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roosterr · 4 months

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i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on."

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move.

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed.

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera.

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod.

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud, leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap."

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #mw3 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes

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abibliophobiaa · 18 days

Note

One word prompts are so hard for me cause they could go an infinite direction but what about the word Cherry with Steve?

don’t you call him ‘baby’

steve harrington x f!reader. angst with a happy ending. [2k]

——

There’s a cherry red stain on the edge of the grainy photo. The color of your favorite lipstick — the same color still on the collar of his old jean jacket. He'll never get rid of it, he’s decided long ago now. You’re smiling back at him, captured forever in this picture, the sunset behind you, a hand hiking up one side of your flowing dress, the fabric backlit by the orange sky, highlighting the curves of your silhouette. He doesn’t even need the photo to remember the way it feels for his hands to travel the pathway of your side, your hip, the contours of your thighs. And the memories of that day hit him like a freight train all the same, like it was only yesterday.

Your hand is in his as he peels away from the curb at Max and Lucas’ new place in California. Sun streaks across the sky still, his sunglasses perched high on his nose. He feels you squeeze him tighter, thumb stroking lovingly along his knuckles. He turns his head and captures your gaze, your mouth a firm line, eyes round and soft. Sad.

“You okay?” you ask, and he realizes that sadness is for him. Heart practically shatters at that, because you know him deeply — just as you’ve always known over the years without him ever uttering a word.

His lip wobbles, but he doesn’t cry, tries not to at least. Even so, you gather the tear that eventually streams down his face. Thumb it away so tenderly it’s like you’re trying to capture it — to encapsulate this moment. Max is gone, Lucas is starting a new career, Dustin is off to college with El, Will, and Mike. Robin’s getting married soon. And he’s peering at everyone through the window, wishing them well, watching them slip away with the passing of time.

Everything is changing, yet you remain, and though it aches to see his life changing so quickly and suddenly, you’re a constant. The thought alone has him leaning over at a red light and kissing you soundly on the lips, hands in your hair at the back of your head, his cheeks flaming hot when the light turns green and someone slams on the horn behind him.

“Let’s go somewhere,” you muse softly, a little to yourself, head against the doorframe, free hand twirling in the wind out the window, catching sunlight in the palm of your hand. “That sign says there’s a beach up ahead. I want to put my feet in the water.”

He smiles, squeezing your hand, thinking how he can’t wait to marry you one day. “Okay, honey.”

Soon enough you’re both running along the beach with your hands tangled together. You’re spinning. Twirling. Laughing as he turns you round and around on the beach, sand between your toes, sun kissing his skin, blissful words punctuated by lingering kisses. There’s a blanket strewn out nearby you brought along and laid out, shoes discarded, your newest book propped open on its front. Beside that is the camera he brought along for the trip, the same one he rushes away to grab, chest splitting in two at the wide smile that breaks along your face.

You’re perfect. Everything he could ever want and more in a person. Beautiful beyond whatever measure a camera could ever capture you within. The photo slides out and slowly develops. The same photo you hold pinched between your fingertips as you later drive back to your hotel, bringing your lips to the bare corner, leaving a cherry red stain behind.

“Give me your wallet,” you reach an arm out and he slaps the leather within, the picture sliding into an empty slot. “Now you’ll always have me with you.”

Such sweet words — if only you had known.

He’s not sure how it happened. How that one perfect day became a memory. He still remembers the feel of your warm skin after hours on the beach spent kicking up sand, dancing in the waves, falling into fits of laughter as you eventually fell back onto a blanket, hands tangled together as tightly knit as your hearts. Later you’d pulled him down against you in that hotel bed, blocked out the rest of the world, and relished the feel of two souls wound together like one. You whispered forever against his throat as he later curled you against his chest, with the sound of his heartbeat a promise to lull you into sleep.

But things changed. His anxiety after Vecna grew, he buried himself in a job he didn’t even want at his father’s company to run from it. Work became too much — distance between you grew, him on trips that drew him further and further away from Hawkins. He pushed you away, he knew it, you knew it, though neither wanted to admit it out loud. At first you fought about it, about how you wanted forever but forever couldn’t look like this if you wanted it to stand the test of time. And then the apartment grew silent. Screaming matches turned into quiet sobs before bed, when you thought he couldn’t hear you, but he did every time. The distance became a chasm, too far to broach.

Then you left. Packed your things one morning and chose yourself. He understood. Of course he did. Still it didn’t make anything better. Didn’t make his heart hurt any less.

Now he sits in the middle of your — his — bed staring at the photo of you. The box of things he kept of yours through the years stored beneath his bed, even after Eddie suggested he might want to put it away in a closet or something. It’s been six months, six months of not turning over every morning to find you already awake and propped up beside him, wanting the first thing he sees every morning to be your smiling face. Six months of wondering what you’re doing, wondering who you’re talking to, wondering if you’ve moved on.

He gets his answer that night.

Eddie’s shoving Steve along beside him. Clothes cling to sweaty bodies in the packed bar. Robin couldn’t make it, so the two decide on a ‘boy’s night out.’ They’ve not had one in a bit, since Chrissy’s just given birth to their first baby a couple months ago. But she practically pushes him out the door that night, promising her and their new son will be fine, that he deserves a fun night with his friend.

Only it’s far from fun. With July came the hottest weather Hawkins has seen all year. ‘A record breaking high,’ the news stations tout. All Steve knows is his jeans feel tighter than usual, his skirt is stuck to his sweaty back, and the woman he loves is standing at the bar with a man Steve doesn’t recognize.

“Don’t look,” Eddie warns, as though it’s not already too late. As if Steve’s not drawn to you like a magnet, even after all this time. “He could be a friend, or something.”

He could be. But the man is reaching over to rest a hand over your forearm, head bent low, eyes wide, and clearly engaged in whatever story you’re telling him. Steve’s not surprised. It’s one of his favorite things about you: this way you seem to captivate every room you walk into. Like he’s in your orbit, circling around you, pulled in close by your mere aura. Anyone who knows you loves you, he thinks — and they’re lucky for it. He’d been lucky for a time, too.

“Steve, stop torturing yourself,” Eddie says, giving his friend’s shoulder a little wiggle. “Here — let me go grab us some beers. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything hasty.”

Steve shakes his head. What’s he going to do? Scream. Cry. Beg for you to come back. No — instead he watches. Feels his chest ache as you throw your head back in a laugh at something your date must say, hiding your smile against the lip of your glass, suddenly bashful when your eyes flicker up and clash with Steve’s. The drink in your hand falls and shatters and people rush to clean it up. Your date scrambles to find a stack of napkins, dabs at the front of your blouse, the gesture lost to you as you stay staring ahead, held in place by a ghost of your past.

Suddenly, like a light bulb flashing in your mind, you snap back to attention. He watches the bob of your throat on a swallow, the long rise and fall of your chest on your deep inhale and exhale, the forceful smile that curls your lips as you return your focus to your date.

The moment slips away as Eddie returns to the table, glasses in hand.

——

He’s not sure how he ends up here. Standing in your doorway, the ‘exit’ sign at the end of your hall flickering in the night. Your palm splays against the open door, mouth agape, eyes on his face, blinking frantically like you might think he’s an apparition.

“Please don’t tell me he’s your boyfriend.” Please don’t tell me you call him ‘baby.’ He hates himself for the tears that glimmer like pools in his eyes, hates as you reach up to cover his cheek when the first spills down his skin. “Damn it — I had a whole speech and I —” His voice breaks, throat closing around his words. You’re on your toes, face in his collar bone, clinging to him like he’s the very thing keeping you afloat at sea. “I quit my job, I started therapy, I’m not saying it excuses anything but —”

“Come with me,” you whisper, dropping back onto your heels, pajama shorts ruffling around your thighs.

Heat blooms in his belly as your fingers knit with his, dragging you further into an unfamiliar apartment. It’s very you. All your favorite colors and things, movies strewn about the living room floor, the grainy static humming on a television screen. A pot of half-eaten macaroni is left on a stove top, a plant on your kitchen table, books on a little shelf on a corner leading to a hallway. Lived in.

“Sit on the bed,” you demand as he slips inside your bedroom.

The blankets are messy, like you’ve risen from a nap recently. A stuffed animal he won you at a carnival rests beside your pillow, well-loved, as the fur is no longer as fluffy as it once had been. He watches stiffly as you reach down beneath your bed and pull out a shoebox. In your lipstick, you’ve written “Us” and decorated the top of the box with dozens of little stickers accumulated over the years. In awe, his gaze trails your hands as they pluck item after item collected throughout the years together. That first Scoops Ahoy napkin where he wrote his phone number down, that strip of photos at the photo booth at a carnival, your plush toy between your bodies as he kissed you that first time, a shirt of his from high school days that still smelled like him when you breathed deep enough, the little stack of Polaroids with all your memories scattered within. Early dates, holidays, Valentine’s Day, trips out of town with Robin, photos with the kids. Memories frozen in time of a life that feels so long ago — a life he still craves more than anything.

“I never got rid of them,” you mutter thoughtfully, holding up a photo of him napping on a lawn chair at his parent’s house, skin tanned, chest bare, marker scribbles by the kids on his face in the shape of glasses. “He’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t dated anyone since…”

“Me neither,” he swallows, inhaling sharply as your forehead rests against his. “I know I can’t…I know I messed up and I can’t take that back. But you deserve the world and I want it to be with me.”

“You’re going to give me the world, Harrington?” You tease, and he can almost hear the laughter in your voice as you reach down between the two of you to shove the memory box aside.

“If you’ll let me.”

“You have a lot of groveling to do,” you murmur, and he can feel your lips brush his, just a whisper, softly enough he wonders if he’s dreaming, “starting with this.”

He kisses you. One for every day he’s gone without. Until you’re falling onto your back and gazing up at him with stars in your eyes, fingers trailing his bare chest, lingering along the heart that thumps wildly beneath, singing of a forever.

——

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb

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soft-mafia · 8 months

Text

Take Me With You [Buggy x Reader] [Part 2]

warnings: fem reader, oc insert, age gap(reader is 19), smut, oral(fem receiving), cream pie

a/n: here’s part 2!! Hope you guys enjoy I made this one a little extra spicy🤭 I listened to Norman Fucking Rockwell while writing this is that means anything to you guys.

part 1

Once Buggy had hauled Y/n onto his ship, his crew began to gawk at her, thinking that their captain had taken something for himself while he was away.

Y/n felt the eyes on her, feeling a lot of the men eying her up.

Buggy rolled his eyes and put his hand on top of Y/n’s head, “Ok, ok everybody shut up!” Buggy shouted, “Here’s how this is gonna go, if I see any of you touching her, looking at her, or speaking to her, you’re getting thrown overboard. Does that sound good?” His crew had become even more silent, and Y/n could feel the lustful stares leaving her body, which gave her some relief.

“Ok. Great, everybody get back to work and let’s get out of this damn place.” Buggy sighed and grabbed Y/n’s forearm, dragging her in the direction of his quarters.

“Wait so I’m not allowed to talk to anybody on your crew?!” Y/n huffed at Buggy, expecting him to be protective but not overprotective. “Listen cupcake, you don’t know my crew, if those guys talk to you it’s safe to assume they’d wanna get in your pants.” He replied, shoving her into his room and closing the door behind himself, “Maybe after a while once they get used to seeing you, but not now.”

Y/n nearly toppled over due to how roughly he shoved her, but she quickly regained balance and looked around his room.

It wasn’t exactly how she pictured it would look like in her head.. it was, messy. Not a collected, organized mess, but literally messy.

She noted the empty and half empty bottles of booze on one of the tables, that probably been there for who knows how long. The bed wasn’t made, tins of grease paint scattered over a vanity along with dirty makeup brushes. She walked over to it, picking up one of the brushes, “You really need to clean these.”

Buggy walked over to her and took it out of her hand, setting it back where it was, “It’s fine, it’s just face paint.”

“Yeah, but like- bacteria build up.”

Buggy ignored her, jerking his coat off and then pulling his bandana off, letting his long blue hair fall gracefully down his back. He sighed as he raked his fingers through his scalp. Y/n couldn’t help but watch him— the way his muscles moved, his long hair that she actually never seen before until now. How did he get it all tucked in that bandana?

She set her backpack filled with all of her stuff down on his vanity chair, thankfully her bag was big enough to fit all of her clothes and other shit she got from the Going Merry.

“Ok princess, it’s been a while since I had a good nap, so I’m gonna crash for a while.. uh, don’t leave the room. Just.. I dunno keep yourself entertained.” Buggy grumbled, beginning to take his vest off; he didn’t know if he should strip completely down to his underwear like he usually did since Y/n was here.. so he decided to just keep his pants on.

“What- you’re just gonna sleep?” Y/n scoffed and crossed her arms.

Buggy looked at her as he tossed his vest to the ground, “Yeah, my head was in a— wet, sandy bag for the past few days, I think I deserve a nap.” He huffed, “You should’ve brought stuff to keep you busy, it’s not like I have any coloring books or fucking.. dolls or anything.”

“I did bring stuff, I brought all of my stuff.” Y/n said as she looked through her bag.

“Damn, you were prepared huh?” Buggy said as he walked over to her, looking down into her bag; he got interested upon seeing a sliver of what looked to be a a lacy bra.. but he didn’t bring it up.

He looked at Y/n, his eyes slowly drifting down to her cleavage, “What were you gonna do if I said no? You would’ve packed all this shit for nothing.” He began to imagine a sad looking Y/n, back on that straw hat’s ship putting all of her stuff back where it was if Buggy rejected her..

“I would’ve just begged you until you said yes.” Y/n looked up at Buggy, god he was so handsome with his hair down, the way he looked down at her with those gorgeous eyes were making her swoon all over again.

She could look at him and admire him all day if she could.

Buggy however, didn’t want her looking at him for more than 2 seconds, he slowly turned his gaze away once his eyes met hers; Buggy knew if she looked at him for longer than that, seeing all of his flaws, ragged stubble, his damn nose. He knew whatever little “fantasy” she had of him would quickly fade upon seeing how repulsive and hideous he was. He already felt a bit uneasy being shirtless, seeing her look at his hairy chest; did she not like what she saw?! I mean she was the one who decided to run off with a grown ass man she should know what a man’s body looks like, why was she staring so much?!

Why couldn’t she be happy with that blonde waiter boy? Or that fit looking swordsman? Or that kid making the bomb.. whatever that kid’s name was.

Why him of all people? A bitter, hideous clown with an equally hideous nose.

“Begged me? Am I that worth it, hot stuff?” Buggy scoffed and laughed before going over to his bed and flopping down, sighing as he rested his arms behind his head.

“I think you’re more than worth it.” Y/n giggled and walked over to sit beside his laying body, looking down at his abs, her eyes drifted towards his happy trail. Having his body here was much better than just having his head. There was so much more to look at and admire she felt like she was about to explode. She laid down beside of Buggy, snuggling into his side.

Y/n brushed some strands of his hair away so she could rest her head on his chest. Buggy’s eyes widened a little bit, “You gonna sleep with me?” He chuckled, then mentally cringed at the phrasing he used.

“I mean there’s nothing else to do.. you don’t want your crew flirting with me so I can’t really leave.” She giggled, then traced Buggy’s collar bone with the tip of her finger, she then noticed his necklace; it wasn’t anything fancy but it looked like a silver coin, “Where’d you get this from?” Y/n asked with curiosity, gently holding the silver pendent between her fingers.

“I saw it on some old geezer one day and thought it looked flashy.” Buggy looked down at Y/n, eyeing her up once more; not with lust but genuinely trying to examine her. This was.. way too suspicious for him. Why was this attractive, young woman clinging onto him? She wanted to beg to come with him, she said she felt safe with him.

This couldn’t just be due to the fact he was a bit of a sweet talker while she took care of his severed head. Y/n had to have an ulterior motive.. this had to be some kind of.. scheme!

A scheme from that damn straw hat!! They wanted to use one of the pretty girls on their crew to catch him off guard? Give him a false sense of security? Yeah right. Buggy wasn’t going to be so trusting with this girl.

Y/n let go of the necklace and rested her arm over his chest, her eyes moved up towards the window, watching the bright blue sky and the clouds. She looked like a puppy, like a small, helpless animal. There was no way this wasn’t a trap of some sort.

Buggy furrowed his brows and sat up suddenly, making Y/n sit up as well, “Ok, enough with the damn puppy dog eyes.. what the fuck are you playing at here?!” Buggy growled, grabbing Y/n’s neck, holding under her jaw.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Y/n gasped slightly, looking up at Buggy with wide eyes.

“You can’t possibly be serious?!” Buggy huffed, “Why did you come here? I had every intention to kill you and the rest of those kids, and now you’re just.. rubbing up on me and looking at me with those damn eyes— STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, GAH!!” Buggy growled and pulled away, standing up from the bed. He put his hands over his face.

Those puppy dog eyes, they’re really going to kill him.

“You’re planning something. You and Shanks’ kid, you guys are trying to punk me, aren’t you?” Buggy looked back at Y/n, rage in his eyes.

Y/n felt a shiver go down her spine, she shook her head, “N-No?? Who’s Shanks? I’m not planning anything, I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Buggy stared at Y/n for another moment, glaring angrily, examining her but he just couldn’t understand why.

“I mean, yeah you were going to kill me but.. I thought that, when we spent time together and I took care of you, we kind of..” Y/n looked down, trying to find the right words to say, “Forgot about all of that, I guess.”

“I don’t get it.” Buggy looked away, shaking his head, he put a hand over his eyes before grumbling and looking back at her, “It doesn’t make sense, why me? I’m old enough to be your father!! And I’m not that easy on the eyes-”

“What are you talking about?! You’re gorgeous!” Y/n interrupted, taking Buggy off guard, “You’re the handsomest guy I’ve ever seen!”

“And promised you’d take care of me.” Y/n whispered, looking down at her lap. Buggy’s eyes widened slightly.

Y/n had Buggy’s head sitting on her shelf while she got changed out of his view. “-I mean, what makes a pretty girl like you want to be a pirate.”

Occasionally Buggy would turn around to get a peek; quickly turning away when Y/n would check to see if he was looking, “Because trust me sweetheart, it’s not that glamorous.”

“It’s not the whole pirate thing I’m thrilled about,” Y/n said, finally changed into her sleeping clothes which was just a silk tank top and black micro shorts, “I just wanna go out and see the world.” She fixed her hair in the mirror, making sure it was ok for her to sleep on it.

Buggy couldn’t help but roll his eyes, but it was more of a playful eye roll. As generic as that sounded, and as much as he wanted to be bored.. there was a charm to this little girl. It was also cute how she pranced around, prettifying herself for sleep of all things.

“You know how many people say that but then chicken out once they get out on sea? I got kids wanting to run off and join the circus thinking it’s all sea shanties and shit, but then panic and throw themselves overboard after one rogue wave.” Buggy laughed, it was morbid but.. a guy like him found it hilarious.

“Well, I’m not a kid.” Y/n turned around to look at Buggy, her hands on her hips, “And I’m not afraid of waves, I can take care of myself just fine.”

Buggy eyed Y/n up and down, smirking a bit, “Oh yeah? I can take care of you even better, cupcake.” He grinned, telling himself he was just buttering her up, but damn if he had his body he’d probably already plowed her by now. Y/n’s eyes widened, noticeably getting flustered over his shift in tone; it was deep, gruff, the way he looked at her wasn’t helping either.

“If you want.. you can put me between your legs and we can have some fun.” Buggy snickered, “I know I’m just a head but my mouth can work wonders, baby.”

Buggy sucked in an inhale, then smacked his lips together as he looked so the side, “I did say that didn’t I..” his teeth clenched before he looked back at her, “I mean I didn’t promise it, but I did say that.”

“Well I took it as a promise.” Y/n huffed, looking off to the side with a pout.

“Just because you took something as a promise, doesn’t mean it’s a promise, sweetheart. You’re gonna get your heart broken if you keep doing that.” Buggy sighed and walked back over to her, standing at the edge of the bed in front of her.

There was a good silence before Y/n spoke up again.

“So.. everything you said back there, was a lie?” Y/n whispered. Buggy sighed and held the side of her face, then turned it so she could look up at him, “I mean, not all of it.” He said, in that same deep, rough voice that drove her wild.

“You’re really a pretty girl Y/n. You shouldn’t be with someone like me. I don’t know why you want to, but the fact that I got you so whipped over me because of one interaction is kind of weird.”

“You were literally talking about how you wanted to fuck me!! What did you expect?!” Y/n frowned at him.

