#was the only one who wanted to. who fought for it. did the others simply give up because they couldnt let go of what they once had and so

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 79)

Alexia Putellas x Character (35) - Ridley Part One

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**4.5k**))

This is PART ONE of TWO for Ridley. You DO NOT have to read this! This is simply me getting out what's been in my head for a while about Ridley and her darker side and military ties. Although this one isn't bad at all, part two will be a lot more graphic and morally grey.

Any Australian military mentions such as squadron types and specialties are 100% real and researched.

Feel free to skip these two Ridley parts as you won't be missing anything in the main story. :)

RIDLEY POV PART ONE

Ridley’s body was thrown into the straps of her five-point harness relentlessly. She was sitting in the jump seat of a C17 – a last minute military aircraft she’d caught from London to Dubai. She just needed to escape. To get far away from her in the hopes that it would stop her from hurting Alexia. She wasn’t too concerned with hurting herself.

“The CAT is easing, Commander,” came the voice of the pilot through her head set. “We’re almost through it.”

CAT – Clear Air Turbulence. Ridley was tired, but she couldn’t sleep. She was seated in the cargo hold which was devoid of any other human except herself. “Copy.”

The flight was 7 hours long, and most of it she’d spent staring a thousand-yard stare into that void of the cargo hold just thinking about her. Alexia. The way she’d whispered, moaned, begged for her. The way she felt, the way she tasted and fucking moved with her. Her sounds when she whimpered, when she’d was pushed to her limits… when she came. It had broken Ridley, like she knew it would. How could she ever want anything less than all of her after that? No, she deserved more. She deserved the whole fucking world, and not the monster she was. Alexia had no idea what she was getting herself into with her, and she needed to protect her from herself.

They landed at 2pm local time and she caught a lift into town with one of the senior ranked officers on base. Ridley was known in the military world, and she’d been around. Met a lot of people. Worked hard and climbed the ranks. She was respected for her accomplishments, and now could come and go as she pleased, as she held such a high security clearance.

“Are you sure, Commander?” The officer asked.

Ridley nodded. “Here is perfect. Thanks for the lift.”

“Give us a call if you need anything. Anything at all.”

He left and she waited for him to do so. Only when he was gone did she jump on public transport to get to where she was actually going. She was used to frequenting Dubai for a few reasons, one of which being that it was central and in her line of work, that was essential.

She exited the train and moved over to the bus line, making sure she wasn’t followed as she went. Always aware. Always watching. Avoiding cameras and drawing attention. The bus moved through six stops and she stepped off just before the doors closed. From there she walked to her destination, stopping at a café on the way to pick up some sweets. A popular local sweet dish in Dubai that she loved was knafeh, which she bought along with filled donuts which were a must.

She paid for her items, adding a bottle of water to the list and was off down the street. She arrived at her destination at around 2:45pm and stopped outside, looking up at it. It was a mechanic shop. And not just any mechanics, the best in town. Anyone who knew Dubai knew that expensive cars were a given. Almost everyone had one. And this was the place they all fought for bookings at.

She walked into the open floor planned warehouse which was lined down the outer edges with cars on different levels, each getting work done, and each more expensive than the last. Ferrari, Lamborghini, Aston Martin, Bugatti, Maserati, Rolls Royce. She walked through and acknowledged each nod she received from the people who worked there. She came upon the office of the owner and knocked twice, opening before he answered.

“Ridley!” The voice boomed. Ali was a rich man, though not the egotistical type. In fact, he was rather the opposite. Most of the money he made went straight back into humanitarian efforts and other philanthropic endeavours.

She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek as she placed the knafeh on his desk in front of him.

“For you.”

He hummed as he looked her up and down. “You seem different…” he said in a strong Arabic accent.

Of course she did. She was fucking heartbroken. Grieving. In love with Alexia and forcing herself to break her heart. Plus, she hadn’t slept in 46 hours and had been wearing the same clothes she’d thrown on hastily as she’d left her in bed 9 hours ago.

“I haven’t slept in a few days.”

“No, no. There’s something else…” he murmured, still wondering. Eventually he gave up like people usually did. Ridley was a closed book. “But alas, I think I’m tired myself. I’m guessing you’re here for that?” He asked, gesturing to the wall.

She nodded.

“I was told you weren’t coming. Are you staying for long?”

“Unsure.”

“You’re welcome as long as you’d like. Anything you need.”

Anything you need. She heard that during almost every conversation when she was in Dubai. Another reason she enjoyed the place so much.

He smiled as he opened the box and she forced herself to give one in return. It’s not that she didn’t want to – just that it was difficult to fake any sort of positive emotion at this point.

Ridley turned and moved through the second door in his office. The one that was barely used. It led to the part of the warehouse that no one was allowed to enter except Ali and a select few individuals. The individuals she was there to meet.

She entered to the darkened part of the warehouse and was greeted by four heads turning towards her with the majority of their expressions showing they were caught off guard. All except the one person standing. The big guy.

He stood in front of the trio with a projector behind him, and his hands held behind his back with discipline. Beckett. That's what everybody else called him. That or Lieutenant. To her, he was Becks.

The trio sat casually in front of him, their chairs met with desks either side for their notes and food. Their faces spread into grins as she approached, placing the donuts on the table.

“Oh no, she’s here! Fucking knew this was another BOHICA,” said the little guy known as Fuzzy. His real name was Kaupa and he was SASR for Australian Army. They all were. Together, the group was made up the Fourth Squadron of the Special Air Service Regiment, though the government had never acknowledged their existence, nor ever would.

To the public, there were four official Squadrons. The 1st, 2nd and 3rd were sabre Squadrons, made up of 20 troopers with differing expertise, and they rotated through counter terrorism/special recovery and warfighting/reconnassaince. Then there was the 152nd Squadron designed for electronic warfare and to support the sabre squadrons. There were more, of course, though these four were the basis of the SASR for Australia and were always closely supported by the Australian Secret Intelligent Service for any of their missions and activities.

Their fourth squadron was not the usual. Instead of five of each in their special fields, there was one of each. And they were the best.

First, there was the little guy, Fuzzy. He was called Fuzzy because he was born in Papua New Guinea and during WW2, the Australian soldiers in PNG named the locals the ‘Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels’ as they helped them, cared for them, gave them medical attention in support. Kaupa fit that description. He was a little loose cannon, though the best when it came to his specialty. Mountaineering and jungle warfare. You’d never even know he was there until you were dead.

The next was a typical Australian guy named Williams, though they called him Wombat. Short for eats, shits and leaves. Crass, but true. He never settled down and never slept with the same woman twice. The typical womaniser, though Ridley loved him. He was unapologetically himself and he was well aware of his shortcomings. You had to be a bit of a nutcase to be in their profession. His specialty was Airborne. He could pilot anything like Ridley, and she’d met him when they were in the Air Force together, prior to their being poached by the SASR.

The last of the trio was a woman named Morgan. Her nickname though, was Duce, short for Medusa. Why? Because she could level a man with a gaze and wasn’t there to fuck around. She was the toughest of the trio. Her specialty was Mobility. That was ground movements, land movements, logistics, terrain and sniping.

She grinned at Ridley who returned it without a second thought. These were her family away from family. The people she trusted with her life. Though she trusted no one beyond the big guy. Becks. His specialty was Water. Scuba diving, water raids, submarines, etc. They ran the Squadron together for some time and although she held a higher rank in the Air Force, they both held the same in the Army and refused to be made higher. They didn’t want a desk job or to be put in command of more platoons and squadrons. No, their job was perfect and to be quite honest, she doubted that anyone could replace any single one of them. That’s why they were so successful. That’s why everybody in that dark side of the world knew them, and yet the public never would. They did the terrible things so that people could live their lives in peace and a blind happiness.

“You always think it’s a BOHICA,” Ridley murmured as she stood next to Duce. The woman wrapped an arm around her waist and smirked up at her.

“We both know Fuzzy loves a bit of bending over and taking it.”

BOHICA: Army slang for ‘Bend over here it comes again’ i.e. we’re being fucked.

“Now, now, there’s no problem with swinging both ways,” Wombat teased with a wink. He wasn’t just a womaniser for women, that one. Wombat loved everybody.

“I didn’t think you were coming for this one, Wings.” Becks said from the front. The others went quiet. He was very well respected. They both were. And he was the only one who called her that.

She shrugged. “I was bored. Besides, I figured you’d all need the help.”

“Oh no she didn’t.” Wombat challenged and stood.

“Bad idea bad idea, Romeo will smack you down,” Fuzzy said – wanting to see the result.

“Need help huh?” He fake challenged again.

Ridley stepped forwards and got close to him. Real close. The one thing he couldn’t control with her was his dick, and she had never, nor would she ever have done anything past a friendly touch with him. So now with her so close, he froze and as her lips closed in on his, she swept his leg and shoved him hard in the chest, forcing him to fall hard on his ass on the chair.

“Keep dreaming, Wombat.”

He grinned and stuck his hands up in surrender.

Ridley took her seat near Duce and put her attention back on Becks. “The floor is yours.”

Becks started presenting their mission again, throwing her a pack to read through.

“Here’s the finer details, the basis of it is that we’ve had a task we need to complete tonight. The son of one of the biggest political figures in Dubai needs recovering. His father is of vital importance to the current political stability in the middle east. He keeps the peace between Dubai and the western countries, including Australia.”

“Where is the son?”

“Taken hostage by Somali pirates. They’re using him as a bargaining chip to have his father cut the relationship between the middle east and western countries, and also money. Lots of money.”

He wasn’t saying the full story and she knew it. “Spit it out, Becks.”

He studied her face with a neutral expression before he spoke. “Cumar has him.”

Fuck.

Cumar was one of the largest crime lords in Somalia. Up until this point, they hadn’t managed to capture or kill him. Though he had killed one of their own. One of the pilots she and Wombat had trained with. He’d killed him right in front of her as she hung from the fucking ceiling, beaten and bloody. She was lucky the group had found her in time. She had more than a few scars from that incident. That was the last time she’d disappeared from Alexia.

