you, resting his head on your back as he caught his breath as well. The both of you lay there, him spooning you, till your breathing returned to normal. Straightening your clothes, you both exited the room, not meeting each others' eyes, no words spoken to one another.

The rest of the evening went very well, your secret rendezvous leaving you satiated, yet hungry for more.

The second time you met him was at the Charity Ball held by your "good friend" Fiona Mayhew, who got on your nerves most of the time, but did a lot of good for underprivileged children/teens and their education; so you stuck around. At first, you didn't really wish to go to her stuffy ball; but RSVP'd yes, with the smallest hope that Lucien would be there.

He was, of course. Dressed in a well tailored, crisp tux, his messy brown curls slicked back and gelled down. You hated to admit it, but he looked downright edible. You pretended not to notice him at first, making small talk with the members of the small group he was entertaining. You mingled, the both of you catching each others gaze as you talked to the other guests, your eyes conveying what you couldn't bring yourself to say. You barely managed to pull your gaze away from him each time, silently berating yourself for giving him that much importance. It was all a game, all a ploy.

It was working, though. Because the next time he caught your gaze, his deep brown eyes darkened as he walked out of the gigantic ball room, making his way to the large area where the cars were parked. Making his way through the maze of luxury, vintage cars, he walked over to a cambrian grey Bentley, leaning against it as an invitation to join him. He smirked, watching your hips sway as you sashayed towards him, ready to beat him at his own game. He held the door open, his hand moving from the small of your back to rest on your behind, giving you a small smack as you made your way in. Tsking, you gave him a wolfish grin, as you slid the dropped sleeves of your gown from your shoulders, his eyes bulging at the sight of your gorgeous breasts being freed from their confines.

The car shook, almost too violently, as you bounced on his cock, a moan escaping your mouth as you felt him hit your front wall, over and over. You'd always thought of sex as a chore, something to get over with. But it felt different, with him; it felt as if your body and mind split, and was only concentrated on him and how he felt inside. Your core squeezed around him, as you pulled him deeper inside; fingernails digging into his meaty shoulder. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead in the crook of your neck as he thrust up into you, pulling you towards him to meet his sharp and pointed thrusts. Your breath caught in your throat, lips ghosting over his as your breaths mingled, all thoughts of speech banished. He kissed his way down your neck to your gorgeous globes, running the tip of his tongue around your swollen nipples. This action made you groan, running your fingers through his hair, completely mussing them up and ruining his do. You couldn't care less; with the way he was making you feel, you had half a mind to pull him to the ballroom and fuck him in front of everyone to show the reason for his and your disheveled states.

His thrusts began to speed up as he held you in place, your legs trembling and burning as you tried to hold yourself up, absorbing every bit of his amorous assault on you. Undoing the buttons of his crisp white shirt, you yanked the shirt off his shoulder, biting down hard at the exposed skin. He growled loudly, thrusting up once, then twice as he emptied himself into you, painting your walls as you squeezed every drop from him, reaching your explosive end as well. The euphoria melted into your veins, swiftly coursing through the length of your body. But yet again, as he helped you straighten yourself up, no words were spoken.

Both of you made your way back to the ballroom, your clothes and hair slightly askew, and a bright red mark on Lucien's neck, that he didn't bother hiding for the rest of the night. You wouldn't be surprised if people found out that the two of had been together, let alone what the two of you were upto

You couldn't bring yourself to care, though.

And now here you were, months later. You hadn't seen Lucien for quite some time, but you didn't really care all that much. It wasn't like you were pining after him. On the contrary, you'd found quite a few men to keep yourself entertained.

You walked into Fiona's beach soiree, thanking divine providence that it wasn't a black tie affair. The fact that it was at her luxurious beach house, which was facing the vast ocean, just happened to be a silver lining. You made your way around the party, chatting with Fiona about her latest venture, the NGO she had established, the soiree a means to raise funds.

As the night progressed, you found yourself pleasantly buzzed as you sat at the bar, waiting for the bartender to serve you. A familiar voice directed at you made you turn, only to see Lucien standing there, a flute of champagne in his hands, his signature smirk on his face. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, shifting your focus to the drink placed in front of you. He looked amazing, his messy curls softly styled, his beautiful neck adorned with gold chains and a thick ring on his finger. You had never seen him this casual, the Hawaiian shirt he had donned sitting loosely on him, leaving little to imagination.

Raising your glass at him in a silent toast, you smiled, taking a swig of the bubbly liquid. Delicious.