“Ok look, the first couple of times I was just trying to tick you off!! It’s not like I planned to have you falling for me.” It was the truth, as soon as Sanji handed his head off to Y/n, he knew he could take advantage of the situation. Saying creepy shit to the pretty girl on the crew, making her uncomfortable.. he never expected her to imprint on him like a fucking duckling.

Maybe he did a bit too much when Y/n accepted those advances but.. she was cute and it turned him on, he couldn’t help himself.

“Then you should know better than to flirt with people!” Y/n crossed her arms.

Buggy rolled his head back as he rolled his eyes, he groaned before looking back down at her, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” He said, albeit in a sort of mocking tone, but he was sorry, “Anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Y/n looked down, eyeing at Buggy’s belt area for a moment before looking back up at him, “Um..” she felt heat rise to her cheeks; back on the boat she did think about putting Buggy’s head between her legs.. but she was way too nervous too. Even now that the man had his body, it made her even more nervous.

“Hm?” Buggy hummed quietly, his thumb rubbing back and forth gently across her cheek. He knew she wanted something.. he wanted her to spit it out.

“I can take you up on that offer.. putting your head between my legs.” Y/n looked down, her thighs pressing together as she spoke quietly, like she was embarrassed to say those words— which she was. Embarrassed and so nervous.

Buggy smirked widely, he rubbed Y/n’s cheek before patting it gently, “You want that? Alright. Lay down, princess.”

Y/n was laying flat on the bed now, Buggy loomed over her, he tilted his head and pressed his lips against hers, kissing her, sucking on her top lip before moving down, his hands traveling down with him until he got between her legs. He pulled off her shorts, then her panties and tossed them off the bed.

He spread her thighs wide, his large hands gripping them. Buggy admired Y/n’s pussy, how it was already dripping wet, those pretty little folds and that nice clit.. his boner pressed into his pants and made him groan under his breath.

Buggy leaned down, his nose pressed to her clit as he reached his tongue out and began to lick long stripes into her pussy. Y/n shivered, legs trembling which made Buggy’s grip on them tighten.

Y/n turned her head to the side to bury them into the pillows, muffling her moans and whimpers into them. Buggy grunted softly and moved his hand up to jerk Y/n’s face away from the pillows, “Let me hear you, baby.” Buggy grumbled into her pussy, moving his lips upward to suck and lap at her clit. Y/n trembled, whimpering and moaning loudly as Buggy held her face right up.

Buggy’s hands slowly slid to Y/n’s sides, thumbs gently placed under her breasts as he sucked on her pussy. Damn this was good. Truth be told he hadn’t gotten any action since he was.. I don’t know, 21? And it was only one time on his birthday with a drunk hooker.. he barely even remembered it, he was too busy being a captain now to even focus on sex, just jacking himself off into a rag whenever he needed that kind of relief.

He began to feel more grateful for having Y/n here now, he wouldn’t have to waste hand towels anymore when he could just shoot his load into her.

The thought of Y/n being his personal fuck doll made him harder, he was practically humping his boxers at this point, her pussy tasted amazing; the perfect combo of sweet and salty, nice and juicy like he wanted it.

He squeezed her sides lightly and made Y/n let out a loud mewl. Buggy groaned and grunted as he humped the blankets while sucking her pussy. “A-Aaahh~!! Aahh!” Y/n threw her head back, her pussy clenched and fluttered, she never realized how sensitive she was until Buggy started eating her out. She was trembling all over, already about to cum.

Buggy was groaning and huffing like a dog into her pussy, licking up all of her juices, sucking on her clit. He growled deeply, wanting to pound her into his mattress until the ship sank.

Y/n let out a loud yelp and came hard on Buggy’s tongue, squirting a bit and getting her juices on him. “A-Ahh~ s-sorry..” Y/n looked down at Buggy, seeing the lower half of his face was soaking wet, dripping off of his stubble.

He wiped it off with his hand after licking some off of his lips before chuckling, “What are you sorry for, sweetheart?” He smirked, sitting up on his knees and nestling himself between her legs, beginning to unbuckle his belt.

Y/n blinked slightly, “What are you doing? I already came..” She asked breathlessly. “Yeah? Well I haven’t even gotten my dick wet, sweetheart.” Buggy mumbled, his words made Y/n’s belly tingle with that aroused feeling again, “So just lay back and let daddy take care of you.” He winked at her before freeing his dick from his pants. Y/n eyes widened slightly as she looked down at it, it was huge; bigger than expected. Oh god.. “Is that gonna fit?”

Buggy paused for a moment, looking at Y/n before laughing loudly, gently slapping her inner thigh as he laughed, “Of course it’s gonna fit. Aww, that’s cute.” Buggy chuckled, breathing out before slapping his cock against her wet pussy, “And if it doesn’t, I’ll make it fit.” His voice went deep and husky again, the sudden change of tone made Y/n shiver in arousal.

Buggy groaned deeply when he pushed his cock deep into Y/n. Her back arched as she let out a loud yelp; it was so huge, he was filling her up so well, stretching her out, tip kissing her cervix. “Mmmm-!!” Y/n whimpered, her hips trembled. Buggy let out another groan and rocked his hips back and forth, holding Y/n’s legs up as he did so, “That’s a good girl, see? Fits like a glove.” Buggy laughed through a grunt, his voice gravelly as he began to thrust.

She was so tight, damn it felt good cramming his dick in there. Buggy’s abs clenched as he plowed into her, making the bed creak underneath them. Y/n was moaning so loudly; his crew could probably hear but that’s exactly what Buggy wanted. Just a little kink of his.

Y/n gripped the pillows beside her head and whined, twitching, whimpering and moaning. Buggy squeezed Y/n’s legs, “Yeah that’s it, let it all out, tell everyone who owns you.” Buggy growled, thrusting faster into her. Y/n looked up at Buggy; his body casted a shadow over hers from the light shining in from the window.

“B-Bugggyyy!!” Y/n moaned out, legs trembling in his grip as burning pleasure took over her body. “Don’t you dare cum yet, I just stuck my dick in you, you little shit.” Buggy growled, sending a mix of both fear and arousal through Y/n. His tone was so demanding and dominant— and he was so handsome looming over her, she was going nuts.

Y/n squirmed, trying to hold it in, but she was so sensitive and he was stretching her out so much. Buggy tilted his head back and thrusted rougher into her. “B-Buggy.. B-Buggy please..!”

“Wait.” Buggy growled, looking down at Y/n’s tits, the way they bounced as he fucked her; she was probably the hottest girl he’d ever seen. “You wanted this cock, baby.. You were gonna beg me for this cock.” Buggy grunted, “Don’t be going ‘pleaseeee’ at me. Lay there and take my fucking dick like a good girl.”

Y/n moaned at his words, she was trembling all over, so close to spilling over and cumming. “Aa-Aahhh~!” She couldn’t hold it in anymore, she gasped loudly as she came around his cock, her pussy clenching and fluttering. The sudden tightness made Buggy hunch forward and groan deeply in pleasure.

He let out a guttural, primal sound as he plunged harder into her, “We’ll work on that.” Buggy huffed out, his words almost drowned out from the wet sounds of skin slapping skin and the loud squeaks coming from the bed.

It wasn’t long before Buggy was grunting louder, teeth bared and eyes screwed shut, every muscle in his body twitching as he came into Y/n, cumming deep inside of her pussy and filling her up. Y/n was whimpering, moaning and panting heavily, she could barely keep her eyes open.

Buggy groaned and flipped his long hair to the side to keep it from falling over his face. He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “Fuck..” he groaned and pulled out, watching his cum leak from her pussy, he glanced at Y/n, spreading her thighs a bit, “You ok?” He asked breathlessly.

Y/n looked up at Buggy and nodded, “Mhm..”

Buggy smirked and gently patted her thigh, “Good girl.” He flopped down on the bed beside of her, sighing heavily, “Right.. about that nap.” He sighed, then turned over with his back facing Y/n. He was exhausted to say the least.

Y/n whined and wrapped her arm around him, “You’re not gonna at least cuddle with me?! This is horrible aftercare!!”

“Jeez alright!!” Buggy chuckled and turned to face Y/n, suddenly encasing her in his strong arms, holding her close to his chest and pressing his lips against the top of her head, giving her kissing and lightly scratching her with his stubble. “Are you gonna be this needy when you’re with me?” Buggy joked.

Y/n snuggled against Buggy’s hairy chest, her arm still wrapped around him as his scent invaded her nose, “Mmm, maybe.” She giggled up at him, “If you don’t take care of me like you promised.”

#one piece #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #one piece x reader #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #buggy smut #one piece live action #opla buggy #opla

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bagopucks · 5 months

Text

C. Caufield - Linear Progress

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Cole Caufield x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 3.3k

Warning(s): anxiety, mention of depressive episode, sad!cole

These upcoming fics are all things from my notes app from last season, doctored and given a finish so I could post! Some of these are so long it’d be a shame to just delete.

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His smile barely reached his eyes. His laughter was distant and distracted. Cole, so used to keeping good posture to feel like he measured up to those around him, stood about as poorly as a pregnant mother. His gloved hands clasped in front of himself as he shifted his weight from skate to skate.

I couldn’t take pictures of him like that. People would never notice the vulnerable state he was in, but I did. He looked so nervous. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but on the ice. And I knew that’s exactly what was going through his mind, because he’d pulled all the stops that morning trying to get me to call off for him. He’d tried saying he didn’t feel good, then he tried saying he just wanted to lay in bed. Then he tried faking a headache, and he tried tricking me into thinking he had gone back to bed. By the time I got him into the car, Cole’s attitude had done a complete switch. All of a sudden it was like work was the best place on earth. We had parted ways to do our separate things, but when I came down to the ice with my camera, I could sense Cole’s discomfort from a mile away.

“You wanna hit something other than the glass, Coley?” I watched Cole through the lens of my camera. Watched the way he brushed off the chirp with a quiet chuckle and a nod. He just wanted to stay home. I should have let him. Practice was only an hour, but it certainly felt longer. Between everybody’s endless digs on the blonde, and the occasional glances in Cole’s direction from coaches, I could see his facade cracking and fading.

I didn’t capture near as many photos as I would have liked, but my boss would just have to use what the other photographers got. Surely we’d have more than enough. I tucked my camera back into its bag by the time practice ended, watching the boys leave the ice, and eventually walking toward the visitors tunnel. I stopped short though, when I heard a puck slam off the glass. I turned back to the ice, my heart sinking in my chest at the frustration on Cole’s face.

“Fucking empty net.” His voice carried through the empty arena.

This had nothing to do with the empty net in the present. It had to do with the empty net he missed one week prior. That seemed to have started his scoring drought.

“Fuck.” He spat out. My brow furrowed as he skated toward the bench, my body tensing in anticipation as he raised his stick, clearly ready to slam it off the top of the bench wall until it broke. Before he could even bring the stick down, his entire body relaxed. He found reason within his anger. Or maybe he had simply given up. I watched Cole throw the stick aside in the bench instead, saying, ‘fuck it,’ before he stomped down the tunnel toward the locker room.

He had just returned from an injury. Adjusting was normal. Relearning some things was normal. But Cole wasn’t patient with himself. He never was. I carried my camera down the separate hall, half tempted to retrieve Cole’s stick, but ultimately deciding against it. He’d be embarrassed if he knew I’d watched him lash out like that. He hated when people saw any side of him that wasn’t the usual giggly and fun side.

I stole away to my office to finish a few things before I received a message from him, trying to speed up the process of downloading photos to my computer as Cole’s face popped up on my phone screen. I quickly answered the call.

“Hey, babe-“

“I wanna go home.” So much for pleasantries, but I hadn’t expected them in the first place.

“Give me maybe.. fifteen minutes, okay?” Silence followed my request for time.

“Please.” I heard his voice echo, my brow furrowing as I glanced toward my phone.

“Are you in the bathroom?”

“I just wanna go home.” I could have sworn I heard Cole’s voice quiver.

“You can come sit in my office while you wait.”

“I’m okay.” I wanted to pinch my nose. To grab him by the shoulders and shake the stubbornness out of him.

“Why don’t you go wait in the car then?” I bit my lip as I looked back at my computer.

“‘Kay. But.. just fifteen minutes, right?”

My eyes lit up when the photos finally loaded onto the computer.

“Less than fifteen.” I answered, “I’ll be fast.”

I tried to stay true to my word, but when my boss stopped me in the hall, I knew it would be far longer than fifteen minutes. A half an hour longer to be exact. When I got out of her office, I ran as quickly as I could through the building to get to the parking lot. I felt horrible when I noticed Cole’s head lift. Our car the only one left in the players lot.

I tossed my camera in the back and climbed into the passenger seat without so much as a word. I wasn’t in trouble, but I knew Cole wasn’t thrilled.

“You said fifteen minutes.” Cole hadn’t wasted much time getting the car started and pulling out of the lot.

“I’m sorry. My boss stopped me, and- god you know how she is.”

“Talks for hours, yeah.” Cole tried to muster a chuckle. He looked so apathetic. So careless. But not in a freeing or jovial way. He simply looked drained and tired.

“What do you wanna do when we get home?” I asked, glancing out the window at the passing scenery. Christmas was just around the corner. Snow covered sidewalks and streets, and Christmas decor was up everywhere.

“I just wanna lay down.” Cole shook his head. I turned my attention to him.

“You could use a hair cut.”

“Not today.”

“Might feel good.” Laying around and doing nothing in the midst of a funk never helped anybody. As easy as it was to laze around, it usually only made one’s mental health worse.

“You can lay with me.” He was stuck on this idea. Too bad I was stuck on my own as well.

“I’ll lay with you if you let me cut your hair.”

Cole didn’t reply. He bit his lip and ignored the proposal. “I have stuff to do today anyway.” I shrugged. I wanted to be there, but if Cole didn’t let me in, there wasn’t much I could do. So if he insisted on laying around all day, I’d busy myself with cleaning, straightening up the few decorations we had yet to put out, working on Christmas cards. Anything to busy myself while he stayed miserable.

“‘Mkay.”

It was the end of our conversation until we got back to our apartment. I carried my things inside behind Cole, who kicked his shoes off and headed straight for our bedroom. I had to stop myself from following after him. Instead, I dropped my camera bag on the love seat and wandered into the dining room to grab my laptop,

He’d come around eventually. It was what I kept telling myself as I turned on some Christmas music and put the few finishing touches on our customized Christmas cards. I sang along quietly, and set my laptop aside when I finished the cards. I saved the design to show to Cole when he felt better, and shot up from the couch to make a glass of hot chocolate.

I ended up making two, and against my better judgement, I carried one down the hall for my lover.

“Cole?” I toed our bedroom door open, spotting his still body curled up under a mess of blankets. His back was turned to the door, but I could tell he had the comforter pulled over half of his face. I sighed, resting the mug on his nightstand before I placed a hand on his arm.

“Made you some hot chocolate.” I whispered, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. I didn’t know if Cole was awake or not, but the affection was needed nonetheless. I tiptoed out of our room and pulled the door shut behind myself, only to return to my own world of lonely Christmas preparation.

I spent close to two hours putting up the last of the decorations and cleaning. I saved the tiny statues of Hermey and Rudolph for the tv mantle, where they always went, but Cole loved being the one to put them up. I stared down at the statues on the coffee table, placing my hands on my hips as I’ll Be Home For Christmas came on from my laptop on the couch. The cozy atmosphere was almost perfect. I just wished Cole didn’t feel so horrible. He deserved to enjoy his holidays. Not worry them away.

I glanced back toward the hall, hearing an ear splitting shatter as if on cue.

“Cole?” I shouted, panic seizing my chest as I took off through the hallway, making a sharp turn to push our bedroom door open. Cole was out of bed, wearing nothing but boxers, holding an arm out toward the door.

“It’s fine! I’m fine! I got it!” I looked toward the floor to see the mug I’d set on his dresser in pieces. I grimaced. His favorite mug. Hot chocolate ran across the floor, and I was quick to jog into the bathroom to grab a towel.

“Here.” When I returned, I tossed the towel on the floor, covering the small puddle of liquid. “I’ll go grab something to wipe the floor down.. you start picking up glass.” I left the bedroom, going to rummage through the kitchen for my floor cleaner. When I found it, I grabbed a few paper towels as well, returning in record time.

Cole was knelt on the floor, the towel from the bathroom pushed aside as he collected glass from the floor. I noticed the sporadic and heavy rise and fall of his back, the way his chest heaved. His hair covered his eyes, and despite not being able to see his face, I knew he was upset.

“Coley.” I made my way over and knelt next to him.

“I’m almost done.” Cole’s voice quivered. I set the items in my hands down, gently resting my hand on his cheek, turning his head to face me. Cole’s eyes were wet with tears, his cheeks flushed and stained by the tracks of tears that had already fallen.

“Oh, Cole.” I kissed his forehead, shaken by the sob that escaped his lips as he set the collected glass down atop a paper towel. I sat down on the floor and pulled him in. He’d been kneeling before, but he barely thought twice about it when his body fell into my own, back pressed into my chest while I held onto him tightly.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out through broken cries, but I merely shook my head and rubbed his side with one of my hands.

“It’s okay.. everything is gonna be okay.” Cole didn’t have days like these often. Where everything bubbled over and became too much to bear. He was good at keeping himself in check. In fact, he was usually the one taking care of me on days like these. But I never missed an opportunity to assure him I was there in moments when he felt he couldn’t function. When the dark cloud looming over was simply too much to bear. I rested my chin on Cole’s shoulder, pressing occasional kisses to his body to help distract and ease his mind.

“Cole,” I whispered as he started to calm down. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and slowly turned to look at me. “Let’s fix this mess, okay? Then we can relax.” He seemed reluctant to get up, and I knew he’d sit there all day if I didn’t take initiative. “C’mon.” I directed his attention back to the glass, helping him retrieve the last few pieces before he got up to throw them away. I made quick work of cleaning the floor, wiping down any sticky spots before I had stood up to put the towel in the hamper, and throw the paper towels away. When Cole returned, he stood in the doorway, hugging himself for warmth, or maybe still out of discomfort. I turned to look at him, flashing a sad smile.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to..” as if I didn’t know that. As if he hadn’t already apologized. I crossed the floor to meet him in the doorway, wrapping my arms around his body. I gently rubbed his back, taking note of the tight muscles.

“It was an accident. It’s okay.” I whispered, “you wanna talk about what’s been going on?” I looked up at him, earning a quiet ‘no,’ in response.

“Cole, you were just crying. It might help some.” I tucked a lock of his long blonde hair behind his ear, then trailed my hand down his face, following his jaw.

“I just wanna lay back down.”

There it was. That constant avoidance.

“At least lay with me on the couch. All the decorations in the living room are set out.” I rubbed the small of his back, earning a careful nod. “I’m gonna grab a sweatshirt first. It’s a little cold.” I moved my arms around to his stomach, nodding and pressing a kiss to his shoulder before I slipped out of the bedroom.

There was no promise that Cole wouldn’t lay back down in our bed, but I had to trust him a little.

When I got back into the living room, I shut the lights out and plugged the Christmas tree in. I grabbed one of our Christmas blankets and laid it out on the couch, waiting for him as I placed a throw pillow at one end. I laid down and pushed the blanket aside so I could pull it over us later. I grabbed the tv remote and started sifting through channels, smiling at Cole when he finally came through the hall. He still didn’t have pants on, but his sweatshirt sleeves were pulled over his hands, and he had the plastic end of one of the strings in his mouth. As cozy as he could get. I parted my legs for him to lay down between them, and he did with little to no hesitation. Cole’s back rested against my chest, his head finding a home near my shoulder. I wrapped my legs around his own and swiftly covered up with the blanket.

“You finished decorating without me?” I heard him sniff quietly, still recovering from the crying fit he had minutes ago.

“It had to get done.” I rested a hand on his head, gently combing my fingers through his hair. “I left Rudolph for you.” I gestured toward the coffee table with my free hand.

“Are we still visiting my family over Christmas?”

“Absolutely, Cole.” I smiled. “You’ve been looking forward to that since November.” When the silence settled between us, I moved my free hand to rest atop one of his own. I dragged my thumb across his knuckles, traced the lines in his hand, flipped it over to massage his palm.

“I just want it to be over.. ya know?” Cole’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“What do you want to be over?” I matched his volume, continuing to rub his hand and play with his hair. One little change might throw him off.

“I just wanna be good again.” He sighed, turning his head against my shoulder to look up at the ceiling.

“At hockey?”

“Yeah. I can’t even hit the net.” Cole closed his eyes, trying to hide his frustrations.

“Give it time, Cole. It’s all a part of recovery. It’s not a linear thing.” I whispered. “And we’re gonna go visit your family in a week. You should be focused on that. I know you wanna be back on the ice, but if you rush you could hurt yourself.”