Cumar, however, had escaped. He was currently the most wanted man on the globe.

She turned and looked at Wombat whose jaw was locking and unlocking. James was his friend too. It was difficult to not involve emotions.

“This is not revenge,” Becks said, reading their minds. “This is an overdue extraction. He’s been with him for two weeks now.”

“Two weeks? Where the fuck are the SAS? Why didn’t they handle this?” Wombat growled. He had a point; they had a lot more riding on it.

“They’re stuck in the Ukrainian conflict, and the uprising in the middle east at the moment between Palestine and Israel.”

“Seals?”

“They tried. They lost contact with them before they even reached his base and the yanks received some… prizes in return.”

Body parts.

Cumar.

“They believe this to be impossible. They want the best.”

Silence again. They were an interesting group of personalities, though they all had that intellectual and professional persona when it was serious.

“You wouldn’t look so confident without a plan..” Ridley murmured.

“This is mainly mobility so Duce has made a plan and we need to expand on it and see if it’s viable.” They nodded. “Duce?”

They switched places, Duce taking the front and Becks sitting in the seat near Ridley. He put a hand on her shoulder briefly. That’s the most physical affection he tended to show, though it meant everything.

“I’ve been liaising closely with ASIS and we believe his location to be here,” she said, pointing to an area on the map. She spoke of the location, identified the hazards and from the intelligence they were given, where their security were posted. They all listened carefully, adding their expertise here and there to overcome each of the potential issues that were already onsite or that may arise at some point as they made their detailed extraction plan. As they were talking – Ridley knew that coming here had been the right choice. Sure, she hadn’t slept in two days, but this… this was distracting. It was the only thing that could have distracted her from the thought of Alexia.. the softness of her skin… the feel of her hands tangled with her own as she fucked her from-

“Romes?”

Ridley looked up and Duce smiled. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were tired.”

“Mmnhmn.”

“We were talking about this. This is where we believe the Seals had an issue. They chuted in but their carrier was spotted and fired upon. From there, they were already dead, it was just a matter of picking them off when they touched ground. There’s this strip here that we’ve noted which may potentially be large enough to land at…”

“If their carrier was spotted then engine noise is our other issue,” Wombat said before turning to Ridley. “Can we glide in?”

Wombat was a fucking good pilot. But he knew what he was asking was dangerous and beyond anything he’d done before. Ridley had much more experience testing the limitations of aircraft and maximising the efficiency of an aircraft within the relative airflow.

She stood and Duce automatically stepped aside. Ridley pulled up the live map of the landing strip, she checked the wind, the cloud levels, the distance to the first potential group of people who may hear them. She’d need to shut down engines early… though from the look of the air pressure and wind…

“It’s dangerous. It has the potential to go very, very wrong. But it’s not impossible. With the weight of everybody here… we can use a plane small enough for the strip. It’s a full moon with direct contact to the strip so we will have okay visibility without lights when we go engines out. We can pull lighting just as we come down to flare, the trees will cover it by then. The biggest issue is getting an aircraft with an incredibly high aspect ratio. Think gliders… with an engine.”

“What’s the range needed?” Wombat asked.

“If we get approval to base and depart from Mandy Bay… the round trip will be around 1000 nautical miles.”

“So… bladder tank.”

She nodded. “Definitely. We’ll calculate the fuel needed for the return before we land and dump the excess fuel for weight as we glide in.”

“Do we have contacts in Kenya?” Becks asked.

“I do,” Wombat nodded. “I have a guy who’ll have the aircraft we need. I’ll make a call.”

Becks nodded and turned back to Ridley. “We can do this?”

“I’ll need to monitor every and all weather changes, but for now, it will work. The strip is north east facing, directly into the forecasted wind. It’s also almost the perfect amount of headwind for the direction we hit it, and it’ll give us a bit of leeway too. Cumar’s location is north. It’ll be hard to hear us as we’ll be downwind of where they are. I’m thinking we can switch off the engine a little later than anticipated because of it. It may end up being a bit of a crash landing, though, depending.”

Duce chuckled and Fuzzy scoffed. “It’s all been crash landings with Wombat since you’ve changed to coming and going as you please. How’s life as a civvy?”

Civvy – a civilian. She rolled her eyes and ignored the attempt to get a reaction from her.

“Happy with the risk?” She asked.

Becks nodded and stood, offering a hand. He wasn’t big on physical affection, though this was a treat. She clapped hands with his large, rough one.

“I’m glad you’re here, Wings.” He was the only one to call her Wings, and she the only one to call him Becks. Their own little way of showing their respect.

“Me too,” she smiled. She was glad she’d come, knowing that she was the only one who could land this.

“But you’re sleeping on the cargo plane before we arrive.”

To anyone else, they would have taken that as an order. Although she’d moved to part time, coming and going when she wanted, it still didn’t take away her rank or the respect they had for her. Beckett always treated her like an equal, although he was technically the sole squadron leader now. She listened to him talk about sleep though, and she knew it was coming from a caring place. He wanted her safe. And the group. Fatigue was a liability.

“Wilco.”

An hour later, they were on another military aircraft to Kenya. Ridley had found a medevac stretcher and had settled there with her jacket over her eyes. She slept through the flight and only woke as they touched down. The landing gear hit the runway and she jolted upright automatically awake. Fuzzy looked at her and gave a somewhat sad smile. They all tended to have those reactions, after what they’d seen. And although the PTSD was mild and well managed with therapy – they all knew they were stuck with it for the rest of their lives.

They stepped outside to a bright moonlit night at the US military base of Mandy Bay, Kenya. Flying backwards, they’d gained an hour, as it was only 8pm. They were greeted by officers and taken straight to their prep room. Ridley and Wombat detoured on their way to scout the plane they were to use and made sure it was satisfactory for the job.

“Happy?” He asked as he inspected a prop.

She nodded from her place under the wing. “This will work.”

“How much fuel, Commander?” The US officer asked from his ladder. He was filling the bladder tank in the back of the aircraft.

“Hold five. And move it more central for our weight and balance. We can’t have an aft centre of gravity with the structure of this.”

“Yes, Commander.”

 As he and another soldier moved the bladder tank more central under Wombat’s supervision, Ridley took out her tablet and double and triple checked her flight plans with the updated forecast of winds and weather.

“I need full wing tanks and that bladder with an extra 280 litres. I’m going in to prep. Standby in case the winds change before we leave.”

“Affirm - full wing tanks and 280 litres in the bladder.”

Their prep took hours – as it should. They were very, very thorough. It was rare they were ever caught out by surprises or unplanned events. They collected their packs, their weapons, and ran through their strategies with updated intelligence. Whatever happened – they didn’t exist. She wondered what Alexia and Blue would be told if she weren’t to come back. If she were to be killed. To be fair, she just wanted them both safe and happy. And then her will would provide the extra cushion of financial support for them.

Their off-blocks time was 10pm. They flew straight north, following the coast as the moon reflected the waves below. They flew high enough to not be heard, yet low enough to not be seen. There was a single road that ran across the border of Kenya, into Somalia and towards their target. It looked empty from above, yet they all knew better. There were definitely more of Cumar’s people checkpointing the road. Duce had intelligence on a few areas to expect them should they have to escape via road, though not all of them.

Being stuck in a situation where they couldn’t be seen or heard to approach, it meant they needed to conduct a non-conventional approach to the landing strip over water. This was to avoid the noise over the land. Ridley dropped them low over the ocean and joined an extended base for the strip. In the moonlight, they spotted it, but barely.

“Engines out is final.” She reminded. “We won’t be attempting to restart and we will be landing, regardless.”

“Affirm,” Wombat agreed from the right seat.

As they approached the height of engine out, he started to read her airspeed and altitude. This was the most difficult part by far.

“On spec… on spec… plus 4 on slope… plus 7 on slope… plus 10 on slope…”

Ridley had purposely increased her approach speed to compensate for the upcoming lack of power.

“Plus 15, plus 50…. 200 above engine out… plus 20, plus 80… 100 above engine out… 50 above engine out.”

“Established. Engines out.” She directed.

“Copy – engines out. Engine 1…”

Wombat shut down the first engine and Ridley compensated for the yaw with her foot pressed hard into the rudder.

“Feather engine 1.”

“Feathering engine 1…” The pressure needed from her leg eased as it feathered. “Engine 1 feathered. Engine 2 out…” He said with his hand on the second throttle.

“Affirm, engine 2 out.”

Wombat shut down the second engine, cutting the mixture and all went silent. They were gliding.

She compensated for the tiniest bit of yaw before, “Feather engine 2.”

“Feathering engine 2…” The need for rudder was eliminated until it was just to account for the wind. “Engine 2 feathered.”

“Gliding, lights out.”

“On speed, 50 below.”

He read her speeds and altitudes all the way down the approach, as was usual for a multi-crew environment. She checked her fuel and was satisfied with the remaining amount.

“Dump the bladder.”

Becks, Fuzzy and Duce dumped the bladder tank from the aircraft which made it lighter and put her back on slope.

“On spec.”

She’d adjusted perfectly for the engine outs and the weight loss from the bladder, and she could hear it in Wombat’s voice.

“Wind 030 at 15.”

She’d noticed the wind had shifted to a slight crosswind, though it was manageable. It was more difficult with a high aspect ratio of course. Longer wings means more area for the crosswind to push, though she worked the rudder and ailerons to crab into the landing strip.

“300 above. On spec…. minimums…”

“Continue.”

“200 above on spec. Lights on?”

“No until the flare,” she murmured. The trees were lower than she’d expected, and didn’t want to risk the lights being seen. “Lights at 70.”

“Affirm.”

“100 above.”

They were only 100 feet above the ground and descending at a rate that would result in disaster. But that’s exactly where she wanted to be.

“70 feet, lights.” Wombat said – powering the lights.