"You alone?" He drawled.

You gestured around, "Do you see anyone else here?"

"Touché." He took a swig of his drink, eyebrows raising as he savoured it. There was a small lull in the conversation but you didn't mind. It's not like the both of you talked when you were together.

"So. Long time no see."

"Yeah, kinda hard to see someone if they don't really show their face at events." you mused dryly.

He chuckled, nodding at the accusation. Taking your flute from your hand, he put the glasses on the counter, beckoning to the garden at the back of the house, "up for a smoke?"

"I don't smoke.", you said smugly, downing the glass in front of you.

He leaned towards you, bending down to whisper in your ear, "Who said anything about smoking?"

You should've known. It never ended in just talking, in fact, you don't think you've ever had a proper conversation with Lucien, barring that one time on the balcony, the night you met him. It was as if the bond between you was solely driven by the sheer lust and attraction you had for one another. Just the way you preferred it, and wanted it, truth be told.

As you both made your way outside, Lucien pinned you to the stone wall, locking his fingers with yours as he held your arms by your head, his lips brushing over yours. You wanted to ask him many things, probably talk about the both of you and your arrangement, but you couldn't bring yourself to talk. Atleast, not now.

You felt your insides flutter in anticipation, as he left kisses all over you: your neck, your breasts, your stomach. Pushing your dress up, he left open-mouthed kisses along your thighs, biting and sucking till he left marks, you were sure of it. Pulling your lace panties to the side, he began to eat you out with a ferocity that aroused you and scared you in equal parts. All you could do was hold on as he held your wet folds apart, his tongue running over your swollen nub. Briefly, he pulled back to look at your core; swearing under his breath as he saw how wet you were for him. He dove back in, pulling your lips apart with his fingers as he fucked you with his tongue for all he was worth.

You had died and gone to heaven, you were sure of it. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as each swipe of Lucien's tongue made you forget all about your surroundings. Your leg was on his shoulder, your dress was basically falling off your body and you had nearly bitten off a finger trying to hold your screams in. If he weren't so good with his tongue and his fingers, you would have laughed at the way your body turned to putty near this man.

You were rudely pulled out of your thoughts by the feel of him pushing inside you, hitching your leg on his hip as he bottommed inside you. You gasped as he stayed there, letting you feel all of him as he feasted on your breasts, his thumbs and tongue working their magic. He began to move, his hand holding both your arms above your head, restricting your movements. Rutting into you with abandon, he snarled as he felt your pussy clench around him as he tightened his hold on your arms. Using them as leverage, he quickened his motion, anchoring your waist as he fucked into you wildly, using your body for his own pleasure.

"Fuck...take it. take it all." he grunted through gritted teeth, letting go of your arms as he held you steadily, his fingers making their way to your core, circling your swollen clit.

You heard yourself shriek as you came apart, throwing your arms around his shoulders as he reached his end as well, his warm spend coating your walls. Your core pulsed, nearly strangling his cock as the aftershocks died down. Suddenly feeling exhausted, you slid down the wall as he held you, gently rocking you till you came back to normal.

As you recovered from your explosive high, there was only one thought in your mind: you were truly and honestly screwed.

GAHHHH IDK HOW THIS TURNED OUT BUT OMFG i had suchhhh fun writing it!! Hope y'all enjoy! I don't do taglists anymore, just turn on blog notifs for @lexiscyberlibrary to be notified about any new fics!

Love ya!

-xoxo Lexi <3

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poisonedjoinery · 1 year

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Sweet Little Thing

Authors Notes: I currently have an unhealthy obsession with Sergeant Henry "Hank" Voight.

Summary: You and Hank have been dating for over a year without anyone finding out. Today, that all changes when Hank becomes a little jealous of Ruzeks advances... and needs to let everyone know who you belong to.

Trigger Warnings: None (if you feel there should be a warning, please do let me know.)

Gif by: @shootforthestars-28

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Pouring yourself another coffee, you took a sip smiling to yourself as it warmed you up. The Chicago winter had hit hard this year, and the three shirts you had on certainly weren't enough to keep you warm. Sitting at one of the tables, you hugged the mug close to your body trying to savour the heat. Brett, Stella and Violet were sitting at your table chatting, whilst Mouch, Hermann and Cruize watched the TV. Hearing the doors swing open, you glanced up and found yourself watching Sergeant Voight talking with Chief Boden, Ruzek and Atwater standing close behind him. You watched for a moment longer, seeing the frown on your Chief's face, and the jaw clench from Voight. Before you could turn away however, Ruzek caught your eye and waved. Waving back you gave a small smile, then turned back to your coffee.