“What if they don’t resign me?” My movement halted. I lifted my head from the pillow to peek down at him.

“Why would they do that?”

“Because I can’t play.”

“Cole.” I squeezed his hand. “You’re gonna recover. You’ll get back to playing hockey. Your skill hasn’t just gone away.” I could understand his concerns to a degree, but I knew these worries were all in his head. “If they decide to ship you off it’s because they’re morons. It’ll have nothing to do with your recovery. Injuries happen, and you can’t control them.” His silence was deafening. Sometimes I hated how hard Cole thought about things.

“I really like it in Montreal.”

“Cole.” A tension accompanied my tone. One that made his eyes fall toward the opposite end of the couch. “You can’t trap yourself in this endless cycle of negative thoughts.” I began to play with his hair once again. “What if they do want you? What if you recover so well that they decide to sign you for more years? What if you get a better contract than the last? What if this injury turns you into a superstar?” Cole shifted against me, clearly displeasured by the combative tactic I was using.

“Okay?”

“Cole. Anything can happen. Good or bad. You can’t control it.. so let’s just not think about it. It’s tearing you apart.”

“Because it’s my future! Don’t you get it?” Cole sat up, careful not to hurt me. I was quick to sit up as well, folding my legs criss-crossed on the couch as I watched his head fall into his hands. His once calm breathing began to pick up once again.

“The future isn’t going to sneak up on you Cole! The future is a second from now. A day, three days. It’s a fucking week or a month. It’s not going to come and assault you in an alleyway one day. You’re thinking too much. The physician, physical therapist, your coaches, they’re all working with you. They’re all making sure you get back on the ice. And they’ve been telling you that you’re recovering well. You’re doing great! Why don’t you see that?” I was impatient as I waited for an answer. Waited for Cole to look at me, or show some sign of understanding.

“I don’t know.” His voice quivered again. His chest heaved with a deep and quiet cry. He desperately needed that week off. He needed that week with his family. With his mother and his dog. Olive was the best at cheering Cole up.

I slid across the couch, draping one of my arms over his back as Cole cried quietly.

“It’s okay to be worried,” I whispered, resting my other hand on his thigh. “But you can’t let it consume you. You have to talk to people.” I didn’t know how we got there, but I knew it was because of his own stubborn behaviors. If he simply would have spoken to me before, we could have worked this out. And even despite knowing that, I couldn’t be mad. I couldn’t blame Cole for whatever reason he chose not to communicate, because I knew he didn’t do it to spite me or hurt me for not understanding. “You can’t let yourself get here, Cole. This constant state of panic won’t help anything.” I pressed a kiss to his head. “Things are going to turn out okay, but you need to allow yourself to see that. Please… let me help you see that.” I felt his body lean into my own, and I wrapped my arms around him once again. “There’s nothing to worry about.” I whispered, “take it one day at a time.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #cole caufield blurb #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield imagine #cole caufield #ella’s inbox #ella’s updates #ella’s asks

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sweetvoidstuff · 4 months

Text

Share your pain II Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Summary: Amidst tears and a revelation of homesickness, Hyun Su offers comfort, leading to an unexpected, comforting connection between you two in the post-apocalyptic world.