Ridley had a split second of vision to flare relative to the ground. She did so and held pressure back on the yoke, not having to compensate for the wind that was now blocked by the tree line. She held back pressure until the mains touched, and slowed with brakes until she could let the nose wheel down.

“Lights off.”

“Lights off.”

They went back to darkness, moonlight only, though that was enough. Ridley made the most out of the momentum of the aircraft to roll it to the far end of the strip and pumped the right brake in stages to turn them back around near the tree line. Ready for a quick getaway.

They stopped and parked there, pulling the park brakes on. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“That was fucking extraordinary.” Duce said, speaking for the others. She leapt out first, with her pack and rifles.

Fuzzy tapped her shoulder in thanks on his way out also. “Missed you.”

Wombat gave her a grin. “You’ll always upstage me, huh?”

“Someone needs to keep you on your toes.” She shrugged as she took her headset off.

He leapt out and she went to follow suit when Becks murmured from behind her. “There will never be another you, Wings.”

The highest of Becks compliments. She didn’t have time to respond before he was out on the ground.

Ridley slipped out last, hitting the floor harder than usual with the weight of her pack. Now they were in Cumar’s territory. Any step could be their last.

All of the group were hyper focused on their surroundings and automatically took up positions where their backs were to each other, protecting each other. Regardless - Ridley hadn’t even had a chance to join when she felt a body against her back, and a knife pressed so hard into her stomach that it pierced through flesh.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #woso x reader #alexia putellas #fcb femení #lionesses #fc barcelona #fc barca #culers

[gayfilmbro]

watched tusk today that film is so funny and also so harrowing like wow let me lie on the floor for a min

#like its sucg an absurd concept that i was laughing all the way through but then at some points ur there like #it forces you to see it as ridiculous until it becomes all too real and theres a guy who's a walrus fighting for and clinging onto his life #that will never be the same #and when he CRIES at the end like 'crying is important bc it seperates us from animals & shpws that we're human' (powerphrasing) #maybe he didnt go 'full walrus' but has some of his humanity in tact and maybe hes crying for the life he once had and the way he #took his freedom for granted #& the scene where he's underwater and there's all the past walrus experiments corpses like. do u think he was the only one to survive bc he #was the only one who wanted to. who fought for it. did the others simply give up because they couldnt let go of what they once had and so #spared themselves a life they didnt want to live created by a monster #ALSO ok the scene where he kills his creator. the man who rebirthed him as a walrus is the same scene where he for the first time does #exactly what the man wanted to do and helps the man to achieve his life's goal and he dies happy but at the sacrifice of his creations #humanity. #so the creation kills the killer and emerges as the killer's masterpiece and purpose. then he's nearly put out of his misery but not and #put in an animal sanctuary where he's constantly exposed. how is that okay #i do wonder whether he'd have thanked them if they did just shoot him after he killed his creator but. i dont know. i dont know. #ok ive run out of thoughts can u tell idk these characters' names lol #tusk 2014 #movies #‚

[jytan2018]

I read the comic in one sitting less than an hour after finishing the movie, and wow I have many Thoughts™.

- It's very obvious the two versions were meant to cater to different audiences AND tell different messages. I don't get why people are going "But the comic was better! It had more nuance!" just because Nimona was easier to root for in the movie.

- The comic was written back when ND Stevenson was still trying to process a lot of stuff, so all the characters are morally grey/straight up evil and the climactic battle is between a Ballister who regrets turning against Nimona, even if it was to save others vs. a Nimona who's too hurt to care if her lashing out was going to hurt innocent people.

- By the time Nimona got a movie adaptation, ND was a lot more secure in his sexuality, so the climactic battle was Nimona vs. the Director, the symbol of religious oppression and bigotry. It's not just about your friends turning on you because you're "too much" for them anymore, it's also about a society that would rather bring itself to the brink of ruin than coexist with you.

- (I totally get why people were upset about Ballister's surname change, though. Like come on, the media dubbing him Blackheart just to be mean was RIGHT THERE).

- Nimona's metaphor for not shifting is such a neurodivergent thing. Even in the comic, Nimona's parents insisting she's a monster who replaced their daughter is reminiscent of the changeling myth, which is what many parents thought their neurodivergent kids were—changelings who replaced their "real" children.

- Ambrosius being trained to cut off HIS BOYFRIEND'S WHOLE FUCKING ARM instead of merely disarming him is a very cop thing to do. As much as cops claim they're trained to de-escalate situations, their training still teaches them to treat everyone as a potential threat, and that level of constant vigilance can turn anyone into a trigger-happy/arm-choppy bastard. Even the Director, who can use a sword but probably hasn't actually fought someone in ages, STILL can't see Ballister reaching for the squire's phone without assuming he has a weapon.

- And on that note, the Queen getting killed simply because she was trying to reform the Institution and allow commoners to become knights? That's the best "no such thing as a good cop" metaphor I've seen. Because even if there ARE good cops and they ARE in leadership positions, the system will crush them before they make any meaningful change. It's not a good institution that turned rotten, it's an institution that only exists to spread its rot and refuses to be good.

- That's why Ballister's characterisation is so different in the movie vs. the comic. Comic Ballister had 15 years to come to terms with his trauma and the Institution's evildoing, while Movie Ballister is still freshly traumatised and hasn't found a way to define himself beyond the role he was assigned by the Institution.

- Not to mention Comic Ambrosius was not very noble to begin with and genuinely believed Ballister was better suited to villainy than heroism, while Movie Ambrosius never wanted the glory that came with his lineage in the first place and only antagonised Ballister because of indoctrination he needed to unlearn (which he did, all by himself, after witnessing the lengths the Director will go to just to kill Nimona).

- It really shows how important it is to surround yourself with loved ones who are open to change. Comic Ambrosius can love Ballister all he wants, but he'll still blast his arm off because he thinks Ballister deserved it anyway. Movie Ambrosius will stop to question what "the right thing" even means, even if he didn't love Ballister enough to defend him unconditionally.

I have so many more thoughts bubbling beneath the surface, but I'll probably address them some other day. In conclusion:

[ID: A pink-haired Nimona grinning evilly while holding up a knife.]

Watch Nimona. This is not a request.

Edit: Added more thoughts!

#nimona #nimona meta #nimona comic #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin

[reneezsq]

forelsket

forelsket (noun.): the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love.

❛ !¡ pairing; aventurine; sunday x gender neutral!reader.

❛ !¡ summary; a heartbeat too irregular, breathing quick and shaky hands sweating under expensive gloves. who could have thought getting attached is as sweet as your favorite dessert ?

❛ !¡ warnings; it is specified for both that reader likes anything with sugar.

❛ !¡ a/n; kinda self indulgent for me and one of my besties cuz she loves aventurine too much and i have a big fat crush on sunday (gotta cuddle the angel and the gambler)

♡–,✎ smitten:;

AVENTURINE

. never has he fancied himself over falling head over heels with anyone for the matter. any sort of relationship he could have formed, or bond to a certain extension, with anybody was surely for his own selfish desires. as a way to get over his life the control he lacked for so many years, a hope to regain mastery over himself and feel that for once in his life, all over again, his choices belong to no other than him.

. and at first he loathed the thought of falling in love. he knew all about the wonders it does on one’s mind: taking away their ability to form a coherent speech, the loss of the mastery of your own body and a certain yearning for the person of your affection. it scared him to some degree that if he ever fell in love he would yet lose all over again the freedom he fought to regain.

. at first, your meeting was only supposed to remain as a simple meeting. you were a new recruit to the ipc and he had been appointed with showing you around the main building. he had never planned to stick around too close or to engage in a full conversation. but his plans were thrown out of the window as he gazed at your pretty face. eyes sparkling at the view of someone’s cake in the fridge with some drool seemingly forming at the corner of your mouth. you looked so… how can he even explain such a feeling to himself or anybody else ?

. at that moment, he felt like simply coming up to you and wrapping his arms around you. only to keep you within his grasp and make sure you will never run away or be harmed. no matter if you are taller than him. but he had to shake away the thoughts to start the visit. and also maybe to know you better, after all only falling for one’s looks isn’t as wise as it can be, knowing how many beautiful people are the most dispensable people out the whole universe.

. just like he had dreaded, you were oh too kind for his heart to take it lightly. curiously peering at every corner and listening to him as he talked about the necessities of the work without too much details. he had to look away more than once and pray the pink dye on his glasses would conceal the ever growing blush on his cheeks. seriously, how unfair can you be ?! making him all flushy inside that he almost wants to melt when you waved him goodbye to go to your section to get to work.

. but, for some reasons, he did not find this uncomfortable in the slightest bit. his body was still his at the end of the day, and only the brushing of your fingers against his gloved ones remained in his mind. for once, he wished to take off his glove to feel some contact for the first time since so long. if it’s yours, he doesn’t feel like he will mind it too much.

SUNDAY

. he never really spared any real thought towards loving and being loved. he had more important matters like the health of his sister and her happiness, his role as the spokesman of the family and all the worries that came with taking care of penacony. so, truthfully, the idea never really came to his mind, and if it did he would discard it away without any real second chances for it to last.

. but during certain nights, he indulges in those kind of feelings that swirl deep within him as he wonders how he will feel if he falls in love with an individual. will his biggest strength to deliver eloquent speeches to move away a whole crowd for his own benefits turn into sand if he gazes too long in the eyes of the one that would steal his heart ? would his face heat up in the haste of their shared love and would he find himself holding their hands with a grip a bit too tight ? who knows. maybe he does want to fall in love in the end…

. the first moment your gazes crossed paths was during a concert of his sister. he enjoys watching those above all else. drowning in her beautiful melodies and allowing himself to breathe in the imagery of a field of flowers where he can feel the heartbeat of the world as he lies down the grass. ah, what a beautiful view of the sky painted in the hues of the ocean. how much he enjoys indulging himself in such lovely views created by the dreams of his mind.

