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rainybubbles · 9 months

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How do you meet COD men ?

Price, Soap, Rudy, Ghost, Gaz, Keegan

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC. )

P R I C E :

-"I'm going to die," you say to your friend.

-"What ? Why would you die ?"

-"I sent a pregnant Shrek cake to a military base."

-"Why would you do that ?!"

-"This guy ordered a cake for his soldier's birthday, but I also had the order for a prank and...

-"You mixed up the two boxes."

-"Yes."

-"So, actually,....a soldier is opening his box and..."

-"And he will see a pregnant Shrek cake."

-"...It was good to know you when you were alive."

-"You're supposed to reassure me !"

-"Oh sorry. You will die fast, don't worry. It's their job"

-"Fuck you."

-"How was the guy who ordered ?"

-"Like he could crash my head between his arms"

-"Shit."

-"But he was handsome, I guess."

-"Guess your last view will be nice, at least."

-"Shit, how do I even excuse myself for that ? I can't go to the base and say "sorry I sent a Shrek cake, but it was a mistake can you let me in ?"

-"I guess you just say it," a man says.

-You gulp when you recognize the Captain who ordered you the cake.

-"Sir, I'm so sorry, I swear it's not on purpose, I just mixed two orders and..."

-"And you made my boys laugh after a rough mission."

-"oh."

-"So thanks. Of course, it was not what I planned for a birthday, but seeing them happy was nice."

-"You're..welcome, I guess ?"

-He smiles.

-"But don't ever do another pregnant Shrek when I order from you, next time, please."

-"Next time ?"you say surprised.

-"It was delicious, I don't plan to change a good baker," he smiles.

And that's how you gain a regular after offering a pregnant Shrek cake. (even though each time he sees green on your hand, he seems scared when he takes the box.)

S O A P :

- He drew you like Gollum.

- I know, it sounds horrible, let me explain.

- You needed money, and you offered your services as a model for art classes.

- Soap was one of the students.

- During his leaves, he often took art classes to relax.

- And usually it goes well.

- But when he saw you....he thought he could never do justice to your face.

- He felt so self-conscious about his skills that he ended up doing a horrible portrait of you.

- And it could have ended up here, but the teacher decided to show everyone's pieces of art to analyze them

- So you saw Soap's piece where you looked like Gollum.

- And you knew it was from him.

- Everyone has a smile, while he was terrified.

- Usually, he's self-confident, but it's on the battlefield, in his life. The art was the only place where he was not sure he belonged too.

- At the end of the classes, he decided to talk to you.

- "I'm sorry for what happened today, I felt anxious and I ended up doing a bad portrait. It doesn't look like you at all."

- You looked up at him and smiled.

- "Why do you apologize? It was fun to see me like this, plus you need to start somewhere, no? You can't be a fucking Leonardo Da Vinci from the first day."

- He was too stunned to speak.

- "John or Johnny," he said.

- You looked at him confused.

- "Name's John, sorry, it seems you really blew my mind."

- You chuckled. "Nice to meet you, John. Hope next time your mind will be more confused for the next class."

- He nodded.

- Wait, did you say the next class? But it was nude modelsâ€¦

- Hope he won't draw a stick figure this time.

R U D Y

- You were an author.

- Well, it was not your main job since you only sold four books this year, but you considered yourself an author.

- And you had a hater. Someone who left a hateful review on each of your books.

- You knew that the next day after publishing your book, he would leave a bad review.

- So when your boss at the library told you that someone was regularly buying your books, you knew it could only be this hater, since the other person who bought your books was your mom.

- And you had had a bad day. So when your boss told you he was there, you were about to confront this hater.

- Maybe to understand what he didn't like or to know if he was just a coward.

- So you strode towards the spot your boss pointed at.

- "Hey, you," you said, not sure what to add after. When the man raised his head, he looked fit, and you knew you couldn't stand a chance in a fight if he decided to fight.

- "Wait, are you the author Y/N?" Rudy asked, with a sparkle in his eyes.

- Wait... A sparkle?

- "Hm, yeah, it's me," you answered, not sure what was happening.

- "I love your work. Your last book was really amazing. I have followed you since your debut."

- Your mouth was open, because :

1. one, your mom had lied to you when she told you she had bought three copies of your book.

2. And second, you had your first fan in front of you.

- "Thanks," you almost said, tears of joy welling up. "Sorry if I sound harsh. I thought you were that hater."

- "Oh yeah, I saw those reviews on your page. He's always there, but don't worry, I'll leave positive reviews to balance it. I'm Rudy, by the way."

- "Nice to meet you, and thanks for loving my work."

- "No need to thank me. I just appreciate good books."

- "What's your favorite, if I may ask?"

- Rudy smiled, and you both started chatting about books that afternoon. Maybe your reviews would improve after this, not just because of your writing, but also because he found you stunning.

G H O S T :

- Ghost scared people on the battlefield.

- However, the people who were most scared of him were the mechanics on the base.

- Ghost was a horrible driver, and everyone knew that.

- So, each time he went to the mechanics, they knew it was because he had done horrible damage to the cars.

- A game was organized whenever Ghost approached â€“ you played rock, paper, scissors, and the loser had to fix his car.

- However, you were new to the base.

- When you saw this guy standing and waiting, you went to him without realizing all this.

- But when you saw his car, you understood why no one else was coming.

- He had a bowling ball in the trunk, the roof was broken, all the windows were shattered, and one tire was burnt.

- "...did you take this on the battlefield?" you asked.

- "No." He said shortly.

- You blinked. "Then why is it in this condition?"

- "There was a grandma on the road."

- "...so, because of a grandma, you have a bowling ball in your trunk?"

- "Because I swerved to avoid her and ended up hitting a bowling alley."

- "How did you even get a driver's license?"

- "The examiner was too sick to see me again for the ninth time, so he just gave it to me."

- "I guess I'll fix your car, but please don't drive if you don't need to, sir."

- "Sure."

- The next day, he was there again with a hole in the car because of a bird. How ? You didn't know.

-But it seemed you had become his official mechanic without even knowing it.

G A Z :

- When he hears your voice in a café, he recognizes you.

- The problem is, he can't come to you.

- Because if he knows your voice, it's because of your streams.

- Your ASMR streams.

- Being a soldier means your sleep schedule isn't really regular, and to help himself sleep, Gaz discovered ASMR.

- He found out about your streams, then your Patreon, and... let's just say your ASMR is spicy.

- So yes, if he says he's a fan of yours, it implies he has to reveal he listens to that in front of his teammates.

- And he's not ashamed of it.

- But he doesn't want Price to know he likes spicy ASMR, just like he wouldn't want to know what Price's fantasies are, or what Ghost likes in bed.

- (He wants to forget Soap's idea about Ghost in pink lingerie and a thong, and the day Price wore latex pants.)

- It's a line he doesn't want to cross.

- But he's also your biggest fan.

- So he tries to walk near you.

- But you're with a friend.

- And he doesn't know if your friend knows about this.

- So he ends up just glancing at you.

- Shit, how does he approach someone who does +18 things, without saying he knows they do this?

- Maybe if he waves... or just says hello? Or maybe if he asks for a selfie orâ€¦

- "Are you trying to imitate Ghost?" Soap asks.

- "What? No. Why do you say that?!" Gaz says, looking away.

- "Because you're staring at this person like they killed your dad and ate your mom, then burned your house and kidnapped your dog."

- "...it was really detailed for a scenario," Gaz says, confused.

- "So?"

- "I just know them, but I don't want to disturb them." Gaz says, trying to lie and tell the truth at the same time.

- If Soap finds out the truth, he'll never hear the end of it.

- "Do you want me to call them?"

- "NO. Absolutely not, don't do this, mate."

- "Why not?"

- Because they'll think you listen to their spicy ASMR audios, he wants to say, but he remains quiet.

- God, he feels like a teenager.

- But suddenly, he sees you walking towards them.

- You sit next to them, and... you wink at him, pointing to his key ring on his bag.

- It's your merch.

- Meaning... you know he's a fan.

- "Thanks for supporting me," you whisper before returning to your friend.

- Gaz doesn't speak until he gets back to base, too embarrassed but also too happy.

K E E G A N :

- You were tired.

- The rush had finally ended. It was now 11 PM, and there was this one client who had just ordered 10 Happy Meals.

- You wanted to slap him. He had ordered at 22:57, and the fast food closed at 23:00.

- So you didn't have a choice but to serve him.

- You looked at your colleague, who was sighing, and you nodded.

- You were preparing the trays, ready to see 10 kids running around and getting everything dirty, butâ€¦

- It was only one man with a mask.

- When you saw him, you were ready to raise your hands and give him money. Why the heck would a man with a gun and a mask be at a McDonald's at 23:00 buying 10 Happy Meals?

- But he just took them and ate.

- One after another.

- In silence.

- In five minutes.

- And then he left.

- You looked at your colleague.

- "Guess it's as weird as people who order a burger without buns," your colleague said.

- You nodded and thought it was just the one weird client of the day.

- But every Wednesday, he was there, in silence.

- Maybe he hated Ronald McDonald, so he planned to run out of your stock of Happy Meals?

- Or maybe he collected the toys?

- You didn't know, but he was there.

- And you saw him eating those nuggets and fries without sauce.

- He didn't touch his drinks. My, how dry it must be.

- But one Wednesday you took a day off. So when you came back the next day, you joked with your colleague about the Happy Meal guy.

- But they didn't laugh.

- "Who?" they asked.

- And just like that, you realized that when you weren't there, the Happy Meal guy wasn't there either.

- You were scared.

- Maybe he thought buying Happy Meals seduced you, or it was his way of warning you before he would kill you, like a threat, "You'll end up like those nuggets."

- So, when you saw him enter, you sent your colleague.

- However, your manager decided to give you your break at that moment, meaning it would be only you and him in the place.

- You tried to act normally, but you noticed how he seemed not to like his food yet still ate it.

- You sighed and sat next to him, offering him some sauces.

- "It's better with these. You know, you can have them for free in the menu next time."

- He looked at you and nodded.

- He then tried it and smiled.

- That's when you noticed his dog tags.

- "We have a discount for military personnel, so you could take a real meal instead of a Happy Meal if you want to."

- He looked surprised and nodded.

- Next time, he ordered 2 Happy Meals and two regular menus.

- So you smiled.

- Until his other masked colleagues ordered 20 Happy Meals because they liked the skull toys in them.

- Maybe it was just military men who had a problem with Happy Meals.

If you want more : my COD masterlist

And my masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #rudy parra x reader #rudy x reader #soap x reader #captain price x reader

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fiction-is-life · 11 months

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Calling Out to You

Summary: You reconnect with an old friend during the Season, but the young Viscount is not the same as the boy you grew up with. Requested by @junevoidzombie

Warnings: Description of injuries, minor character death, period misogyny, Anthony being difficult

“Help!” you called, starting to panic as the evening air grew cooler and the forest grew dimmer. You sniffled and wiped your nose on the sleeve of your dress; your mama was going to be so angry, but the dress was ruined now anyways. “Is anybody out here?” you cried.

You heard a twig snapping in the distance, and your head snapped up. You let out a pitiful hiccup, but you finally stopped your incessant blubbering. You waited a few more moments, hoping the sound would come closer, but it didn’t. It must have been an animal, you thought.

“Who’s there?” a voice called. It didn’t sound particularly friendly, but any help was better than staying out here.

“My name is (Y/N)!” you called back. “I tripped and now I fear I have sprained my ankle.”

“Hold on. I shall be there in a moment, miss,” the voice called back, this time slightly closer.

In less than a minute, a figure started to take form in the growing darkness. As he grew closer, you realized that he was younger than you were expecting - perhaps only three years older than yourself. He had the most beautiful dark hair and eyes, though, and you became conscious of the horrible disarray you were currently in.

He knelt beside you. “I know you said your ankle is injured; is there any way you think you can stand on it, with my assistance?”

You shook your head. “I have already tried, sir.”

“Anthony,” he interrupted. He cleared his throat. “You must call me Anthony, miss.”

Your face lit up with a smile. “Then you must call me (Y/N), Anthony. My family just moved here from Hertfordshire. We now live at Turring Manor, and I was exploring the country when I fell.”

He smiled back shyly. “Well, it would most likely be easier to carry you to my family’s home. It is much closer than Turring Manor, and the sun is already setting.”

“That would be most appreciated, Anthony. Thank you!” you replied eagerly.

The next thing you knew, Anthony was lifting you off of the ground, being extra careful to not jostle your hurt leg too much. Once you were off of the ground, however, Anthony looked at you while a blush crept across his cheeks. “Um, it might be easier to walk if you put your arms around me as well. I wouldn’t want your leg to pain you more than necessary,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“Very well,” you whispered. You couldn’t help your own blush as you did as he asked you. Once that was done, he set off in the direction he had come from.

“Anthony, there you are darling! Wherever have you been?” A very beautiful woman came down the steps as you approached the very impressive home. It must be Anthony’s mother; the resemblance was uncanny.

“I am sorry I am late, mother, but our new neighbor fell in our woods and could not walk home,” Anthony explained.

The lady’s eyes finally fell on you and concern filled them. “Oh, you poor thing,” she cried. “Anthony, bring her up to the yellow bedchamber. I shall have the maids draw a bath and bring her something to eat.”

Anthony’s mother sprung into action, and before you knew it, you were being laid upon a soft bed and Anthony was being shooed out of the room. After a luxurious bath, you were given a silk nightgown borrowed from one of Anthony’s sisters.

Said sisters (at least two of them - you had heard there was at least one more) came to keep you company before it was time to go to bed. You could tell you all would become fast friends although the two girls were as different as could be. Daphne was content to stay and practice piano while Eloise was always ready for an adventure. Life would certainly not be dull living so close to Aubrey Hall.

“So Anthony really carried you all the way from the woods because you fell?” Daphne questioned as you explained what had happened that day.

“Yes, he did. I couldn’t be more grateful; my parents would have been worried sick if they had not heard from me,” you said.

Daphne sighed, a dreamy look taking over her features. “That is so romantic. Like a knight rescuing the princess in the stories papa tells us. Right, Eloise?” Daphne gushed.

Eloise rolled her eyes at her older sister’s antics. “Anthony is hardly a knight in shining armor, Daphne. You are being silly,” Eloise retorted.