the first part, kinda ~~~~~ the next part, kinda

Masterlist

~~~~~

At the quiet corner of the shelter, Hyun Su sat with Pyeon Sang-Wook and Mister An, sharing a meal and exchanging light banter about their scars. While Mister An regaled them with tales of his past, the atmosphere turned somewhat lively until you walked past, a cloud of distress hanging over you. Tears welled in your eyes, making it evident that something heavy weighed on your shoulders. Without the usual exchange of greetings or even a nod in Hyun Su's direction, you hurriedly made your way past them to an empty corner on the first floor.

Concern etched on his face, Hyun Su watched you go, his meal forgotten. Mister An, observing the situation, turned to Hyun Su and said, "Whatever you did wrong, fix it. Apologize. It's easier that way." Hyun Su, genuinely puzzled, mumbled, "I don't even know if I did anything."

Mister An sighed, making himself clear. "Well, figure it out. Your task is to help her this time." Hyun Su hesitated, unsure if intruding on your space was the right course of action. Mister An, not one to tolerate indecision, forced him to "be a man and help his lady."

As Hyun Su got up, a heavy blush on his cheeks, and began searching for you, he tried to think about what he would say. However, all his prepared words vanished when he found you quietly sobbing in one of the mostly unused rooms. Frozen in the doorway, he watched the tears fall, his heart breaking at the sight. You were normally so independent, strong, and reliable; seeing you so small and broken hurt him more than he realized.

Unable to say anything, it was you who broke the silence first. Sniffling and attempting to cover your tears, you mustered the courage to speak, though your voice wavered. "If it's not something important, just leave me alone, please."

Hyun Su, genuine concern etched on his face, took a few careful steps toward you. "Is everything okay? Are you hurt?" he asked, reaching out to comfort you.

Your response was sharp, your emotions spilling over. "Does it look like everything is fine? It's perfect!" The frustration and sadness in your voice struck Hyun Su deeply, and he felt a pang of guilt, realizing that he needed to find a way to make things right, even if he didn't understand what had gone wrong in the first place.

"I'm sorry," were his unsure words, bowing deep and hoping he could fix whatever he did. He knew he shouldn't have relied on you so heavily. You came to his aid every time he needed you. You must hate him for it, you must resent helping him. Those were his thoughts, but as you watched him puzzled and annoyed, he looked at you puzzled as well. Trying to find the right words, he expressed, "I don't know what I did, but I am sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry!"

Instead of accepting his apology, you looked downright angry now. With a growl that made him look between a mix of fear and confusion at you, you said, fighting the tears out of your voice but failing miserably, "It's not you, you dummy! You didn't do anything! I'm… fuck… I just… I miss home."

Angryly, wiping your tears away but failing, Hyun Su relieved he wasn't to reason for your distress asked quietly. „Home?“ Your anger turning into raw saddnes. Your voice a mere whisper „Yes, home“ looking at your knees that you had pressed before you, you took some deep breaths. While Hyun Su took the liberty to come even closer to you. It didnt feel right to stand over you while you cried so he sat himself next to you. Waiting for you to continue. Laying your head on your knees you looked at him debating what to say, you continued, "I am not from Seoul. Hell, I am not even from Korea. I came here to study for a while and then go back to my annoying-as-heck family, telling them about all the amazing food I had, all the friends I made," chuckling entertaining your own thoughts and studing Hyun Su's face, "describing the boy I fell in love with. Something like that. I shouldn't be here all alone, fighting, surviving a human turning into a monster end of the world scenario. I will never see them again." During the end of your speach your voice got softer. Closing your eyes, letting the sadness wash over you.

Hyun Su was at a loss for words. You were right and also so very wrong. He couldn’t entirely empathize with you. He had already lost his family. But was this worse than not knowing if they turned into a monster or if they were still alive. Not sure if this was the right thing to say or do, Hyun Su held his hand out to you. "You are wrong!"

"You think I can make it to the airport, hop into a plane, and get home?" you asked sarcastically, looking at his hand confused.

Hyun Su wiggled his hand, and a blush appeared on his face. He hadn't thought making you grip his hand would be so nerve-racking. It looked easier if you did it. After a moment of hesitation, looking between his hand and his eyes, you let go of your knees and took his hand. Looking straight ahead now because he couldn't look at you anymore out of fear of blushing too much, he quietly said, "That maybe not, but you aren't alone. I am also here."

A sob ran through your body, a whimper escaping you while a new wave of tears shook you. Hyun Su was shocked and started to panic. He wanted to make you feel better, not worse. He jumbled over his words, not knowing now what to say to make you stop crying. But soon your soft whispers reached his ear while you gripped his hand tightly. "Thank you."

Hyun Su sat beside you, still holding your hand, his gaze focused on the floor. The weight of your sorrow hung in the air, and he struggled to find the right words to offer you comfort. As your tears continued to fall, he hesitated, unsure of how to navigate the delicate balance between consoling you and respecting your pain.

Finally, after a moment of silent contemplation, Hyun Su spoke softly, "I may not fully understand what you're going through, but you're not alone in this."

Your grip on his hand tightened, appreciating the sincerity in his voice. The shelter, once filled with the distant sounds of survivors and occasional conversations, now held a quiet intimacy between the two of you. Hyun Su continued, "You're stronger than you think. And even though it might not replace what you've lost, I'm not going anywhere."

The warmth of his words began to thaw the icy grip of sadness that had taken hold of you. You glanced at him, eyes still misty but a glimmer of gratitude shining through. "Thank you, Hyun Su," you whispered, your voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and strength.

He offered a gentle smile, "No need to thank me" Hyun Su's thumb traced soothing circles on the back of your hand, a silent reassurance that he was there for you.

As the quiet moments unfolded, Hyun Su's presence became a source of solace. The weight on your shoulders seemed a bit lighter,as you laid your head on his, knowing that you weren't navigating this challenging journey alone.

After a while, Hyun Su spoke again, "So what Korean food is your favorie till now?"

A soft smile gracing your lips. The two of you sat there, hand in hand, finding solace telling Hyun Su about the nice Tteokbokki shop you had been to. The world outside the shelter may have been fraught with uncertainty, but in that moment, you took refuge in the connection you had forged with Hyun Su.

As time passed, the tears subsided, leaving a sense of calm in their wake. The atmosphere in the room shifted from one of sorrow to one of quiet companionship. Together, you faced the challenges of the post-apocalyptic world, drawing strength from the unexpected bond that had formed in the midst of hardship.

#cha hyun soo #cha hyun su x reader #cha hyunsu #sweet home netflix #sweet home x reader #cha hyun soo x reader #kdrama #song kang #sweet home #sweet home imagines #hyun soo x reader #hyun soo #hyun su #cha hyunsoo #cha hyun su

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icallhimjoey · 9 months

Note

when is Tupperwear Joe™ dropping his new leftovers recipe for us? 😊

right nooooooooooow baby Wordcount: 4.2K

---

More Than This

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe'd seen you.

You'd not seen Joe.

You know how sometimes you can just be going about your day when suddenly, a feeling of uneasiness takes you in a chokehold? The unsettling and deeply uncomfortable feeling that triggers the fight or flight response your mother installed within you when speaking of dangerous men who would try to lure you into their vans with empty promises?

The self-checkout voice was screaming at you about an unexpected item in the bagging area – there wasn’t one, you’d only just placed one item down – when you felt it. Only for a second.

The feeling of eyes on you sort of touched you on the arm and made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You were quick to look around, to scan the area, to see if you were being delusional or not.

Who was watching you right now?

There were plenty of people about, all seemingly doing what you were doing – picking up some quick food, anything easy and quick to make, quick to put together, because it was the end of the week, and it was late, and the weather had been unforgiving and–... you were lazy.

Simple as. Just very lazy.

You always pretended to be a classy French lady going to the market to just pick up the ingredients for a one-person meal for the evening, but in reality, you were just a lazy sad excuse of an adult who was about to microwave mash and not complain about how fucking bland it tasted.

You couldn’t see anyone paying attention to you... but you still felt it.

“Unexpected item in bagging area, remove this item before continuing,”

“For fuck’s sake, there’s nothing–” you took the item off the bagging area, plonked it back down and picked it back up again when the self-checkout bitch wouldn’t stop.

Someone was watching you. You felt it. Knew it. There were eyes on you. You became hyper-vigilant, looking around once again to confirm you weren’t crazy. You ducked into your shoulders when you glanced at the sliding doors of the entrance and saw a figure stood there, staring directly at you, making you jump.

You clutched your chest and felt how the adrenaline-rush shot down into your feet, hurting your toes.

What the fuck was Joe doing here?

He smirked at little at your reaction, the way you closed your eyes to seemingly collect yourself from the scare you got of unexpectedly seeing him just outside the shop.

Before you could even raise up a middle finger, a spotty teenager came up beside you and used the card on his lanyard to reset whatever was wrong and shut up the machine.

“Thanks,” you said after it’d been sorted, and you went on to scan all your embarrassing processed foods whilst doing your best to ignore Joe outside the sliding doors. You could see him from the corners of your eyes now and knew he wasn’t going to just wave at you and leave. He was waiting for you there.

After paying, getting the receipt, and collecting everything, you turned to walk towards him.

Joe looked at his wrist like he was checking the time – there was no watch there – and then looked back up at you like he was in a hurry and you’d taken ages. Made you smile and shake your head at him because he was being an idiot.

In the couple of steps it took to get to him, he raised his eyebrows up at you in question and gave a quick nod sideways.

In the direction of where he lived.

Joe’d spotted you buying dinner and waited to ask you if you wanted to go over to his place right now.

Was that what was happening?

“You’re such a creep,” were the first things out of your mouth when the sliding doors opened to let you out.

“I was on my way out when I saw you walk in,” Joe explained, and you saw he was also holding a plastic bag, main difference being his held fresh produce, leeks sticking out the top and everything.

“Still, that fucking scared me,” you laughed, and like it was second nature, when Joe held out an arm for you to link yours through, you just... did. Fell into step together. On the way over to his flat.

When you realised what you must’ve looked like to outsiders’ eyes, you were quick to unlink your arm from his. Pretended to need to check your phone to not make it seem weird.

“Nice to see you don’t just save the scolding for me,” Joe joked, and you rolled your eyes all annoyed, mocked the unexpected item in bagging area under your breath and made Joe huff out a laugh.

“Serves you right for buying ready-made mash,” Joe winced as he said it, mouthed ‘what the fuck’ at the bag in your hands straight after.

“Oi, piss off. Mind your business.”

You shoved him slightly, making him smile before stepping back and trying to get a peek of your shopping.

“What other atrocious shit you got in there?”

“Mind your business. I can buy whatever I want.” You moved the bag slightly more away from him, then said, “I can do whatever I want.” which got a hearty laugh from Joe. One people on the other side of the street could hear and made them look in your direction.

“Yea, no, I know. You’ve made that very clear.”

Ew. You didn’t like how Joe said that. You steered the conversation back to the food in your bag.

“If I want buy microwavable meals exclusively and spend the night sat on my sofa instead of cutting leeks in the kitchen for over an hour, that’s just what I’ll do.” You shot a judgmental look at Joe’s shopping when you said leeks. Like that was something you could be making fun of.

Joe frowned as a chuckle escaped him. “Cutting leeks for over an hour? Darling, where did you learn to cook?”

You held up your bag a little, ignored the way he called you darling.

“I didn’t.”

When you finally made it to Joe’s flat, everything felt a little different than it usually did. You never really made your way up to his flat together. It was always you making your way up by yourself after some spicy texting and then you’d just... get straight down to it.

Now, you were both carrying shopping and were having conversation, sort of, and even though the implications of why you’d even gone with Joe in the first place were clear from the start, this was different.

Neither of you seemed horny yet.

So now what?

Think fast.

Joe let you into his flat, put his bag down on the floor as he took his jacket off and you knew you only had a small window of time. If you’d wait too long, Joe’d get you into his kitchen with him to cook a whole ass meal together or whatever.

Like, he’d put some music on and make you wash your hands and wear an apron before he’d teach you things about how to peel a potato. He would curl himself around you to help as you’d be terrible at it and very nearly would peel your own hands in tandem.

Couldn’t have that.

None of the soft shit.

So, before Joe could pick his shopping back up and take it over to the kitchen, you stepped in close and placed your palm over him just below his belt.

Joe froze, and you heard how his breath got caught in his throat. For a second, neither of you moved. Then, you squeezed a little. Pressed down a little.

“I thought we’d get some dinner in first,”

See? You fucking knew it. Knew Joe was going to try some sappy shit.

“But I’m hungry,” you whined a little, tried to make it sound a little breathy to get him hard faster as you pressed your body into his side.

“Yea, that’s why–”

“Hungry.”

You saw realisation hit Joe in real time. Got to see how quick he was to catch on, and when he did, he dropped his head forward. Let you touch him over his jeans a little longer as he just stood there, focussing on what your hand was doing.

“Yea,” he then said softly, followed by a more determined, “Yea, all right,” before reaching for your face and ducking down to kiss you.

Amazing.

Little touching of his dick and tits pressed up against his arm was all it fucking took.

Buttons were undone quickly, hands frantically pulling at fabric, jeans getting caught around shoes, and whilst each of you was quick to undo yourself of clothes, neither of you could withhold from helping the other where you saw fit.

You helped Joe yank his T-shirt down his arms after he pulled the back of it over his head. Joe yanked up one of your legs to undo the foot of a shoe as you were trying work your jeans down.

And talented as you were, whilst all of this was going on, you were also moving towards Joe’s bedroom leaving a trail of clothing from two bags of shopping that desperately needed the fridge all the way to Joe’s bed.

You continued to try your best at non-intimate sex. Have the intimacy just be of two bodies being close, but have it end there. Significant emotional disconnection worked a lot better if you weren’t facing him, so when flopping down onto the bed, you were quick to mount Joe in reverse.

Held onto his legs just above his knees. Heard him fumble himself into a condom behind you and only took a quick glance over your shoulder, then down between your legs to check before you helped and guided him inside.

Primarily focussing on the physical aspect of it all, you made sure that this was nothing more than fulfilling a biological need. Just a release. Just the way you liked it.

No deep emotional connection.

Minimal communication.

No soft shit.

You needed it all to go fast, and to go hard, and you knew if you left it up to Joe, you’d get neither. Being op top and faced away from him was crucial, and you felt weirdly proud for getting your way without it having been an awkward scuffle across his sheets.

It was good like this.

Felt good like this.

But then Joe’s fingertips started trailing up your back, stroking and caressing before they went all the way up beyond your shoulder blades. Softly squeezed your neck where they massaged and disappeared up into your hair a little and scratched your scalp and, fucking hell, why was Joe always trying to make everything all romantic?

You whined a little, more out of annoyance than anything else, but you knew Joe could’ve easily contributed it to pleasure. When he moved his hands back down your spine, you were quick to grab them as they rounded out to hold you by the hips.

“Yea, yea,” you breathed, your grip on his fingers strengthening in an example of you needing him to squeeze you harder right there. Really hold onto you right there. Bruise you right there.

The second you let go of them, though, Joe’s hands lost their strength on you immediately because they wanted to roam. There was all this skin Joe got to look at, and his fingers itched to touch all over, but you were fast. Grabbed back onto his hands to place them back onto your hips.

Joe pushed an impatient puff of air from his lungs.

To silence him, you rolled your hips to get him extra deep before resorting to short little bounces.

It worked. Got guttural groans out of him instantly. You heard how Joe let his head fall back into his pillow.

God, men were so fucking easy, weren’t they?

But then Joe’s fingers, still held in place, started twisting to intertwine with yours, and he was being a little forceful about it. You really had to use strength to pull your hands away from him.

It granted another annoyed little sound from Joe, and before you knew it, there was a little shifting below you. You got pushed forward slightly as Joe sat up. Got his arms around your waist, pulled you close against his chest and started mouthing at your back which turned into kisses when you slowed down into a grind.

“Hey,” Joe whispered, chin hooking over the outer edge of your shoulder.

This motherfucker was trying for eye-contact.

In retaliation, you let your head slump the other way, exposing your neck for Joe to get his mouth onto. Distract him with the skin there. You knew Joe knew you fucking loved your neck being loved upon, and Joe was a man who liked to please.

But it didn’t work.

“Hey,” he repeated, still a soft whisper, and snuck an arm up to take hold of your chin so he could turn your head towards him.

You worked against him, fought his grip on your jaw and sped up your movements to increase the tempo of your bounces on Joe’s lap. Tried to make him feel good to distract from the connection he was trying to make.

But that’s not what Joe wanted.

It was good – don’t get him wrong. You made him sigh into your skin, press his forehead against your shoulder.

It was good.

Very good.

But Joe knew how to make it better, and if you just– if you just moved with him for a second, you’d see that he was right.

So Joe’s grip on your waist suddenly became a trap as he pulled you down and stilled you in his lap where he held you in place. He had his hand on your chin still, and tugged at it again. Joe said, “Hey,” once more, but this time in his speaking voice, all assertive and demanding.

When you finally gave in and turned your head to make eye-contact, you immediately wanted to go in for a kiss. Get your mouth on him with your eyes closed, but Joe moved his head back a little to avoid your attempt entirely which scared you a little. Made you instantly feel vulnerable.

Had you done something wrong?

Was Joe mad at you?

You saw two confused and... sort of worried eyes scan your face for a second, his brow slightly furrowed. You didn’t know exactly what Joe was searching for, but you knew he wasn’t going to find it.

“Joe, I–”

You didn’t know how to finish that sentence, and thank fuck you didn’t need to, because before you could, Joe leant in and kissed you. Wasn’t nice about it like you were used from him. Instead it was pushing, and vigorous, and only short.

The second you started kissing back, he broke away from you.

You didn’t understand what the fuck he was trying to do. He pulled back and looked at your mouth before he looked you in the eye, and then did the same thing again. Made you clash with him all fiery, his hand on your chin still, keeping you in place with a strong grip and, fuck off, this was the type of kissing that really got under your skin.

Joe knew how to kiss you.

Knew how you wanted it and then just handed it over without you having to ask for it.

The shorter rough clashes naturally turned into a longer kiss that felt like Joe was trying to eat you whole. He was devouring you with a sense of hunger you hadn’t ever felt from him before.

Was nice.

Real nice.

You kind of wanted to turn in his lap and just kiss for the rest of this exchange if you were being honest. But then Joe’s hand moved from your chin down to where he knew how to touch you to make you orgasm quickly and you had to break the kiss to gasp for air. To throw your head back. To loudly moan Joe’s name.

Joe took the opportunity to latch his mouth onto your neck, which only upped the volume of all your noises.

When Joe finally felt you sag your entire body against him, he knew he had you.

“There you go, that took a minute,”

He took over. Repositioned his legs, but kept you in his lap. Held your hips in place as he started thrusting up into you, setting his own pace and taking full control.

With your brain fogged-up, all attempts at trying to keep everything distant and void of emotion were out of the window.

Joe made you come on his lap, his hand working on pressure from the outside as the underside of his tip hit you just right on the inside.

You barely got a second to yourself, because as soon as Joe felt your twitching and squeezing slow down, his hands guided you off of him and turned you around to face him. Taking one look at you, the glassy eyes, the shiny skin, the kiss bitten lips– yea, he needed to be on top of you right that fucking second.

Joe expertly flipped you onto your back, rolled on top of you immediately and did what he loved doing most.

Forehead fucking.

You never really allowed it much, for obvious reasons, but Joe would kiss you and you’d forget about everything for a second.

Joe took his time, made sure you felt really good once more, decided he didn’t need to force eye-contact again, your foreheads connecting was enough, and let you gasp and moan for him with your eyes closed until he eventually filled up the condom with soft grunting pants.

Oh, fuck.

That was good.

Sort of, dared you even think it, the best you’d had in a little while.

But then Joe had to fucking ruin it by trying to cuddle up to you when he jumped back into bed after disposing of the condom in the bathroom bin.

You groaned a little and pushed an elbow into his side to stop him from snuggling up to you.

“No, come here,” Joe tried to pull you in with both hands, but you were already trying to sit up.

“Lay with me for just a second,”

You turned your head to look at him, sort of dazed, and it took you a little while to decide to not tell Joe you had an early morning the next day. You didn’t have an early morning the next day, and it wasn’t even late, but mostly, you didn’t want to lie to Joe.

So instead, you said nothing. Turned back and slowly got up and out of bed.

Joe sighed deeply and made his exhale as loud as he possibly could.

Annoyed, capital A.

“Don’t... don’t ruin it.” You requested, voice sort of small and tired.

“It’s not– this isn’t normal, I’m not apathetic.”

Getting up and out, you let your eyes scan the floor to find your underwear, your clothes, and you saw how getting dressed would lead you right back to Joe’s front door which was perfect. The excuse to leave was hidden in getting your clothes back on your body.

“I’ve got actual feelings. I’m a person.”

In the broad sense. Joe meant feelings in the broad sense. Not feelings for you. Obviously not.

“Mhmm,” your underwear was twisted in a weird way.

“I can’t only get to hold you close when you’re absolutely off your face,”

You paused, hunched over whilst stepping into your knickers, one leg in, one leg out still.

“You... you cuddled with me when I was practically unconscious?”

You made that sound like it was the most awful thing Joe could’ve ever done to you.

“Of course I did,” Joe huffed. “I got to spoon you for hours. Uninterrupted. T'was amazing.”

You narrowed your eyes at Joe and felt a lot of things. None of them positive. Joe scoffed a laugh at your facial expression and said, “You think you can come to my home, pass out in my bed without me laying with you a second?”

Joe minimized the time frame quickly; went from hours to a second in one sentence.

“I was drunk.”

“I didn’t touch you.” inappropriately, he meant.

“Yea, well...”

You weren’t going to say it, but you thought it.

I would’ve preferred that.

You didn’t say it.

Instead you let the silence that followed your loud well be whatever Joe thought it was and got back to getting dressed. Grabbed your jeans that were turned completely inside out.

“You like art?”

“I... what?”

“Art. Do you like art?”

You glanced at Joe who seemed a little non fussed, one arm slung behind his head as he relaxed in bed. All casual. Cool even, a little.

Art was a broad term, so sure. You liked art, and gave a small shrug as an answer.

“Come with me to this exhibition tomorrow, there’s this–”

“Joe... no. Please, don’t.”

Rejection. Joe didn’t hold back on showing what it did to him in his face. Just in your bra and jeans that you were doing up now, you sighed and let your shoulder slump.

“Why do you always want to hang out with me?”

“I... what?”

“I’m not a nice person. I’m mean to you.”

“You’re not mean to me, it’s...” Joe searched for the words. “It’s just banter, isn’t it?”

Sure, it was banter. But every single arrow was pointing towards Joe wanting more than what you had going together, and you were doing your very best to keep all of that at an arm’s length. You looked down Joe’s hallway and saw your top. Went to grab it, and heard Joe say, “I like you.”

When you took a step back to look at him like he’d just told a bad joke, Joe raised his eyebrows.

“What, is that such a surprise?”

Honestly, it kind of was. You wouldn't like you if you were him.

“I think...” you started, and thought for a second if you should continue with what you were going to say. You looked back down the hall, at the scattered clothes and the two bags of shopping at the end that illustrated perfectly how different from each other the two of you were.

“I think maybe you should have sex with someone else,”

“Wha–” Joe’s voice came out impossibly soft as he slowly sat up.

“Yea, no, two other people. It can’t just be me and one other girl. There’s got to be at least two others. And I can’t know them. Find– you’ve got to find two people, two people who I do not know and who do not know me that will sleep with you,”

“I don’t...” Joe moved his head to look at you from the side of his slightly narrowed eyes. “I don’t know if you’re being serious or not.”

“And then text me after. Text. Don’t call.”

“I’m going to go with not,”

“It’ll be good.” You pulled your top over your head. “It’ll be good for you.” And then realised that you’d picked up Joe’s white T-shirt instead of your own. You only noticed it once you’d pulled the hem down at the front, and you quickly checked the sleeves to know for sure this wasn’t your top. Your throat made an irritated little noise, shoulders dropping in annoyance and defeat before you were about to take it off again.

Joe stopped you.

“Wear it.”

“Where’s my–” you looked back into the hallway.

“It looks good on you. Wear the T-shirt.”

Joe challenged you and sounded a little stern as he did so. It made you freeze to look at him a second.

“Have sex with other people.” You challenged back.

Suddenly you were caught in a stand-off.