. this is when he first saw you. all panicked in the crowd and breathing heavily because everyone was being too rough and too noisy next to you. he felt a pang of empathy towards this strangely beautiful stranger that got the unluck of being stuck next to so many disrespectful people. and his steps made him walk closer to you. a hand over their shoulder to catch your attention before he led you away from the concert.

. when you two went to relax in a small cafe away from everyone else, he turned on his phone to watch the live performance of his sister’s concert (which he has free access to). maybe you cannot be there, but at least you will still be able to hear her singing and see the thing as a full. afterwards, one drink in silence turned into two, then three as the conversation continued onwards. and he found himself unable to stop it, wanting to know more and more about you. and for once he did not want to know that in case it was needed, he was curious.

. when he bid you farewell and returned home, his sister couldn’t stop herself from telling him he seemed in such a brighter mood than he was at the start of the day. the honest smile in his lips and gaze dwelling back into what had happened that day. he simply told her he got a new acquaintance as he stared at the screen on his phone, with your number on it. well, that was a very precious day now, wouldn’t you say so ?

♡–,✎ wooing:;

AVENTURINE

. he’s insufferable. honestly. when he got over his little crush, all that stayed was a weird mix between the mask he puts over himself for the attire of confidence he had put over his own heart and the clear indication that you might be a bit more in his eyes. however, you will never know if it is genuine or not for a while. a gambler never reveals his cards.

. instead, the sole lead that remained to help you in your decision making was the small gestures he did all the time, his constant bothering you with calls, messages and funny little notes found in your office as well as the never ending questions by his side. one could be a coincidence, two was weird, after three you knew there was no getting away from that sickeningly stunning man you both adored and loathed sometimes (how can he be so adorably annoying ?)

. your missions end quickly, for one reason: you do nothing instead sitting next to him as he bets his life for the fifth time tonight. you know he will win but you cannot help the faceplan on your face as he proudly places down his cards for a final round and challenges opponents thinking they are a bit too lucky. you are no fool in front of his hand behind his back or the unmistakable shaking of it as it rests against his thigh under the table in a closed shaky fist. you never really dared to hold it, as to not break any bound that might last between you too. but as he looks at you to see the fondness with which you gaze at him, he feels like he already hit the jackpot.

. those nights always end up with your fist lightly hitting the top of his head after stealing his hat as a reminder that he is not eternal and he scared you to death. then he runs after you while making sure to remain slower, only to see the sun smiling back at him in all its glory. if you are lucky enough, he will let you wear it. fret not ! if he says no, attack him by the heartstrings with the cute big round eyes and a sad pout gracing your lips. he never won. his maximum is 26 seconds, dr. ratio counted for you one day. how kind.

. the type to use cringe pick up lines, but he is forgiven by his undying attractive looks. would call you the weirdest things during those times to make a bad joke meant to make your heart swoon. forgive him for being so bad, it’s his first time falling in love and not everyone is born with enough charisma to be both lucky in games and lucky in love. a loser, but one you comfort during his most unlucky defeats against your heart with a little peck in the cheeks. suddenly his mood is brighter and he is bringing you along to a shop or a restaurant.

. his money becomes yours the moment his heart was a bit faster and harder against his ribs. you could gaze at a cake from the other side of a window for 0.4 seconds and he had magically appeared inside. not like you complain but your stomach is starting to be a bit more demanding and whiny when you are close to him. he caught onto that and lightly poke you every time before heading towards another dinner you two will share. you will get your cake, but let’s get a healthy meal first to ensure you will stay all pretty and happy. he wouldn’t want you feeling bad over your body because he couldn’t resist your stare. he is no simp, promise (is that his fingers crossed behind his back ??)

. sometimes he comes to your house too. you two act like a couple more than you would both enjoy to admit. him lazily sipping on some coffee and answering calls here and there from the ipc while you are cooking or doing anything really. he could send you a weird meme of two cats biting each other with a “us <3” while you two are sharing a blanket and watching a film at the same time, in the same house, in the same room, in the same couch and almost cuddling. what a funny little man.

. his confession would be sweet. for once, no casino was involved during the whole night. you might think he was perhaps a bit sick but no, he was not ! feeling perfectly a–okay, although his perfume is a bit more prominent and for some reasons he is buying you more things than usual.

. please, let him talk first. he will not be able to say anything if you even dare to utter a word as you two arrive under the starry sky in an abandoned park. with some lamp, he will use morse code:

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

. your answer was: ..--- ; and he felt like falling in love all over again as you both started laughing over your own dumb love towards one another. ignore the tears, he is just happy. and perhaps this small shooting star was his sister’s best wishes.

SUNDAY

. the first thing he ever does when he goes to meet you is buying you flowers. now you have a ton of bouquets around your house and had to convince him to maybe settle for something that you two could consume or else you would have enough plants for the funerals of all your family members, that is if the bouquets were not holding a deep message. yes, he loves the implicit. the ones he loves gifting you the most are orchids¹, red roses² for the classics as well as carnations³ and sunflowers⁴.

. the embodiment of a gentleman and i am not joking. for him, courting you is not something to be taken lightly. he is playing his future love life on the line and will not allow any mistake to be made on his end. he wants to win over your heart and be a big selfish as to remain the sole object of your affection, and he will accomplish such a goal but being as gentle as he can be with you — without, of course, being too overbearing or controlling with you. he wants something genuine, not you accepting his love because you felt forced to do such a thing based on his status as a leader or place in the family. hence why he will refuse for a certain while to talk about his profession, he will end up telling you, pinky promise, but not now yet.

. going back to the previous subject of him being a gentleman. he will hold the doors open for you, all the time and it can maybe turn into a competition if you try to beat him. his arms quickly around your waist to stop you as you two giggle like two teenagers a bit too smitten. walking down some stairs ? here, his hand. he wouldn’t want your ankle to be twisted. and the feeling of your hand in his is quite enjoyable too. i am also talking about pulling your chair for you (if you sit first he will do this tiktok trend of being unable to move the chair to have you check it so he can pull it for you), letting his shoulder be soaked when it rains and you have only one umbrella as well as kissing your knuckles when you two meet.

. he always has his hands on you, i swear. it is so very obvious he has fallen head over heels with you and even he cannot deny it any longer. but when his hand is always resting at your lower back — your consent is included, if you do not like it he will let you take hold of his arm instead — as you walk through a particularly crowded place in the streets or in a building. always the perfect guide to accompany you to your destination. travel in security, travel with sunday !

. do not think his sister is not involved in his plans to win over your heart, because if you think so you are solely mistaken. she already knows of his adoration for you and even gives him small pieces of advice. after all, she has a lot of fans trying to woo her, so she knows different tactics and will share those that make her a bit weak in the knees to help her brother with his soon–to–be–lover. she went as far as to do a concert with only the two of you, singing a love song while you were humming alongside her tune. he still cherishes this moment when he hasn’t seen you for a certain while.

. he never enters your home without the green flag to do so. the most he did the first few days you went out together was accompany you to the porch and flash a small wink your way, the two of you letting out small laughs at how corny and movie–like the whole ordeal has been. seriously, it feels like a mix of your favorite book tropes with all the cringy stuff that you can view in your favorite romance movies. but you two are a sucker for traditional romance, how can you be blamed ?

. now, for his confession, oh lord. he became the best husband in one night and you were feeling all hot in the face all day. because, yes, he booked a whole day of different activities the two of you could do together. from sharing a simple meal to making some poems. he wrote the best ballads and sonnets you have ever read in the entirety of your life — seriously, how can a man be so talented in such different fields ?

. at the end of the day, you two walked in a park where you both ended up sitting down on the same bench. there was barely no one around as it was late enough already, and when the lamps finally lit up, you saw the whole city come back to life for the night. it was a whole show in itself, to see the advertisements light up, the street lamp illuminating the roads and the atmosphere changing around the two of you.

. after a small quick breath, he placed a present upon your lap and let you open it. it consisted of a music box, playing one of the unreleased songs of his sister you had the pleasure to listen to with him. but there was a particularity: this was a love song. when you gazed back at one another, you both knew.

♡–,✎ engagement:;

AVENTURINE

. the bad pick up lines got worse. now he uses them when falling off the stairs, upon stumbling with his own two feet over some air and when he has a good hair day (clue: he always has good hair). so no, there is no escaping his constant praises and compliments and cringy flirting. but you’ll forgive him, won’t you ?

. he is so affectionate it feels like he became some glue next to you. there is no joke in that. when you two are at home to simply relax he will have his arms around you while doing anything at all. but don’t let your guard down, he might take off his clothes to move your shirt aside and rest his freezing hand upon your skin directly. just to hear your little squeals as you look up at him. his other hand will hold your cheek to feel the warmth burning at his fingertips before kissing it better as his own small apology. during moments like these, make it difficult to regain his love. more kisses for the two of you and more cuddling too.

. even in the casino he goes, he is affectionate too openly. he has really no shame screaming at the top of his lungs how much he loves you and the fact you are all he ever dreamt of having. your head is resting on his shoulder with one arm around your waist. he found that tracing forms on your skin is better than gripping a chip in secret, and now it comes naturally. if you ever fall asleep on him while he plays, he will not hesitate to take off his hate and put it on your to hide the lights from your eyes and allow you a better sleep. even when the game ended, he will stay at the table a few more moments to then give you the correct time to wake up from your little nap. i hope you don’t mind being awakened by kisses all over your face.

. his hat is the only thing he shares, sorry not sorry. his clothes are his and he wants to keep them as such. if you want to wear them he will happily buy you something similar, but the idea of sharing clothes is not something he cherishes that much. however, matching clothes ? this he doesn’t mind ! matching pajamas sets ? check. matching glasses ? check. matching accessories ? check. wearing matching pairs only add to the whole showing off you are his, doesn’t it ?