Next thing you knew, you had Ruzek standing beside you grinning down.

"Hey (Y/N), how you doin'?"

Nodding you smiled;

"Good thanks you?"

"Yeah... I'm good. So uh... when you gonna let me take you out for that drink hmm?" He leant in closer to you, smirk growing wide thinking he'd finally won you over. The girls all had their own grins of amusement on their faces, waiting to see how this would play out. Sighing, you looked down.

"Ruzek, I appreciate the offer but I um... I can't." Huffing out a breath he rolled his eyes,

"Come on... I've asked around, and no one knows of a guy or girl you're dating, so it can't be that." Raising an eyebrow at him, you leant back in your chair. Stella grimaced, knowing he had most likely signed his own death warrant.

"Ruzek, I've told you before I'm seeing someone... I just don't announce it to everyone around me is all." You heard Boden laugh, glancing round you saw him and Voight looking your way. Closing your eyes momentarily, you turned back to Ruzek.

"Okay alright... at least tell me who you're dating." Raising an eyebrow, he shrugged,

"What? I'm a detective... I'm curious by nature." Before you could even answer, you heard heavy footfalls sounding behind you.

"Ruzek... is there a reason you're bothering (Y/N), hmm?" Voights' rough voice sounded behind you. Glancing up, you could see the frustration on his face. Maybe a hint of... no, Hank couldn't be jealous, surely. Especially of Adam! Before Ruzek could even answer, Voight stopped at your side.

"Can't you see she isn't interested hmm?" Chuckling Ruzek stepped back hands raised,

"Okay, boss, I was just interested, is all." Nodding, Voight glanced at where you sat jaw clenching, then turned back to Ruzek.

"Well... maybe you can keep it in your pants from now on, hmm?" Ruzek flushed, Voight's tone was a bit harsh. Yep, definitely jealous. Averting his gaze to Atwater, Ruzek sneered at his partner, who had a smirk on his face.

"Sure thing, boss." He said in a sulky tone.

"Alright let's go then, we have a case to solve." Ruzek started to walk away, but not before noticing how Voight had turned to face you.

"He means well but... he can get ahead of himself sometimes." Chuckling, you shook your head.

"Don't worry about it, Hank. I can handle it." Before Adam could make a comment on you calling his Sergeant by his first name, Voight leant down and kissed you on the cheek. You saw Brett nearly fall out of her chair as Violet choked on her drink, and Stella just gawked at you both. You had a sneaking suspicion that the boys behind you had turned to look as well.

"I'll see you tonight, yeah? You still want to go to that Japanese place?" Feeling your face burn red, you nodded.

"Yeah I do, you enjoyed it last time right?" Hank smiled,

"I did. I'll pick you up at 8 okay?" Dropping your gaze to your coffee you smiled.

"Sure thing." Grinning Hank turned around, enjoying the shocked looks on everyone's face, giving Ruzek a smug look.

"Wear that green dress I got you last Summer. I like that on you." Looking up, you felt a thrill go through you. You and Hank had always said you'd want to stay private about your relationship, but he had clearly had enough of Ruzek not taking no for an answer. You decided to be a little more brave. You watched Hank slowly walking away, the eyes of everyone in the room either looking at him or you.

"I'll wear the dress if you wear that suit I like." Glancing behind him, he winked at you.

"Anything for you sweethear'." Feeling pleased with yourself, you sat back in your chair and sipped your coffee. Knowing full well, the rest of 51, was waiting until Voight and the guys were out of ear shot before grilling you.

#chicago pd #chicago fire #one chicago #hank voight x reader #hank voight #fanfiction #fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago fire fanfic #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic

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feytouched · 1 month

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do you know of any perfumes that have a sort of medieval knight vibe? like if said knight wasn’t sweaty and stinky from battle, that is. i did a little searching on my own, but didn’t come up with any good results, so thought you might know!

ok so definitely yes i do, and also i love this question. some options, ranging from the literal to the idealised:

nevertheless, she persisted by bpal: joan of arc themed perfume. it's a bit of a polarizing one; the oudh and jasmine lean indolic and a little dirty, but i like that in this context. it's not stinky-stinky knight, but artistic-perfume-stinky knight. and there's a metallic aspect to it, like plate armour or blades. one of the more interesting scents i own tbh.