“Wear my T-shirt.” Joe spoke through clenched teeth and didn’t relax his shoulder until you slowly lowered the T-shirt back into place where you smoothed it out across your stomach.

“All right.”

A weird moment followed where you didn’t really know what to say. It passed, and you sort of snapped out of it with a sharp intake of air. Breathe, woman. Jesus.

Another glance around the room let you know that everything else that belonged to you was out in Joe’s hallway, so you turned on your heel and walked out. Made your way to find socks and shoes, your jacket, your phone, your white top, until you made it to Joe’s front door.

Picking up your plastic shopping bag full of food and stuffing your top into it, you heard footsteps behind you and saw Joe step into the doorway of his bedroom where he leant against the frame.

“I’m not joking.” you warned.

“Neither am I.” he didn't seem that affected.

In a small awkward moment of sincerity – you were in his T-shirt for fuck’s sake – you sighed, hand on Joe's door handle, ready to leave at any second.

“I hope that,” you started, then turned to look at him at the other end of the hallway. “I hope that if you meet someone who treats you like I do, that you choose to walk away.”

You didn’t wait to see Joe’s reaction, didn't wait to see the feelings in Joe’s eyes and opened the front door to quickly slip out.

If Joe wanted more, he kind of deserved more. You just weren’t the person made for more. Didn’t know how to do more. Weren’t good at feelings, so you made sure there never really were any.

Well then.

One little problem.

If there weren’t any feelings... why did they hurt?

---

The Taglisted

@a-time-for-wolvess, @adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddie-joe-munson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #18+#more than this

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sourpatchys · 3 months

Text

Title: Embrace

Rating: pg, nothing explicit

Word count: 893

A/n: I really just think Daryl deserved a solid hug during this scene so I had to write something. I may add to this and create a list of firsts! This would be first hug, then kiss, and perhaps some smut (I’ve been wanting to write for a first time with Daryl for a while) let me know what you think! <3

—

Back at the farm, when Sophia was discovered and life was in shambles— Daryl had separated himself.

You could guess why, he'd been on the hunt day in and day out from the moment it had all began.

He was— as most of you were— broken, inside and out. You'd seen his growth from the sidelines, his warmth towards Carol in her time of need, the light behind his eyes after finding that shack in the woods and the anger he displayed at the mention of that dirty little doll not being a beacon of hope.

And now it was all gone. The work he had put in was for not— the injuries he had sustained, the tears he had shed— all for nothing but a six foot hole in the ground and a broken heart.

You were willing to give him his space, ready to understand and let him be. That is, until you saw Carol, a woman who had already been through so much, leaving his newfound camp with tears in her eyes.

Part of yourself knew— you knew her tears weren't that of sadness, but rather an understanding of their combined grief. Daryl cared about Sophia, he cared about finding Sophia, and she knew how he was feeling.

That didn't stop you from moving on instinct, marching your way over to the archer as soon as Carol was out of sight and tucked away in the RV.

He heard you before he saw you, your heavy footsteps rushed and messy. He knew why you were there. He couldn't bring himself to care.

He was tired of caring.

As you reached him, his head swung forward to look at you. His eyes were cold and empty— but not dark. It's as if his body spoke one language and his eyes spoke another, begging you to save him, but letting you know if you tried, you wouldn't make it out alive.

"The fuck do you want?" His gruff voice rang, spewing hot venom with every syllable.

There was an invisible barrier between the two of you, one you dared not break— keeping your distance and planting yourself only a few feet away.

"So you like making people cry now? Distance yourself all you want, but don't take it out on anyone but yourself!" Your own words felt like molten lava in your throat as you lifted an accusatory finger in his direction, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

You rarely ever got angry. Hell— this was the first time you've so much as raised your voice since the end of the world. Not even so much as a shriek had fallen from your lips. You hated being loud, no matter the circumstance.

Maybe you were broken too.

Daryl stood, marching himself over to you, those few feet of space dissolving with every heated step, his hand coming up to mock your own as he shoved a finger in your face.

"What the fuck do you know about it?!" You could feel his spit hit your face as he spoke— "You commin' down here to piss me off too?! Why don't you jus' march your worthless ass back where you came from?!"

As much as you hated being loud— you weren't in a headspace to stop yourself.

"Oh, so you can yell at a grieving mother but I can't get mad at you for doing it?! What the fuck Daryl?!"

"It's none of yer fuckin' business what I do, now is it?!"

You just stood there for a moment— none of his words had gotten to you, and you were sure none of yours had gotten to him. This wasn't going anywhere. Why were you even here in the first place? What was the point?

Not daring to step back, you looked into Daryl's eyes again, that same cold look struck you. His eyes were moving frantically, his piercing gaze not knowing where to land as he took you in.

He knew it too. He knew this was pointless.

All he wanted was to be left alone— to bask in his failure and force himself to move on. He took on a role, he gave false hope— he wasn't enough.

The longer you stood there, staring at one another, the more clear it all came to you. You weren't a fighter, you kept to yourself, much like he did— for different reasons you were sure. But maybe— right now, his reasoning was similar.

He felt out of place— he felt useless.

The whispered words that came out of your mouth after what seemed like hours, rang deep into his core.

"It's not your fault, Daryl.”

Before he could argue, before he could even do much as blink, you found yourself leaning into him— wrapping your arms around his tight knit frame, pulling him close to you.

"It's not your fault, Daryl." You whispered again, squeezing your arms around his broad frame, sinking into his skin.

He was tense under your touch, your skin against his body felt like hot cigarette ashes. But he couldn't find it in himself to pull away. Entranced by the feel of genuine human touch.

Slowly, he reciprocated, his hands finding the small of your back, fingers twitching nervously— and if possible— he pulled you closer.

This makeshift embrace, full of anger and sorrows— was exactly what he needed.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon headcanon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl twd

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merakiui · 2 years

Text

thinking fluffy thoughts about scaramouche.

When Nahida approaches you with a puppet, who drags his feet alongside her and looks like he’d rather shrivel than be here in this moment, she introduces him with an arsenal of aliases: a false god, the Balladeer, formerly Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, Kunikuzushi (a name he reacts to with a poorly concealed grimace). You’re delighted to meet him, offering him a friendly smile and a kind, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Scaramouche does not share your enthusiasm and only scoffs under his breath while Nahida happily informs him that you will act as guidance in his recovery. It’s up to you to help Scaramouche work through his emotions, sifting through past experiences and slivers of himself he’s buried so that he can heal emotionally. He’s in a poor physical state, bandaged all over in a way that’s reminiscent of mummification.

Nahida tells Scaramouche that he’s in good hands, and to that he scoffs again. How good could a pair of human hands possibly be? But he’s promised her that he’ll try to improve. This is part of his punishment, as much as he hates to think of it as such. Nahida has suggested he call it ‘taking a break from unhealthy coping mechanisms’ or, in simpler terms, a ‘vacation.’ Scaramouche rolls his eyes at such foolishness, but he follows you as you lead him to a clearing in the forest, a place surrounded with nature so vibrantly lush it practically breathes alongside him. He’d complain, but he finds that this view is much more freeing than a dreary hospital room.

An empty table with two chairs awaits the both of you, and you gesture for him to sit. Scaramouche lowers into the seat with a frown. He’s not sure what you’re meant to do—what guidance you’re meant to impart—or if this meeting is even going to help him at all, but he remains because he has to. Because he promised he’d do better. He was a fool to make another promise, but this time it will be he who keeps it. It’s he who controls whether or not he breaks it.

“How do you feel?” you ask, your eyes never leaving his.

Scaramouche can practically feel the way you dissect him, picking apart his body language with a keen pair of observer’s eyes, but, strangely enough, your stare isn’t unnerving. It softens when it analyzes him from where you sit, body angled directly at him. You’re listening, truly listening, and he’s never found himself in a civil conversation where his well-being is the subject. It’s...not a terrible thing, he realizes.

Still, his lips curl into a nasty sneer when he replies, “Like death.”

“I assure you death feels much worse.”

“You don’t know how I feel,” he snaps. “Don’t tell me there’s a worse feeling than this.” He gestures to nothing in particular, huffing loudly.

“Then, tell me, what does death feel like to you?”

He hesitates. What does death feel like? Is it anything like the panicked desperation that clawed his throat to ribbons when he watched Nahida take his heart? Was it the grief that overcame him in his past when each of his relationships met poor ends? Was it the emptiness he felt soon after the Gnosis was taken, where he fell from the husk of a robot, alone once again? Was it the world of pain and sorrow he awoke to in the aftermath, where Nahida had sat at his bedside and welcomed him into the world? Not as the false god, but as someone else. A clean slate. A fresh page in a book with a stiff, unbroken spine. Morning dew on tiny sprouts—whatever that’s supposed to mean; he’s learned that Nahida has an affinity for unique metaphors.

Scaramouche has yet to realize he’s been sharing all of these thoughts, letting everything fall in a torrent of anguished questions. He’s confused and hurt. He’s lonely and sad, but he’s not sure what the direct cause for all of this sadness is. He’s frustrated and alone. He’s ashamed. He’s...many things. He feels like he should hollow himself with a spoon so that he can stop feeling these horrid emotions, and as soon as he feels an oncoming onslaught of tears paired with a wavering voice he clamps his mouth shut and forces himself to look away.

You’re nodding at him and he has no clue what that’s meant to symbolize. What’s the point of this anyway? Is he supposed to split himself open for your enjoyment? This punishment feels more like death than anything else right now.

“You can cry,” you suggest and he scowls. “Crying helps. It’s not good to pack your feelings away. I think—and correct me if I’m wrong—you’ve put everything in coffins, sealed them tight, and allowed them to remain buried for years. And it worked for a while because they weren’t so stuffed. But now that you’ve nailed them shut over and over after filling them to the brim, things are bound to start overflowing. That’s what happened when you attempted to become a god, right? Some things broke free and you ran out of nails, and when a few nails came loose so did each panel holding those coffins together. And it became impossible to shove everything back down because it overwhelmed you and you didn’t know how to handle that.”

Scaramouche stares at you. He has half a mind to keep his jaw tightened, lest it slacken and reveal his astonishment. How did you get all of that from his rant? What sort of foul magic is this? Are you a Vision wielder? He can’t see one on your person. If you can’t manipulate an element, then how did you peer inside his head? Are you secretly a god? His guard raises at once, walls building faster than he can produce a retort.

“That’s not true,” he lies. “You’re wrong.”

You consider your next words with great care. He can tell because you hum lowly, a soothing sound that lessens the tension in his shoulders, and you retreat into your head momentarily. Scaramouche should get up and leave. He shouldn’t sit before a mere mortal and listen to such ghastly accusations! But he remains because he doesn’t want to be alone. Because he’s not sure he could live another moment in solitude with his thoughts. Because, despite everything that happened, he craves a genuine connection.

“Before we move forward, what would you like me to call you? You have many names, but I’m certain some of them carry more pain than others.”

Scaramouche frowns. You’re right. Again.

“You may call me...” He pauses, reflects briefly on each title he’s ever owned, and eventually says, “The Balladeer.”

A pleasant smile crawls onto your face. Scaramouche doesn’t trust it. Not one bit. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Balladeer. I look forward to working with you.”

He can’t say the same.

- - -

If Scaramouche thought he’d suffered enough misery throughout his existence, then this is just a cruel joke. Over the course of a few months, he’s spilled his emotional guts (slowly but surely) and you’ve read him like a book each time. He tries to be deceptive—to protect what’s left of his pride and dignity—but you see through that as well, and so now he just grumbles in his chair, his arms folded tightly around himself in his version of a self-assuring embrace. Nahida lied; this is far from a vacation. This is torture.

But you’re patient, and you don’t ridicule him when he falters and tears gather in his eyes. You validate his feelings. You tell him that it’s okay to react in these ways. His actions back then may not have been morally correct, but that was all he knew. It was all he thought to do because that was what guaranteed survival.

Scaramouche learns more about himself during these sessions than he ever thought he would. At some point, he stops viewing it with contempt and begins to look forward to the weekly meetings. He likes talking to you. Of course you should also feel honored to talk to him! He’s only speaking to you because he must. Because of his promise to Nahida. That’s all this is, so don’t get it twisted!

But that’s a poor lie. He likes you, and when Scaramouche likes something he treasures it.

When asked how he copes, Scaramouche could only offer a halfhearted shrug. How does one cope with so many emotions—with so much trauma? How is coping even possible? Is someone like him able to cope?

“Have you tried writing?”

“I know how to write,” he had snapped, furrowing his brow. You’ve gotten rather bold in the time that he’s known you.

“Writing creatively,” you corrected with that calm smile he’s begun to see in his dreams. “Poetry. Fiction. Even writing words on paper and destroying it is a creative outlet.”

“What good will that do?”

“A world of good if you allow it to do so. Think of it like...the sun. Everything requires sunlight. It helps us stay warm. It helps plants grow. All of this life around you was fostered under countless days and nights of moonlight and sunlight. There were rainstorms in between all of that, but even so these plants are far from complete. They’re still growing. Some are even healing.” You’d gestured in the distance, towards a Withering Zone that had recently recovered thanks to diligent forest rangers, and smiled at him. “You are that forest and writing could be your sun.”

“My sun...” He gazed skywards and pinched that ball of blinding light between his thumb and forefinger. “My sun...”

“You can write about anything. Your troubles. Good things that happened in a single day. Your favorite hobbies. Sights you see on your walks. It might feel like a chore if you force yourself, but writing can be very therapeutic if you let it.”

“What if I’ve already found my sun?”

You had blinked at him, partially surprised, before nodding encouragingly. “That’s good. Let that sun, whatever it may be, brighten your life. Let it heal you. But don’t rely too heavily on it. You have to put in effort, too.”

“Do you think my sun would think of me as a sun?” As soon as he had phrased it, he’d felt childish. Small. Insignificant. Like that discarded puppet who was cast aside for being too weak. Like Kunikuzushi.

The look in your eyes betrayed your thoughts. So his sun is not inanimate. “I’m certain your sun considers you the sky who cradles them.”

The sky... How laughable.

And yet so very meaningful.

Scaramouche sketched a cumulus-spotted sky with a bright, beautiful sun. He wrote a haiku on the back of the parchment. You can see the ink stains on his hands when he brings it to you outside of your usual meeting time.

“Read this,” he tells you, thrusting it at you like it’s something he wishes to discard immediately. “And...” He clears his throat, averting eye contact. “And tell me what you think.”

And so you do as you were told.

Vibrant break of day

A sweet, little sun rises

Over a rice bowl

“It’s very...you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I like it. It reminds me of you, little sun.”

“I’m not the little sun.” He huffs and snatches it from you, turning it over so you can view the accompanying drawing. What you assumed was just a speck of misplaced color is a petite bowl backdropped by an azure sky of pastel water colors. “I’m the rice bowl.”

“Is there a reason you’ve chosen to depict yourself as a rice bowl? And is this bowl empty or filled?”

“Empty...” he says slowly, as if considering the word. “But only because the sun will soon fill it once it rises. It’s as you’ve said. Sunlight grows and heals, and when it fills the bowl it gives it its shine. It gives it life.”

It fills me with life.

For once, you look speechless and that sparks both anxiety and pride in Scaramouche. It’s his turn to impress you with his intellect and yet doing so comes at the cost of scrutiny. He almost fears your response. The very thought of that would have seemed an insult to his past self. No mortal has ever struck fear in him—in Scaramouche! The ex-Fatui Harbinger Scaramouche. But he doesn’t want to lose you. He doesn’t want to ruin what he has, and so he awaits your answer with bated breath. He doesn’t have to wait long, for when you speak next your tone is wonderfully tender.

“Your sun must be very special.”

Scaramouche finds himself nodding in agreement. “Very special indeed,” he mutters and a small, secret smile grows on his lips. You’re so vibrant. You’re the sun to his moon. “My sun is the reason my bowl is repaired.” As if recalling something else, Scaramouche perks up. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the Inazuman art of kintsugi?”

“I believe I’ve overheard a few scholars discuss it before. If I’m not mistaken, it’s when something that was once broken is repaired with gold.”

He nods and adds in a soft voice, “My sun is the gold that fills in every crack in my rice bowl.”

“That’s beautiful...”

His head snaps over to you. No one has ever used that adjective to describe his work. He’s only ever produced despair, hatred, malice. He’s only ever hurt others with his hands. He’s never created a miracle, love, hope. He is the catastrophe that swallows the helpless plant. He is calamitous, ruthless, and heartless.

But he feels like he can finally use his hands—this body—for good.

“Spare me of the flattery if my comparisons are foolish,” he grumbles, cheeks flaring with color. “I’m not an artist.”

“And yet you’ve made art.”

You grin at him, playfully casual in nature, and Scaramouche can feel himself falling even further. He wants to be the sky that protects that smile. The sky that holds the sun up.

For the first time since his creation, Scaramouche has found a new meaning to his existence—one that is not fueled by the vicious need for power and control.

- - -

Weekly meetings have become monthly now. Scaramouche’s mentality has improved and he seems so much happier. He manages his emotions well, and he indulges in the creative process to comprehend certain feelings. He’s getting better at expressing himself, and when he struggles he discusses it with you and you listen and provide advice as you usually do. He’s grown to trust and value you and the friendship you provide. He writes about his precious sun—a sun you’ve yet to meet. That is something Scaramouche keeps hidden from you and when you try to pry he shuts himself away and grows defensive.

He’s begun to travel. It started as small trips outside of the city borders and it gradually grew into week-long excursions. He always finds a souvenir for you. He never forgets you. He always, always returns to his home in the city. To his sun. To his heart. Scaramouche huffs if you tease him about his generosity. “Either take it or I’ll gift it to the fish in the river,” he tells you, glaring impatiently. There’s a shelf in your home that’s filled with the trinkets he’s gotten you. Little pieces of his travels. You suspect you’ll need another shelf as the current one is running out of space.

But you’re more than happy to accept his gifts. It’s sweet that he would think of you even when he’s so far from you. Last month he brought up wanting to travel to Mondstadt once more. You had found the idea simply delightful and had encouraged him to make lots of memories. Scaramouche, his resolve cracking, invited you along for the journey and you’d smiled a sad, distant sort of smile.

“I would love to,” you had admitted, “but I need to stay in Sumeru. I have other clients outside of you and I can’t take a vacation at the moment. But next time I’ll come with you.”

“Is that a promise?” he challenged with a smirk.

“It’s more than a promise, Balladeer.” You slid a bracelet off of your wrist. A dozen suns have been carved into the metal, and when it caught the light it winked at him. You held it out to him. “It’s a vow.”

Scaramouche stared at the bracelet in his palms. This is the first time he’s ever made a vow which, arguably, is far more special than a promise.

- - -

When Scaramouche visits you, it has been a full year since he first started working with you. Like a bird drawn to its nest, he returns, waiting at your doorstep with stories of his most recent travels on the tip of his tongue. This time, however, there’s something different about him. His attire has changed and there’s a pretty Anemo Vision over where his heart would be if he were human. Your eyes widen at the sight.

“Look at you!” you exclaim, pulling him into the comforting warmth of your home. It’s humble and cozy; Scaramouche prefers this to any inn he’s ever stayed at. He likes it because it smells pleasantly of delicious cooking and when he lingers in the sitting room he can wrap himself in the scent. “You’ve got a Vision!”

“Of course I do,” he replies, puffing his chest out, a proud smirk settling on his face. You admire it fondly. “I’d get one sooner or later, even if I had to pry it from a god’s hands.”

You glance at him sharply and he rolls his eyes.

“Pardon me. I would politely ask for it,” he teases, and you chuckle.

“That’s better.” You disappear into the kitchen for a moment and when you return you’re carrying a plate of sweets and a pot of tea with accompanying cups. “Make yourself comfortable. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

And he does just that, his fingers tracing the bracelet around his wrist. When you sit across from him, an eager smile adorning your lovely face, he’s overwhelmed with adoration. His sun has always shone brightly, but they’re the brightest when pure happiness scrawls itself on their features.

"You haven’t forgotten our vow, have you?” he asks while you fill the cups with fragrant, herbal tea.

“I’d never!”

“Good.” He’s smirking yet again, as boastful as ever. “I’d have to politely remind you if you forgot.” As a cheeky afterthought, he adds, “Little sun.”

You laugh, but the sound sticks in your throat. “L-Little sun?”

Scaramouche hesitates for a moment before reaching for your hand. “Can I...call you that?”

Your nod is too quick, but it eases his nerves. The tension in his posture dissipates and his confidence reignites.

“But only if you’ll call me something else. Otherwise you won’t be my little sun. You’ll be my very big, tiresome burden.”

“Like what? I’d never want to burden you, so please tell me what you’d prefer.”

His fingers interlace with yours. You gaze into his indigo hues. “Wanderer.”

No longer The Balladeer. No longer Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers. No longer Kunikuzushi. These names are his coffins—coffins he’s dug up and learned to accept. And going forward he won’t bury anything anymore. From now on, he’ll wander the world and unearth all that it has to offer, and he hopes that his little sun will join him. Until then, the vow will stay with him in the form of a cherished bracelet.

#meraki mumbles #scaramouche x reader #he deserves the world and everything in it <3

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flowerandblood · 8 months

Text

The Impossible Choice (51)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, trauma, mention of rape ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Aemond had never seen his wife like this before. Pale, shaken, her hands clasped on her laps, her head bowed in thought, her eyes wide open. Even when he hadn't spoken to her in the first weeks of their marriage, even before their first wedding night, she hadn't looked so shattered and broken, terrified.

He swallowed quietly, wondering if she felt what he felt now as she watched from the sidelines how he acted when Luke appeared in his sight.

His hand massaged her womb affectionately and she shuddered as if awakened from a trance, looking up at him sleepily.

"Everything all right?" He asked uncertainly, and she sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands, resting her elbows on the table.

"No. This is some sort of nightmare." She mumbled, sorrow, sadness and weariness in her voice. He thought that now that she was expecting his offspring she shouldn't be worrying about such things, looking at these humiliating scenes.

Both he and she had suffered enough in recent times and he felt he should spare her that.

"Let's go to our chamber. You shouldn't upset yourself in your condition." He said softly and she looked at him surprised. He saw her hesitate for a moment, turning behind her, looking disapprovingly at Aegon and her sister, and then she sighed quietly and nodded.

They both stood up, he let her go ahead, placing his hand on her back, his gesture of reassurance that he was beside her, that he would not let any harm befall her.

Never.

And then he heard his brother's voice directed at them, slightly amused, feigning surprise and disapproval.

"Brother, sister, are you leaving us already?"

They both paused, glancing at them uncertainly. His brother seemed exceptionally pleased with himself, a slight, gallant smile on his face, sure at the thought that he was going to fuck that stupid idiot in his bed tonight.

He wondered how to congratulate him on such a success, and then he noticed the look Floris directed at his wife, superiority and mockery in her eyes.

"My pregnant wife felt worse. She needs to rest." He said with emphasis that his wife was expecting his heir, his child. He saw how surprised Floris took a quick look at her sister's abdomen and pressed her lips together seeing that indeed, it was slightly rounded.

Good for you, you stupid bitch, he thought.

He was sure that Floris, in her empty head, was already planning to torment his wife with questions about why she hadn't given him an offspring yet.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me, sister?" His wife eclipsed, and a big, creepy smirk stretched across his face, not reaching his eye. The satisfaction and pride he felt when he heard her use his own words was indescribable to him, as were the faces of his brother and her sister.

He could feel them burning with shame at the fire of his wife's words and watched it with delight.

He wondered if she had learned this by watching him, or if she had always been like this, only he didn't know it.

Floris swallowed hard, knowing she couldn't leave the question unanswered.

"Congratulations, dear sister. May the labour be easy." She said quietly, he found with satisfaction that there was no trace of her confidence.

He raised an eyebrow as he saw his wife approach her unhurriedly. She placed her hand on her shoulder and leaned towards her with a warm smile, as if to give her some sisterly advice.