. he is not that possessive per say, maybe simply a bit paranoid that things might happen to you in hopes of getting to him. but he is truly aware you are capable and will not sugarcoat you (if you do not have any injury, get one as small as a paper cut and he is throwing dramatic gasps to make you laugh), but he will not hesitate to show that he is yours as much as you are his and no one can take you away from him. however, he can have his own insecurities. not look wise, come on that smirk on his face shows that he knows how pretty he is. no, it is more towards his gambling addiction and financial tendencies to spend everything without a care because of his insane luck. he knows that it might be a red flag, or you might be dragged away from him if he continues too much. you can kiss him better or show him an alternative (don’t do gacha games, please, he will know no limits at all you will worsen the problem dearest).

. all in all, you won your own little jackpot by being with him. sure, he has his own secrets and things he will probably never share with you. but at the end of the day you are both satisfied only holding each other’s hands as you dance under the stars like idiots or jump on the water that stayed in the streets after it rained. maybe you are a bit childish, or maybe you simply indulge together in what you always lacked: an innocent and pure love.

SUNDAY

. his money became yours, quite literally. need to buy a book ? here take his credit card. you want to start having weekly shopping sprees with robin ? he will make a new card just for the two of you that you can use. do not shy away from using his money, he wants you happy and he knows that sometimes only acquiring certain items you cherish will fill your heart to the brim. however, he is waiting for a small peck on the cheek and if you bought close you better make a small show for him. the two of you will end up dancing in the living room and it will end with a small kiss.

. the type to be a sucker for any type of kisses. would randomly come up to you, grab your face and kiss your forehead, your cheeks so no jealousy and then your lips. at first you were taken aback but now you are used to it and no real surprises anymore to be honest. you just melt and sometimes kiss him back when he pulls away. aha ! now he is the one with warm cheeks :P.

. he shares his food a bit too much, his plate becomes yours. not the type to give you his plate though. no, instead he will take your fork or spoon, serve enough in it and bring it to your lips. you can never deny him because of the fluttering of his wings that shows just how happy he is to do such a thing. and let’s not talk about desserts. he would buy five of them, eat one spoonful and then give you the rest. i am not hungry anymore, he says, what a very sweet liar he is. that is not his fault, do not blame him please, he just wishes to see a small smile on your face because you love them so much.

. talking about his wings, you can know his mood with how they react. a pretty useful indicator to be honest. if they are a bit down, he is sad or just tired. a few cuddles might fix the issue and if it doesn’t just massage his feathers, but be careful those little wings are still very much sensitive. if they are fluttering, then he is quite happy. weirdly enough they always flutter when you are with him. sometimes he uses them to hide his face if he is a bit flustered. he looks quite adorable when he wants to.

. also not the type to share his clothes, the only exception being his jacket if you are cold and brought nothing for yourself. unlike aventurine he is not for matching sets of clothing, he would prefer if you two kept your own style. but he is for matching jewelries and such. his favorite match is earrings. he will wear the right one most of the time as you wear the left one. his second favorite has to be necklaces. you have a pair of necklaces that go together like two puzzle pieces, and every time you cuddle you let them click together and they remain as such until you have to go to work or sleep or pee.

. being with him is like walking through a street in the middle of the light. his embrace and touches being the few people complimenting you along the way and his comfort being the warm light cast upon you. and when you fall asleep, it’s like having found your own little haven all over again. perhaps, with you, he will learn to be a bit more honest with himself over time.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

orchids¹ – they symbolize beauty, charm and love.

red roses² – they symbolize love and passion.

carnations³ – they symbolize fascination and love.

sunflowers⁴ – they symbolize admiration and loyalty.

(if any of those informations are wrong, tell me and i will fix it asap !)

TAGGING:: @amxto; @dxmoness; @sweetlyvibe; @quatrdeal; @yoghurtsan

#x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail sunday #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #aventurine fluff #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #renee.writes

[wooahaes]

svt - with a shy partner

pairing: non-idol!svt x gn!reader

prompt: svt with a partner who is shy(/kinda anxious).

genre: mostly fluff. established relationship in all.

warnings: reader getting anxious. some food mentions throughout. alcohol/clubbing mentions in soonyoung's (reader has a shitty time) + mentions of reader having shitty friends in soonyoung's. seungkwan yelling at someone being a dick in his. vernon fakes sick. usage of 'dude' as a term of endearment in vernon's. minghao being affectionately evil. chan being a lovable menace for a moment to distract them (teasing + tickling reader). intentional lowercase, no proofreading.

daisy’s notes: sorry some of these are longer than the others, i just wanted to write mostly affectionate sweet established relationships. also this is probs veering into anxiety territory at some points im sure.

choi seungcheol

seungcheol knew that you loved him softly. this would never be an issue with him: some people simply weren't loud when it came to loving others, and he was never going to turn away your subtle touches and loving words. being outgoing was hard for you even now in life, where seungcheol had learned to manage it well. therefore, he knew how to take care of you in social situations. he would lead conversations when you were faltering, and he always stayed close to you just to give you someone to latch onto when things were getting to be too much. shy as you were, you still tried sometimes.

and now he was on his way to save you from yet another conversation with the only two friends of his you allowed to tease you.

joshua was snickering at whatever jeonghan had said to you to make you shrink into your sweater (the one that matched seungcheol's, with the heart patches on the elbows), and you looked as though you might drown yourself in the soft fabric if jeonghan didn't stop. but seungcheol knew as well as you did that all it would take is you saying a firm 'quit it' for both men to back off. they were harmless, through and through. but the moment seungcheol was close enough, you already sought refuge at his side, burying your face into his sweater. he could feel your face burning hot.

"what are you saying to them now?" seungcheol rolled his eyes, arm wrapped around you. "are you trying to kill them?"

"all i did was point out that you two are matching again," jeonghan hummed. "it's not my fault they get embarrassed when i point it out."

joshua rolled his eyes. "cheollie to the rescue again."

"shua!" you peeked back at him, lips pressed into a very cute pout. "cheollie, they're bullying me again..."

seungcheol fought back a laugh. that was always how these things played out. jeonghan and joshua, two of your longtime friends, would tease you a little, and then you would pout at your cheollie while he protected you. hell, the latter half was usually how seungcheol saved you from other silly things. he'd been the "excuse me, they asked for no pickles" kind of boyfriend to you time and time again... mainly because he knew you'd hold your tongue otherwise, trying not to bother people. but with these two? you were comfortable playing this little game.

so seungcheol squared up a little. "are they?"

jeonghan rolled his eyes. "here they go again." and he grabbed joshua by his elbow, leading him away with an excuse. if seungcheol hadn't been matching you, maybe they would have played... but something about matching anything gave seungcheol this weird boost of strength.

seungcheol rolled his eyes in turn, wrapping his arms around you as he turned his attention away from them. "i'm glad you're okay with them, you know." he let out a blissful sigh. "it's cute to see you embarrassed."

"cheollie..." you pouted again, eyes meeting his own. you glanced around the room, suddenly acutely aware of how you'd been holding onto him. no doubt your face was burning hot with embarrassment again. "can we go home now?"

he chuckled, leaning to kissing the top of your head. "we can," he promised. "let's go."

yoon jeonghan

if there was one thing that endeared jeonghan to you, it was the cute flustered expression you had whenever he started flirting with you. no matter how long the two of you had been dating, all he had to do was call you adorable to see your eyebrows shoot up, lips agape as you made some comment about how the two of you were 'past that' now. his favorite moments, however, were these: you were trapped on one end of the couch, legs draped over his lap, and he was toying with you idly. sometimes it'd be admiring your hands, or complimenting your hair, or pointing out how much he admired you sense of style...

today? he'd been pinching your cheeks with that wicked giggle you loved (even if you refused to admit it sometimes). "you're just so cute," he snickered. "i'm so lucky..."

"hannie..." you whined, eyes still pinned to the tv screen. "you're missing it."

your face was burning hot underneath his touch, though. a little win in his book. "i'm trying to appreciate you right now," he teased. his gaze flickered back to the tv, where the male lead was (finally) confessing his love. "what does he have that i don't?"

"jeonghan, i--'

"do you like him more than me?" he teased you further, leaning in. "i could be him. he couldn't be me, though."

your gaze met jeonghan's as you pouted a little, yet never pulled away from his touch. "jeonghan..."

"i'll re-do my confession to you," he dropped one hand to rest on the outside of your thigh, leaning in. that jovial expression dropped for a moment as he became completely serious for a moment, playing it up all too well, "i'm in love with you. do you... could you be in love with me, too?" he traced your bottom lip with his thumb. "i know you once loved joshua, but--"

and that was your breaking point as you pushed his hand away, already snorting. "jeonghan!"

before you could try to dive away from him, jeonghan had wrapped his arms around you, that airy laugh punctuating his break in character. he pulled you back in, head resting on your shoulder. "you're too easy to mess with," he giggled. "you should have never told me you had a crush on joshua, by the way."

you rolled your eyes, snuggling in. "noted."

joshua hong

joshua knew how to calm you down when your shyness was getting the better of you. he wordlessly wrapped his own stretchy, bead bracelets around your wrist, and ran his thumb across the beads. you told him once that it helped you for some reason (you'd never figured out the cause), and that had been enough for joshua to always keep at least one bracelet on him. even in a formal event like this. you had made the sacrifice of coming to his work event with him, the lead he could do was ensure you were taken care of.

one of the higher-ups had struck up conversation with you, and joshua knew that it made you far more nervous. you'd answered their questions as best as you could about your own work, your college, your life... and the occasional stammer was enough to give you away to him. joshua knew you were terrified of slipping up, of saying the wrong thing. he'd been the one who spoke for you in several other situations, but he knew what other people would think if he kept doing it. he shouldn't speak for you. or, even worse, that you were rude for not speaking for yourself. he could stand people thinking badly of him, but of you?

he'd silently rolled the bracelet off his own wrist while no one was looking, and pulling it over your own when pretending to inspect your watch. it looked out of place at this formal event, but it was fine. he kept a hold on your hand, thumb running across the beads. for a moment, you looked at joshua, and then gave him the subtlest of smiles before resuming your space.

when he brought it up, you already had an answer. "it's because you're there with me," you told him later that night while sitting outside of a burger place. you'd been stealing his fries, but he didn't care. he was out of that place, and so were you. you could take everything if you wanted. you'd already taken his heart, what else did he have left that wasn't yours already?