Seeing how a fight was about to break out, you said, “He may not be a knight of olde but he certainly rescued me today.”

Eloise and Daphne looked at each other, slow smiles growing on each of their faces, making you nervous. “Do you love our brother, (Y/N)?” they squealed in unison.

“What? Of course not! We just met!” you protested, but the butterflies flying in your stomach told a different story.

“Anthony! You and Benedict - and Colin if he can behave himself and not eat all the biscuits - must come to my tea party this afternoon,” Daphne decreed at the breakfast table. Her proclamation was met with several groans and one small protest of “Hey!”

Anthony scowled at his younger sister. “Tea parties are for girls, Daphne. Besides, I have a shooting lesson this afternoon,” he said.

Daphne beamed despite the implied insult. “No you don’t! I already asked papa, and he has rescheduled your lesson. He hopes to join us for a bit after his meeting with Lord Aberly,” she said primly. Her eyes glimmered with a spark of mischief. “(Y/N) shall also be there,” she added in a sing-song voice.

“Fine, we shall attend your tea party.”

“Oh, come on, Anthony! Why did you have to accept for the both of us?”

“Are you excited for the new baby, Ant?” you asked as you strolled in Aubrey Hall’s garden.

He shrugged, making his broadening shoulders fill his jacket even more. He had changed so much in the year he had been away at university, but he was still the same Anthony, thank goodness. “I suppose. It is always nice to welcome a new sibling, but the novelty has worn off. Each baby is just like the last,” he chuckled.

You slapped his arm playfully, giggling as well. “How could you say that, Anthony?” you scolded. “Are you going to think that of your own children as well?”

You thought you saw his eyes flicker over your form with a strange expression in them, but it must have been a trick of the light for when his eyes returned to yours they were his normal welcoming brown.

“No, I shall probably become as tender-hearted as my father when each babe is welcomed. And dote on my wife for bringing such a miracle into the world,” he replied, that funny trick of the light occurring again and making your stomach inexplicably flip.

His father knelt to gather flowers for his mother, prompting Anthony to do the same. “I shall gather some for (Y/N). She was just admiring these daffodils the other day,” he spoke as he used his pocket knife to cut the loveliest blooms. “I believe I will do as you suggested and ask her -”

A thump behind him interrupted him.

“Father? Father!”

“Papa has inherited a piece of land in Scotland. We are leaving within the week to go there.” You stood in the door of what was now Anthony’s study. He looked so small and lost sitting there, his late father’s portrait above him.

He nodded his head briefly before looking back down at the papers before him that required his attention. “I shall see you when you return then. Safe travels,” he spoke in a clipped tone.

“You don’t understand. We are renting out Turring Manor and moving to Scotland.”

His head snapped up at this, but his eyes were distant and cold, his jaw set. There was a pregnant pause before he spoke, “Then I wish you all the best, Miss (Y/L/N). May God be with you.”

His terse farewell cut you like a knife. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “And with you, Lord Bridgerton.”

You fled the house before anyone could see your tears fall.

Anthony was in the middle of his set with Miss Sherwood when there was a commotion at the entrance to the ballroom. He looked to see a family enter, but they were blocked from his seeing their faces. Accepting defeat, he tipped the corners of his lips up in what Miss Sherwood would know as a fond smile as he resumed their dance, forgetting the interruption entirely as the dance came to an end.

“Brother! How was your dance with the lovely Miss Sherwood?” Benedict clapped him on the back and handed him a glass of punch as he joined him near the terrace doors.

He sighed, letting his austere Viscount visage fade just enough for Benedict to see how tired his brother was. “She is well-spoken and graceful.” He looked away from his brother and out towards the crowd. “She shall make a wonderful Viscountess.”

Benedict’s eyes softened but Anthony refused to look at him. “Will that be enough for you, Brother? A wife and a mother to your children?”

Anthony fixed a glare on Benedict that would have made a lesser man shrink back and admit defeat. “Isn’t that the point of the institution? I shall gain an heir and somebody to take care of my households while I provide her with a name and protection from material poverty.”

“Some might add love into that mission statement,” Benedict said with a hint of sarcasm.

Anthony paused, but his mind was more made up than ever. “I gave that notion up a long time ago, Brother. Love brings nothing but heartache,” he spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion.

The brother’s staring contest was broken by a familiar voice. “Lord Bridgerton, Mr. Bridgerton.”

The tall, dark haired men bowed. “Lady Danbury, how do you do?” Benedict took on the lion’s share of the social niceties as Anthony still had that far off look in his eyes. He was not attending to the conversation at all, but Lady Danbury did not grow offended at his slight.

“Very well, Mr. Bridgerton. I wanted to introduce you both to someone. Her family has just moved back from Scotland - just in time for the season,” Lady Danbury continued, bringing you forward.

“(Y/N)!” Benedict cried, grabbing your hand to place a kiss onto your glove.

Lady Danbury raised an eyebrow in surprise, but her eyes were calculating. “So you two know each other?”

“Miss (Y/L/N)’s family used to be our neighbors. We spent many a day together before they moved away,” Benedict explained. You were glad for it as your tongue was tied.

“That is wonderful. Then you two can help me introduce Miss (Y/L/N) to some other members of the Ton,” Lady Danbury smiled but fixed her eagle gaze on Anthony who had broken out of his stupor enough to gaze open-mouthed at you. “Her family would like to see her settled.”

Benedict’s easy smile flashed. “That will not be so hard a task for one as lovely as you, Miss (Y/L/N).”

You smiled wryly. “It may become a little more challenging when people hear this is by no means my first season out,” you spoke, with that familiar teasing lilt to your voice.

“Nonsense.” Your head snapped up at the almost angry outburst from the Viscount. He cleared his throat. “Many men will find you to be all the more acceptable for your age,” he said.

You smiled and Anthony made the mistake of looking at you - really looking at you - this time. “You are right, my lord. Many bachelors will be looking to find a wife before they themselves enter their dotage,” you teased, making Benedict laugh.

Anthony could not recover himself fast enough - perhaps tell you that were more beautiful than the day you left - before Benedict was offering you his hand and leading you towards the dance floor.

“Miss (Y/L/N), may I have your next set?” Anthony intercepted you the moment Benedict led you off the dance floor. He was spinning his signet ring on his pinkie finger.

“Of course, my lord,” you spoke even as he was already grasping your hand and leading you back onto the floor.

You spent half of the set in silence. You could tell even after all these years when Anthony needed time to think. You focused on the steps of the waltz and actively tried to ignore how it felt to be in his arms.

“How was Scotland?” Anthony finally broke the silence.

You blinked, startled. “It is a most beautiful country, my lord,” you replied.

He nodded. “Were there no eligible gentlemen there?”

Your brow furrowed. “Of course there were many,” you sputtered.

“Why did you not wed then?” The interrogation continued.

Your nostrils flared with your temper. “I do not believe that is any of your business, my lord,” you stated, a hint of anger behind your words. “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, but I am a man; it is different.”

You scoffed, drawing the attention of some onlookers. “Yes, I suppose it is. I am but a woman. Therefore my only purpose is to wed and have babies.” You stopped dancing and broke out of his grasp. You stood with your fists clenched at your sides. “I heard you when you were near the terrace, my lord. I cannot countenance how much you have changed.”

He watched in equal parts anger and despair as you walked away from him and out the doors.

“Mama, what are these?” You fingered the petals of the daffodils that had been arranged in a beautiful bouquet.

“They must be from a potential suitor who saw how gracefully you danced with Benedict last night,” she replied, still not daring to mention the scene you had caused when you had stormed away from Anthony. “There is most likely a card in them, peach.”

There was indeed. You opened it to find a familiar neat hand.

I remembered these were your favourites, is all it read.

You closed the card and slipped it into your pocket. “They are just from Lord Bridgerton. An apology for our row.”

You purposely did not meet your mother’s eye so as not to see the look of disappointment that overtook her features.

“Who is that walking with Lady Danbury?”

“That is Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict quickly informed the fair-haired earl he and Anthony had been walking with along with Miss Sherwood. “Would you like me to introduce you both? She is an old friend of our family.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Bridgerton, that would be delightful!” Miss Sherwood cried. “Wouldn’t it be, Lord Bridgerton?”

Anthony nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Most delightful.”

You and Lady Danbury had already come upon the group, and you paused. “Miss (Y/L/N), you must allow me to introduce my good friend Lord James Thatcher, the Earl of Wembey and Miss Sherwood of Bath.”

You curtsied politely to the both of them. “It is a pleasure to meet you both,” you said smoothly, years of good breeding taking over as your mind reeled. So this was the Miss Sherwood that he had spoken of.

“Miss (Y/L/N), would you care to join me on a small boat ride on the lake? It is the perfect weather for it,” Lord Wembey addressed you directly, startling you. You could feel Lady Danbury’s gaze on you.

“That would be most lovely, my lord,” you spoke as you took his proffered arm.

“Lord Wembey has invited us to attend the theater tonight with him in his box. Is that not lovely, my dear?” your mama crowed. This would not be the first time the handsome earl had singled you out in his attentions. They had become quite marked indeed.

“That is wonderful, mama,” you replied, not looking up from your needlework. “Shall I wear the yellow silk, do you think?” And the conversation turned back to fashion plates and fripperies.

The pall mall ball soared into the air - straight into the woods and definitely nowhere near the intended target. You were never good at pall mall, but what you lacked in talent you made up for in enthusiasm. And the annual tournament was no exception - especially since it was your first after returning.

“I suppose (Y/N) must return to the woods,” Eloise teased. “Hopefully you do not need to rescue her this time, Anthony.”

“Rescue her? Whatever do you mean, Miss Bridgerton?” Miss Sherwood asked.

You and Anthony both opened your mouths to explain, but Benedict beat you to it. “Many years ago, Miss (Y/L/N) was walking in our woods when she injured herself. Luckily for her, though, Anthony was there to help her home.”

“Oh, how wonderful! It was like fate brought you together,” Miss Sherwood gushed, just as Daphne had all those years ago.

Anthony cleared his throat and brushed his free hand down his pant leg, trying to dislodge an imaginary piece of lint. “Yes, well, it was a very long time ago, and I am sure the memory has been distorted until it seems much loftier than it is,” he spoke, more harshly than he meant in his flustered state. “Shall we play on? I believe it was your turn, Miss Sherwood.”

“I have noticed Lord Wembey and (Y/N) are spending a great deal of time together, Brother,” Daphne spoke as she entered Anthony’s study.

“Have they? I have not really noticed,” Anthony spoke with a clenched jaw, his pen arrested in mid air where it dropped a rogue dot of ink on the otherwise pristine page.

Daphne tilted her head and pursed her lips - a look she had perfected from childhood. “I find that hard to believe, Brother. Everyone expects him to propose - perhaps even tonight at mama’s ball,” she said. She huffed lightly as Anthony still did not look up from his work. “And people are also wondering why you have not proposed to Miss Sherwood yet.”

Anthony finally set down his pen and looked at her. “How are those two connected, Sister?” he ground out.

Daphne did not break eye contact. “Some people are saying that you have not proposed to Miss Sherwood because you hold a tendre for (Y/N),” she explained.

“Why would I care about the words of gossips?” Anthony growled.

Daphne leaned forward, her face set just as hard as his. “You may not care, but if you do not fix this, you could inadvertently tarnish (Y/N)’s reputation and ruin her chances at an excellent match.”

Daphne made her way back towards the corridor. “Maybe think about that, Brother,” she said before she shut the door behind her.

You rode fast and hard, uncaring of anything but getting away. You did not even care that the skies looked as if they would open up at any second and flood the ground beneath you. It would only be too fitting for your mood.

Another one.

You had rejected another perfectly suitable gentleman.

What was wrong with you? Lord Wembey was everything you were looking for in a husband. He was young, titled, wealthy beyond measure, kind hearted, well-read. He could do with some darker hair, but that was beyond his control.

You drew your horse up short at that thought. Were you seriously comparing Lord Wembey to Anthony - yes, for he was still Anthony in your thoughts - and finding Lord Wembey wanting?

You breathed heavily as that thought washed over you, and you wanted to scream.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Anthony appeared on horseback. He cut an even more impressive figure than he used to, but that was no wonder. His eyes locked on you, and he turned his horse to meet yours.

And you fled.

You could feel him following you, his better knowledge of the ground and larger steed allowing him to gain ground rapidly. You could feel the promised rain start to pummel your back, but you pushed your horse faster. Eating up ground faster than you could see it as your vision was blurred with rain and tears.

“(Y/N), watch out!” were the last words you heard before your body slammed into the ground.

You opened your eyes to see it was already light in your bedroom. Your mother sat beside you. “Mama?” you rasped, wincing at how it made your head ache.

The lines on your mother’s face smoothed as she looked at you, before promptly starting to sob. “Oh, you are awake! We thought we had lost you forever!”

You scrunched your forehead as you tried to sit up. You were immediately assisted by two maids. “What happened, mama?”

“Oh, you would have been lost without him! Going out for a ride in horrific weather, what were you thinking?” your mother was working up into one of her fits of hysteria.

“Mama!” you broke her off. “Lost without whom?”

“Oh, Anthony, of course! He saw you get thrown from your horse, and he carried you all the way back on his. He personally saw that the doctor was fetched, too, wonderful boy,” she gushed.

You fiddled with the comforter, unsure of what to say.

There was a knock on the door. You turned your head to see Anthony standing there, fidgeting with his signet ring just as he did in the days immediately following his father’s death.

“I shall leave you two to have a moment of privacy,” your mother whispered as she stood.

You attempted to reach out to her, stop her, but she was too quick. She beckoned the two maids to follow her but left the door open for propriety’s sake.

Anthony did not move from his position near the door even after your mother vacated the room. The air felt heavy, and you were finding it hard to breathe. You smoothed the bedcovers although they were practically perfect.

“I am so relieved you are awake,” Anthony croaked, his voice raspy with disuse.

You steadfastly continued your study of the linens. “I am told I have you to thank for that, my lord.” You congratulated yourself on keeping your tone even.

“Will you stop that?” Anthony’s tone was sharp, and you finally looked at him fully. His face was drawn, and it was clear he had not shaved in a few days.

“Stop what, my lord?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He walked towards your bed, his face red. “Calling me that,” he practically spat.

You scoffed, not believing he was truly acting so childish. “Well, it is your title. It would be improper for me not to -”

“Marry me, then.”