fighter by bpal: this one was too metallic and leathery for me. smells a bit like blood, it has that specific salty iron tang. definitely evocative tho.

vial of holy water by bpal: for the paladins out there. a fresh and clean cologne-type scent for the most righteous of knights; i really enjoyed wearing it until my bf stole it from me.

harvest mouse by zoologist: this is a jolly knight at a ren-faire tavern, enjoying a feast of sweet bread and ale. sun-warmed and rustic feel. soldier poet king by the oh hellos is playing in the background. perhaps a bit unsubtle, but fun nonetheless.

l'ombre dans l'eau by dyptique: hear me out. i know this is a rose fragrance. what do roses have to do with knights, you ask? idk but the dense green thorny foliage and shadowy ambiance of this scent make me think of courtly love, fairytales and arthuriana. this is a knight in a pre-raphaelite painting.

hermann à mes côtés me paraissait une ombre by eldo: a strange, sullen knight riding like a shadow through bare winter woods, headed to a church to pray for absolution from some unspeakable sin. coffin dirt, church incense, cold air. i love this fragrance so much.

all of these are extremely different from one another so i can't promise you'll like any of them, but hopefully my vibe descriptions help you!

#answered #scents

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gardenofchrome · 6 months

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MTMTE/Lost Light Headcanons

Drift would put random crystals around the 'Lost Light', especially in the med bay to "get rid of bad energy"

Drift has tried to convert Ratchet to his spirituality multiple times only to promptly (and rudely) shut down

Fortress Maximus vents to Cerebros and Red Alert often, the other tow making warm Energon for all of them and sumggling up to each other so he feels more safe.

Megatron often reads his poems out loud to himself, imanging a crowd of Cybertronians in front of him, till late hours because he can't fall into recharge properly due to nightmares

Preceptor and Brainstorm get into petty squabbles often (think Hermann and Newt from Pacific Rim)

Ultra Magnus polishes his armor daily- if he finds a spek of dirt on it he'll restart

Rodimus will start doing somersaults in the middle of the hallway randomly, nearly hitting a few members of the crew

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sevcasejay1chicago · 6 months

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Welcome home- Matt Casey x Darden!Sister

Authors note: Sorry that it’s been so long since I posted!!! It’s been a crazy few weeks and I honestly just haven’t had the motivation. This is a continuation to a story I wrote a while ago containing these two love birds.

Summary: Kelly and Stella finally bring you back home.

Warnings: NONE; possible spoilers maybe.

———————

You and Matt Casey kept your relationship going even through your move to Portland to be with your nephews, the Darden boys. When Matt had the weekend off, he would often fly over to Portland and help you out with whatever you needed. Sometimes, all you needed was him.

About three years later, Stella called you and told you about her engagement to Kelly. You were thrilled. You always knew that they would get married. You never knew Kelly to love someone and to be so devoted to them like he was to Stella Kidd. That woman had Kelly Severide wrapped around her finger.

When you got a call from Matt later on in the night, you were surprised to find that this FaceTime was filled with many familiar faces.

“Hey Darden!” Kelly yelled over Matt’s shoulder.

Clamoring could be heard as Jay Halstead, Mouch, Hermann, Sylvie, and a few others from intelligence and 51 tried to get in the frame to say hi. You giggled as you watched Kelly take Jay in a headlock and demand your attention. Everyone was clearly VERY drunk.

Matt chuckled as he watched the scene unfold on his end, but most of his attention was on you and your giggling self. He has never heard a sound more beautiful than your laugh or seen anything brighter than your smile.

Once Matt was able to break away, he stepped outside and sat at a picnic table far from the outdoor bar. He stared at you for a moment as you wrote something down, biting your lower lip in concentration. All he wanted in that moment was to rub the knots, that he knew were on your shoulders from stress, away and catch your bottom lip in his.

You noticed him staring after a minute or two and immediately blushed, hiding behind the sleeves of the hoodie Matt left you the last time he came out to Portland. “What?” You giggled, pushing your reading glasses up while you hid behind your hands.

Matt shook his head and chuckled. “Nothing. Nothing. You are just too damn adorable.” Matt smiled shyly at being caught, but he was also doing his best to hide what you were doing to him just by being you. “God. I miss you.” Matt breathed, leaning against the picnic table and setting his phone against the napkin dispenser to rub his hands together in an effort to warm them back up.