"but you know that." he said. his tie was loose around his neck, the top few buttons undone. his jacket had been left in the car he left parked down the street. the two of you needed a real meal after the appetizers (or the 'horse divorce' as you had whispered to him to get him to laugh) were barely enough to feed either of you. "i'm never gonna leave you alone in situations like this."

"i know." you averted your gaze when you said it, ever the bashful one when it came to acknowledging his affections. "i just... i like it when i know you're there. and i like wearing the bracelets you make. it just makes me feel more connected to you, if that's okay."

he leaned over, lips pressing against your cheek. "that's always okay," he said, voice softer. "we're a team. i've got you, alright?"

you smiled again that same sweet smile he'd kiss goodnight forever if you'd let him. "alright." and then you snagged another fry from his meal, eyes flickering up to meet him. "thanks for being on my team, shua."

for you? he'd be anything you needed. teammate, cheerleader, manager... just say the word.

wen junhui

"you forgot them."

jun wasn't afraid to speak up for you. seungkwan had been getting a head count of the group since he'd been the unlucky volunteer to go back inside the vacation home to get drinks, and he paused immediately at jun's casual statement. his gaze flickered over to where you were sitting next to jun, visibly flustered, and everyone else had suddenly shut up.

"huh?"

jun waved it off casually. "you forgot to count them," he said, arm curling around you. "just don't forget to get their drink."

"it's okay," you squeezed his hip gently. "i could have gotten my own drink--"

"seungkwan lost the game, so it's his job," jeonghan called out from his spot on the other side of the fire. he was always so mindful of you and how you got timid when around the full group. "don't be sorry about it."

"seungkwan should be sorry," chan said without missing a beat. "he's the one that forgot them."

mingyu caught seungkwan by the back of his shirt before he could step towards chan, instead pulling him back into his arms with a lighthearted laugh. "i'll help you," he said. "come on. let's get everyone their drinks."

you watched the two wander off, fingers already curling around the edge of jun's shirt. all you had to do was give it the slightest tug to earn his attention. "you didn't have to do that," you said softly.

his brows raised a little. "hm?" he looked toward where the pair had left. "did you want to get your own drink?"

"no, i..." you pursed your lips. how did you say 'i'm used to being forgotten' without it sounding bad? you were typically the quieter one in a group. if you weren't with your close friends, then people seemed to overlook you by accident--just as seungkwan had done. "it's normal for me, that's all."

"it's his job, though," jun said, as casual as he could be about it. "if you wanted to get your own drink, that's fine--but it shouldn't be because he miscounted."

if it wouldn't net him a little teasing, you would kiss him here. even a chaste kiss on the cheek earned teasing with all his friends present. so you just snuggled in, knee pressing against his, and gave him a quick squeeze around the middle. it was subtle enough no one would comment on it.

"thank you, jun," you said softly. "i..." get nervous with large groups. but he already knew that.

even if it earned him a little teasing, he leaned in to press a kiss into your hair. "i've got you," he promised. "don't worry. i'll always remember you."

kwon soonyoung

all of this fucking sucked and there was no place you wanted to be more than home. but you were always a bit of a pushover, always the person who said no to going out, to going to clubs, to doing things in highly busy places when you could barely move... and yet here you were, completely miserable. why did your friends even invite you to places like this now? you'd compromised with them in the past (clubs that were a little less packed than the one you were in, or going to karaoke to drink and sing so they could get loud if they wanted), but it felt like those days were slipping away now. you hugged yourself tight, trying to make yourself smaller as you kept to a side table while they danced their hearts out with strangers. it was too loud and too cramped, and your drinks tasted disgusting, and you'd swallowed your struggles for the past few hours. when was the last time your friends did something you wanted to do...?

then your phone lit up. tap tap?

you responded in kind: tap tap.

be there in ten!

soonyoung had established this system with you forever ago. he'd gone off talking about his experience in martial arts and that tapping out was basically the way to get out of it all. you'd expressed a little confusion over the subject: wasn't the point of martial arts to, you know, to fight? but he'd played with your fingers idly, humming to himself as he considered the way to explain it simplest.

"everyone has different limits," was what he had settled on, looking up to meet your eyes that day. "so if you meet your limit... just text that to me and we can leave. no one has to know what it means."

you gathered your things as silently as you could, just to ensure you still had your belongings at this point. you danced with your friends earlier, only to tap out of that when you wanted another drink. someone had said something raunchy to you, and been kind-of a dick when you tried to innocently mention you had a boyfriend (then why are you even here?). thus you sentenced yourself to the sidelines. out of sight, out of mind, out of trouble.

soonyoung didn't seem to care that he was in his sweats. no doubt he sweet-talked the bouncer into letting him in to find you quickly and leave, because he'd already taken your hand the moment he made his way to you. he guided you out of the place, waved to the guy, and made off with your hand in his.

"i don't like these friends," he said outright once you were far away enough and your hearing was starting to return. your head still felt slightly fuzzy from it all. "why do you let them treat you like this?"

you'd been friends with this group since college. they went out clubbing then, too, but they had never pressured you to go with them then--and they still made an effort to do fun things they liked that you also liked. when did that start changing? you counted back the time. longer than six months ago? a year? what changed--

you looked at soonyoung. oh. that's what changed. soonyoung came into your life and gave you a safe place to be yourself. and around then, that's when your friends had begun making comments about how you were always so 'safe' and too timid for things. pushing boundaries was good, right?

soonyoung took your hands in his. "you shouldn't let them force you into this so often," he said, voice gentle. "i know it's hard for you to say no, but... you look miserable still."

you shook your head. not tonight. please not tonight. and soonyoung nodded in kind, squeezing your hands.

"my housemates are home watching movies," he said. "we can make more popcorn! i washed your spare clothes so you can get all comfy," he beamed at you. "but if you don't want to hang out with them, we can watch something in my room instead. is that better?"

you liked soonyoung's housemates. you shook your head. "can i sit between you and jun?"

he giggled, kissing you gently. "as long as you don't mind him cuddling with you, too."

with soonyoung around... you were more okay with anything.

jeon wonwoo

you had never believed in soulmates before, but if you had to pick one... you were pretty sure wonwoo was it. the two of you had met through a mutual friend (one kim mingyu, who was your loud, loud neighbor at one point--but also the guy who brought over food when you were sick and took care of you when you had no one else to help you), who had turned to you and said he knew someone perfect for you. the two of you met in a bookstore for your date, and the rest was history. wonwoo put you at ease faster than anyone had ever done before, and you were sure that it was because the two of you were alike.

case in point: it was saturday night, and wonwoo was spending it with you. "with" being used loosely: he wasn't talking to you, mostly muttering under his breath to himself, nor were you doing something together. he was curled up on the couch, playing a video game by himself, while you were happily doing a jigsaw puzzle today. saturday was cozy days in this apartment. fridays were when the two of you ventured out. sometimes you went out for dinner, or went to the movies, or went to a mall just to explore for hours. sometimes you were joined by friends, other times it was just the two of you. but that's how things were with you and wonwoo: the weekdays after work could be spend doing whatever the two of you wanted to do. the weekends were for relaxing at home, save for the occasional party (usually birthdays, but you made your fair share of appearances outside of those) the two of you made plans around.

being with wonwoo was easy. his introverted nature seemed to go hand in hand with your shyness. he was okay with speaking for you when you were particularly nervous with people, and he was equally fine holding your hand when you felt okay enough to speak up. he never judged you. being with wonwoo was safe. the most he ever did were the gentle chuckles that sounded from him when he was admiring you, finding tiny bits of your behavior particularly endearing.

"wonwoo?" you called out. he pulled off one set of his headphones, peering back at you for you to continue. "i love you."

his gaze softened. "i love you, too." he didn't turn away yet, though. "are you thinking about something?"

he always seemed to read you easily (you were his favorite book, in his humble opinion). you averted your gaze, already feeling the heat flood into your cheeks. being with wonwoo was easy, yes, but your shyness always seemed to take hold when it came to your feelings past those three words. "i just..." you fiddled with your fingers. "i was thinking about you. and... you're always really kind to me, you know? i don't have to, y'know, worry about messing up with you. i can... i can just be me, timidness and all."

wonwoo just seemed to admire you now, the softest smile on his face. "right... because you accept me as i am. i like this," he gestured a little to the room in general. "we don't have to go out all the time and do things. it's like..." he trailed off for a moment. "you're going to make fun of me."

you waved a hand, "no, no, just say it. i won't, i promise."

"we're cats." he paused when he heard you snort a little in response, but continued. "you've seen them before. some cats just laze around each other, and that's enough because they're spending that time together. we don't have to be doing the same thing... but just knowing we can spend this time together shows me that we love each other." he paused again, waving a hand, "not that i don't love doing things with you! it's just nice to know that we fit together."

"like a puzzle," you said absentmindedly. it earned a soft chuckle from wonwoo in kind.

"yes." he set aside his controller, making his way to you. "like a puzzle." he pulled out the chair across from you. he'd reached out, picking up a piece. "may i?"

"you may," you giggled, watching him carefully put it into place. "wonwoo?" you reached forward, brushing his hair from his eyes. "you're my favorite puzzle piece."

he chuckled warmly, cupping your cheek for a moment. "you're mine, too."

lee jihoon

the relationship you had with jihoon was maybe one of the slower ones anyone had seen. it wasn't for lack of attraction at all--anyone who spoke to you or jihoon knew that the two of you had fallen for each other. but for the longest time, both of you grew flustered when it came to skinship in public. the most either of you could handle was holding hands through busy crowds. the moment one of his friends noticed and called attention to it? you separated. it was why soonyoung, seungcheol, and vernon became jihoon's defense squad: if someone noticed that jihoon was holding your hand or arm or anything... one of the three were there to keep them from commenting on it.

and their jobs were harder now that jihoon had brought you on a trip with them all. he wanted you there, you needed a break from work after saving so much vacation time, and having a group of friends present made things a tad easier and also harder. easier because you didn't have to worry about things being awkward with you and jihoon, and harder because holy fuck, jihoon had a lot of friends. you'd ended up attached to vernon out of all of them. something about the guy's laid back nature put you the most at ease (wonwoo was right next on that list, though).