You must have hit your head harder than you thought for you were certainly hearing things. “What?” you breathed.

Anthony knelt at your side and took your hand tenderly in his. “Marry me, (Y/N), please,” he implored. He shook his head. “I should have asked you ten years ago, but I thought I could prevent my heart from breaking by not letting it be touched.” His gaze fell on your joined hands. He cleared his throat. “I was a fool. I disregarded the fact that it had already been stolen from me.”

His warm brown orbs found yours, and you felt your heart climb into your throat. You took a rattling breath as your eyes stung with tears.

“Anthony…” you breathed.

No further words were needed as your lips joined in the kiss you had always been waiting for.

My Masterlist

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony x reader #regency #bridgerton #bridgerton season 2

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flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

Object of Desire (Epilogue)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: sex content, breastfeeding kink, smut, angst, domination, swearing, mention of postpartum depression ]

[ description: After a difficult childbirth and finding out what kind of man her late husband was, Aemond finally finds the strength to truly understand his wife. Their life becomes peaceful and successful until Aegon is seriously injured in battle and he is proclaimed Prince Regent. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. ]

Part 1 − Object of Desire Part 2 − Object of Despair Part 3 − Object of Delight

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

For as long as he could remember, the image of himself with Aegon the Conqueror's crown placed on his head had flashed through his mind. He had never thought of depriving his elder brother of the throne, but they both knew that he was better suited to the role.

However, now, as his King lay in his chamber, with burns that caused him so much pain that they made it impossible for him to move, let alone rule the kingdom, when he was proclaimed Prince Regent, the weight of the steel pressing down on his forehead and temples seemed to overwhelm him.

His wife stood beside him, seated on the Iron Throne − she was showing her allegiance to him by wearing on her neck and fingers the sapphire jewels, necklaces and rings he had given her, her gown as usual in the colours of her lineage, blue.

He knew that she did not desire rich, shiny gifts, and his presents were not intended to satisfy her vanity − never able to express his feelings and thoughts aloud, he preferred to show his respect and affection towards her in this way, and she accepted it with calmness and gratitude.

She paid tribute to him as the last person to stand in front of his throne − she bowed and wanted to kneel, but he stopped her with a gesture of his hand, ordering her to stand up.

He did not stop her when she approached him, when her hand grasped his, when she lifted it to her lips and kissed it reverently, closing her eyes.

He swallowed loudly, stroking her smooth skin with his thumb, feeling like just grabbing her around the waist and placing her on his lap, the way he would if they were alone in his chamber.

She moved away from him, looking at him with peace − a certainty, a pride that made him feel a warm contentment, something in her violet eyes that always reassured him.

She was his ally.

Not his grandfather's, his mother's, or his brother's.

His.

The mother of his heir.

His wife.

After the ceremony, a council was gathered, led by him, to determine what to do about the situation in Harrenhal, besieged for some time by Daemon. He did not allow his wife to leave the chamber, pointing with his hand to the seat on his right hand that would normally be occupied by his mother. His sire accepted this with humility, allowing his wife to take the seat next to him, herself sitting down next to Ser Criston.

Silence fell.

"How long do we have to tolerate Daemon flying around the kingdom threatening to take the crown from my brother? He laughs in our faces, occupying a stronghold so close to the Eyrie." He said coolly, his voice deep and defiant, certain. He heard his wife draw in a deep breath upon hearing the name of her ancestral fortress, lowering her gaze to her fingers.

His grandfather grunted loudly, twisting in his seat with a quiet creak of wood, looking at the faces of those gathered with a raised eyebrow.

"In my opinion, Prince Daemon wants to provoke you, Your Grace. It is obvious that his target is King's Landing. In my opinion, Harrenhal is a small price to pay to keep the capital, let him hold this fortress if he so desires."

"Harrenhal is the bridge between the North and the South. Daemon will burn Lord Arryn's army if he chooses to come to our call." He replied impatiently, Criston Cole grunted loudly, eager to make his point.

"There is only one King. Prince Daemon must be reminded of that." He said coldly, looking at him intensely, ready to rally their entire army at one sign of his. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his wife, who was looking at him with a gaze he knew well.

As always, she was letting him decide if he wanted to hear what she had to say.

He nodded at her, allowing her to speak.

"You are the rider of the greatest dragon in the kingdom, my king. You must remain in King's Landing. The Red Keep, unlike the Eyrie, can be conquered. Prince Daemon is just waiting for this. I'm certain that when he hears that you are heading in his direction with his army he will join his wife and they will march here together. Blockade of my uncle's army will still be a lesser loss." She said calmly, looking at her hands, his grandfather nodded, his face expressing surprise and some kind of admiration.

"Your wife speaks with great wisdom, Your Grace, and I agree with her completely." He said, and he looked away, hitting the side of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, thinking intensely about what she had said.

What if he does indeed move on Harrenhal, and finds only an empty fortress with children, old men and women?

What if Daemon humiliates him, tricks him like a little child hoping he'll swallow his bait, and attacks the Red Keep along with his half-sister knowing he won't make it back in time?

"Forgive me, my Lady, however, idleness is the domain of women, not men." Criston Cole hissed, but fell silent, swallowing hard, his lips pressed together as he met his warning gaze.

"You mistake idleness for wisdom and caution, my Lord. Like many men before you." His wife replied, and he clenched his fingers on the base of his nose and closed his eyes, sighing impatiently.

"Enough." He ordered, a tense silence fell around him, his wife looked away − he could see the vein pulsing fast on her slender, long neck, her cheeks red, betraying her annoyance.

"Mother." He turned to her, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, as he always did, reckoning with her opinion. He saw her swallow hard, picking at the cuticles around her fingernails in a nervous gesture, her big brown eyes filled with fear, uncertainty and dread.

"I think it's a trap, Aemond. Daemon is clever, he lives to mock others. He's always been this way."

He sighed quietly, feeling that despite his deep desire to lead his army to victory, there was much right in the doubts of his wife, grandfather and mother − when his anger and desire to prove himself began to give way to common sense he recognised that indeed if he left the Red Keep, his half-sister would take the opportunity.

"Let our spies continue to watch him and report his doings to us. We should think about luring him out of there somehow. Is there any news from the Iron Islands?" He asked, Lord Lannister nodded and grunted loudly.

"Yes. They agree to a set sum. They will stand against the Velaryon fleet at our call. However, they demand that their independence from the crown be upheld." He said quickly, nervously, adding the last sentence as if on the fly, clearly afraid of his reaction. He sighed heavily and merely nodded.

Their discussion continued for a few more hours, touching on the army, its supplies and the state of the soldiers' morale, their attitudes, whether an agreement could be reached with Lord Baratheon to remain neutral in exchange for the seat on the Small Council that his grandfather had offered in place of his own, knowing that it was his decision that had caused the betrothal to his daughters to be broken off.

When he had heard all he wished he closed the council by dismissing everyone but his wife.

She looked at him with her characteristic composure, watching as he removed Aegon the Conqueror's crown from his head and placed it with reverence on the top of the stone table in front of him. He gazed at its steel surface thoughtfully, tapping the tip of his finger against it, each time causing it to make a quiet clink.

"All my life I have thought about this moment. But it's not how I imagined it." He said finally, his voice impassive and tired. He heard her sigh quietly with understanding, looking down at his hands.

"I know."

They were silent for a moment, hearing only the sounds coming from outside the windows, the loud conversations of guards and servants shouting in the courtyard.

"They'll think I'm a craven." He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling uncertainty and frustration rising in his chest − he sensed that she looked at him, her hand tightening on his, as if she wanted to give him the courage to do the right thing.

"He knows this is what you fear most. He'll laugh and mock that you're afraid to face him, but we both know he'll do it because he hopes it will break you. Don't let him dictate to you the terms of when and where you will face each other. It's humiliating." She said with a certainty from which he felt a squeeze in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, his thumb running over her soft skin.

"I'm expecting your child."

He shuddered, looking at her with his lips parted in disbelief, his heart began to pound hard at the thought that just a month after she'd given birth to his son, despite their shared promises, he'd come deep inside her when he'd made love to her, unable to stop himself, her hands clenched tightly on his bare buttocks, her sweet moans begging for his seed.

How could he deny her?

"Forgive me." He whispered in a trembling voice, thinking of the nightmare she'd endured, of how long she'd been unable to recover from it, how close she'd come to leaving this world. He heard her hum under her breath as she smiled softly, shaking her head.

"No. It is a good omen. A sign from the gods that they favour you." She replied, looking at him as if she was the one who wanted to comfort him, his fingers intertwined with hers. "I think this time will be different. I already know what to expect and that I can count on your support, my King."

He nodded, lifting her hand to his lips, placing a loud, lingering kiss on her smooth skin.

"They have taken pity on me, sending me you as my wife. My Queen." He muttered, drawing her close to him, gripping her waist, seating her comfortably on his lap, leaning against the back of his chair with a quiet sigh, gazing at her familiar, pleasant figure with tenderness.

She smiled warmly at his words, taking his face in her hands, stroking it with her thumbs. He closed his eyes, letting his body loosen, feeling sleepy and tired even though his manhood clearly expressed its pleasure at her closeness, swelling in his breeches.

"I will order a meal to be prepared for you and brought to your chamber. You have hardly eaten or slept for days."

"Mmm." He hummed, satisfied, as always, that she was watching him, that she knew what he needed without asking him unnecessary questions.

While this would surely have caused his frustration with another woman, her initiative didn't bother him; on the contrary, it made his daily life a lot easier, giving him the feeling that he didn't have to think of everything himself.

She was the one who decided what attire he should wear for what occasion, what they would eat for their morning meal, knowing what he liked most. To his satisfaction, she also found herself in the role of mother, establishing a close bond with their son, Jace's attachment to her and how joyfully he reacted to the sight of her made her eager to hold him in her embrace, letting him watch her feed him in the evenings.

His greatest weakness, as he found out, proved to be not the lack of his eye or control over his fiery temper, but the taste of her milk melting across his palate as his son slept peacefully at night with his belly filled with her food.

He clamped his mouth over her swollen, puffy nipples, sucking on them greedily as his fat cock thrust impatiently into her slick interior, teasing with its tip the spot inside her that made her moan shamelessly with pleasure.

"− my King −" She sobbed sweetly with her thighs spread wide, letting him pound into her with deep, fast pushes, purring with pleasure into the skin of her breasts, swallowing loudly her wonderful nectar. His sound vibrated through her entire body making her walls clench against him greedily, squeezing him, his thumb teasing and trailing around her pearl, making her fingers dig helplessly into his naked, sweaty back.

"− this is a meal worthy of the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, don't you think? − my wife's sweet, warm milk −" He murmured, running the tip of his nose over her nipple only to move his face to her other breast, repeating the same process, justifying his behaviour by the fact that he knew the excess milk was causing her pain and discomfort, and he couldn't imagine it going to waste.

"− yes − it's all yours − f-fuck −" She muttered, tilting her head back, her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders with his low groan as he felt her core begin to pulse around his manhood in orgasm, squeezing his seed out of him.

He didn't have the strength to resist and just filled her with himself, sighing in relief, licking her nipple with the tip of his tongue, as oversensitive as the rest of her body − she whimpered, trying to push him away but he wouldn't let her, busy with sucking her milk until she calmed down.

"− Aemond, please − oh gods −" She mumbled softly, completely absorbed in her fulfilment, panting heavily. He remained deep inside her, leaning on his elbow, not wanting to crush her with his body, remembering in the back of his mind about the baby in her womb.

"− what is it? − my wife is overwhelmed? − impossible −" He sneered with a grin of satisfaction − since it appeared that his attention to her breasts aroused not only him, she was soaking wet for him, her fulfilment approaching quickly and violently, making her body completely vulnerable and limp, as if she herself was shocked by how intense the sensation was.

"− I didn't even notice when you filled me again, my King − I'm inclined to think you're drawing satisfaction from my pleasure −" She cooed with a sweet smile, from which he chuckled under his breath, leaning towards her − her hand pulled him closer as their lips joined in a hot, sticky, soft kiss, her swollen breasts pressed against his chest.

He ran the tip of his nose over hers, looking into her eyes, a violet he adored − the shade of her irises slightly darker than his, warmer, shimmering wonderfully in the moonlight illuminating their bed.

He wanted to confess to her the many things that did not slip through his throat, the affection that filled his heart with heat, yet he remained silent, looking at her with a gaze she knew well. She always reacted the same way, her soft hand stroking his jaw as only two words came out of her mouth, spoken in a whisper.

"I know."

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katiexpunk · 3 months

Note

You may have done this before, I haven’t read all your work, but How about Joel and Tommy (or just Joel 😜) take you on a horse ride, out into the woods and end up having a fun time on the grass

Tell Me a Secret | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Non, thank you so much for this request. I hope you enjoy this! I love getting requests from ya'll, makes my heart so happy.xx As a side note, this will be my final fic as an unmarried woman. My wedding is in less than a month (!!!!)

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Word Count: 7.8K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Warnings: References to canon typical violence. It's hinted that readers father was abusive. Death. Blood. Reader is an artist. Ellie/Sarah/Tommy/Maria and others are referenced in this. Ellie and Reader are friends. Alcohol. Angst. Horses. Pining. Oral (female receiving). Praise kink. Pet names. Emotional sex. Very unprotected sex. They fuck outside, but nobody is around. Joel makes a questionable choice in this one that invades readers privacy. Breeding kink if you squint. Creampie. Fingering. Lots of references to art and poetry. A surprise ending that might mean more later on... Immersibility: Reader has no physical descriptions apart from having hair, breasts, and a uterus. It is noted at one point that there is charcoal visible on her hands. No age gap is mentioned (make it your own). Creative Credits: the middle image of the graphic is a drawing by @kamal.classic.art on Instagram. The poem referenced at the end is by Olivia Ann Rose. The opening section is modified poetry from Brianna Pastor. Inspiration was pulled from the lake scene in The Princess Diaries 2. And shout out to our boi Leonardo da Vinci, cuz I reference the Mona Lisa.

It’s really easy to be angry.

Over the years, anger became so familiar to you that you had a difficult time differentiating between that and your sadness. Both felt equally daunting.

It’s difficult to work on your sadness with its roots are boiling with anger. Both don’t always look the way one might expect them to. Sometimes, the face of anger is neutral, a quiet rumble you don’t notice because it’s buried so deep.