"I am sure that you too will soon live to see your child, sweet sister. From the righteous bed, I reckon." She said it so calmly and softly that it was only a moment before he burst into uncontrollable, mirthful laughter, filled with delight at the embarrassed faces of Aegon and Floris.

He thought she had crushed them and felt honoured to be watching.

His wife moved with a light, joyful step towards the exit and he moved behind her throwing his brother a smile over his shoulder, a grin full of mockery.

Stick your cock inside her if you want, he thought.

He didn't give a shit.

When they returned to their shared chamber his wife immediately asked her maid to help her undress. She sighed with relief when she was left in just her nightgown, her hair loose, wavy by being tied up all day. She lay down on their bed, looking up at their baldachin. He got up from his chair and approached her slowly.

He pulled his boots off his feet and his top tunic, staying in just his chemise and black trousers, then pulled the eyepatch off his head. He clutched his sapphire, his head bursting with the way it had been rubbing him all day.

"May I?" He asked, looking at her, asking her permission, and she nodded quickly and smiled affectionately.

When he removed the precious stone from his eye socket she did not even flinch, she just leaned towards the table standing next to the bed and took a small bowl of ointment from it.

He lay down beside her on his back and let her lean over him. She didn't even ask him what he needed, she could see that the inside of his eye socket was all red. She sighed heavily seeing this, her finger covered in ointment began spreading it over his skin, he swallowed quietly feeling instant relief.

"Why are you wearing your sapphire when you have an eyepatch? You're causing yourself pain." She said with sincere worry and displeasure, focused on her task. He did not listen to her, his large hand squeezed lightly on her soft breast hidden behind the transparent material.

"Wait a moment." She said with amusement, but without taking his hand away, allowing him to continue with his activity.

He thought about how soon her breasts would be full of milk, firm and large. He thought of how he would be able to taste her in a new, completely unfamiliar way before, and felt his manhood pulsate hard in his trousers.

Despite his desire, he decided he would let himself and her rest after a hard day. The truth was that the commotion with Floris and Aegon pleased him, for it diverted his thoughts from Daeron, from his burning body.

From the thought that his little brother had died because of him.

He hadn't felt it so much at first, simply being in shock, unable to come to terms with what had happened, but now the knowledge of his death hit him harder and harder and he couldn't cope.

He didn't know how he was supposed to live on with this thought, where to hide from it, so he simply cuddled his face into his wife's chest, allowing himself to be locked in her embrace.

He was ashamed, and he would never say it out loud, but he needed her to quiet the whispers in his head, the stabbing pain in his heart that refused to go away. The touch of her hand, her fingers combing through his hair, stroking his head soothed and calmed him, made him stop thinking about anything and just fall asleep.

He would usually wake up in the middle of the night with his name on his lips, rising up on his elbows, breathing loudly, feeling that his whole body was unbearably hot. His wife touched his shoulder, his cheek, already knowing what she was facing, what he was confronting and for what reason.

"I killed him. I cut his throat. He looked at me surprised, and I don't know why I did it. Where is his body now?" He muttered, looking at her horrified as if he could not believe that he could really have committed such a monstrosity that he had killed his little brother. His wife shook her head.

"My beloved, it was a dream." She whispered, and for a moment he was relieved to think that Daeron was alive.

"Your brother fell from the sky with his dragon over the Eyrie." She explained, seeing the look on his face, his baseless hope that the reality was different to what he would have wanted.

He would then cover his face and burst into loud, uncontrollable sobs, her small hands trying to encompass his whole body, shield him from this pain, comfort him.

He only calmed down when she hugged him to her chest, when she stroked his cheek whispering that his brother was no longer suffering, that he was safe in the heavens with his father, that no one in this world could hurt him anymore.

That her father was surely also watching over him as he had watched over his own son.

This vision, a vision of the heavens that he himself was not sure he believed in, a vision that he would still see him, that his brother was watching over him, reassured him.

He would then come back to his senses and calm down, wiping his face, embarrassed by his state, apologising to her, explaining that he didn't know what was happening to him, that he would pull himself together.

"You're suppressing it too much inside and your body can't cope anymore. You have to let all the grief and sadness flow out of you because otherwise this poison is running through your veins and killing you from the inside." She whispered, kissing his temple, and he tightened his eye, stroking her hand that embraced him, the hand of his beloved wife, the only person he trusted, to whom he could tell all this.

"I'm afraid I won't be a good father, sweet wife. I won't be able to show this child what I feel even if I want to." He said helplessly, and she sighed quietly, stroking his cheek and shoulder reassuringly, letting him lie on top of her in a semi-sitting position.

"No one is born a good parent, only becomes one. Our father rarely spoke of his feelings, but he showed them with his gestures. Just as he showed them to you." She said calmly, he felt a warmth in his lower abdomen when she said "our father" about Borros, as if she recognised that in fact, what her father had done for him was in some way his show of fatherly love, his acceptance of him.

He swallowed loudly and slid his head down, hugging her abdomen, placing a kiss on it through the thin material.

"Gods, what a joy you are in these cruel moments for me and your mother." He whispered softly, feeling her hand on his hair, stroking his head tenderly. He firmly believed that their child in her womb had felt and heard his words.

He watched from the sidelines as his wife struggled to accept the news that, despite her initially platonic intentions, Floris had finally ended up in Aegon's bed. Aemond was unsurprised, he knew they were both desperate to prove to everyone around them that they could be happy and fulfilled, even if it was just for show.

It was pathetic, but he had begun to worry when Aegon had said that his wife's father's body would leave King's Landing in Ser Criston's care, and that Floris Baratheon would remain in King's Landing as a lady of the court. Aemond's lips tightened at these words.

"Does our sister know of this and has she consented to it?" He hissed clenching his hand in front of him into a fist, the other members of the Small Council also looked at the king in disbelief. Alicent shook her head, Aemond knew she had made Floris drink the moon tea.

She was not going to let Aegon have his white-haired bastards running around the Red Keep to the humiliation of the whole family.

"Aegon. End this at last. You are causing a scandal with your behaviour and breaking any good manners. The Great Sept has also expressed its indignation on this matter, and I do not understand why you remain deaf to my requests." She said with desperation, Aemond had never seen her so pale and sleepless before.

She was tired.

His brother did not speak for a long time, looking ahead in thought. He didn't like the concentration on his face, he knew his brother was thinking hard about something and it didn't bode well. Everyone waited in suspense for his words.

"I realise that my behaviour has caused outrage and opposition from the lords. That I harm the good name of House Baratheon, to whom, after all, we owe so much, and the good name of my brother's wife." He said calmly, Aemond looked at him breathing unevenly sensing that something was coming. He could feel the cold sweat on the back of his neck.

Something was wrong.

"I have decided to put an end to this contemptible action on my part and marry her as my second wife in the tradition of old Valyria, as my namesake predecessor, Aegon the Conqueror, did." He concluded, finally lifting his head, meeting stares full of disbelief.

Aemond heard this silence around him.

A silence full of tension.

He hid his face in his hands resting his elbows on the table thinking that his brother was a moron, an idiot, a fool and would destroy them all. His mother looked at him on the verge of a nervous breakdown, leaning back in her chair, shaking her head.

"Aegon. You already have a wife. The wife you couldn't take care of, your sister, and who will remain your only wife until you die." She said with emphasis on the last words, desperation and rage in her throat. Otto stared at the table with his lips clenched and laughed under his breath.

"You are a fool, Aegon. A hollow child, hungry for kind words, who only wears the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. If you think anyone at this table will allow you to take a second wife, you are sorely mistaken." He said sharply, quickly, somehow wanting to turn his words into a joke, as if he had simply pulled another stunt that everyone must forgive him for.

Aemond saw the look on Aegon's face, however, and knew that Aegon had foreseen this turn of events. He turned to one of the guards standing by the door.

"Please escort my grandfather out and lock him in his chamber until I change my mind −"

"− Aegon −" Their mother began, but he continued.

"− as from today, he is no longer the Hand of the King." He communicated dryly, wiping the table with his hand as if he had just shaken some fleck off the table. Otto lurched away, but the second guard moved to the first's aid, his grandfather looking at him with rage.

"What are you doing? Have you completely lost your mind?!" He hissed through clenched lips, Aegon looked at him dispassionately.

"Be glad you are alive, grandfather. For such words concerning the king and his future wife, anyone else would lose their head." Said with emphasis on the last words, the guards led Otto out of the room despite their mother's objections. The door closed behind them, everyone sat in suspense.

"Does anyone else wish to be led out of here and stripped of their function? To insult their king?" He asked, looking around at the faces of those gathered, Aemond looked blankly at his sphere. "Very well, then −"

Aemond stood up suddenly, interrupting him, Aegon threw him a surprised look. His brother's lips tightened when he saw that his younger brother had taken his ruby orb from its niche and approached him with an unhurried step. He looked down at him, placing it in front of him.

Aegon looked at him as if he expected Aemond to spit at him.

"You are making a huge mistake, brother." He said, turning and walking out of the hall, paying no attention to the pleading voice of his mother.

He walked down the corridor towards a chamber he seemed to have not been in for ages, though he did not know why. When he entered, Helaena was sitting on the floor with her children, arranging some sort of construction with them. She lifted her dreamy gaze to him and smiled, rising slowly from her knees.

He wasn't sure when they last spoke. Did he ever ask how she was feeling and if it was hard for her. Although he felt sorry for her, he couldn't show it to her. He wasn't as supportive of her as Royce had been of his wife.

"Do you know about what our brother decided?" He asked dispassionately. His sister nodded at her servant, who grabbed her children's hands and led them into a second, separate room, closing the door behind her. Helaena walked to the window, fiddling involuntarily with the rings on her fingers as was always her habit.

"Yes. He asked my permission." She said finally. Aemond's lips tightened at those words.

"How could you say yes?" He asked in disbelief, stepping closer to her. She looked at him as if she did not understand his question.

"He said he wouldn't do it if I objected, but that when he married her he would be happy at last. That he had never experienced such a feeling." She whispered, looking down at her hands, the skin near her nails was red, just like their mother's.

Their expression of stress, panic and terror.

"If she becomes his wife and bears him children out of wedlock, I'm sure she'll slit my nephews' throats while they sleep." He said grabbing her shoulders, wanting to shake her, to make her realise how serious the situation was.

"Uprisings will break out, people will turn on him. He will destroy everything Daeron died for, all the advantage we gained. He will give Rhaenyra a gift she could never even dream of."

Helaena looked away and shuddered heavily at the sound of their brother's name, she did not look at him, clearly confused and undecided.

"He… changed while you were in Harrenhal. He doesn't drink as much anymore. He visits our children, we have dinners together sometimes. He doesn't force me to do anything, we even talk sometimes, I…" She said and did not finish, her voice breaking off. Her gaze was distracted, her body was trembling all over.

"I'm afraid that if I refuse him, he will turn into what he was again."

Aemond hugged her to himself and she burst into such a loud sob that he was surprised. So many years it had seemed to him that his sister had endured it all meekly and silently and paid no price for it, that she was simply pretending not to see what her brother was doing.

He didn't ask her if Aegon was hurting her, if he was causing her pain, because that was more comfortable for him, because he didn't want to fall asleep with the thought that perhaps his brother had just raped his sister.

Now, however, he wanted to be there for her, to take Royce's example and show her that her fate had never been indifferent to him. He stroked her hair.

"Aegon will only listen to you. For the sake of the kingdom, for the sake of all of us, you must go to him and convince him that he does not want this wedding at all. Otherwise it will destroy us all from the inside. I promise I will never let him hurt you again." He whispered, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, and she wept loudly in his embrace.

He knew she would do the right thing.

What happened next depended on her success.

He thought that the face he had seen in the dream was not Daeron, but Aegon.

And that it would become a reality if his brother chose wrong.

____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @ahristata @menaosama @queenofshinigamis @dark-night-sky-99

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byuljoonie · 8 months

Text

Never Goodbye // myg

It’s never goodbye, I’ll always see you again…

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: one shot, angst, fluff, quick smut, rash decisions

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of mental health, mentions of past SH/scars, sad-ish smut, d-day tour, swearing, almost oral (m4f), dom!suga sub!reader, unsafe sẽx, creampie, fluff if you hate fluff.

note: My depression has been hitting so hard lately. I will re-edit tomorrow, I’m exhausted and can’t double check tonight. I love Min Yoongi, I will backflip for him. In all honesty, when Yoongi did his first live since being gone for a while, I ugly sobbed over my iPad. I missed him so much and the thought of him leaving shook me to my core lmao. Though I’m overdramatic, I am a proud military wife for 3 so far of 7 husbands. Enjoy the one shot and feel free to submit requests to the link in my bio, and listen to some of my playlists also in the bio. I will post Ramo Buchón and this story on Ao3 next week. -dubu

I stood in the dimly lit record store, surrounded by rows upon rows of vinyl records, each a portal to a different musical era. I held in my hand the debit card my thoughtful boyfriend, Yoongi, had given me to use this afternoon. He had gifted me a beautiful scarlet record player, and now I was on a mission to fill it with music.

The store was a treasure trove of musical history. Rows of records stretched out in every direction, organized meticulously by genre and artist. I traced my fingers along the spines, feeling the nostalgia emanating from each one. Rock, jazz, classical, pop – it was all there, waiting to be explored.

My indecisiveness was palpable as I contemplated my choices. I would pick up one vinyl, then another, carefully examining the album artwork and reading the tracklist. Yoongi had given me complete freedom to choose, and I wanted to make sure every selection was perfect.

In the midst of my contemplation, my thoughts drifted to Yoongi. I couldn't help but smile as I remembered the way he had surprised me with the record player earlier. It was clear that he knew just how much I loved music like him, and he wanted to share that passion with me.

As I continued browsing, my eyes suddenly lit up when I spotted the records I had been searching for. There, among the vast collection, were albums by Queen, Mac Miller, Lee Moonsae, and Diana Ross – artists whose music had shaped my life. I felt a rush of excitement as I reached for each of them, holding them close as if they were precious treasures.

With a heart full of gratitude for Yoongi's thoughtful gift and a bag full of vinyl records, I headed to the checkout counter. I knew that each record I had chosen would be a soundtrack to special moments shared with Yoongi, and that made the indecisiveness and the joy of discovery all the more worthwhile.

My collection is finally growing again and I’m so grateful to him. I checked out quickly, holding a brief conversation with the nice blue-haired woman at the counter. Thanking god for the half empty store, I stepped out into the cold air. I called a taxi on my phone and waited the everlasting 10 minutes as I nearly froze in place.

The sleek navy-blue car pulled in front of the little store, a middle aged man stepping out of the drivers side to open the door for me. I thanked him as he grabbed my bag and set it in the trunk for me. The short drive back to our apartment was quiet, the hum of NPR coming from the radio piercing the silence. The heater blowing directly at me.

We pulled up to the tall building hurrying so I can escape the cold air. I grabbed my bag from the man and tipped him extra for his generosity and service. I scanned into the building making my way to the elevators past the front desk. After I exited the elevators I grew more excited to see Yoongi. I skipped happily to our door, putting in the key code.

I’m greeted by the smell of air freshener and our puppy running up to me. Excitedly licking my hand and wagging his tail. I closed the door setting my bag on the small table near it and then taking off my shoes.

“Hi baby!” I said cheerfully looking at Yoongi as he walked over to me. He grabbed my waist and placed a kiss on my check, making his way down to my neck. Resting his head on my shoulder as he held me. I felt like putty in his palm, moving to grab his face and plant a kiss on his lips.

He hummed into the kiss, letting his hands sneak around my waist to my ass. I giggled and pushed him away immediately, missing the feeling of his hands on me already. He pained a hurt expression and I gave him a knowing look. He was supposed to be packing but the laundry basket I left him to sort through seemed to be almost untouched as it sat idle by our sofa.

“Min Yoongi why is your laundry still folded neatly in that basket?” I questioned pointing to his clothes and resting a hand on my hip. “I needed a break,” he said nonchalantly, walking to go sit back on the sofa. He was precious but we have things to do and I can’t let his cuteness distract me. I grabbed my shopping bag from the table and walked over to Yoongi, sitting on his lap so I could show him the merchandise.

“Let me show you what I bought and then I’ll go start on dinner while you actually pack,” I said smiling at the way he rested his hands on my thighs. I took the vinyls out of the bag, setting the first two on the sofa cushion next to us.

“First I got this classic Diana Ross record, but I can’t hold in my excitement anymore!” I said grabbing the Mac Miller record and handing it to Yoongi. I watched as his eyes light up in excitement. “I know I was supposed to be shopping for me but I couldn’t help myself.” I said starting to tear up. I didn’t want to cry but the emotions are hitting hard, Yoongi leaves in a few days.

“Thank you so much baby I love it,” he said setting the record aside to kiss me softly. Yoongi sighed as he stared down at me on his lap. I noticed the worry in his eyes and sat up placing a hand on his cheek. “Are you okay my love?” I probed gently.

“It’s just…I can’t help but worry about leaving you alone again while I go on tour. Your depression and anxiety, I’m afraid they might worsen, and I won’t be there to help you when you need me the most,” Yoongi said staring deeply into my glossy eyes.

I smiled warmly at his confession, cupping his face in my hands. “Min Yoongi, it’s so easy to see why your parents named you light. You’ve helped me through so much already, you are my light. I’ve learned so much from you about handling my emotions, and even on my worst days, just a phone call with you can calm me down. I’ll be okay baby, I promise,” I choked out.

Yoongi looked at me for a second, seemingly analyzing me. He nodded slowly pulling me into a tight hug. “I know you’ve grown stronger, but I can’t help but worry. You mean the world to me Y/N,” he said as I buried my face in his neck.

“And you mean the world to me too, Yoongi. We’ll get through this together, just like we always do.” I said hugging him tighter. We stayed in our embrace for a while, finding comfort in each others presence. Eventually I break the hug and get up to go make dinner, while Yoongi starts to sort through his laundry basket.

“I guess I’ll actually start getting my things in order,” he mumbled to himself with a huff. He stood up flinging open his suitcases, and throwing in a few items he eyeballed. I giggled at how unenthusiastic he was being.

“I’ll help you pack after dinner Yoongs, you know I have to double check and make sure you have everything you’ll need.” I said busying myself at the stove. After I mixed the pasta, I told Yoongi to set the table while I change and I’d be right back.

I retreated to our bedroom, eager to change into my comfortable pajamas. As I shed my days attire and donned my soft, oversized pjs, my eyes involuntarily drifted to the prominent scars that crisscrossed my body, momentos of a harrowing time that altered my life.

A wave of sadness washed over me, recalling the challenges in my journey to recovery. Moments of doubt crept in, but just as I was about to get lost in my melancholic thoughts, I heard Yoongi’s voice gently calling me from the dining area.

“Babe come on I’m hungry and your food smells too good,” he whined cutely as I walked into the dining room. I placed some pasta in his plate and sat in the chair across from him, unconsciously tugging at the short sleeves on my shirt, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Yoongi hummed in delight at the taste of the cream pasta, and I quietly chewed along. It didn’t take long for us to finish our meal, I stood up making my way to the sink, grabbing the dishes from the table. I started washing dishes, mindlessly humming one of Yoongi’s songs.

“Why’re you so quiet tonight sweetheart?” Yoongi questioned as he walked up behind me. I felt his hands wrap around my waist, he then pulled me flush against him. “Talk to me Y/N,” he said in my ear, leaving a soft lingering kiss behind.

“I’m sorry I just don’t feel the best, honestly, I feel like a burden. All these ugly scars already make me feel less than, but the thought of me holding you back from doing what you love pains me the most, Yoongi,” I said nervously, melting into his embrace.

Suddenly Yoongi unraveled his arms, reaching around me to turn the faucet off. I turned around to face him, confusion flooding my features. He gently placed his hands on my face, searching my eyes for an unknown answer.

“Will you let me show you how much I love you Y/N?” He asked. I nodded slowly, bringing my hand up to touch his that rested on my cheek. He leaned down to place a kiss on my lips, hovering close after he pulled apart.

We walked hand in hand to the bedroom, closing the door behind us. Yoongi guided me over to our bed, helping me up onto the tall mattress. He climbed onto the bed, gently pushing me to lay down flat on my back.

“With every piece of clothing I remove from your body, I’ll leave a trace of me behind. You deserve to know how gorgeous you are Y/N, how utterly irresistible and perfect you are. Every piece of you that you view as an imperfection, I view as another reason to love you.” Yoongi said removing his black shirt from his toned figure.

He removed his shorts, carelessly tossing them to some shadow realm. He looped his fingers under my, formally his, oversized shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift motion.

He stared at my exposed chest for a second, eyes flickering back to mine every so often. He then leaned down, placing a trail of kisses down my neck, and stopping when he reached my collar bone.

He started leaving behind love bites, sucking and licking at the quick forming bruises. I hissed in pleasure as his tongue felt like pure ecstasy, sighing at the way he took my nipple into his mouth.

He looked up at me through hooded eyes, staring at me intensely as he massaged and sucked my breasts. I moaned his name quietly, wrapping my legs around his torso as he moved his attention to the other side.

He made his way down my exposed front, leaving no inch of skin without a trace of his love, or tongue. He moved further down the bed, hooking his fingers under the band of my flower covered panties.

His eyes never left my face, he smirked as I watch him in anticipation. Stomach quickly rising and falling with every nervous breath. He pulled them down my legs painfully slow, I shivered as the cold air hit my exposed clit. He’s barely touched me and I’m already a soaking mess.

He placed a kiss on my left hip bone, massaging the right one with a free hand. He kissed his way down until he hovered over my center, watching the way my eyes drank in his sinful appearance. I could feel the warmth of his breath hitting my core, causing an accidental whine to escape my pouty lips.

He let out a breathy chuckle before placing a kiss on my clit. That earned another moan from me as well as a tight grip on the rappers long hair. He sat up suddenly, receiving a look of disappointment from me. “I can’t wait any longer pumpkin, I need to fill you up like the good girl you are. Gonna make you cry for a much better reason than before.” Yoongi said tossing his boxers to the side and rubbing his length against my pussy, I squirmed in anticipation.

I felt his tip probe at my entrance, his length slowly being engulfed into the hot, soft cavern. I gasped at the intrusion, squeezing Yoongi’s arm as he began to move slowly. With every thrust I clenched harder, scratching down his back as he loving fucked me into oblivion.

“I can never get enough of you princess,” Yoongi grunted out as he sped up his rhythmic movements. “This is my pussy baby you’re mine, all mine, and no one else’s.” He growled eyes darkening with pleasure.

“hmfp I…I’m all yours Yoongi all yours please please fuck me just like that,” I stuttered out, crying as my body grew sore with the force of Yoongi’s hips slamming into mine. I enjoyed every second of this painful pleasure, yanking him by the neck down to my mouth. Lewd noises echoed through our apartment, a melody of wet sounds and heavy breathing reverberating off the walls of our bedroom.

I screamed in pleasure as Yoongi reached down and started furiously rubbing my swollen clit. “Fuck down on me Y/N, let the neighbors hear all those pretty noises you make. Tell me how much you love this dick baby it’s all yours,” he said hotly leaving a trail of wet kisses down my neck.

“It’s mine oh f…fuck Yoongi I can’t take it, I want you to cum inside me please. N…need you to fill me up so I can fully be yours,” I choked out in between sobs. Before I could react the bed shook with extreme force, Yoongi unbelievably fucking me deeper, lifting my hips off the bed and squeezing my bruised hips.

I felt his dick pulsate inside me, indicating he was just as close as I was. “Fuck…cum with me baby,” he grunted out head rolling back in pleasure as his pace slowed. I felt his warm cum shoot inside me, I shook furiously hips spazzing as Yoongi gently set me down. He wiped my tears as I exhaustedly went limp, too tired to get another word out.

“I hope you know I’m going to think about this all the time while I’m gone,” Yoongi said grabbing some water from his bedside table to give to me. I mustered the courage to sit up and graciously take the water, passing him the rest after I finished. He leaned over and placed another kiss on my lips, holding me in his arms as he quietly talked me into a restful sleep.