You smiled sweetly back at him. “I miss you too honey.” You whispered, flopping back into your pillows. “Sooooo, did Kelly ask you to be his best man?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

Matt chuckled, missing your antics. “Of course he did! Who else would be able to deal with Groomzilla?!” Matt joked, causing you to burst out laughing.

“True. True.” You said, struggling to catch your breath. “Stella asked me to be a bridesmaid, but I don’t know what things will look like around the time of the wedding, so I had to decline.” You explained, pouting slightly.

Matt hummed. “Well, I’m sure it’ll all work out. We have time.”

You nodded in thought before flipping onto your side and settling in for the night. You placed your phone on its upright charging port as you stared at Matt. “If you can, leave me on. It’ll be like I’m part of the fun.” You whispered, hiding a yawn behind your sleeve.

Matt knew you wouldn’t last much longer, so he easily agreed, standing up and carrying his phone around as he re-entered the crowded bar filled with your family.

———————

The day was here. Stella and Kelly were finally getting married. As far as Matt knew, you had to stay in Portland because Ben got himself into some trouble. Matt was kinda thankful for you not being here in this moment as everything seemed to be falling apart and he just knew you would be frantically trying to fix everything if you were here.

“Hey guys! A party boat just opened up and we can have the wedding there!” Cruz yelled from halfway down the block.

The wedding party all went running, eager to get there and get everything arranged. Once they arrived, Matt was pleasantly surprised and confused with how nicely the boat was decorated in line with Kelly and Stella’s wedding theme. That was, until you popped up behind him.

“Hey handsome.” You whispered, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist.

He knew those hands and that voice anywhere. He immediately turned in your arms and lifted you into his own, twirling you around. “Oh my God!” Matt yelled, chuckling as he spun you around. Once he sat you down, he swooped in to kiss you deeply. He only pulled back when he was desperately in need of air. “Wha- how?!” Matt asked, still trying to understand how you were here.

“Welllll.” You drawled out, leaning back slightly to get a better look at him. “I was really busy moving my stuff back into your apartment while you were at Kelly’s last night. Stella held her bachelorette party there while we unpacked my stuff.” You smiled, proud to have pulled one over on him.

Matt gawked at you, absolutely speechless.

“Then, when I went to start decorating this morning, I realized that the church was double booked and had this set up. Everyone helped get you here. We figured you deserved some good news after the tough year you’ve had.” You explained, smiling as everyone around you agreed.

“Plus, this is like the best wedding gift EVER. THE BAND IS BACK TOGETHER!” Stella yelled, pumping her fist in the air.

Everyone chuckled and immediately agreed.

Matt wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, burying his face in your hair. After a few moments, Matt pulled back and kissed you on the forehead before shouting, “LETS GET KIDD AND SEVERIDE HITCHED!”

As everyone began to walk to their seats or to their places, Matt pulled you into his side and gave you one more kiss. “Welcome home baby.”

———————

At the reception, Matt has you sitting in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. “So, where are Griffin and Ben?” Matt asked, kissing the side of your head.

“So, here’s the thing.” You began, turning in his lap to look Matt in the eyes. “Griffin got accepted into Northwestern and Ben was okay with moving home with you, so I brought Ben with me and Griffin is staying on campus.” You explained, toying with your necklace as you spoke.

“Wait, so Ben is here?!” Matt asked, immediately ecstatic.

You chuckled, calming down now that the biggest secret was out. “Yeah. Griffin is at the apartment with him now. He will be staying for the night before going back to his dorm so that we can have the night out. He expects Uncle Matt’s famous eggs in a basket tomorrow morning.” You chuckle, shaking your head at the fact that Griffin remembered his favorite meal that Matt made him as a kid.

Matt beamed, kissing you on the temple. “He can have anything he wants.” Matt assured, smiling proudly at the fact that Griffin remembered things from their time together. For the first time since you left, Matt was finally content.

#one chicago #matt casey #one chicago x reader #kelly severide #fluff #matt casey x reader #stella kidd #stellaride #Darden!Sister

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sugarjoycehigh · 5 months

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newmann as ace/pan duo would be totally like

newt: boys are hot, girls are hot, enbies are hot! god why is everyone so hot?

hermann: global warming, i guess

#my favorite headcanon #newmann #newt geiszler #hermann gottlieb

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lego-man-speer · 6 months

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On This Day - 16th Oct 1946

Marks 77 years since the Nuremberg executions. (This is gonna be one of my longer posts guys).