That steady stream of anger and hurt seemed to trickle into every single thing that you did. You had become cold and numb to the reality of the world around you; an empty shell of who you once were.

And then you met Joel Miller.

He came along and started to nurture what you buried so deep that you eventually forgot what was even planted there.

And you did the same for him.

Like the sun, you elevated the ordinary with a simple touch. Your rays warmed the cockles of his heart he thought had gone so cold they could never be revived.

This is that story.

++++

It doesn’t take Ellie long to figure it out.

“Hey, give me that back!” You snap at her, attempting to pull the tattered notebook from her hands, but it’s pointless. Her tiny fingers must have been sumo wrestlers in another life, you wager. Putting space between both of your bodies by quickly walking backward, she locks eyes with you until her back is up against the makeshift bookshelf.

This is your favorite place in all of the Jackson – the makeshift library Maria started a few months back. It’s not much, but with your help, the collection is starting to grow. You’re quick to stuff books into your pack on raids and have summoned a handful of the townspeople to aid in this effort. It’s always quiet and peaceful; a stark contrast to the world outside the walls that keep you safe here.

Well, that was until a rather foul-mouthed 14-year-old named Ellie arrived in town. Despite your age difference, you two have become fast friends, even if she does annoy the shit out of you sometimes.

“Ellie, I am so serious right now, please give my notebook back,” you plead with her from across the room, your hands on your hips, a serious undertone to your voice.

“Why? Whatcha trying to hide so bad? Drawing a bunch of dicks or something?” she jokes.

When you don’t respond, her eyes widen in surprise. “Holy shit, dude. You are drawing a bunch of dicks, aren’t you!” she teases, resting the pads of her fingers in between the pages of the notebook, slightly parting the paper. All she’d have to do is move them a little and the pages would fall open, revealing your secrets faster than a Catholic at confession.

She starts to crack the spine of the notebook, but your voice calling out once more causes her pause. “No, wait, Ellie, stop,” you say a tad softer this time. “I’m not drawing a bunch of dicks, and even if I were, that’s not something you should be looking at – it’s…personal,” you respond, hoping the sincerity and softness you’re attempting to frost over the obvious bite of anger behind your voice will encourage her to listen.

She stares back at you, scanning your face up and down for a hint of the truth, thinking for a few moments.

“Fine,” she says. Your shoulders fall from your ears and the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding escapes from your lungs. She walks back over to you and extends her arm out, the notebook in hand, preparing to hand it over to you as if she’s some sort of General accepting a truce deal.

As you reach out to grab it, she lets it slip from her hands a few seconds too early. A nearly silent oops escapes her lips. The notebook falls to the floor with an audible thud, dropping as fast as a dead body, its pages falling open on both sides, like blood spilling on the floor.

Before you register what’s even happening, Ellie already has her knees on the floor, hovering over the open pages, a look of astonishment and delight on her face.

“Whoa – is that,” she asks, but before she can finish her sentence, you’re quickly snatching it up, snapping it closed with an audible thud. You both rise, and she’s looking at you, a smug smile of knowing on her face. Her smile grows like she’s just found some sort of secret treasure. “That was me, wasn’t it?” It’s a rhetorical question, she already knows the answer.

You consider lying, but fuck it, you’re in too deep at this point. Plus, she may be only 14, but she’s smart as a whip, and you know she’d be able to call your bullshit from a mile away. Besides, she already saw the damn thing.

“Yes, okay, Ellie. Fine,” you concede. “It’s you. I – I like to draw,” you admit sheepishly like you’re afraid of what might come if you say it out loud.

It’s not that you’re not proud of your drawings, you are. The only thing you can attribute to your unwillingness to share your hobby with the world is akin to a trauma response.

Memories of your father ripping up your first notebook of drawings, the one he found under your pillow when you were a teenager, flash through your mind. Goosebumps litter your body when you swear you can still hear his raspy voice, harsh from the burn of whiskey, telling you that drawing won’t pay the bills and to knock that shit off or he’ll beat it out of you. He wasn’t particularly a man of his word, but somehow, he managed to keep that one. You’re not sure when the anger started to creep in, but you think it might have been then. Watching your hard work darken and crumble in the fire almost hurt worse than the sear his belt left behind.

“You were reading your comic over there the other day,” you admit, nodding your head toward the little nook by the window. “The light was just right, and well…I don’t know, I just got inspired and figured I’d give drawing you a shot,” you admit, voice soft and shy.

“Well you’re pretty fucking good at it,” Ellie admits.

You shove it down, the spark of happiness her words ignite in you, and it works. For now.

“Yeah, whatever,” you respond, clutching your not-so-secret secret closer to your chest. You aren’t good at taking compliments; especially now, after everything that’s happened.

“Can I have it?” Ellie asks. She rolls her eyes for a second, before eventually adding a please to the end of her request. You remember her telling you a few weeks back that Joel has been working with her on manners. You’d only met him once, but as far as you could tell, he was the southern gentleman, wounded dog, not to be fucked with, but still the impossibly polite type of man. The type of man that would punch another guy in the bar for questioning a lady’s honor, or stab him in the kneecap for looking at his girl the wrong way.

You consider her request for a moment, before eventually deciding that since it is her likeness, she should be the one to have it. You crack open the book, being careful to hide the other pages from her view before the familiar sound of paper ripping fills the room. You’re careful to tear it in a straight line, close to the spine, so as not to ruin the drawing.

With her portrait in hand, you bargain, “You can have this under one condition. You can’t tell anyone about this.” Ellie gives a subtle nod as if to agree. You don’t notice her middle and index fingers crossed tightly behind her back when you hand it over.

“So you’re sure you don’t have anything super naughty in there?” Ellie teases.

“Alright kid, no more dick jokes or Joel is gonna choke me,” you chide, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. Wouldn’t that be quite the piece of jewelry; a Joel Miller hand necklace. The truth is that while you don’t have anything super naughty, you do have more than one drawing of her guardian hiding in your pages. You’re not sure of much anymore, but there is one thing you do know for certain – those drawings are something she can never, ever, see. Those drawings are something nobody can ever see.

Ellie was quick to discover your secret.

Good thing it was just one of them.

You drape your arm over her shoulder and walk out of the library together.

++++

It all happens so quickly from that moment on.

It’s only spring, yet the Jackson grapevine is in full bloom, carrying the fruits of your talent to pretty much the whole town. You can’t say you’re surprised. What did you expect from a 14-year-old with minimal entertainment options?

It starts with Ellie letting it slip to Maria while they’re washing the dishes from family dinner with her, Tommy, and Joel.

Maria lets it slip to Tommy.

Tommy lets it slip to Samantha, the town’s soapmaker.

Samantha lets it slip to Joey, the butcher.

Joey lets it slip to – well – pretty much everyone else. You wouldn’t have guessed the town's butcher would be such a gossip, but dead cattle don’t make great conversationalists. Before you know it, you’re accepting some sort of art deal over porridge in the dining hall like it’s a shady drug deal.

“Come on, think of how happy it will make people,” Maria pleads with you. “You only have to do as many as you want,” she adds, looking at you with kind eyes, the ones that are nearly impossible to say no to.

You stare back at her in silence, attempting to piece together a response in your mind, but your words may as well be a 1,000-piece single-color puzzle at this point.

“So many of us don’t have those memories anymore. Think of how much it will mean to people to be able to put a drawing of their family up on their walls once more, you know?” she says, laying it on thick. Like how it used to be is what she leaves out.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” you respond, dropping your spoon on the wooden table next to your half-eaten bowl of breakfast. You feign annoyance, but deep down, you’re excited about the opportunity. Scared shitless, but excited.

“Yeah? Great. Oh just wait until I tell Tommy, he’s going to be ecstatic,” she says. “Now finish up, can’t have any of that food going to waste,” she quips, before swinging her leg over the bench and adjusting the brim of the cowboy hat on her head as she walks away, a smug look on her face.

++++

In the following days and weeks, you find yourself immersed in the lives of the residents of Jackson. Setting up your makeshift easel from scrap wood you collected on patrol in living rooms, on front porches, and amidst picturesque landscapes.

The people, once reserved, slowly begin to open up to you as they share stories and anecdotes of their lives before. It’s sweet, you think – how chatty people get when they have nothing to do but sit there while you try your best to capture their likeness.

Some conversations are easier than others. Most of the time you just nod your head and let out occasional nods or grunts of agreement, too immersed in your work to listen to what they’re saying, but sometimes you find yourself so engrossed in their stories that the drawings take hours to complete.

As much as you learn about them, you rarely open up about yourself. Sometimes they ask, sometimes they don’t. Regardless, you feel like the woman you were before no longer exists, she was left to decay with the rest of your family back in Austin. You know she’s in there, buried deep inside, hiding behind a door of anger and tears. Sometimes she cries out, but you buried the key to that lock years ago. No getting out now.

As the portraits accumulate, so does a sense of connection and unity. You’re no longer an unknown. A threat against resources. When you first arrived in town, you did your best to make yourself useful and show people that you weren’t just dead weight. And it worked, or you think it worked anyway, but the past few weeks have caused a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Before the apocalypse, you never really saw a place for your artwork or your talent. But now, you can see how it’s becoming a bridge, linking generations and weaving a tapestry of shared histories. Giving people something to cling to, something to hold on to, something to cherish once more.

Of all of the portraits you’ve done so far, your favorite is the one you did of Tommy and Maria. She hasn’t said anything yet, but from the way she placed her hand on her belly, and the way Tommy looked at her, it was pretty easy to guess. You did your best to capture their likeness, knowing it would likely be shown to generations to come. When you showed them the final result, Maria cried and hugged you tighter than you’ve been hugged in years. Their love was obvious – radiant and shiny. If anything were to make you believe in love again, wouldn’t seeing it right in front of your face be it? You try not to think about it too much when you realize it doesn’t.

You no longer have to walk the streets of Jackson, bouncing from place to place, alone. There’s always someone to talk to on your journey, or a comfortable silence paired with a subtle wave in the distance, or the occasional sound of a creaky screen door opening for you. Even before things went to shit, you never had this – community. With each finished portrait, you find yourself making a new friend.

You should be happy now. You know that. Your parasympathetic nervous system has had an opportunity to return to its normal state for the first time in years. You have the warmth of friends, and people like you. Like actually like you. They like what you’re doing, what you’re creating.

But you aren’t.

Because while you’re capturing the entire town's attention, you’re starting to realize you only care about attention when it’s from one person.

And unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to give two shits about you or what you create.

As you lay in bed that night, fidgeting with your necklace, you stare up at the ceiling and think about what started this whole infatuation in the first place. It was a drunken night, hardly anything. Not even a story worth repeating. You shouldn’t even be thinking about it. It was nothing.

But as you feel sleep calling you into its abyss, you remember the way his voice called your name that night and the heavy feeling of his gaze on your chest.

It was nothing.

Nothing.

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming about him that night.

++++

Being the town's only artist comes with its price. While most of the time you don’t mind the endless stream of hellos and requests for additional portraits, you’re not up for much conversation this morning.

You slept like absolute shit last night and decided that if you weren’t going to sleep through the night, you might as well be productive with your time. When your eyes fluttered closed thinking of what, and who, to draw, the image of Joel sipping a cup of coffee in the dining hall, reading an old Western book from your library, played on the screen of your heavy lids. You decided to put your feelings on paper and start a new portrait. After you woke up from your dream, probably around 3 am you guessed, you stayed up late enough to see the sun rise over the horizon, before eventually deciding that it was too late, early for most, to go to bed now.

Seeking solitude and shielding yourself from prying eyes, you make yourself at home in the stables. You perch on a weathered stool in the corner of the barn, perfectly positioned in the corner so your back is supported, and begin sketching the handsome grump. As if he was right in front of you, his features are regal; sharp jawline decorated with a salt and pepper beard, one of the patches faintly shaped like a heart, dark brown eyes that resemble those of a deer, the crinkled lines around his eyes and forehead that serve as proof of age. Arguably your favorite feature is his nose. Prominent, aquiline, like a bow that perfectly ties all of his facial features together. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man.

Completely immersed in your world, you lose track of time. You could have been sketching for twenty minutes or three hours, who’s to say. Exhaustion envelopes you in an embrace and you doze off in a peaceful slumber.

When Joel enters the stable for his morning shift, he catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye; perched up on a rickety old stool, head slumped over, resting on the wooden edge of the barn. Your arms are wrapped snuggly around your chest as if to keep yourself warm in the dewy morning air. As he approaches closer, treading carefully against the hay as if he were a cat trying to sneak up on its prey, he takes in the finer details of you peacefully asleep, blissfully unaware.

There’s charcoal on your hands, your lips are slightly parted and there’s a little glisten of drool pooling in the corner of your lips, and your hair slightly covers your face. Jesus, he thinks you’re gorgeous awake, but seeing you asleep – so vulnerable and tender – nearly causes his heart to skip a beat. He tries to ignore what it does to his cock. He knows you’re an artist, but with the way you look right now, hell, you might as well be the artwork, too.

He thinks he could stare at you for hours, but there’s something more pressing for him to look at first. He’s seen you carry your trusty notebook around, rarely ever setting it down, and certainly being very guarded when you have it cracked open around others �� especially him. So when he sees it lying on the ground, he thinks…what could one look hurt? He doesn’t want to invade your privacy, but as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. He’ll be satisfied once he knows what you’re hiding in there. Surely. One look, and he’ll wake you and that will be it.

After all, it’s just a peek.

He’s not quite sure what he expected, but this was most definitely not it. As if he were looking into a mirror, his reflection stares back at him from the dull matte of the pages. As he flips from one page to the next, he swears time stops altogether as he takes it in. Your secret.

As he scans the pages, something burns deep in the marrow of his bones, a fire and heat that exists only for you. Now that he knows your truth, he’s not sure he can stop what he does next. His large palm floats out to caress the underside of your jaw, and the pad of his thumb ghosts over the soft swell of your bottom lip. Before he lets himself get too carried away in his thoughts, he clears his throat.

“Mornin’,” a husky voice says, startling you. You all but launch into orbit and almost fall over like the stool, but the owner of the intruding voice grabs your elbow before your backside collides with the floor. You’re relieved to see that your saving grace is Joel, yet you’re burning with embarrassment at your clumsiness.