"hey, um..." you had tugged on his sleeve to get his attention, always so careful of other people's boundaries. "i know what you're doing."

jihoon had looked up from his phone, eyes flickering from you to vernon. "huh?" he paused, voice soft, "has he been bothering you--"

"no! nonono--" you waved a hand. "no. um. jihoon. you brought it up last night."

vernon looked between the two of you. "what?"

"you tell the others to knock it off anytime they see us touch at all," jihoon said outright. he was good at that when you were starting to shy away from things. "it's not a big deal. we're adults."

truth be told, it was usually mingyu who brought it up. but the others gave their fair share of loving teasing toward jihoon when they noticed the way he held tightly onto your hand at times, or the loving way he gazed at you. they always took glee in watching his face turn redder and redder. but you... you had always been a different case. jihoon could handle the teasing: he wouldn't stand it for you, even if he knew it was coming as a symbol of their acceptance toward you. you needed to say if it was alright first, not them.

"i just..." you were getting flustered over it. "i appreciate it. i like you guys a lot, but it gets kinda embarrassing when someone like jeonghan teases us like we're teenagers on a first date."

"they're shy," jihoon ran his thumb along the back of your hand. "not a kid."

vernon looked between the two of you, and something clicked. there was this understanding between the two of you that no one else had quite understood yet. all of them knew how jihoon was when it came to skinship: he didn't want to be treated like a child. and you, with your shyness, could be seen in a similar light. maybe that was why the two of you clicked so well. something about yourselves could be misconstrued and used to speak down to you, and both of you recognized that in each other and respected the other's wishes.

"yeah! yeah, i get it," he nodded. "i'm glad you guys have each other."

you averted your gaze, lips forming a subtle smile. "thanks," you said, voice quieter than before.

the two of you separated from vernon after a little more conversation, and he watched as jihoon flexed his fingers before clutching your hand in his own. and when no one was looking, he leaned in, whispering something into your ear before kissing the skin right in front of it.

the two of you were happy. and that was all that mattered to any of them.

lee seokmin

seokmin knew that, as well as you could mesh into social situations now, there was one thing that made you more nervous than anything. and that was when pictures were being taken.

he had his fair share of candids of you saved in his phone for his eyes only (or, well, his eyes and anyone who caught a glance at his home screen--his lockscreen would always be a picture of the two of you). pictures with or taken by seokmin were in this different realm of 'safe,' according to you. hell, pictures taken by you were safe, too. but he'd seen the way you tried to duck out of pictures constantly, always uncomfortable when they came up in mandatory situations.

so when he saw the wedding photographer's assistant making his rounds to grab pictures of the guests during the reception... his hand tightened a little around yours. he leaned in, lips grazing your ear for a moment, "just stay close to me and i'll block what i can, if you want."

you had been confused at first, only to spot the guy a moment later. you glanced down at yourself, brows drawing together. being a distant face in the wedding video during the ceremony had already been a little nerve-wracking, but photos of you... you looked at seokmin, a deer in the headlights. "i..."

you told him once that you didn't like pictures of yourself because you felt out of place in them. it all came from a lack of confidence that you managed to find when you were in control, or when you were seeing yourself through seokmin's lens. he clutched your hand tight, guiding you away from where you'd been sitting together, watching others dance.

"seokmin, wait," you tugged him to a stop as he guided you toward a side door. "you don't have to. i can go by myself--"

he shook his head. "he got pictures of me when i was dancing with minghao earlier," he said. "we can go outside for a minute, okay? you can't avoid all pictures tonight, but..."

you already knew that: hence why you were avoiding these. you were already tired, clothing a little less neat compared to this morning, and all you could think about was how thankful you were for seokmin. you squeezed his hand. "okay," you said softly. "then... lead the way."

(and if mingyu snapped a picture from a window of the two of you walking outside... then you were okay with it. just this once.)

kim mingyu

if there was one thing you were thankful for, it was that mingyu talked about you constantly. you weren't exactly the most outgoing person, always a little too nervous when it came to people you didn't know... and with a silly, loving boyfriend who also happens to be incredibly handsome, some people were all too eager to flirt wih him. as much as it made you a little insecure (and a lot more jealous, to be honest), you trusted mingyu wholeheartedly. mainly because you'd seen the way he reacted when people started flirting.

"i'm married," was his go-to now. neither of you were married (mingyu said he was fine marrying you as much as he was fine not doing it: he was committed to you, period, and didn't need papers to say that if you didn't want them), but the rings you wore were wedding band-adjacent. you had wanted a pair that looked simpler because your work could dirty your hands sometimes (thus you wanted something easy to clean), and mingyu liked the sleek look of these compared to the others.

sometimes you swore he took a little too much joy out of flashing his "wedding band" at people. he told you once that it was because people always backtrack so hard, it's a little amusing.

except when you were standing right next to him. that was when mingyu pulled you into his arms, giggling like a dummy (your dummy, always) as he showed off his ring. "we're married, actually," he would say. "aren't they cute?" he giggled. "they're still so shy after all this time..."

the person had wandered off, face burning with embarrassment, but seungcheol rolled his eyes from where he was boxing up your chocolates. "for how long?"

mingyu smiled, arms still securely around you. "ah... does the time really matter?" he swayed a little, dragging you along with the motion. "we're together for life. that's all that matters now--"

"you suck at lying." seungcheol smiled a little when that earned a snort from you.

mingyu just hugged you tighter. "someone has to do it!" he nuzzled your head. "and i like doing it. did you see their face when i said we were married? it's cute."

seungcheol rolled his eyes. "so i've heard."

"are you saying they aren't cute?" mingyu's voice became more serious now. would he be pouting if you turned to look at his face? you weren't sure, but with mingyu... you felt like it might be a safe bet. "they're right here. don't be mean to them."

"if i called them cute, then i'd never hear the end of it from you."

something about the way they continued to bicker like brothers finally earned a laugh from you, hands holding securely onto mingyu's arms. it stopped him there, and he immediately dove around you to kiss your cheek.

"see?" mingyu said. "they're cute. shyness and all."

xu minghao

"cute."

you looked up from your book, curled up on one end of your couch. minghao was smiling at you, head propped up by his hand as he leaned against the back of the couch. you knew this smile too well now: something inside that cute head of his had stirred awake and decided now was the time to tease you. you'd seen stoic, serious minghao plenty of times, alongside the wittier, snarky version of your boyfriend you had fallen for after he made one snappy comment back at one of his friends... but playful, silly minghao would always be your favorite flavor of him. except for when 'silly, playful' meant complimenting you. minghao knew compliments were your weakness in life.

"hm?" you sounded, hoping that maybe you heard him wrong. "did you say something."

"you heard me." that same smile greeted you now. "you're cute."

shit. shit. this was already a losing battle as you shrink down against the couch, the hood of your hoodie being dragged up. "hao... don't."

"hm?" he reached out, pushing your book out of the way--just enough that he could see your face. "don't what? tell the truth? you know i think you're cute, why shouldn't i say it?"

"it's embarrassing." you looked away.

"we're the only ones here, my love." your heart rate spiked for a moment: not the 'my love'. he knew what those words did to you. your ears were burning now, and you continued to hide yourself in your hoodie.

"still..." you already knew he had won this, whatever it was. you shoved your bookmark into your book, setting it aside as you continued to hide, tugging at the drawstring from your hood to close it around you. your voice grew higher as you finally confessed, "you're cuter."

"we're not talking about me right now," he had begun to move in. "you're just proving me right, you know. you're cute." he nudged your knees aside as he propped himself up over you.

this man was going to be the death of you.

he tugged the hood away from your face, string coming loose with ease. "see?" he poked the tip of your nose. "cute. it's a fact."

all too easily, you gave in when he wrapped his arms around you, tugging you so that you could be closer to you. he folded himself around you, burying his face in your neck as he breathed out a happy sigh.

"is something up?" you asked quietly. "i mean--i don't, up, i don't mind the sappy stuff. just..."

"i'm fine," he pecked your neck, nose grazing against the underside of your jaw. "just needed to love you louder today." he paused, raising his gaze to meet yours as he leaned around you. "is that okay?"

with a sigh, you settled into his arms. "yeah," you mumbled. "always okay. thank you for asking."

boo seungkwan

this was mortifying. what if you died right here? would that be better than witnessing this? chan had an arm around you while vernon was trying to pull seungkwan back. you just wanted one nice night with your boyfriend and his friends, and now seungkwan was very loudly arguing with someone who had said something not-so-nice about you relying on him so much. you were fine when it was just the four of you, but seungkwan knew you. he knew you struggled with being heard: hence why he reiterated your request on your behalf.

"they're my partner and i'm not going to let you speak about them like that!" he balled his fists. "just because they won't complain doesn't mean you can insult them to their face!"

"seungkwan," vernon pulled his arm harder. "dude. we're gonna get kicked out."

"fine!" he said, looking back at vernon. "i don't care! he was rude to them and made fun of them--they don't get to insult anyone i love like that!"

"seungkwan," you called out, finally getting his attention. you shook your head. "it's okay. let's just go."

he stole one last glance at the asshole he'd been yelling at, before taking a breath. seungkwan pulled away from vernon, making his way over to you as he took your hand. the four of you left, heading back outside as seungkwan immediately rounded to face you once you were far enough away from the place. he waved for the other two to go on--he just needed to speak to you alone. seungkwan took your hands, squeezing them gently.