Yoongi stood by the door, his bags packed and ready for the waiting vehicle outside. I watched him, my eyes brimming with emotions as he turned to face me.

“Y/N, I wish I didn’t have to leave without you, but I know how important your work is to you. I promise I’ll try to call you everyday, no matter the time difference,” he said softly.

“I know Yoongs, but I’m going to miss you so so much,” I said voice quivering as I struggled to keep my composure. My body shook with sadness, shoulders slouching in defeat. Yoongi cupped my face in his hands and gently wiped away my tears.

“Hey look at me, beautiful. I want you to know that no matter where I am, my heart is always with you. If you ever need anything, if you’re feeling down, just call me and I’ll answer in a heartbeat. I would fly across the country in seconds to get to you my love. I might not say it enough, but you mean everything to me Y/N there is no me without you. You’re my inspiration, my strength, and my love.” He confessed, his eyes holding a depth of emotion he often struggled to express.

“I love you too Yoongi, more than words can say,” I said while sniffling. Yoongi smiled at me through glossy eyes, clearly trying to hold it together for me. “Actions speak volumes, right? I’ll prove it to you everyday I’m away. This tour won’t change how I feel about you, and it damn sure won’t change us.” He said pulling me into another tight embrace. A car horn could be heard impatiently honking in the background.

“Goodbye my love,” I said smiling through my tears.

“It’s never goodbye, I’ll always see you again darling.”

206 notes · View notes

areislol · 1 year

Text

he looks just like a dream..

neteyam, lo’ak, tsu’tey x human! reader

ft— neteyam, lo’ak, tsu’tey warnings— tsu’tey is still alive. them being (maybe) OOC, (not a warning but it contains playing with tails, touching their ears and marks, admiring them.) reader’s height is 5′ foot and taller, established relationship!! whole lot of fluff. the glowing leaves/plants are still alive. a/n— first avatar post soooo... i need me some tall, blue alien catboy in my life ykwim? also no recommended songs for this :( !!! a new format for the avatar series/hcs so yea. hope you enjoy! synopsis— bored, you want to see your lover, so with the help of a little girl you find them, and they let you do whatever you want to them.

today was just like the other days since you’ve arrived at Pandora, staying at a unit where grace and norm used to be at then moving to the metkayina clan. you’d go out with your mask on just to see the kids and of course, them.

but today it felt, boring. like the other half of you was missing, even with all the children around you couldn’t help but feel half empty.

well, that was because they weren’t there with you in the morning AND afternoon.

they had gone out hunting, leaving you alone with the others.

you were pouting there and then, sometimes zoning out, thinking about them.

then, while you were zoning out a little girl came up to you, alwey. that was her name

“y/n? are you okay?” alwey spoke, putting her hand on your thigh, giving you a look of concern.

“hm? oh! yes, yes im fine. don’t worry about me alwey. shouldn’t you be with the others?” you answer while giving her a small smile.

alwey stares at you, she shyly looks away before looking at you again, “i.. i wanted to see you..” alwey muttered.

you smile softly at her before lifting her up and setting her on your leg

“is that so?” you say while grinning before ticking her, a fit of squeals and giggles break out of her mouth.

you puts her hand on your arm which prompts you to stop, her laughter dies down.

“y/n.. i wanted to say, when i saw you, you looked sad. i called your name two times and you weren’t responding to me! what’s wrong?” alwey mentioned.

you stare at alwey for a good few seconds before sighing in defeat, “i really can’t keep secrets with you can i?”

you tell alwey about how you feel lonely, you feel like you’re selfish, wanting to see them everyday, every hour, minute and second.

alwey listens to you ranting, when you stop, she speaks.

“you’re not selfish y/n!! i like someone and i want to see them all the time but my dad doesn’t want me too.. wait.. you said he went to go hunting?”

you nod, her eyes light up and a grin appears on her lips, “my big bro went hunting too!! maybe he’s with them? they went... i think that way!”, alwey points to your left.

you sit up, but not before setting down alwey, you hug her tightly and give her a kiss on her temple, “oh thank you alwey! i owe you.” you say before running off to the direction alwey pointed to.

you finally reached the area where you see him and his friends/hunting partners talking

you wait until he is sort of alone and go up to him.

tapping him on his shoulder, he turns around, surprised to see you.

neteyam x human! reader

“Y/n? what are you doing here?” neteyam mutters before ushering you more into the forest, looking right and left to make sure nobody saw you. You give him a smile in return, “guys! im going to go uh, go somewhere okay?” neteyam shouts, when he hears a confirmative he turns you around and making you walk to a place further from where you two are, him following right behind you. After walking for a bit, neteyam puts his hand on your shoulder, “y/n? you still haven’t answered my question you know.” you turn around and look up to face neteyam, he sighs. “nothing bad happened right? everyone’s fine?” he questions, looking you up and down to make sure that you weren’t injured or anything. “I’m fine neteyam, just wanted to see you is all.” you reply, giving him a big smile before hugging him. god you’re so adorable! you’re killing him you know? he looks down at you, his arms are awkwardly right beside where your chest is. his arms are slightly splayed out, but upon you hugging him more tightly he wraps his arms around your shoulders. You two have hugged many times but neteyam is still always so nervous, shy and awkward when it comes to physical touch. But he doesn’t mind giving. Neteyam could feel you smiling once he hugged you back, “so you came out here, all on your own, just to hug me?” he asks, a grin appearing on his face. You tilt your head up a little bit to face neteyam before nodding, “think we could maybe rest somewhere.. where there’s no one? only us?” you ask, neteyam cocks his head to the side, “you’ve been out for hours today, i know this might sound selfish but i want to hang out with you everyday. i want to see your face, to hug you, to play with you,” you pause for a second but resume once he gives you a nod. “And today i.. well, like i said, you’ve been gone for too long!!” you blurt out, placing your head on his abdomen as let out a sigh, this was embarrassing. A few hard second passes by, suddenly you hear neteyam chuckling. You look up and see him laughing, he squeezes you even more tightly. You pout, “What’s so funny?” you ask, still staring at neteyam, waiting for an answer. Neteyam was still laughing, but once he sees you staring right at him, he immediately stops laughing, “okay okay! listen, we can go to a place with nobody..”, satisfied with your response, you let go of his body. “But why?” neteyam questions, you shrug your shoulders—”why not?” you answer, he rolls his eyes playfully and out of nowhere he picks you up quickly bridal style and starts to run, you shriek and demanded to why he picked you up out of nowhere. “You wanted to go somewhere with nobody right? im bringing you to that place!” neteyam answers, you see him grinning, you then turn your attention to trying not to fall, your arms were around his neck and his hands were on your back and legs, you screamed that if he dropped you he was going to “pay!!”, as if neteyam would ever let you fall. Only an idiot would let someone like you fall. After a few minutes neteyam stops, you’re aware he has stopped but you don’t let go. Not yet anyways. “You can let go of me now, you know that right?” and with that you’re left flustered and let go of neteyam, he slowly and carefully helps you by lowering you down, his hands still on your back. Once you got down you took in your view, bright fluorescent colors on the leaves and ground. Each step you took, it looked like stepping into the ocean, ripples would appear. You’ve seen them before, but you can help but gasp in amazement and awe at your sight, You also noticed that it was getting dark, no wonder why the fluorescent lights on the leaves were illuminating and glowing brightly. You turned around and see neteyam just standing there, admiring you, when you noticed that he was just there, standing, looking at you, you gave him a shy smile and turned back, touching the leaves, it lit up, you started to slap all of the leaves (just like what jake did) and giggled. It was one of those things that even though you’ve experienced it before, felt it or had it, you would never get enough of it. Neteyam still stood there, watching your every move, how the lights shined just as bright as the leaves, you looked gorgeous. beautiful, ethereal. You still wanted to look at the lights more but you forgot that a special someone was also with you, you turn around but suddenly your head bumps something, like a wall. It was neteyam. He was standing right behind you, you almost fell from the hit but neteyam was quick to catch you. You rubbed your head, groaning in pain. “Are you okay y/n? Oh im so sorry!” he cried out, putting his hand over yours which was on your forehead, you give him a small smile and mutter a “i’m okay”, his eyebrows were furrowed, he looked tense. You reassured him that you were okay but insisted that you weren’t and how your forehead was quite red, redder than usual. he sits down and sets you down on his lap, you’re facing towards him, occasionally he stares at your forehead, making sure that it’s not swelling or anything, and to say the least... he felt guilty. I mean, his job is to protect you and make sure you’re not harmed! even if it’s just a scratch. And no matter how many times you reassure him, he’s always insisting that he go hunt something for you or do something for you. And as always, he’s doing it right now. “Y/n, im really sorry, i’ll be more careful next time and i won’t stand right behind you.” neteyam mumbles, “for the last time neteyam, im fine! it doesn’t hurt anymore i swear.” you place your hand on his chest, staring at him. Neteyam is unsure, but sooner or later he gives in, he didn’t want to make you mad or annoyed. You lay on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. You and neteyam didn’t speak, not yet. It was a comfortable silence, when, you had a thought. You quickly sat up and looked at neteyam. Neteyam was quietly and peacefully thinking, when he felt a sudden movement, he opened his eyes and looked down at you. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it once you realized how stupid your request was. Neteyam noticed this and tapped your arm, which of course caught your attention, he cocks his head to the side, you sigh. “Can i... can i touch your ears?” you ask, “I know it’s a stupid question but i’ve always wanted to..”, no reply. You took his silence for a no and pout, but before you could say anything he cut you off with a “sure,”, you perk up. “But why?”, honestly, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right there and then. It would be embarrassing to tell the truth of why you wanted to touch his ears, it’s like asking another human being if they could touch their ears. But that’s the thing, Neteyam isn’t, your kind. The na’vi’s ears are different, you’ve always been intrigued. “It’s just.. different from my kind. And im curious.” you quickly say before straddling his lap and getting a bit more closer, personal space? never heard of it. You tell neteyam to slink back a bit, just so his face was meeting yours, once that was done you started to poke and touch his ears, you touched the point of his ears. It was a bit weird at first, neteyam was tense. You noticed this and told him that you’d be quick, neteyam shook his head “it’s fine.” Neteyam kept his eyes on your face, you didn’t mind. You could feel his gaze but didn’t say anything or do anything, and again, is was silent. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, rather, it was comfortable. After touching his ears, you asked him if you could touch his marks, without even thinking he immediately said “sure”, you didn’t pay any mind to this, you just gave him a smile and a peck on his cheek. Your fingers lightly graze the darker blue marks on his face, arms and chest. When your finger first touched his mark he shivered. Not because he was ticklish or anything, it was because of the intimacy, sure you two have touched each other there and then (not like that.) but not like this, this was on purpose. The other times it was just by accident or by instinct, this however, was on purpose. He watched as your mouth curved into an “O” when you first touched his arm(mark), a brief “ooo”’ will occasionally come out there and then. You’re so cute. For neteyam, these markings were normal, everybody had them, but for you, they were unique, humans didn’t have these marks. His eyes softened, his gaze was tender and gentle. His yellow eyes never leaving your face. First it was his ears, then markings, then it was his fangs, then tail. He wondered why you’d want to touch his tail but then again, you weren’t like his kind, so he obliged happily. You went to his side where his tail was and grabbed it, it was soft, really, really soft. You brought it to where you were and observed it up and down, you stroked his tail, Neteyam still had his eyes on you, While stroking his tail you heard a low grumbling sound, it came from neteyam. He was... purring. He’s so cute!! you thought. He looked like he was in peace, his eyes were closed, and while the tail was in your hold it started to waver up and down, it slapped the ground and went up (like a lion’s tail), it did so for a few seconds. You let out an “eep!” when the tail slaps your hand, it wasn’t a very harsh slap so you didn’t mind. “Neteyam?” you called, no reply. You poke and prod at his cheeks but nothing, then you realize he’s sleeping. Little snores escape his mouth, you chuckle and moved yourself into a position where you’re right next to him on his side, you leaned your head next to neteyam’s and drifted off to sleep. His tail occasionally slapping the floor and flicking up before stopping to curl around your waist.

lo’ak x human! reader

“What are you doing here y/n?” lo’ak asks while eyeing you and looking behind you, seeing if maybe someone was following you, making you feel unsafe. “Just wanted to see you.” you say, looking behind lo’ak your eyes land on a couple of his hunting friends, that’s when you remember he went hunting. “hm.. how was the hunt? catch anything?” you question, looking up at him. Lo’ak breaks eye contact with you and looks to his side. Although he doesn’t say anything, you knew that it meant ‘no’, his face drooped once you asked that question so you don’t any other questions relating to hunting. But, without saying anything you gesture lo’ak to kneel down so that both of your faces meet. You cup his cheeks with your hands and make him look at you, “listen lo’ak, it’s fine if you haven’t caught anything yet. You’re still you know.. new to hunting. It’ll take some time and practice but i know that you’ll do it. I know you’ll catch something.” you said encouragingly, staring deep into his eyes. Lo’ak stared at you, taking in all the things you said to him. you know that he’ll do it. When he replays that sentence in his mind a smile slowly creeps onto his face, Your hands are still cupping his cheeks, you notice how he’s staring at you, he’s smiling like a mad man. He’s zoning out. Not only that, lo’ak is also thinking about when you gestured him to kneel down, you did that just to cup his face, to encourage him, to tell him that you had faith in him. Oh how he was so grateful that he had you in his life. But he snapped out of his trance after you shook him lightly (at first) and then shook him a bit more harder. Lo’ak blinked a few times before realizing that your face is extremely close to his. His eyes widen and pulls back a bit, “you okay lo’ak?” you ask, lo’ak nods and apologizes. After hearing him apologize, you pull him in for a kiss. It was a small and gentle kiss, nothing rough and deep. No way. “Lo’ak! you ready?” one of lo’ak’s hunting partner yell out, instinctively he swiftly places himself in front of you to cover your figure. Lo’ak turns around and gives him a nod. “You guys go first, i need to do something!” lo’ak yelled before rushing you deeper into the forest but not too far from the reef. You two were probably a few feet away from the reef. You and lo’ak sit down, using the tree’s trunk to lean on, “so, you just came here to see me? that’s it?” lo’ak says, turning his head to stare at you, feeling his gaze you turned your head to look at him, you nod, “yea of course, why not?”. “You wanted to see me that bad?” he says jokingly, a smirk appearing on his face. Lo’ak expects you to shy away, what he doesn’t expect is your response which is nothing like what he thought you’d say or react like. “I want to see you everyday.” you mumble. Lo’ak pauses for a second, taking that in. It’s normal for “mates” or, lovers in your term, to miss their loved one. He never knew if you truly loved/missed him or not, he’d never doubt you though, sometimes his insecurities creep around. But with your words it seemed like all his insecurities and worries disappeared. A light red hue appears on his cheeks, his ears tilted downwards, his tail started to sway side to side. Adorable. You suddenly perk up, almost snapping lo’ak out of whatever he was in, you stare intently at his features, his ears, tail, markings, fangs(when he yawned), but mainly his tail. It’s not everyday you see another kind that’s kind of like a cat. Lo’ak notices how you seem to be focusing on his ears, tails and his... mouth? “Y/n?” lo’ak says, you stop admiring his features and look up, you quirk your eyebrows and ask ‘what’s wrong’. Lo’ak is hesitant to ask you at first but reluctantly gives in. “What.. what are you staring at? i know you’re looking at my ears and tail, my mouth and my.. arms.” upon hearing this your eyes widen, were you that obvious? But it made sense at the same time, it was just you and him so he’d be distracted by nothing but you and well... there is a thing where people can sense when others are looking at them. You avoid eye contact with lo’ak due to embarrassment at first but after a few seconds and thinking, you maintain your eye contact again. “lo’ak, i was wondering if it was okay if i could touch.. them? touch your ears and tail and you know?” you say, looking at his face to see any signs that he’s weirded out or just a plain ‘no.” But nothing changes. His face remains the same other than him blinking, lo’ak smiles and gives you a nod. You’re surprised but say no more!! Lo’ak absolutely loves the idea of you playing with the features that humans don’t have, it makes him feel special, like he’s not the others even though he’s the same kind just like everyone on Pandora. You chose him, and he chose you. So why not allow you to touch him? He remains still, letting you touch his ears, letting you admire the way it points, and when you start to graze and touch his marks on his arm he jolts. Your touch is so gentle, you’ve always been so nice and caring to lo’ak, never touching him roughly, never raising your voice at him and guiding him during hard times. You look at lo’ak, you ask if everything’s fine, he nods and tells you to go on. And with that answer you resume to tracing his marks, you were hesitant to trace the marks on his chest but with a nod you continue on. You then moved onto his tail. He wasn’t so hesitant about letting you touch his tail, he didn’t mind, he grew up with one just like everybody, so, he was unfazed when you asked him if you could stroke his tail, and was confused when you were ecstatic when he said ‘yes’. When you told him about how if you just touched someone’s tail or an animals tail they would freak out and bite you. Depends on their background, aggressiveness and hospitalities. Sometimes, he still wonders if you ask permission to the animals if you could touch their tails. Still confused. You were like a child, playing with his tail, softly touching his tail, playing with the ball like fluff on the tip of the tail. Lo’ak was smiling the entire time you touched his tail and traced his marks. It felt intimate, not sexually. He found it adorable how you were so amused by just a tail, it was as if you’ve seen them, and wanted to touch them but felt that it would be too weird to ask or weird in general(the “as if” was very true..). Slowly but surely, it started to get darker, after yawning a couple of times lo’ak got up and picked you up, you were shocked at first from the sudden movement but when questioning where he was taking you two, you eased up. He was taking you two to the reef, where you two could sit down and admire the view. “this would be the perfect way to end the day.” lo’ak added at the end. Once you and lo’ak reach the reef he sets you down carefully and sits down, you too, sit down. There were still some others around but they weren’t too close to you two. Your feet splayed out on the sun, looking at the sun setting, the glistening water was breathtaking. That was one of the best things about moving with the metkayina clan. Their ocean, was gorgeous, the aquatic animals that live in the ocean were beautiful in nature. Lo’ak was right, this was the best way to end the day, it will always be when your leaning on his arm, and his tail hugging you closely.

tsu’tey x human! reader

“Y/n why are you... what are you doing here?” tsu’tey mumbles, looking down at you, who’s smiling brightly. “Nothing!” you reply, still smiling ever so brightly, you were just happy to see tsu’tey. Tsu’tey eyes you and stops for a second, thinking about what he was going to do now. Tsu’tey doesn’t bother to hide you, he was training some of the new hunters and was leading them, helping them track some of the local animals, giving them tips and tactics. He stops thinking though, when he sees you looking at someone or something behind him to the side, it was one of the boys he was training. You’re still looking behind him, but once he sees you giving whom he thought was one of the boys he was training, a smile, he turns around and yep, he was right. It was ru’ko. Ru’ko was returning your smile when he saw tsu’tey staring daggers at him, his smile faded but it was still there, it was like an awkward smile now. Before ru’ko turned around tsu’tey had given him a nod of direction to set the boys off for the day. Ru’ko saw and yelled out to the rest of the hunters to go now, he then ran off to supposedly to his friends and walked off. Now it was just you and tsu’tey. Once the boys were out of sight tsu’tey turned his head and looked back down. You were already looking up at him. Tsu’tey observed you once again, but this time asking if you were okay and if anything happened to the people or you. You shook your head to indicate that you and the people were fine and weren’t hurt, he sighed in relief. “I just wanted to see you.” you say out of the blue. You stare at tsu’tey, wanting to get a reaction out of him you go on about how you felt today, how you were so bored and wanted to see him, hang out with him. Every time you spoke about how you wanted to see him, how you wanted to talk to him and embrace him, how you missed him so much made his heart pound faster and faster. Once you were done with your rambling you looked up at him, he was staring right back at you and you noticed how his expressions looked soft, a small, soft smile was on his face, his pupils were dilated, he truly looked like he was in love. To say the least, it’s true, he is in love. Terribly in love. His ears were tilted downwards, his tail was swaying side to side, was he happy? but that was beside the point. He looked so adorable right now. Out of nowhere, tsu’tey kneels down and places his much larger hand on your shoulder and kisses your forehead, “I missed you as well, my love.” Upon hearing tsu’tey say “my love” your knees buckled and felt like jelly, you almost fell but luckily tsu’tey caught you quickly. Although you were looking down, you could feel that tsu’tey was grinning, he knew what he was doing to you. From the corner of your eye you see something swishing, it’s what you assume is his tail. You turn to your right to see more clearly if it’s tail, and it is. You already knew it was (kind of) since you see his tail everyday, swishing when he’s near you. You never really paid much attention to their tails, it was apart of them and you never dared to ask them questions about their tails. It was only now that you realized how soft it looked. Sure you’ve felt it curl around your body or waist when sleeping next to him but you never actually touched it on purpose, even when dating, you felt that it was too weird to ask if you touch his tail. Well, that was until now. You couldn’t hold in the feeling of wanting to grab that tail and smother your face with it. Once you stood straight tsu’tey followed where you eyes stared at only to see that you’re staring at his tail. His tail swiftly flicks to the other side, where you couldn’t see it. When his tail is out of your sight you look up and see that tsu’tey is glaring at you, but really he’s just inspecting your face. You pout and whine, wanting to look at his tail, tsu’tey takes notice of this, “you, want to see my tail?” he questions, and that stops your whining. In all honesty, this was most likely your one and only chance to ask him that one question you’ve always longed to ask for. You nod. At first, tsu’tey is hesitant, your eyes observe his face, looking for any signs of discomfort. You and tsu’tey are lovers mates, But not once did you ever ask him any questions like this. He pauses, thinking if he should let you, but then again, it wouldn’t hurt him or anybody so.. he allows you to do so!! You’re smiling ear to ear when he gives you an “okay :)”, it was certainly an odd request, but seeing how happy you looked when he gave you a confirmative, made his decision to allow you to touch his tail make him not regret it. Tsu’tey found you cute how you were so mesmerized by something that was normal for him and the others. He loved how curious you were about him, he knew that gradually you would be touching his tail, presumably his ears, markings, fangs(since the “sky people” don’t really have sharp fangs), and his necklace. There were trees everywhere, and if you looked beyond the trees you could see the reef, it was a beautiful sight. Your eyes were still focusing on his tail, it was still. “Sit down y/n” tsu’tey spoke, you nodded. You and tsu’tey sat down in front of a thick tree, you sat beside him, moving to your side to start playing with his tail, tsu’tey’s tail flicked up and down, tickling your arm and thighs which made you giggle. If only you could see how love struck tsu’tey looked right now. What a shame. You stroked his tail softly, afraid of hurting him. You absolutely loved the fluffy part at the tip of the tail, it was fluffy and felt like silk but a bit rougher, it felt nice to the touch. Tsu’tey was staring at you the entire time, how you were extremely close to him, your smaller hands grazing his tail, seeing your smile on your face made him smile, it always happens when you smile, when you smile, he smiles. Whilst playing with his tail you brought it up to inspect it closely, you looked to the side of the fluffy tip part of the tail where you saw his marking on his shoulder and chest. That caught your attention, everything you’ve always wanted to feel, touch or see up close from the very first time you saw the na’vi’s now all came into your brain. “Tsu’tey.. can i touch your markings?” you say while pointing at the markings on his shoulder. Tsu’tey follows where your finger is pointing at and realizes what you’re talking about, he looks back at you and gives you a small nod. You thank him and this time you’re on your knees, tracing the marks on his shoulder, down to his arm and some on his chest. Tsu’tey would be lying if he told you that it didn’t felt nice. It felt.. way too intimate, but he loved every second of it. What you don’t notice is how he has a small yet noticeable smile appearing on his face. Sooner or later you tell tsu’tey to go down a bit, he’s confused but complies, he then feels your hands prodding at his ears, tracing every curve of his ear, Seeing the small tear on his right ear you ask him how that happened. “An arrow. Luckily their aim was bad.” he says nonchalantly, with that answer you giggled, continuing to touch his ear. You occasionally peck his nose or cheek to give him some attention even though you already were. You stopped pecking him for a second, you were looking at his necklace now, you point at the bones on his necklace and question about how he got them, in return, tsu’tey gives you a smile and tells you how those were the bones of his first animal that he hunted. Letting out an “oooo” you ask more questions, how old was he when he first hunted his first animal? what was his first animal? tsu’tey answered every single one of them. The first animal he hunted was a hexapede, and the bones of the hexapede are the very ones on his necklace. How he was 14 when he was first taught to hunt. You pointing at the bones prompted him to talk more about his necklace. What is was made out of, the significance, the meaning, and why. Tsu’tey points and explains about everything you need to know, he loves it when you’re really interested in what he’s speaking about and how you ask questions after he’s doing speaking. Tsu’tey pointing and explaining goes on for a bit, But after seeing that the sun was setting and the sky was getting darker, you both agreed on going home now, so you and tsu’tey got up and started to make your way to the others. In the middle of your walk you’re suddenly being picked up by tsu’tey in bridal style, you instinctively squeal and wrap your arms around his neck, tsu’tey chuckles and keeps on walking. You were thankful he did that though, your legs were much more nimble and smaller than his, you turned your head to look at the sunset. It was beautiful. You turn your head back around and bury your head in his chest. After walking for a bit you were getting tired, yawning there and then. The sky was almost dark now. Your sleepiness and heavy eyelids soon took over, Your body went limp, your arms were still around his neck but he could feel it loosening. Tsu’tey’s eyes widen and he looked at your face, he was terrified, did you just die? but upon seeing your closed eyelids and your mouth agape, small and low snores escaping your mouth. His heart stopped pounding rapidly. It gradually went back to its normal state. When you woke up, You were inside your marui, Laying on its material. You could feel someone’s arm wrapped around you, turning around you see tsu’tey fast asleep. Your lips curve into a small smile, brushing your thumbs on his cheeks, you took off your mask and quickly gave him a kiss on his lips while cupping his cheeks, you put your mask back on and fall asleep in his arms, warm and comfortable, waiting for another day with tsu’tey.