Joel clears his throat before speaking with his hand still grasping your elbow, “M’pologies, didn’t mean to startle ya, sweetheart.”

”Oh no, I was just…” you sputter out, still finding your bearings. He reluctantly removes you from his grip but not without letting his fingers trail across your skin as he lets go. The ghost of his touch is a noticeable one.

“Didn’t sleep well last night, I take it?” Joel asks, a softness to his voice.

“Afraid not,” you say, kicking your heel into the hay, trying your best to avoid his eyes so as not to spill all of your fucking guts. I was too busy thinking about you.

“You’re in luck, darlin’. I have just the thing to wake you up,” he says, “and ‘m not takin’ no for an answer,” he says with a wink.

“I’m sorry, am I speaking to Joel Miller? Have you been bitten? Are you feeling alright?” you joke, placing the back of your hand up to his forehead, a giant smile on your face.

“My reputation of being Jackson’s own Boo Radley precedes me, I see,” he jokes back.

You shoot him a look that says who the fuck is Boo Radley? Instead of giving you an explanation, he just chuckles like it’s an inside joke.

“Come on now, we’re goin’ for a ride,” he says with finality.

You try to ignore the heat that stirs low in your belly at the thought of riding with Joel Miller as he guides you deeper into the stables.

++++

The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the picturesque landscape of Jackson. Situated in front of Joel on the horse, you close your eyes and exhale all the air from your lungs. You hold your lack of breath for a moment, before feeling your lower belly rise, taking in the crisp air laced with the scent of wildflowers and fresh blades of grass in through your nostrils.

Joel is an easy-riding partner. He doesn’t say much, yet you feel secure in his presence with your back nestled up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped around you, his capable hands holding the reigns, guiding the horse through the scenic trail with ease. You rub your eyes for a moment before opening them to take in the breathtaking view of the snow-capped mountains far off in the distance, and the lush green meadows that surround you. You almost forgot beauty like this could exist.

Joel turns his head, following your gaze. A small smile tugs at the corners of his weathered lips as he agrees, "Looks like a good spot to take a break."

Guiding the horse toward the field, you both dismount and allow the horse to graze freely. Joel suddenly remembers he has a blanket tucked away in his saddlebag. He retrieves it and spreads it out in the clearing amidst the vibrant flowers.

Seated on the blanket, you unravel the satchel from over your shoulder and place it on the ground by your side while you simultaneously marvel at the beauty surrounding you. The sun plays hide-and-seek through the branches of nearby trees, creating dappled patterns on the ground. Joel settles beside you, gazing out at the open expanse.

As you bask in the splendor of the spring day, your attention fully absorbed by the vibrant beauty surrounding you, you inadvertently miss the subtle shift in Joel's focus. His gaze transitions from the scenic view to rest upon you. In a moment of silent admiration, he drinks in the essence of your being. His eyes trace the contours of your profile, lingering on the way the sunlight plays in your hair, transforming it into a golden halo that only seems to make his mouth water more.

He admires the view of you propped up on your elbows, eyes closed, heart center shining toward the sun, the swell of your breasts painted like a picture before him.

“Tell me your greatest desires,” he says.

As you open your eyes and turn to face him, as swift as the breeze you feel in your hair, you feel all of the air escape your lungs. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man. You’re momentarily lost in your own world as you admire the way he looks like this; relaxed, basking in the sun on a checkered blanket. His dark brown eyes are now a soft shade of amber, the silver streaks are a little more prominent in the sunlight, and the furrow of his brow has lessened.

“Alright. Tell me a secret” you respond, the corners of your lips threaten to turn up in a smile. You press up off your elbows and roll onto one on your side to face him.

“Isn’t that the same?” he asks, responding to your movement, mirroring it.

Now face-to-face, and chest-to-chest with him, inches only separating your bodies, you pause and let your eyes flint to his lips.

“Anyone can see your desires, no one knows what’s in your heart,” you say.

“Tell me something,” he says.

“I still dream of the taste of McDonald’s french fries,” you say, “and I’m not sure I know how to feel happiness anymore,” you say, as a matter a fact.

Your words reverb through his ears, and he stares at you in silence, unsure of how to respond.

“I used to be a contractor,” he admits, “and I had a daughter named Sarah.”

You look at him with soft, wide eyes. Pain is visible on your face, taking in what he’s yet to say. When you don’t respond, he adds, “She died in my arms on Outbreak day,” he admits, averting his gaze over your shoulder. His hands have somehow navigated to find a single blade of grass that he toys with in between his fingers.

“Fuck, Joel,” you pause in silence. Like your words could ever make up for his loss. Everyone had lost someone at this point, but the way he said it, you could tell it still felt fresh to him.

“It’s alright, Darlin’, next confession,” he says, obviously wanting to change the subject.

“Ellie,” you chuckle, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up at the mention of her name. “She’s such a pain in my ass, but she’s probably one of my best friends right now,” you say. Like it should be embarrassing, you, an adult woman, friends with a 14-year-old.

“Yeah. Little bugger has her way of working her way under your skin, doesn’t she?” he says, bringing his attention back to the panoramic scene laid out in front of you. You notice the smile that graces his face. “Your turn,” you say, this time paying all of your attention to his profile as he stares out to the horizon.

“I saw your drawings,” he admits, even though every fiber of his being is telling him not to. Your smile fades from your face and your heart sinks. You swear the sun must have navigated light years closer to Earth from the way you feel your skin heat, your blood hot enough to melt bone. You might as well turn to liquid there, melting into Mother Earth.

“Wh–what? What do you mean?” you ask, your voice mostly a tremble.

“In the barn, this morning… when you were asleep. Your notebook fell to the ground, and well – I saw them,” he decides to leave out the part where he intentionally decided to take a peek, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing the ethics of it.

You’re nearly one with the core of the Earth, her heat drawing all of the moisture from your mouth, your tongue dry, briefly incapable of forming a response, before your brain lands on the following.

“You mean – you saw – yo,” you start to say before he interrupts you.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, once again, a soft tone of honesty behind his voice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not happening. This is not happening.

Mortified, your whole body goes limp and the back of your head falls to the ground. You scrunch your eyes closed as tight as possible as if that might somehow wake you up from the nightmare that this scenario is. You bring your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and let yourself absorb all of the nasty and icky feelings of embarrassment that cross your brain.

When you open your eyes, you start “Joel, I can explai–” he cuts you off with the weight of his body pinning you in place, his lips pressed against yours in an intentional, yet gentle, kiss. It’s stationary at first like he’s just trying to get you to shut up, to save you from the danger that is your thoughts. With your eyes still wide open, you stare back and try to rationalize if this is really fucking happening right now.

You break the kiss for a moment and look up at him, “Joel, what are you doing?” you ask.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I haven’t overthought it like you’re about to,” he admits, staring back at you, “tell me you don’t want this,” he says, hoping you don’t. As if you could ever. When his question is met with no response, he takes that as a green light, and his soft lips once again find yours.

Your eyes flutter closed, and your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, your fingers interlacing behind his neck. He deepens the kiss with a moan and grinds his hips into yours, the heavy weight of his center pressing deep against yours ignites a firework display of nerves in your body. You can tell from the package that’s pressed up against you that he’s quite big. The strengthening of your touch is met with a soft mmm from his chest, as his heavy frame pins you tighter to the ground.

His lips stray from your lips, kissing over the razor edge of your jaw, finding their way to the nape of your neck. His hot breath and the weight of his strong and capable body make you feel weightless, despite the pressure he pushes on you.

He presses tender kisses to your pulse and trails them down to the hollow of your throat, causing your breathing to hitch in your throat. His wide tongue licks a long, flat stripe up your windpipe, and his teeth come together in a little nip on your chin. Fuck. You let out a little cry of unexpected pleasure at the sensation. He pins both of your arms high up above your head, and his mouth continues its relentless pursuit on the bare skin of your neck and exposed collarbones.

“Joel, please,” you beg, your vision foggy from the thrum of your blood pulsing through your veins at a rapid pace; your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Gotta use your words for me, pretty girl, tell me what you want,” he responds, a low growl to his words.

He’s barely managed to touch you, yet, you choke out, “Need you,” you moan, “need you to touch me more, god, please,” you beg, your arms still pinned above your head. Satisfied, he releases his grip on your arms, and both of his palms find purchase on your center frame, just below your ribs. He kisses his way down from your throat, through the valley of your breasts, and over your belly, trailing the ghost of his lips to the soft plush below your navel.

He hooks his thumbs under the band of your pants, and deftly pulls them off, alongside your underwear. He continues kissing down the gash between your thighs and pauses once his mouth is centered on your glistening slit. His tongue darts out to lap at some of your slick and you swear all of your senses cross at the sensation of his tongue.

Fuck –,” you cry out as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy. Joel moans before making his tongue flat and massaging your clit with it. It’s so fucking good.

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your walls clamp around the welcomed intrusion. His finger grazes against the soft spongy spot inside you that feels so good, and he works it in and out of you before adding another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so close. You choke out a moan in response, enjoying the sensation of his long and thick fingers rubbing against your walls as his tongue makes tight circles around your sensitive clit.

You pull at your nipple through your shirt with one hand and hold on to the top of his head, his hair entangled between your fingers as you attempt to hold on to him, an anchor to keep you from floating away, and he devours you.

His fingers thrust faster, his mouth firm on your throbbing bud, and you’re so close. You wail out, and the slurping groans that come from Joel are fucking primal and filthy.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he says, his words barely audible with his mouth on your puffy lips, “want you to come,” he moans. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve got you – let me have it, soak my face.”

His dirty talk is all you need. "Yes, oh my God – Yes! Joel, fuck, I'm coming, don’t stop," you cry, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your chest hot. Your vision goes white as you release yourself to him. Your back arches and your legs flex; your stomach feels like it’s being sucked into itself, and Joel works you through it, lapping up your come.

He rises from between your legs, his beard slick with your release, and smiles at you. As satisfied as you are at the moment, he’s the one that looks it. As much as he would love to make you come multiple times under his tongue for hours, to savor your sweetness like it was the last strawberry on earth, he’s starving for it.

He makes quick work of undoing his belt and jeans, before sliding them off his legs to free himself. Gripping his heavy cock in his hand, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes just the tip in, wishing he were less riled up, less desperate for the warmth of your body, but he finds comfort in knowing you’re right at that line with him, begging to be filled.

“Need you,” you beg, your doe eyes looking up at him. He’s had many people beg for things from him – supplies, food, their life, but you, god, there’s something about you, split open and begging for his cock that he can’t say no to.

He smiles, and slides all the way in, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. He buries his cock deep inside you, to the hilt, so deep you can feel the tickle of the dark hairs that outline the base of it against your clit. Your pussy is so wet and tight, and holy – “fuck me, baby,” he moans, thrusting his hips out of you just barely before shoving them forward; the stretch of him is a delicious slow burn.

“Choking my cock so fucking good, baby. So good,” he moans before he begins to set a slow rhythm with his movements, letting you both adjust to the sensation. He praises your name and his breath catches on your collarbone, and he sucks a small mark there as he fucks in and out of you. When you whine for more, more of this, and more of him, this time he’s the one who’s lost for words. He might not know what to say, but his body responds in kindness, his cock thrusting in and out of you with a slow drag that drives you wild. All he can do is admire the beauty that you are under him, an angel on earth making a sweet, sweet mess, all for him. Just for him.

“Mmm, God, Joel – ‘m gonna, fuck, Joel, – right there –” you cry up to the sky above you, the clouds in the sky witness to your pleasure. He knows his cock is enough to get you there, but it’s not enough, not to him. Putting all of his body weight into his left arm, being sure not to crush you, he drags his right hand out from under his weight and it lands to cup your pussy; already so wet and so full. His fingers extend and find a home on your clit, and he begins rubbing tight circles on your aching bud in a way that makes you swear it must be nighttime from the stars you’re seeing.

“Here, baby?” his fingers continue their relentless pursuit of your clit, and he bucks his hips harder. He’s rewarded with the glorious sound of your moans reaching an octave that makes his cock twitch a little harder inside of you, “Jesus, sweetheart – gonna make me come like a teenager if you keep clenching like that, gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans, an animalistic sound emanating from his chest.

“Joel, I’m gonna come –”

“I can tell, baby – clenchin’ so hard around me, want you to give me your all,” he demands, as he grabs your hair and tells himself not to come with you, too soon.

“No,” you choke out, staving off your orgasm. He stops his thrusts for a brief second, “What?” he asks, a bit bewildered. At this point you’re both a tangled mess of limbs, sweat beading on your foreheads, chests heaving. You intertwine your hands through his hair and gently pull at it as you look him deep in the eyes, “I want to come,” you promise, “I just want to ride you while I do it,” you admit.

You pulse around his cock at the confession, and with your truth still lingering on your lips, Joel pulls out and flips around so he's on his back. He steadies himself by the base and holds his cock straight up for you. You rise and position yourself over his center; you line yourself up against him while he cups your cheek with the other hand, “take your seat, pretty girl,” he says in a tone that’s just shy of a beg, and you do, feeling yourself slowly sink onto every inch of him. Your action elicits a throaty groan from him. Your eyes once again glaze over at the sensation of him so deep inside of you, so big, so deep. The stretch of him shoves out every other thought you can muster until all that’s left are thoughts of him in your brain.

In an attempt to get a better angle, he shifts his upper body up onto his forearms, as you continue to grind your hips into him. Both of your arms wrap around his neck, and you use the strength of them to pull him closer into your chest as you continue to slowly grind your cunt into him. You swear you can feel him in your lungs, and with the way your clit grinds against his skin, you’re nearly there, nearly gone.

A weird combination of emotions pools in your belly, part pleasure, part something else. You feel it creeping up your throat, clawing up the back of it like it’s manifesting its reality before it manages to surface. Heat pricks in your tear ducts, and before you know it, it’s such a big, bold feeling – a lion in a cage that won’t be tamed. Simultaneously, you feel a familiar tug at your navel, like a rubber band, stretched to its capacity, on the verge of a snap.

The orgasm that tears through you is so epic it causes your head to fall back, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head, your vision going static white. Your lower body shudders against his thrusts, and your inner muscles clamp hard around his cock as he fucks you through it. You convulse around him, doing your best to ride his thrusts and contribute as your whole body trembles. With tears streaming down your face, you press your lips against him. He wraps both of his arms tight around your chest, pinning you close to his heart, meanwhile spearing you with his cock. His thrusts stop for a moment, and he looks up at you, both hands coming to grip the sides of your face.