At the Nuremberg trials, 12 Nazi war criminals were sentenced to death by hanging: Hermann Göring, Joachim von Ribbentrop, Hans Frank, Wilhelm Frick, Alfred Jodl, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, Wilhelm Keitel, Alfred Rosenberg, Fritz Sauckel, Arthur Seyss-Inquart, Julius Streicher and Martin Bormann (whom was sentenced to death in absentia - as his whereabouts at the time were unknown. It is now believed he died trying to escape Berlin in 1945).

I'll go through each of the executions in order of scheduling:

Hermann Göring.

Hermann Göring was the first scheduled to be hung. However, after being denied his request to be shot by firing squad Göring committed suicide in his cell via a cyanide capsule two hours before the scheduled executions were to be carried out. It's unknown how he acquired the cyanide, as cells were checked thoroughly and regularly as well as body searches. There are some rumours however, including one that suggests that the capsule was brought to him by his wife through their departing kiss. Because of his suicide in his cell, no last words were recorded. He was aged 53.

2. Joachim von Ribbentrop

Joachim von Ribbentrop was the first to actually be executed. Upon reaching the dock his last words were: "God protect Germany. God have mercy on my soul. My final wish is that Germany should recover her unity and that, for the sake of peace, there should be an understanding between East and West. I wish peace to the world." It was later recalled that before the hood was placed over his head, he looked over at the Lutheran chaplain and said "I'll see you again." His time of death was recorded at 1:30AM. He was aged 53.

3. Wilhelm Keitel

Wilhelm Keitel's last words were: "I call on God Almighty to have mercy on the German people. More than two million German soldiers went to their death for the fatherland before me. I follow now my sons - all for Germany." His time of death was recorded at 1:44AM. He was aged 64.

4. Ernst Kaltenbrunner

(couldn't find his detention report, frustratingly. So have this image instead.)

Ernst Kaltenbrunner's last words were: "I have loved my German people and my fatherland with a warm heart. I have done my duty by the laws of my people and I am sorry my people were led this time by men who were not soldiers and crimes were committed of which I had no knowledge." His time of death was recorded at 1:52AM. He was aged 43.

5. Alfred Rosenberg

Alfred Rosenberg's last words were: "No." He was the only one who refused to make a final statement. His time of death was recorded at 1:59AM. He was aged 53.

6. Hans Frank

Hans Frank was recorded to be the only one who walked into the chamber with a "smile on his countenance." His last words were: "I am thankful for the kind treatment during my captivity and I ask God to accept me with mercy." His time of death was recorded at 2:08AM. He was aged 46.

7. Wilhelm Frick

Wilhelm Frick's last words were: "Long live eternal Germany." His time was recorded at 2:20AM. He was aged 69.

8. Julius Streicher

Julius Stretcher's execution was described as melodramatic, and cried out "Heil Hitler" and "The Bolsheviks will hang you one day" before the hood was placed over his head. Julius Streicher's last words were: "Adele, my dear wife." His time of death is unknown. He was aged 61.

9. Fritz Sauckel

(Couldn't find his detention report either, so have this image instead.)

Fritz Sauckel's sentence was considered controversial, considering this his superior, Albert Speer, was sentenced to 20 years imprisonment - just barely avoiding the hangman's noose. His last words were: "I am dying innocent. The sentence is wrong. God protect Germany and make Germany great again. Long live Germany. God protect my family." His time of death was recorded at 2:40AM. He was aged 51.

10. Alfred Jodl

Alfred Jodl's last words were: "I greet you, my eternal Germany." His time of death was recorded at 2:50AM. He was aged 56.

11. Arthur Seyss-Inquart

Arthur Seyss-Inquart's last words were: "I hope this execution is the last act of the tragedy of the Second World War and that the lesson taken from this world war will be that peace and understanding should exist between people. I believe in Germany." His time of death was recorded at 2:59AM. He was aged 54.

The executions were botched. Many of the condemned had slowly strangled to death (such as Joachim von Ribbentrop), and many had hit their heads on the trapdoor as they went down as the trapdoor was too small. One of the condemned took 28 minutes to die.

After the executions, the bodies were taken to a crematorium in Munich (all under false names) and their ashes scattered in the river Isar. The majority of the condemned's war medals were either destroyed or denazified before being handed over to the US finance director for sale to offset the cost of the executions.

#reichblr #nuremberg trials

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