note: if you would like to be added to the avatar taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy <3

taglist: send me an ask or comment to be in my avatar taglist^

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

another note: i actually feel so motivated to write probably because im writing something other than genshin lmao, finished this in a day and like a few hours. and as i said before, this is my very first avatar post!! so i hope you guys enjoys this. i haven’t wrote in this format since like ages so im sorry if it doesn’t make sense or if it jumps to one thing to another very quickly. i updated my fandom/future works post so check that out. and idc what you say tsu’tey and neteyam are still alive. ALSO HAPPY NEW YEARS!!! p.s send in some avatar asks pls i need ideas!! also i have another one coming up [an idea] but i haven’t written it yet so stay tuned...??

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

#avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #lo'ak x reader #tsu'tey x reader

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rusmii · 29 days

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sighs dreamily. I love vulnerable dazai and characterizing him! take a dazai character study <3 I'll let u guys decide who I should character study next in the comments ;p dunno if i like how i worded this I'm kinda bad at writing descriptive things like this😭

to me, it takes a person to not fall for his charm, in order for dazai to fall in love with you, you have to get him to realize and admit it—ignore his advances until you find him vulnerable, drunk, and clinging onto your clothes as you drag him away from the bar, shouting mini 'i love yous' while you pull him by the collar.

then confront and corner him until he's trying to mansplain his way out—advance forward, brushing up against his lips as your face inches closer to his. the forming blush on his face is a clear indicator that his facade is slipping, the voice cracks, and darting eyes are practically telling you that he's about to break.

all it takes is one accusation for him to burst, an explosive reaction taking place as he scrambles over himself, jittering words never lie—and neither was dazai. one more push, that's it. give him one more reason to break, a reason to take a step back and accept the situation—"why are you ignoring me? answer the question, osamu."

he breaks. dazai is scratching the wall behind him, teeth barring nervousness as his anxious gulp bops down. "i'm not," he tries to break away, his last resolve crumbling in the wedge of your fingers.

"you are."

"no i'm not."

"you are."

"no—"

"—yes."

by now, you could see the tears threatening to well up, his pupils glossy but never weak. he feels vulnerable, terrified, gross. disgusting for wanting to break down inside your arms. "i—" dazai doesn't have a voice to dismiss your claims anymore, all weak and cracky. "it's okay," you cup his hands, the lull of your warmth reminding him of his days back in lupin. "i won't judge you. i won't leave you. i won't lie to you. just tell me the truth, and i'll answer honestly."

what if dazai didn't want to hear the truth though? to know the fact that you may not reciprocate his feelings is already enough to warrant his shut down. eyes dulling, face going blank—"sorry," his voice is empty, never once have you thought to witness the brilliant dazai osamu shut down so fast. his refusal to communicate brought you back to square one.

dazai wasn't buff per say, but he did have some muscle in him that made him lean to a certain extent. you knew that you weren't going to overpower him by physical means, so that meant you had to act quickly and accordingly to get dazai to talk. "what're you sorry for? sorry for loving me?" direct and straight to the point.

that always seemed to be the best option when dealing with dazai osamu. his eyebags are prominent, the broken facade, now a sad one. "no," again, with his refusal. you already know by now that he's lying; truth in hand that he does love you. sighing, you break away. "oh, guess i was wrong then. see you tomorrow, sorry."

he doesn't inquire further, staring as you turn your back on him and walk away. dazai isn't sure what was with him, sure, he could be a little off the boat when it came to his emotions. but was he so down the sea, he couldn't swim back up and face the light? did he truly believe that night dwellers couldn't adapt to the light?

he didn't know. and legitimately, did not know what overcame his senses. "wait!" his shout echoes, your footsteps stopping and your silence making him nauseous. he does not know what overode his drive, but dazai is across from you, shouting, nearly into tears.

"you're leaving?" you could hear his unspoken words, just like that? averting your eyes, you nod your head. "yeah. like you wanted me to."

don't go. "why?" you need to stay. "because you wanted me to." no he didn't. he didn't—he didn't, he needed you, he wanted you, he wants to depend on you—"that's it?" his voice cracks. "yeah."

"why?"

"again, not forcing you—"

"—you're not!" his sudden outburst leaves you stunned a bit. you stood there, waiting for him to continue what he meant, but there was nothing. just heavy breathing and dazai's sniffles. finding nothing that was worth staying, you end up turning away, not noticing how dazai tenses up.

before you left, you wanted to get one last thing in; one thing you needed him to understand. "i'll leave if you want me to leave," and with that, your body starts moving, not giving dazai any time to process what you had just said.

had he been a split second to late, dazai wasn't sure that he'd be able to catch up to you. you hear him running, a bone crushing vice on your sleeve tugging you back. looking at dazai, you finally see it. the tears he refused to shed, the morbid expression he tried to hold in, and the thousand year worth of emotions he laid out on his face.

you didn't need to think twice about what he thought. no words were exchanged, dazai continued to silently cry as he wept shamelessly—"don't leave me." i love you.

#𝙙𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙞 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙗…༝༚༝༚#i remembered half way through this that i had a sfw blog but i was too lazy to transfer it so💀#ill throw some of my sfw back in here ig #as drabbles and thoughts tho #full fics will be posted on the other blog

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innominaterifter · 5 months

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None of the fans of "Worm" could resist taking a photo or video in a cafe with that name.

I chose the most secluded table and tried to do everything unnoticed, and on the whole my plan was a success. But I did not take into account children's curiosity.

A little boy, who was bored sitting with his mother and her friends, wandered around the cafe and looked for something interesting. Well, he found.

I only noticed him when I heard a loud sigh and saw a face with widened eyes peeking out from behind the back of a chair at a nearby empty table. Hmm, maybe insects that bring sugar cubes are not the most common thing he sees every day.

I didn’t want any problems with the cafe’s administration, so I couldn’t find anything better than putting my finger to my lips and making “Shhhh.” It seemed to me that it would look humorous and friendly and at the same time convey a request not to attract attention.

Okay, that didn't work.

(HelpMe.file: Perhaps I should not have called for silence, but, on the contrary, been friendly and offered to introduce him to my insects. Children, unlike adults, are often much less prejudiced towards them. I should try this tactic next time)

The boy sighed loudly again (or was it a hiccup?), jumped onto the floor and ran to his mother. I quickly picked up the roach from the table and placed it on my neck so that it was hidden by my hair. There was no time to hide the insect in its container, especially since this would be a noticeable action. I wanted to leave my hands free just in case, but practice has shown that putting a roach in my pocket is not a good idea: this species is quite agile, although not very fast, and if it decides to crawl out of the pocket, it will definitely do it at the most inopportune moment, and I won't even feel it. On my neck, I feel exactly where it is and what it is doing, and if necessary, I can stop it or direct it in a different direction simply by pretending to straighten my hair.

At the same time, I heard the boy, swallowing his words with excitement, telling his mother about what he saw and pointing his finger in our direction. I was ready for anything, but I counted on the fact that parents rarely believe their children when they talk about something strange or unusual. A cockroach bringing sugar cubes to tea would likely fall into both of these categories.

So I smiled friendly and put on an understanding, sympathetic look code-named “Oh-these-children!”.

I have seen it performed by my relatives quite often. Then I didn’t understand what exactly it was about my behavior that made them feel uncomfortable in front of other people, but just in case, I remembered the corresponding facial expression with an embarrassed smile, a sigh, an eye roll and a shrug.

This is a very convenient reaction if you don't know how to react to almost any story about children (people very often - too often! - like to talk about their children).

It worked here too. Well, what the boy described was really not what people expect from reality. The child’s mother answered me with the same facial expression with an increased inclusion of the apologetic component (if you are interested, then the eyebrows are responsible for this; a stronger raising of the eyebrows up and towards each other. The lips too stretch more strongly downward than to the sides, the lower lip is tense and, as it were, propped up the upper one, creating a sad arch and only the corners of the lips indicate a smile. The movements of the shoulders and arms also change somewhat).

As I thought, she chose to believe not her son, but the picture of the world that had formed in her head and in this picture insects do not help drink tea.

But in any case, I decided that it was time for us to leave this cafe. We shot the video, and I could have finished my croissant with tea in some other place. Moreover, I needed to transplant the cockroach from my neck into its container, and it was better not to do this here since the offended little gremlin did not take his eyes off me.

So far, the cockroach behaved exemplary and sat calmly under my hair, but at any moment, its ganglion could sparkle and send the owner to look for adventure. I didn’t want to catch a cockroach on my cheeks or pull it out from under my clothes.

I stood up and headed towards the exit, accompanied by a suspicious look from the boy and an embarrassed and apologetic look from his mother. And when I opened the door to the street, two things happened at the same time: the cockroach got bored and started moving towards my jaw; a gust of street wind blew my hair back exposing my neck.

Umm, it turned out quite dramatic.

The boy squealed both triumphantly and fearfully and began pointing his finger in my direction, attracting the attention of his mother and her friends. But I was already on the street, the door slammed shut, cutting off the sounds from me. I returned the hair and the insect to their place and, walking past the large display windows of the cafe, out of the corner of my eye I saw the boy’s mother and several of her friends looking at me in dumbfounded looks.

Well, maybe next time she will decide to believe her son and not the stranger at the next table. But overall, it was fun, I love such accidents.

#skitter #taylor hebert #worm #parahumans #wormblr #wildbow #cosplay #worm web serial #insects #cockroaches #roach

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logicalbookthief · 1 year

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With the return of Misaki and the uncertainty over Miri’s custody, I think it’s time to talk about the cat.

Because the cat is a direct parallel, and the reason why I believe things will go differently this time around, since they’ve both grown a lot over the last year.

The argument over the cat perfectly illustrates the crux of Rei & Kazuki’s issues at the start of the series.

Kazuki tells Rei that buying food for the cat isn't enough, you have to be willing to put in the work — and, given that he was gone for one night and comes home to an apartment filled with smoke, along with a pile of take-out and garbage, he was 100% justified in refusing the stray. Genuinely I don’t get why Kazuki taking this stance got the hate it did, any responsible pet owner would look at the Rei of Ep 1 and agree he was not ready for a cat.

However, this is something that Rei grows to understand when he’s left to care for Miri on his own in Ep 7 and Kazuki isn’t around to shoulder that responsibility. Rei realizes that his actions, or inaction, can negatively affect the people in his care, and it gives him a reason to change. I think it also gives him a new appreciation for everything Kazuki does, hence his attempt at French toast.

But I feel we don't discuss Kazuki's reason for giving up the cat enough, because they’re two sides of the same coin.

What he’s saying is objectively true and you can tell he’s speaking from a place of experience with what happened to Yuzuko. However, he is only focused on how what they do can affect the other people in their lives. No mention of how it would feel to lose someone or any lingering on how lonely this life is.

It’s a contrast to Rei, who brings home the stray without a second thought, simply because he wants to, not considering the impact it would have on the cat. Kazuki takes this to the opposite extreme, only considering what’s best for the cat and completely ignoring his own wants and feelings.

So, as we know, the cat is left where Rei found it. Not an ideal situation, no — much like leaving Miri with her mother would be, considering she did abandon her before — but it is the safer option in both cases.

Watch these scenes and tell me he isn’t fond of the cat. And when he realizes it’s cold and comes back with food for the little guy? Yeah, don’t tell me he wasn’t already attached.

But he comes back to an empty box. Implying to Kazuki, and to us the audience, that the cat was taken in by someone who could give it the normal, loving life that it deserves, which is why Kazuki leaves with a smile.

It is interesting to note that despite his disagreement, Rei went along with Kazuki’s decision over the cat, just as he went along with Kazuki’s decisions regarding Miri, whether that meant taking her back to her mom or committing to being her parents.

I always read this scene as Rei seeing how happy Kazuki is having Miri around. And thus he questions if this is really what Kazuki wants to do, resulting in that startled expression on Kazuki’s face. Like he hadn’t even considered that possibility.

Rei is perceptive, recognizing that Kazuki will be sad to see her go, yet he doesn’t argue when Kazuki firmly negates this as an option while looking upset again.

Kazuki has made strides in moving on from his wife’s death, but the idea that it’s okay to move on doesn’t erase the insecurities and tendency toward self-loathing he’s displayed, which were probably there long before he met Yuzuko. Even when he reconciles with Karin, her words of encouragement are, “I bet you can make her [Miri] happy!”

So if he truly believes that Miri will be happier or safer with her mother, Kazuki will absolutely choose to let her go.

And it will be up to Rei to go against his decision for once, because he knows that remaining a family is what they both want.

Here, Kazuki looks sad and resigned. I was always sort of disappointed we didn’t get a scene of Rei & Kazuki during Ep 7 when he was at his lowest and most self-deprecating. Now, though, I wonder if they were saving such a confrontation for this moment right here. Where Rei will have to convince him that his own happiness is a priority, too, and that their family is worth fighting for.

Now, uh. I do think that Rei’s decision that they stay together as a family will result in tragedy — there is too much foreshadowing to pretend otherwise — and that maybe Miri will have to stay with her mother for a bit out of necessity. But the point of this episode I think will be to highlight how much these two have grown because they wanted to be better for Miri and that it isn’t selfish to want to pursue that happiness for their own sakes, too.

#buddy daddies #kurusu kazuki #suwa rei #kazuki kurusu #rei suwa #unsaka miri #miri unasaka #buddy daddies meta

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whirlwindimagines · 1 year

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‘When you’re lost in the universe, don't lose faith’

a/n: Not requested! This is a sequal to 'In the moment where lost and found’, I just want to be by your side.’ Nobody asked for this but I wanted it lol i had written both pretty much back to back, only this took some time. its almost 2000 words! Title is a lyric from Hand of God by Jon Bellion

Edit: I AM SO DUMB? Why didn’t I finish the last paragraph?

You don't know why you are surprised when you wake up to an empty room, at first a deep sadness settles into you, and then anger. Ripping the blankets off and ignoring the pain that flares up in your shoulder you rush out of the room and down a flight of stairs.

Slamming your hands on the hotel front desk you startle the man behind said desk. “Blonde guy with a red coat, where is he.” Your tone leaves no room for argument, as the man looks at you shocked. The moment stretches out too long, and you lean forward getting into the guy's face. “Well?” you snap at him, which makes him move.

“Erm... I guess this is for you then.” The hotel clerk hands you a sheet of paper, which you yank out of his hands, turning around to read the contents.

‘Y/n… I'm sorry. I can't keep my promise to you, it's better this way to part now before you get seriously hurt because of me. Bad things happen around me, and I care about you too much to let me be your downfall. You deserve better, we’ll see each other again one day! But for now, it's goodbye, I’m sorry that I'm too much of a coward to tell you all this in person, but you know I've always been better at running away.’

You began to shake either out of anger or something else, how dare he make this decision for you! You wanted to travel with him, the risk meant nothing to you. Stuffing the note in your coat pocket, you turned back to the clerk who flinched at the deadly look in your eyes. “How long ago did he leave this?”

“The sun just began to rise, so not even an hour ago!” The clerk said, his eyes darting towards the front door. You called out a ‘thanks’ while you rushed out of the hotel, how far could get in an hour? Pretty far, you tracked the whole damn desert if you had to just so that you could wring his pretty neck. If he was sorry for leaving you, he’d be really sorry once you found him.

Thus began the search, you asked any person you came across if they had seen even a hint of Vash’s red coat. You had a feeling Vash wouldn't leave town, no he would make sure you were okay and had some footing and a plan. Because even if he was a coward, he wouldn't leave you in danger.

You just kept asking people, some pointed you in the right direction and others were wild Thomas chases. Morning turned to afternoon and then to dusk. Frustrated with yourself and Vash you sat down on a bench head in your hands. He would be gone by morning; you knew it deep down. Leaning back to look at the sky, you could feel yourself began to cry. Wiping your eyes harshly you stood. Damn him! Shoving your hands in your pockets, you fisted the material of the note he left you bringing it out. Maybe there would be a clue.

You flipped it over, eyes widening it was a receipt for a Sand steamer. It was a stretch, but you ran to the station hoping that he would be there. Why haven't you looked at that before, shaking your head, it didn't matter you need to move before you ran out of time.

Making it to the station you looked around frantically.

You’ve finally spotted the telltale sign of a red coat, without thinking you rush forward grabbing a fistful of said coat with your hands and yanking back hard. You hear Vash yell out startled, as he hits the sand ass first. He looks up at you as if he’s seen a ghost, it's much more like he's looking at one very pissed-off demon.

You stare down at him, hands shaking at your side. He has the gull to look shameful, he then looks away unable to hold your glare. Vash sits up placing his arms over his knees and his head hanging. He looks small, so unlike the man you're used to. It pains you, but you're going to have to hurt him to get him to understand.

“You left.”

“I know.”

Silence, you were tired of silence of unsaid words, you’ve had enough. “I got hurt, and it was your fault. Is that what you want to hear? That your right, I’ll probably continue getting hurt because of you. Because someone always going to be chasing you, and I'm making myself a target?” Your tone was harsh, and he flinched not picking his head up.

“But you know what you hurt me.” Your voice broke, and it caused him to look up to meet your gaze. “You're hurting me right now because you're shutting me out. You think leaving is going to protect me” He doesn’t say anything to you, he just holds your gaze and you can see the tears begin to pool in his eyes.

“Well, it's not!” you snap, God you’d just wish he’d say something, yell at you get mad something! “I'm going to get hurt again, and you're going to get hurt as well. And you know what? I’m not leaving!” You took a step closer towering over him, maybe you were being too cruel. You needed him to understand, it was you and him till the end of the line no matter what happened between then and now.

You watched as he clenches his fist, he looks at you sharply pushing his glasses up to rest on top of his head, you watch his tears fall and you ignore the pang in your chest. “I’m scared!” Vash finally snaps at you; his tone is cold but you're just glad he's talking. “I'm scared, that I won't be enough and that I’ll lose you like I've lost everyone else!” he ends the statement with a sob into his hands, “I'm never enough, and I can't let you suffer because of it.”

Your gaze softens and you drop to your knees in front of Vash, you gently grab his wrists to pull them away from his face. You hold his tearful gaze, with a tearful one of your own. “I’m scared too.” You whisper, dropping his wrists and leaning forward to pull him into a hug your arms resting around his neck and cradling his head in your chest. “But I would rather be scared together than apart.” His arms wrap around you suddenly he pulls you impossibly close and sobs. You hold him as tightly as you can, hoping to convey everything to him.

“You’re such a crybaby,” you say it as if tears aren’t steaming down your own face, Vash laughs it’s small and way too watery but it’s something. “You’re crying too.” You let out a huff, you continue to hold him as you both cry.

“Ya know maybe I want to protect you too? Ever think about that?” You muttered as you rest your cheek on top of his head, the silence stretched out, you were just glad to have him in your arms. You shivered as the night air settled over you, Vash squeezed you before dropping his arms and leaning back to look up at you.

“Why?” His voice was small, you smiled cupping his face in your hands. “Because that’s what you do for the people you love right?” Your words settled over the two of you, a risk, a chance, a choice. You held his face lightly letting him have a chance to pull away, his next actions would determine everything.

His blue eyes became impossibly wide, and they filled with more tears. You knew you were fully crying at this point as well, but you needed to give Vash a chance to figure things out for himself. So, you waited, and your hands begin to shake as the silence continued.

It happened in a flash, but Vash stood pulling you up along with him, both on your feet he grabbed your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours, he looked into your eyes and gave you such a bright smile you knew everything would be okay. “You love me?” he asked it quietly, his voice filled with hope.

You step forwards, to be closer to him. “Yes.” His hands shook, he begins to pull back “It's not safe.” Your own grip on his hands tightened, to keep him in place. “Vash look at me, as long as we’re together nothing else matters. We’ll figure it out. Okay? But God Vash, I love you and I don't want to be apart from you for even a second.”

Your confession was like a trigger for him, Vash pulled you towards him you let out a light shriek as he wrapped his arms around you and begin to twirl with you. “You love me!” Not a question this time, but a loudly proclaimed statement, he continued to spin you until he lost his footing and the both of you toppled to the ground. He managed to break your fall as you landed on his chest.

“You love me...” you laughed, picking your head up to meet his gaze, “Yes I think we’ve established this.”

“I... I love you too.” Vash whispered it so softly as if he was still afraid to admit it, it was real now. You both knew there would consequences, but at the moment the thought was far away. He was still scared and you were as well. Your future with Vash was unknown and dangerous, this was a risk for both of you a chance to get hurt, but it was your choice to love him and you would with everything you had.

You sat up looking down at him, as he only stared at you eyes wide and filled with warmth. You smiled leaning down and you placed a gentle kiss on his beauty mark below his eye. You leaned back, but before you could get too far Vash reached out and placed his hand behind your head to bring you back down to him.

Your lips were only inches apart as he stared at you, a question in his glance and a shyness to his movements. “I want to kiss you.”

“The feelings mutual.” You replied closing the distance, the angle was awkward. And you were sure Vash could not be comfortable on the ground, but all the same, it was perfect.

You pulled back, but not before placing another soft kiss upon his lips, you could do this forever and you would never tire of the feeling of his lips on yours. You helped Vash sit up, “can you say it again?” He couldn’t hold your gaze when he asked. His voice was so small, right then and there you decided you were going to spend every day showing Vash how much you love him.

Smiling gently, and leaning in to rest your forehead to Vash’s you spoke quietly into the night

“I love you, Vash.” You laughed as you watched his face heat up with an obvious blush. You didn't know what tomorrow would hold for you too, it could be peaceful it could be dangerous but you would face it together. He helped you stand; you didn't let him get too far away as you gripped his hand. Leaning in for another kiss, you knew that at this moment it would always be worth it to love Vash and him you.

#vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede imagine #vash x reader #vash imagines #vash imgaine #vash the stampede x reader #vash x you

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