“Why are you crying baby,” he asks with genuine concern in his voice.

“You’re just – so god damn beautiful, Joel,” you admit, and your sobs come a little harder. If this were pre-apocalypse, you might be mortified by the fact that you were sobbing for a man you hardly know, all while riding his cock, but it’s not. You rest your forehead against his and let the tears continue to fall, a handful of them dropping to his cheeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, and one of his hands leaves your face, trailing down to gently grab at your wrist in comfort. “No, baby. That’s you,” he says, slowly continuing to fuck into you with a slow grind.

“My perfect girl, I’ve got you, baby, you’re safe. I’ve got you,” he says, as he holds you and fucks you with such passion and intentionality. He fucks all of the love you haven’t let yourself feel in decades back into you. His cock fills every gap that has been left unfilled by every wrongdoing, every terrible, bad thing. He holds you like it isn’t the end of the world, but rather the beginning. He fucks you like his cock alone could fix everything, and at this moment, you’re confident it just might.

Still riding him, a soft “please,” leaves your lips. “Please use me,” you say, sinking your pussy down further onto him, so tight you can feel the tip of him pushing down on your cervix. “Want your come, Joel – need it, need it so much,” you beg, and oh god, he’s so fucked.

Joel was already on the crest of his release a long time ago, but here you are – utterly fucked out, riding him, and begging for his come. He’s a smart man, he knows he shouldn’t, but – you tug at his hair harder, and ride him for all you’re worth. “Fuck me, baby,” he moans, alongside a long slew of your name and other profanities, he only has so much resolve left, a resolve that’s slowly crumbling with each drag of your wet cunt up and down his cock.

You press your lips to his once again and he feels his balls tighten. The litany of pleas and the taste of your salty tears is what undoes him. Buried deep inside of you, he comes harder than he has in decades, spilling hot and deep inside of you. He fills you up with all he’s worth, painting your insides with white hot ropes of his seed. Normally you’re the artist, but right now, you’re his canvas, his fucking Mona Lisa.

Joel grunts and you collectively still your movements. He holds you close as he waits for the aftershocks and twitches to still, still plugging you, keeping all of his spend deep inside of you. He plants soft kisses all over your face and neck and caresses your hair. You stay like this for what could be hours, minutes, days. Time is a construct you have no concept of right now.

After a few minutes, he groans. Pulling out is always the hardest thing to do. “Gonna get off you now,” you say softly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, as you lift your hips and swing your leg over his body. Your pussy whines at the lack of something to grip around. A rush of his come dribbles out of you onto your inner thigh, but you don’t pay any attention to it. You roll over onto your back, and he does the same. As you both lay there, he grabs your hand and squeezes it tight. You’re not sure what time it is now, but by the color of the sky, you guess it’s late afternoon at this point.

“We should get back,” you say, staring up at the sky, watching the clouds make their creations.

“Yeah,” he admits, only looking at you. When you avert your gaze from the sky to look at him, you get deja vu as you take in the sight of Joel Miller, his tossed curls and chocolate eyes, and you swear you’ve seen this sight before. Maybe in a dream.

You commit the sight to memory, promising yourself to draw it later.

“Will you sit for a portrait with me?” you ask, voice soft, once again turning to face him, but this time it’s different.

“Only if you promise to go for a ride with me again,” he admits, and you smile, a heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“Deal,” you promise.

You both lay there for what could be hours or minutes, you’re not sure. But as the sun looks like it’s about to dip below the horizon, you both decide it’s time to head back. You both get dressed, and he helps you onto the horse. You both leave your perfect little meadow, knowing that it will be there for you to discover again and again.

On the ride back, you reflect on a poem you remember reading years ago.

There are two kinds of people in this world, those who see the ending, and those who see the beginning.

And after years of living in the ending, you’re ready to let the girl who you were before out of her prison. Joel undid the lock, all you had to do was let her see the light of day once more.

A new beginning.

You and Joel ride back in blissful silence.

Once on the outskirts of Jackson, Joel simply says, “Maybe we should invite Tommy next time.”

But that’s a different notebook.

END

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daffi-990 · 1 month

Text

✨ Inspiration Saturday ✨

So instead of working on the WIPs I already have, my brain decided to think up a new one 😅

Current working title is LA Lonely and here is a mood board and a rough little summary:

Buck meets Eddie and they hook up. Buck feels an instant connection but doesn’t pursue it because he’s only good for one night, no one wants him for keeps. Cue him running into Eddie almost everywhere he goes, like the universe keeps putting Eddie in his path. And Eddie is kind and never makes their interactions feel awkward and the way he smiles at Buck has something warm fluttering to life inside him. Eddie eventually asks him out on a proper date and Buck is so confused because no one wants him for more than a fun time. They don’t want to keep him.

(snippet under the cut)

“Buck!”

Buck turns towards the voice calling his name to find none other than Christopher from the class field trip at the station last week walking towards him, red crutches click clacking against the floor.

“Hey Chris! What brings you here? Another school field trip?”

Chris scrunches his face up, looking at Buck like he’s grown a second head.

“It’s Saturday.”

“Right. I knew that, I was just checking to see if you did.” Buck says as he points his finger at Chris causing the boy to giggle.

Buck scoots over on the bench making room for Chris to sit down beside him.

“Are your mum or dad with you?” Buck asks as he scans the room behind them for a frantic parent.

“My mum’s dead.”

Oh. Well. Buck has no idea what to do with that.

“Uh, I’m sorry buddy, that’s uh- that’s rough.” He looks around the room again. “What about your Da-“

“Christopher!”

Buck’s head whips around to find a man striding towards them. As he draws closer, Buck's eyes widen in recognition and disbelief because shit, Buck knows him - has seen him naked, felt his body pressed against his own as the guy shoved his cock so deep inside Buck he swore he could feel it in his throat. The memory of their encounter is still fresh in Buck’s mind a week later because it was that good.

“Dad!” Chris says happily, smiling bright and big and holy fuck his hot hookup who gave him one of the best orgasms of his fucking life has a kid.

And is standing right in from on him.

Buck scrambles to his feet, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he smiles nervously at Eddie. “Uh hi.”

Eddie looks shocked to see him but it quickly melts away, his eyes softening. “Buck, hey.” His mouth quirks up in a small smile and Buck remembers exactly why he brought Eddie home last weekend. He’s so fucking pretty

No pressure tagging: @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @puppyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @rewritetheending @shortsighted-owl @steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @theotherbuckley @tizniz @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @lover-of-mine @ladydorian05 @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @mellaithwen and as always, anyone else who wants to share something -> consider this your official tag ❤️

#daffi writes #wip: la lonely #working title inspired by a song of the same name -> LA Lonely by Fly By Midnight #buddie wip #buddie #I’m trying something different and am aiming to keep this cute feel goody and hopefully short 😅#haven’t written much for this #just what’s here and one other little bit #still tip tap typing away at Rivals and Fantasy AU and the Eddie breakdown fic

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quirkle2 · 2 years

Note

yeah no i asked what i asked and i still . hated myself for imagining it bc i really hate that the idea that the loving and caring family the links have built isnt meant to stay AJSJSAJAHJ i say i love angst but really. i love hurt/comfort and yeah no theres barely any of the comfort . ask ouchy questions get ouchy answers on my part </3 but still ty for indulging me (i say with equal amount of tears) !!

so now i am sitting patiently like a kindergarden kid about to hear storytime . that storytime is your ranch au :>> please ramble as long as you like <33

NO NO UR SO VALID I TOTALLY GET IT imso sorry if i made u sad . i made ME sad. we're both sad :(

kicks my feet up into the air i will cheer us up mark my words

ranch au ...................my beloved and most cherished ranch au. a lotta people prolly have this idea but here is my interpretation of it i suppose

to sum it up rly quickly it's the boys not getting a permanent goodbye and Instead sticking together and going to live on time and malon's ranch happily ever after <333 that's it that's the plot GVEAIYGV

sometime after wars is exiled from castle town and he's had a bit to reflect, he realizes that he's not gonna have Any place to stay when they separate. he hates thinking about their inevitable goodbye in any capacity, but he knows that at some point he's gonna have to come to terms w the fact that he won't have them forever (he will.) and they'll have to say goodbye for good (no.)

he's . obviously very troubled by this in general but That on top of the exile has him stressed and upset and worrying about the future and how he'll even continue without them. the chain can See he's upset—of course he is, he was just betrayed by his "friends" and banned from his home, stripped of his title—and luckily, time comes to da rescue :)

time knows wars is worrying abt living situations n such on top of the Betrayal(tm), and he,,, offers him a place, at the ranch :) they both know very well that that might not be possible—fate drags them around as it is, and they doubt it'll be kind enough to allow wars such a luxury—but the offer is there, if they find that it's possible. and wars isso fucking touched by that that he nearly cries GVIAEYGV

fast forward to . The Inevitable. in this au they Do say their goodbyes, and they Do separate and branch off into their different eras. everything goes as it should, according to fate. everything goes well Except the fact that there's only 8 portals. wars' isn't there. and that just,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

that kinda cements it in wars' head that he's truly been thrown away by his Entire Era. why else would fate not let him go back home? that means he's Truly not needed anymore, and just like artemis and impa, his world abandoned him when he stopped being useful. even fate says there's no point in going back. wars might as well not even exist there anymore

so he goes through time's portal instead. and for the next few days they live on the ranch and ,,try not to fall apart. time basically just lost seven of his fuckin boys, the one remaining one an absolute wreck and definitely working himself to the ground to keep his mind busy and Also to sate that fear that he'll be thrown out by time too if he's not useful enough (malon is more than welcoming to wars and so very happy to have him there and she'sso fuckin gentle w him u don't even know)

and for those few days, they both live w Giant holes in their chests. it feels utterly and dreadfully empty, to just continue life after a loss that great. they're both constantly reminded of the other boys and neither of them are sleeping much at all; wars and ledge were So incredibly close and wars constantly misses him every fuckin moment and all the work he's doing around the ranch is not doin a goddamn thing to distract him from it. time has to stop him from overworking himself too hard multiple times

but one night time's lyin in bed, unable to sleep and Feeling Empty, and then wars is suddenly banging on his and malon's bedroom door. he drags them outside—wars has his sword on him, that's not a good sign—and lo behold, when they step onto the porch, there is a portal in front of their house. just,,,,,,, sitting there. waiting

call it magic or a sixth sense of sorts, but for some reason, Both of them know this isn't a simple calling for another adventure. they just,,, know it in their bones. this isn't that. somehow, somewhere in their minds, time and wars both understand what fate is offering them

they quickly pack, fully arming themselves just in case they're wrong, and they say goodbye to malon in hopes that they'll only be gone a few days or so (they,,, hope to god)

they r dropped in skyloft. so far, promising

they track down sky. he bursts into tears at the sight of them GVUYEAGV at first he thinks it's another adventure, and they say while they can't Promise it's not, they r pretty sure—"like . 80% sure"— that it's smth else entirely. the Opposite, rly

sky goes w them. next up is four, a tearful reunion ensues, same explanation is given. it repeats and repeats and repeats until they,, eventually have everybody :) Everybody is back together—and yes, wars and ledge did run to each other and absolutely Tackle the other

one last portal stands before them. they don't know for sure it's the last one, but they Hope. they hope to god. they all,, hold their breaths and walk through it .

and they r deposited right back where they'd left at the ranch

there is . a sort of strange, underlying apprehension that resides w the sheer Holy Shit We're Together and Home. it's the fear—mostly and justifiably felt by legend, since he's experienced,, what, 7 journeys now ? give or take—that fate is simply gathering them together at a safe spot just to get ready to throw them into smth else

in reality they Can't know what the Entities behind these portals r doing, what their intentions are. they can only assume. but ultimately, even though legend honestly doesn't think his body can Make it through another adventure, if he's dragged into another one and it's w These idiots ? he'd go, and risk destroying his body and mind a lot more in the process, just to spend more time w them. it's not the ,, best circumstances to spend time w ur family, but hey . when else is fate gonna let him do it

malon sees them all back in one piece and races for them, and that's sorta the thing they need to snap out of their little shell-shocked trances and Celebrate. it's . a very big emotional rollercoaster GVYEAGV they cry and laugh and holler and while they're all distantly aware there is a chance this isn't the end of their journeys and there's more to go, they still celebrate. they're back together. gang's all here

and this lets the boys be boys. they all get to live in a normal household (as,, normal as a house full of traumatized heroes can get) w PARENTAL FIGURES . HALLELUJAH. and the younger boys get to be kids and the older boys gets to catch up on a childhood that was taken from them. they get to be normal people

eventually time expands the ranch house to accommodate them. it is a very big change—malon: "there are 8 extra people in my house and i love them all dearly but also there are 8 extra people in my house."—and yeah they definitely struggle to adjust a bit, but eventually everything calms and settles and it's Peaceful. they live peaceful lives, for once

AND YES I . I KNOW THIS HAS MANY MANY HOLES IN IT. but frankly my dear i do not give a damn HVGIEAGVA don't think about how all of them effectively left their families to join a different one. don't think abt that. they visit . it is canon in my eyes that the portals occasionally appear and let them visit their families. it's absurd but have u been paying attention ? so is everything else GVIEAYGV

ofc it's not all flowers n rainbows. they all just went through the fucking ringer w this last journey, and for people like legend who barely had any time in between each adventure to process the trauma, he's got,,,, a lot of catching up to do. they all struggle w a lot of different things, and even several months in they r still learning each others' boundaries when it comes to living in the same household

legend doesn't unpack his bag until 2 months in because he's fully convinced it's not over and he wants to be ready and packed when another portal comes to yank him from reality. hyrule's never,, lived in a home like this and he feels a bit out of place and unsure of what the etiquette is. twi in particular is absolutely terrified of the possibility that they could be dragged into smth else or separated again. both bc he's dealt w this before—being separated from midna between realms—and bc time, well.... the hero's shade thing is another can of worms entirely.

wars is still terrified he'll be thrown out despite the numerous reassurances from time, malon, And the others that they'd never. even though he had several years between the end of the war and the beginning of lu, a Few Years is not enough time to process and even Begin to heal from all the trauma that came from that war. he's still paranoid. he can't go outside at night, even within the safety of the ranch fences—yes, he'll admit he's developed a fear of the dark over the years, terrified of traitors lunging at him from alleyways or from around corners

they all still take time to spar outside, working hard to hone skills, and when time gently reminds them that they don't Need to do that anymore, they all ,, look so shocked and dumbfounded. a lot of them still keep emergency potions in their bags that they take to town. several of them r armed at all times w Some sort of weapon on them, even in the house

legend is still in Adventure Mode and keeps buying useful tools for journeys he might need, even though he's never going on one again. wild realizes that he doesn't have to mold his recipes around what will give them all the biggest buff in strength or defense; they don't need that anymore. he can just make whatever tastes the best w Whatever he wants

u get it. they all slowly learn to Live, instead of survive. they help each other heal in a safe environment, in a world they no longer have to babysit. time has his boys again. gang's all here

#qktalks #soul-of-rei #suncaster au #tw trauma #trauma tw #for da angst at the end there. if i need to add any more tags please do tell me !#I GOT SEVERAL ASKS... urging me to yell abt the ranch au #pspspsppspspsp y'all over here pspsppsspsppssp #IM SORRY IF I MADE PEOPLE SAD W THE LAST ASK . IMSO SORRY #i made myself sad too . deadass teared up when typing it out i cannot Handle wars being that sad #dw tho ranch au gotchu covered #wars is 100% the Happiest he's ever been in his life when the ranch au comes around #the most content he's ever felt. even when starting to process all that trauma #overall he's just . so much better #many of my drawings and fics r made w the ranch au in mind btw. im obsessed w it #i simply have never mentioned it before out of nervousness <3 #maybe not so much the fics in like a tangible visible sense but i do think abt it when im writing #and i think abt what impact Insert Fic Here would have on the ranch au and it's just a fun time yaknow #! TRADE OFFER ! u receive: qpps wars and ledge ranch au. i receive: nothing this isn't a trade this is a Gift #the uhhhhhh sleepy morning w da qpp drawing takes place in the ranch au . i love them #i've THOUGHT abt writing a fic for this au but it'd be one of those rly long ongoing ones #or maybe like . a series of shorter snippets rather than a continuous narrative #idk <3 #i Adore writing dialog and like general vibes tho . and that's what that fic would be made of so GVIEAYGV

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alice-angel12x · 2 months

Text

Born of Unknown Stardust

Ch. 3

summary: The angles formed the world and all mortal life from dust. One day from the unknown the angels came across bizarre dust, that seemed to have a will of its own. It refused to be molded and shaped to the angel's will. So they cast it aside, till a certain angel got his creative hands on it.

(Long post)

(bittersweet story) (platonic) Lucifer x (???) Reader x Sera

<-Part 2/ Part 4-> (additional art here)

____________________________

"Lucifer... What Have you Done!" The elders shot in horror as the roots of Evil seeped into the earth.

The Apple of Knowledge of good and evil is eaten into rolls on the ground as the knowledge that Eve was not ready for rushes into her head. It was painful and overwhelming.

Lucifer stands before the court of the heavenly elders. Lilith stood not far behind Lucifer as she watched in worried anticipation.

"Not only have you gotten too involved with a human, but You let evil taint our creation. We told you your Ideas were too dangerous, and you have only proven our point," One of the elders glared.

Lucifer stood resolute as he tried to put on a bold face for Lilith Even if the angelic metal chains and cuffs were tight on his wrist and neck.

"We will look past this and forgive you if you apologize. And Leave the mortals alone," Another elder spoke up. "That also means leaving that mortal alone too."

They said as they pointed to Lilith who was cowering in front of some arch-angels keeping an eye on her. Lucifer looked at her with concern, all this happened so suddenly. As their eyes met, Lucifer made his decision.

"I... I do not regret what I have done," He said with a slight glare, even as the chain chafed at his skin.

The Elders gasped in Horror at Lucifer's answer, the elders quickly discussing amongst each other.

"Lucifer has not only let evil leak into the earth, but it seems to have taken him too. Fallling into the chains of lust," One elder said.

"We made it clear to him when we told him not to interfere. He only has himself to blame," Other scoffed.

As the Elders chatted, one was not paying attention to the conversation. The high seraphim Sera. Her mind was elsewhere, on the one who everyone seemed to have forgotten, Yuu. Her heart could only wonder what would happen to little Yuu now, one of the many victims of this. She started to think back when she noticed Lucifer sneaking off for days at a time.

___________________________

Sera flew up to the door and gave a light knock. The Door opened quickly, but instead of Lucifer, it was Little Yuu treating her.

"Hello Miss Sera," Yuu greeted happily.

"Hello Yuu, is your father home?" She asked as she knelt to Yuu's level

"Da? No, haven't seen him," Yuu shrugged.

"How long ago did you see him, I might be able to catch up with him," Sera asked.

"Umm... 5 days ago I think," Yuu said as they thought back.

"5 Days?! How often is this?" Sera asked in concern.

"Umm, more often know... And longer too... Where is Da going Sera?" Yuu asked her.

" I don't know sweety. Mind if I keep you company for a little bit?" Sera asked.

"Well Da said to not let people inside the house when he's not home," Yuu said as they thought, when. " But he never said anything about the garden!"

Sera chuckled at Yuu's enthusiasm, as Yuu told her to wait in the gardens. In the garden was a simple stone table, the flowers and plants surrounded the small set up. Soon the young tot came outside with Tea and snacks. It looked very childishly slapped together, but Sera appreciated the effort.

Sera just smiled and listened as Yuu childishly rambled on and on anything that came to mind. To hold a conversation with guests. As She listens, she notices one of Yuu's blueprints sticking out from their pocket.

"So what great invention are you working on now?" Sera asks as she points to the paper.

"Oh, this? This is for my dad," Yuu said as they pulled out the blueprints.

Sera looked it over. She was a bit confused to see a simple drawing of a jar. With notes scribbled all over that she really couldn't understand.

"What is it?" She asked with a confused expression on her face.

"A world in a bottle," Yuu smiled excitedly.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Sera said.

"I'm going to put a world inside the jar. Where my dad can make whatever he wants inside," Yuu explained. " I'm almost done putting everything together."

"Umm, how so?" Sera was beyond confused, how could a world fit in such a small container.

With an excited smile, Yuu opened the jar, and the two were sucked inside. Sera gasped as she closed her eyes, waiting for the worst.

"Miss Sera? You can't see anything with your eyes closed," Yuu said.

She slowly opened an eye, to see an unbelievable sight before her.

"I managed to finish the ocean, but I like the idea of an underwater house. So I'll add land later, and have a normal house," Yuu explained as they showed off the pocket world.

"Yuu this is beautiful, and this is almost done?" Sera asked in awe.

"Yeah, just want to add some land and mountains," Yuu nodded. "Do you think Da will like it? Then maybe he will spend more time with me?"

"Lucifer will love it," Sera reassured with a gentle smile. “But why did you make this for him?”

“So he can see I’m getting close to making his own earth,” Yuu said proudly.

“His own Earth?” Sera asked curiously

“So he has a place he can put all his ideas, so the elders don’t have to worry about their earth,” Yuu explained.

Sera smiled softly at Yuu’s kind heart. "You know making a world by yourself won't be easy. It could take a very long time," She says.

"I know, but Da promised he would wait for me and stay out of trouble," Yuu smiled, though it was a bit unsure.

"Your heart is so kind little one," Sera smiles as she pattes Yuu's head.

____________________________

"And that creature Yuu should go too. Who knows what that thing will do on its own. It could cause trouble, cast it to hell with its creator," another elder said, snapping Sera out of her thoughts.

"No," She said suddenly.

"What?!" The other elders gasped.

"Yuu is innocent and has nothing to do with this. Lucifer's choices and actions were all his own," She says sternly. " Yuu is a kind-hearted individual, and sending an innocent to hell is too cruel a fate."

"Are you going to Keep an eye on them?" They asked.

"I will. I'll make sure to guide them down the right path," Sera said with certainty.

-----------------------------------------------

The portal to The underworld ripped asunder as the archangels dragged and pushed Lucifer and Lilith closer to the edge.

"Lucifer!" Sera called out.

Lucifer looked at her with a slight glare as the chains held him still.

"I promise to take care of Yuu for you," Sera promised sincerely.

"Wait? What do you mean Sera?!" Lucifer asked, panic quickly filling his voice.

"Oh, know you remember your (Son/Daughter/Child). To put it simply, they will not be going with you Lucifer," Sera said. " They will be staying up here in heaven."

"Yuu? Y-You Can't Do That!" Lucifer shouted as he approached Sera, but the chain slacked short of her. "You Can't just take them from me! I know full well they're not safe in Heaven!"

"So leaving them alone for days on end, in heaven was safe?" Sera challenged. “Or letting them go to Hell with you is safer?”

"You know What I mean Sera. The Elders never accept them then, why know?!" Lucifer shouted back.

“Yuu will be under my care. I promise you they will be kept out of harms way,” Sera promised, as Lucifer continued to fight against his chains.

“Just let me see them. Let me hold them one last time!” Lucifer begged as the chains pulled him closer to the portal.

But before Sera could say anything, Lilith’s screams could be as she fell down into the portal.

“Lilith!!” Lucifer screamed, without hesitation jumped into the portal after her.

————————————

Sera sat nervesly in once’s Lucifer’s garden as Yuu brought tea and treats as they always did. As Yuu chatted on and one, the dreaded question finally arrived.

“Da hasn’t come back in a long while… Miss Sera, where is he?” Yuu asked with a worried smile.

With a deep breath, Sera gently explained to little Yuu what had happened. And what Lucifer had done on earth and how his actions had brought a horrible curse onto the earth.

“Are you Okay Yuu?” Sera asked gently.

“I-I think so. So Da is in time out? I can visit?” Yuu asked.

“I’m afraid not little one,” Sera said sadly.

“Oh, so I can see him again when his time-out is over?” Yuu asked again.

Sera slowly shook her head, as Yuu slowly started to crumble.

"So I'm never going to see him again?" Yuu asked shakily.

"I'm afraid so," Sera nodded.

"He promised me," Yuu whimpered to themselves. "Why would he lie to me. He Promised to stay out of trouble."

Sera looked on with sorrow in her eyes, as she slowly reached out to comfort them.

"Can... Can I be alone a bit?" Yuu sobs as they run back into the house.

Sera worried for the small child, quietly followed after them. Yuu ran into the house as they felt something within them. Something wanted to burst out, but it only intensified as more tears forced themselves to the surface.

This was a foreign feeling they had never felt before, and it was growing. Yuu didn't know what to do with this feeling and knowledge as they stomped about the house.

'Why did he lie? Why didn't he wait for me? Why did he leave me for the Earth?' questions flooded Yuu's mind. "Maybe because I wasn't enough."

With that though Yuu came to a halt. Was it because they couldn't give him the planet he wanted fast enough? They looked at Lucifer's once workbench. To see that the World Jar was still untouched, and most importantly. A framed Photo family of Lucifer and Yuu.

To be continued.

Tag-----------

littleladydemon

#luficer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x y/n #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin sera #hazbin hotel sera #Hazbin hotel Sera x reader #hazbin hotel angels

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mudkirby · 3 months

Text

Pebbles In order of appearance.

@druidshollow lore lore lore Dune lore lore

@flickering-nightfall whole reason I draw Pebbles the way I do since first exposure

@toxictoxicities b u f f

@dennis7231 still waiting on them dropwigs >:)

@weepinglilvessel ant snooooot

@mudkirby me :> 🔫

@shkika love your Suns

@northflowerowo Sorry I shoved him so far down lol

Honourable mentions/ shout outs: @trashiiplant Howwow Knight and Wainwowld :D

@kelnexia is lurking.

@daszombes Thank you for explaining lore, giving us peak story telling and characters to simp for in the form of the Iterator Logs. What? No Pebbles? Don't care. You're on here now.

Druid's Hollow, the first time I ever saw your YouTube channel was with the Distant Frontier video after just having gotten into Iterator Logs. One of the most pivotal pieces of media you've made in my life was God- Jake Daniels. That single video alone gave me the push I needed to make my first Rainworld oc Parting Clouds. The stories surrounding your characters (and Dune) are creative beyond my ability to write stories. Keep up your top tier memery.

Flickering Nightfall, I'ma put this in a nutshell. Duckdance. After that I found your blog via Google before I made a Tumblr and became enthralled by your content. From something as obscure to me as Infinity Train to Pebbles ragdolling, you were essentially my gateway into liking Iterators. I love the purple. I need moar.

Vic, b u f f I haven't known your blog long and was introduced to you through the My Goodbye animation. Since I was sort of entirely new to Rainworld at that point, I had no idea what was happening. I just saw a well drawn thing and went "oooooo". I'm all for Suns' antenna twitches and NSH box head. Also, body pillow 💀

Dennis, one of the first blogs I found when I first started Tumblr. I found you through the @iterator-ask-blog and found bullying Pebbles hilarious. I love the way you draw the yellow things on his head and I just appreciate that you do digital in general. I do not, will not and proceeds to die if I must. I've seen quick progress with your art style as well. Keep going.

Vessel, I barely know you. Who da heck are ye? I saw your art style once and knew I needed to follow. The way you draw Pebbles and Moon are so satisfying to stare at for minutes and I had way too much fun replicating that s n o o t. I don't know what you're up to with them aside from chaos. Murky Seas' story and design are fantastic. RIP

Shkika, I only found you through the @ask-looks-to-the-moon blog and love the way you draw the Iterators. It's very stylistic without straying too far. The three fingered hands to the goofy faces Moon expresses makes me smile. B a l l s. My Suns design was more so inspired by the way you make him as you were somehow the first Suns exposure. You're the only reason I can't see him without fluff. How did you make Pebbles cute kavvkatkcfadal

Northflowo, way back in 2022 in my first exposure to Hollow Knight, I found your channel through the Baby Mantis skin video with Nosk along with the lore in a nutshell video. Any other content I saw I forgor. In any case, your channel was there in my search for knowledge on that game. Fast-forward to the near conclusion of 2023 when I was first introduced to Rainworld. In my hunt for memes and more knowledge, I found the other lore in a nutshell video and realized you were the perfect channel for me as you had plenty of other content on that subject. Your art still manages to astound me, especially with the shot you did in the map Pliocene and the Warrior Cats redraws like with the waterfall. I'm trash at drawing backgrounds and might learn something from you.

And of great importance to me, @bornt-urnge/@zigmatism

@kitterjitters /@offended-dragon

Thank you for every moment of drawing from Pokemon to Kirby to Mire (oc) and anything else. You have made some of the largest impacts on my life, drawing, game choices and I've enjoyed every moment. I want to have more ridiculous sessions like that in the future and look forward to it.

Some of you have been around in my life for some time and others I've just found. All the same, every single art piece you've made has inspired me no matter how polished, memed or "trash". All of you have made an impact on me, no matter how miniscule. I look forward to the future with anticipation for all of your art. Have a terrific year, and with my deepest gratitude, thank you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading this.

#rain world #iterator #five pebbles #fp rw #art #me when when uhhh me theeeeee uuhhh umm me when the #adhd/add #man #pinned post #mud rants #i wrote this at like 1 am #i felt really generous #looking at it now i regret nothing #at least 1 am me was licid enough to make this good

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draco-tyler-mikes-paramour · 1 year

Note

May i please request a slytherin reader where she gets in trouble with umbridge and is punished with a "i must not tell lies" scar on her arm. She tries to hide it from draco but he finds out? Ive always wondered how draco would react ;) thank you in advance!

yes i’m on it!! x

draco malfoy x fem!slytherin!reader

tw: torture, violence, mentions blood loss, angst, fluff reader discretion is advised. And this is quite long

seeing between the lines

you knew it was a bad idea joining Dumbledore army after Harry had asked. But after all, Hermione was your best friend, to Draco’s dismay and you were the go between being a Slytherin you had access to the plans of the Inquisitorial Squad unfortunately led by your boyfriend Draco.

You felt awful lying to him but you were also angry at him for trying to destroy Harry and his friends, the DA to be specific which he was yet to find out that you were apart of. However it all fell apart for you very quickly when you were discovered by Crabbe and Goyle practicing defence spells with Parvati. They escorted you both to the office where you were met with the shocked face of Umbridge. You gave the two boys a fleeting death stare as to warn them off of telling Draco that you were part of the DA. “Restrain them.” Umbridge smiled as the Slytherin boys tied your hands to the chair.

“I am truly disappointed girls. Why ever were you engaging in such treacherous magic.” she clasped her hands together as you and Parvati glanced at one another fearfully. “In all due respect Professor, we were just having a little bit of fun it was nothing serious.” She furrowed her brows, still with that wicked grin on her face and walked towards you slowly “Don’t lie.” you shook your head “I’m not professor.” the next two seconds were a blur as she smacked you straight across the face “I told you not to lie Miss y/l/n. With many years of experience in the ministry I know a defence spell when i hear one. Unfortunately you will have to face consequences now.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes from the sting of her slap as you saw yourself in the mirror she had also drawn blood from your cheek. She turned to Parvati who was practically shaking in her chair “Are you practicing defence magic with other members of your class Miss Parvati? Like Mr Potter perhaps.” you knew how good of a liar Parvati was “No Professor. Of course not, it’s against the rules.” Umbridge took that bait.“One month detention. You can go now Miss Patil but I’ll watching you.”

The gryffindor girl nodded before being released and practically running for her life out of Umbridge’s office. “Now what to do with you Miss Y/L/N.” you struggled against your chair and she shushed you “Now now. What’s all this commotion? You’ve disobeyed the rules surely you realise you deserve to be punished.” you shook your head squeezing your eyes shut. “You think i don’t know about your….relations with Mr Malfoy. Which too, is also forbidden in my school. I suppose I should punish you for that too. However Draco has been more that helpful in assisting me to keep this school in order so I’ll spare that punishment…for now.”

She circled around to her desk draw, taking out her wand, a piece of paper and a pen. “I would like you to write lines for today’s punishment. You will write I must not tell lies seven hundred times on this piece of paper. You will not be released from my office until you have finished.” Crabbe released one of your hands “Wait outside the door please boys and lock it.” Umbridge explained. Your stomach dropped and you picked up the pen with a shaky hand before you started writing. I must not tell lies I must not tell lies I must not tell lies. as you began to write line number 15 you felt a sharp stinging pain in your arm.

You rolled up your sleeves and saw your own writing cutting into your skin. You eyes began to water again as the pain got stronger. You pleaded with Umbridge as she sat watching you, the happy expression never leaving her pug-like face. “Please…no.” you said in choked whisper. She sighed and shook her head “I feared you’d say that Miss Y/L/N. Now carry on or I’m afraid I will have to take matters into my own hands. I don’t like disobedient children.”

You carried on writing, each sentence cutting in the same spot in your arm making you cry out in pain until you could no longer write. Umbridge took clear joy from your punishment and stood up coming around her desk once more “I’m afraid you’ve left me with no choice but to carry out it myself.” she fluttered her eyes with evil intent. “You’re the devil.” you cried , straining against the chair “That is an a terrible thing to say to your headmistress. You horrible little girl.” and with the flick of her wand she carried on the sentences, carving into your arm making you scream out in pain.

It went on for almost 4 hours. Even Crabbe and goyle felt bad and knew that they wouldn’t be the only ones able to hear your blood curdling screams that could wake an army. But everyone knew where they came from and who was causing them. The who would be the mystery unless the boys and Parvati were to tell people that it was you being punished which they probably would. When you were finally released, it was nightfall and you were seriously injured. “Mr Goyle please come back in.” when the boys opened the door and crabbe nearly passed out from the sight of you, half of you soaked in your own blood and struggling to stay conscious, surprised you were even alive.

“I hope you learned your lesson Miss Y/L/N.” You dragged yourself to the hospital wing assisted by Goyle “You tell Draco… and i’ll kill you.” you choked out at the boy holding you up. He said nothing and nodded. Goyle was going to tell Draco no matter what you said. Madame Pomfrey attended you immediately, luckily there were no other students in the hospital wing. She patched you up with a sympathetic look of deep concern on her face “Stay here till morning and then you can go back to your dorm. But you must rest for a few days. You lost quite a lot of blood.”

You sighed weakly lying in the hospital bed as pomfrey connected your bandaged arm to an IV and within minutes you were asleep. When you awoke the next morning you felt a hand holding yours. Opening your eyes you were met with the puffy red face of Hermione. “Mione.” you smiled groggily. “I’m so relieved you’re okay.” she wiped her tears and rubbed her thumb over the top of your hand. She helped you sit up in your bed fluffing the pillows behind you “I’m guessing Parvati told everyone.” Hermione shook her head “Just the DA. To keep everyone vigilant.” You bit the inside of your cheek nervously “Could you hear it? When Umbridge was punishing me?”

She cast her eyes to the floor “I was in charms class at the time but I’m pretty sure everyone could Y/N. You know thats how Umbridge frightens students to follow her orders. Remember when it was Hannah?” you rolled your eyes “I know. But everyone will gossip about it today.” Hermione gave you a weak smile as you continued “Wait. Draco’s in your charms class.” “Don’t worry Y/N. He looked visibly uncomfortable when it was happening but I don’t think he could tell it was you. Parvati covered for you and told him you were studying in your dorm and didn’t want any distractions from anyone. Whether or not he listened to her is another matter entirely.”

“Right well I better not waste anymore time he’ll be looking for me.” You insisted. Hermione shook her head “It’s sad really. He’s your boyfriend yet…” you finished her sentence “Yet he’s the head of the inquisitorial squad determined to rat everyone out just keep him and his idiot friends out of the trouble. Mione I know, I currently hate him for it.” She helped you up out of bed as madame pomfrey came over. She took your bandages off to reveal a fresh red cracked scar reading i must not tell lies.

Hermione observed your arm with a deep frown on her face “Oh Y/N….” you shrugged dejectedly as pomfrey collected a clean uniform and set it down on your bed. “I’ll still do whatever I can to help. Even more so now this happened. That she-devil needs to be chucked out of this school.” You pulled on your uniform making sure the scar was hidden under your jumper. Your arm was sore but it wasn’t unbearable you prayed Draco wouldn’t notice but you knew that facing him was going to be difficult for you.

You walked slowly back to your dorm, deliberately stalling. However it was no use and before you knew it you were making your way through the door of the common room. Of course there Draco sat on the plush green sofa. You immediately felt a lump in your throat and pretended not to notice him like it would solve the problem. He watched you walk by small smile on his face at your absent mindedness. As you got to the bottom of the stairs you felt is his arms wrap around your waist “Where are you off to my darling? I knocked on your dorm this morning but you weren’t in. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” draco sighed into your neck.

you turned yourself out of his hold looking up at him to meet his icy blue gaze “Sorry went to the library I’ve just been studying a lot. I’m still quite busy Draco so I’m gonna get back to my dorm” his brows furrowed “But I didn’t see you all day yesterday. Had to put up with all that screaming from Umbridge’s office and Patil, a gryffindor, letting me know that youd locked yourself in your dorm to study. Cant I just hang out in your room or you can come to mine-“ you felt yourself beginning to choke up and get angry at his words so you cut him off “Draco. I’m busy. Not now.” and you took off up the stairs as he stood rejected watching your figure retreat into the dark hallway.

You threw yourself on your bed sobbing into the pillows. You had no idea how to act in front of Draco. You were so angry yet you loved him so much. For the rest of the day you showered and got into some comfy clothes before catching up on some schoolwork and getting some more rest. You felt your stomach begin to rumble so you got up again and trudged your way down to the great hall. You came down into the common where unfortunately Draco and all his friends were still sat. Blaise noticed you first and nudged the blonde boy. Draco looked at you hopefully as you ignored him once again.

“Y/N.” he called out to you. Internally cringing you faced him with a polite smile “Hi.” he scratched the back of his head “Did I uh- do something?” you shook your head as you felt the anger bubble within you “It just seems like I have. You’ve been acting really off with me today. Are you feeling ill? You don’t look well. You’ve been studying too much.” you rolled your eyes as your saw the other boys listening in on your conversation “I’m stressed, I need to study I already told you. Or is that not okay? I don’t want to do this in front of your mates Draco.” you turned to go back to your dorm but he grabbed your arm. The one with scar making you cry out in pain. He noticed immediately “Shit, are you okay darling? Did I hurt you?” You stepped back from him “No it’s fine. I just want some alone time Draco, please.”

You went back to your dorm even though you were starving and after an hour you eventually gave in. Giving it one last attempt you headed down to the great hall without any attention seeking from your boyfriend. Crabbe, Goyle and Draco were still sitting in the common room although this time there was no laughing or joking that could be heard “We have something to tell you.” Crabbe played nervously with the hem of his robe “Okay? what?” Draco looked at the boy suspiciously “You won’t like it.” Goyle admitted.

The slytherin prince sat back into the sofa “Well now you have to tell me. Is it to do with the DA? Cause you know we need to go to umbridge immediately if there’s information you’ve found.” Goyle sighed “No but well..sort of. Its complicated.” Draco frowned “For God sake spit it out.” “It’s Y/N.” Crabbe confessed “What are you talking about?”But if there was ever worse timing for you to return the from the great hall, this was it. you heard the heated exchange between the boys and caught Goyle ratting you out to Draco as you opened the common room door

“We saw her performing a defence spell with parvati so we took them to umbridge’s office. But we didn’t realise Umbridge was going to punish her with the lines. So the uh…the…the screams were hers. She was bleeding, that’s bit of an understatement really. And then I took her to the hospital wing after Umbridge had…finished with her. But I had to Draco.” You stormed into the room “Goyle! You asshole I told you not to say anything.” you yelled as Dracos heart dropped and eyes widened with horror as faced you.

“What? You mean yesterday when…all those screams..that was you.” his body when numb. “Yes. it was.” You eyes produced fresh tears as they flicked between the three boys “It’s your fault. All of you. Especially you Draco. You and your stupid fucking mates, you’ll do anything to destroy Harry. This is what your doing to people. To me. The person you love and the people trying to save this school from deatheaters and voldemort.” You screamed at him,rolling up your sleeve pointing at your arm with tears streaming your face as he stared at you as you headed off back to your dorm.

Draco ran after you shutting the door behind him “Y/N I-“ you cut him off, shouting “That monster of a woman tortured me for hours for using one defence spell. One. I nearly died! And yes I am part of the DA before you ask. I have to be if I want to survive in this school. God, Draco if anyone should be helping us it’s you! You hate your family and everyone knows they’re deatheaters anyway.” admittedly you felt bad for saying it but it was true. You turned away from him, sitting on your bed and sobbed “Go on turn me in then.” silence. You faced him again “If you have nothing to say then leave.”

he sat down and suddenly grabbed your waist, pulling you into his lap “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he whispered over and over as tears streamed down his face “i love you. forgive me.” his gaze flicked to the scar on your arm, feeling wracked with an overwhelming guilt. You both held each other until your crying had turned to sniffles. Draco held one side of your face as he cradled the rest of your body “I can’t tell you how much I regret acting this way. You wouldn’t have suffered if I hadn’t have been Umbridge’s pet. That woman deserves Azkaban.”

You smiled “It’s true. You’ve definitely made yourself even more hated than usual. You know that Umbridge is insufferable and inquisitorial squad is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. You lot made a lot of people suffer.” Draco hung his head in shame “I know. I promise I will spend a lot of my free time hating myself.” you giggled nuzzling into your boyfriend “Well I’m glad you feel that way. Though there is one thing you could do. You could stay in the inquisitorial but you wont tell on anyone. Make Umbridge think everything’s perfect and let the DA carry on to drive her out the school.” He nodded “If it protects you, I’ll do anything.” you gave him a stern look “So you’ll stop going after Harry too?” He sighed “Yes I will stop going after Harry. I’ll even talk to my father and the ministry about Umbridge.”

He kissed you deeply stroking your hair “I promise, anything for you. Now let’s rest and let me take care of you sweetheart.” You laid in your bed with Draco, his arms wrapped tightly around your body coaxing you off to sleep. And for the first time in a long time you felt hopeful about the future.

hope it’s not too dramatic lols. Also if you are following my Draco series I’m am still continuing with it I’m trying to finish the next chapter xx

#draco fanfiction #draco fluff #draco imagine #draco angst #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco smut #draco malfoy imagines #draco x y/n

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