"are you okay? did i ruin our night?" he frowned, pausing as he tugged at your sleeve to fix it back into place. "i would have let it go if he didn't make fun of you."

"it's okay," you said. "i'm sorry you always have to do this for me."

he blinked. "hm?" he looked back. "that place was busy. vernon didn't hear you, so i made sure your request got across." he paused, realization hitting him. "not that it matters now..."

"you guys can go back without me," you said, pulling your hands free. "i'm gonna go home."

"but--" he stepped forward. "you don't have to. we can go somewhere else." he paused for a moment. "i'm sorry i started yelling at him. i..." he took a deep breath. "i love you, and i don't care that you get shy or nervous or whatever you want to call it. i'm happy to talk for both of us if that's what you need me to do." he paused. "do you really want to go home?"

you nodded. "a little."

"then i'll go with you," he took your hand. "we'll come back out another night."

you squeezed his hand. "seungkwan?" you interlaced your fingers with his. "thanks for having my back."

"thank you for having mine," he pecked your cheek. "i'll always be here."

chwe vernon

the moment you turned the corner, vernon immediately straightened up, all signs of 'illness' seeming to disappear entirely. it made you slow to a stop, hand leaving his as you stare at him. was... was that why he was so insistent on not taking a cab home? he'd said the night air might help if you walked a little, but...

"alright. where to?" he turned, phone already in hand. "there's that dessert place you like. wait, did you eat? we could grab something else instead--"

"i thought you were sick." you sounded dumbfounded, and vernon blinked.

"you wanted to get out of there." a true fact, but you hadn't said it to vernon yet. "oh, dude. you get this look on your face." he made his way over to you. "like... you looked miserable. so i figured i'd take one for the team and pretend i'm sick so you wouldn't have to come up with an excuse again."

your cats could only get sick so many times without people wondering if something was wrong with them, after all.

you frowned. "you didn't have to do that."

"i kinda did." he took your hands. "like... i saw the look on your face. the 'please stop asking me about work, and my relationship, and my life, i'm going to pass out' face. remember that work thing you took me to? you did that face there, too."

maybe you loved this man more than anything.

"so... where do you wanna go? we could go back to my place. i've got popcorn, we could steal seungcheol's netflix account again, watch something dumb."

it earned a giggle from you. "he knows, right?"

"you haven't seen the new profile he made last week." he pulled you back with him, letting you follow his steps, "named it freeloaders. we're not the only ones using it, y'know."

you giggled again. between vernon, mingyu, and wonwoo... you weren't surprised seungcheol knew the netflix account was getting used by more than just him. they shared accounts, after all. he was using vernon's disney plus account often enough, mainly to get to hulu.

"just say the word if you ever want me to make up something, by the way," he squeezed your hand. "i know you get bad with people sometimes. let me handle it, alright?"

at least you had vernon in your life to make it all easer.

lee chan

chan chuckled. "it's okay," he said as he felt you bury your face in his neck. "i don't think he'll think anything of it."

chan was beyond used to seeing you flustered over the silliest little things. while he replayed his own slip-ups later on, you wore your emotions plain on your face after finishing a phone call with your close friend (and the guy who introduced you to chan), seungcheol. you'd slipped up and said an innocent 'love you!' to him, something chan always saw coming considering you'd long-since confessed that he felt like family to you. he saw the regret on your face for saying it so casually to a friend when it took you forever to say it to chan, and now he was fighting back the urge to laugh as you whined.

"he's never gonna let me live it down."

chan patted your back gently, chuckling a little now. seungcheol definitely wouldn't let it go--at least not to chan. "you're close friends! friends can say they love each other."

"i know, but..." you squeezed your eyes shut. "it's embarrassing. he didn't even say anything back and--and you know how cheol is."

that he did. chan heard your phone chime, and reached for it to steal a quick look... only to see seungcheol had texted you back: CALL ME BACK >:(

"baby?" he held up your phone, waving it in front of your face. "he's waiting."

"nooooooo," you whined again. "he's gonna make fun of me."

your phone began to ring. chan didn't hesitate to answer it, putting seungcheol on speaker. "they're dying, cheol."

"they didn't let me say it back!"

you buried your face further into chan's neck. of course seungcheol took it in stride--and of course his real problem was that you didn't give him the chance to say it back. chan let out a snort, hand curling around the back of your head as he gave it a quick pat.

"you're killing them still. you know how they get with affection."

you knew seungcheol was rolling his eyes with that annoyed sigh he let out. "they're like family. i wasn't going to be mad until they hung up on me before i could say it."

the affection truly was killing you. chan had seen you bury your face in his neck before, always too embarrassed to just accept the sweet words of anyone--especially himself. he called you one night to drunkenly ramble about his affections for you, and immediately apologized when you broke your favorite mug while you were mentally malfunctioning. even now, he felt the way you grabbed at his shirt, face burning hot with embarrassment. this was the reason why he could never arrange a surprise party for you: you might pass out if so many people broadcast their love for you at once.

"so?" seungcheol said, and you could hear someone laughing in the background. mingyu for sure, and someone else. "ignore them."

"love you, cheol," you mumbled. "sorry i hung up earlier."

your apology was met with a warm chuckle. "it's okay. let me know when you're coming over for dinner again," he said, and then paused for a second, "bring your boyfriend, too."

chan gasped in mock offense, as though he hadn't been sitting there the entire time. he hung up the call, and immediately wrapped his arms around you. "you love me more, right?" he teased, just to see that cute pout on your face. he'll kiss it soon, too.

you averted your gaze, face burning hot now. first cheol, now chan? "you know i do."

"say it." he poked your side, just to watch you squirm. "or else."

you could feel the way his fingers were starting to tickle your sides. "chan!"

all too easily, he'd made you forget about your nervous blunder as he dove forward to kiss you amidst your giggles. "say it!"

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #scoups x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dokyeom x reader #mingyu x reader #the8 x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader

[radiance1]

Apparently, Shazam was friends with a dragon.

No one, not even the core members, knew of this. But that fact was prominently displayed when they were fighting off an invasion.

One lead by the apparent Ghost King, who was known for his strength and tyranny, who declared war on humanity after having been summoned by cultists. His ghostly army being fought off for days on end, being lead by a general known as the Fright Knight, before he himself, decided to grace the battlefield with his presence.

Superman, Wonder Woman, Shazam, Zatanna. Every heavy hitter they could spare was fighting against the Ghost King, the Fright Knight being fought against by Batman, Green Lantern, Constantine with the Flash keeping mostly to fending off the giant army along with various other heroes.

It was a tough fight, fighting tooth and nail to not give an inch of ground.

Until, from a portal came a large eastern dragon with glowing green eyes, glowing white scales and mane that looked Majestic as it did deadly. The heroes weren't optimistic enough to think it was help, not for them, but rather for the invading force.

Of course, such they were surprised when instead of fighting any of them, the being instead rammed its body straight into the Ghost King, knocking him back and releasing Shazam from his grip, and all the way from across the battlefield did he stare at the Fright Knight, and glared.

The Fright Knight stood down.

The Ghost King got up and shrugged off the attack, running a hand through his hair as he stared as the dragon was hovering around Shazam rather protectively and, with a simple raise of his hand, the entire army ceased their attack.

The dragon seemed to shift, long body shortening as he transformed into a more humanish form, tail and horns still present, with a crown floating above his head, he crossed his arms and stared down the Ghost King who, for his credit, simply stared back.

The stare went on for a while, the air seemingly more awkward rather than tense. Then, the draconic humanoid grabbed onto the nearby Shazam, various heroes tensing, before placing the man in front of him, putting his chin down on his head, and then starts yelling at the King for waging war on humanity just because he made a human friend.

The Ghost King, who just a few minutes ago was waging war on humanity, seemed more of a tired father, rather than the mad tyrant raging on the battlefield. He just stayed silent, taking all of the yelling as if this was the usual before, as the (apparent) prince was catching his breath, he stated his reasoning rather calmly.

He just wanted to test and accurately gauge the strength of the Champion of Magic, stating that only the strongest would have the right to stand alongside his son.

The Prince immediately called bullshit.

And the Ghost King agreed, he really did just want to wage war, though he wished it would have lasted longer, the mortal warriors (and Demi-goddess) proved themselves to be quite the challenging foes.

A few minutes later, the Ghost King was leaving, calling off the war and sending his soldiers back to the zone. Before the king himself left, however, he directed a thumbs up at all those who fought him in direct combat, then left, the Fright Knight and Batman were in a stare off, both silent and instead seemed to be having a conversation with their eyes than words.

Then they grunted at each other, nodded, and the fright Knight left.

In the League room, the Ghost Prince was apologizing for the behavior of his father, more prominently to Shazam the most.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #ghost prince danny phantom #dragon!danny

[iwritefandomimagines]

NO LONGER IN DENIAL

masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader, bestfriend!benedict bridgerton x reader

description: anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

warnings: angst, jealous!anthony cos i’m a sucker for him hehe, benedict being a shit stirrer who i adore, fluffiness at the end <3

“Lady Y/N is joining us for dinner this evening, I believe,” Benedict hummed, a small smirk gracing his face as the eldest Bridgerton’s head snapped up, “Mother told me she hopes to, anyway.”

Anthony watched as his sisters fussed excitedly over seeing you, for it had been at least a week since you had graced Aubrey Hall with your presence and they missed you dearly.

Anthony had too, of course, though he’d never admit it was for any reason beyond how highly regarded you were in his family and how much he enjoyed your friendship.

“I very much look forward to seeing her,” Benedict continued, still smirking devilishly, “Though I did have the pleasure of bumping into her as she left Modiste yesterday.”

Anthony furrowed his eyebrows at his brother, “You didn’t tell me that, brother.”

“Must I share every occasion I see Lady Y/N with you, Anthony?” he quipped in reply, crossing his arms over his chest as Colin stifled a laugh, well aware of what was going on, “One might think you jealous.”

“Jealous? You jest, brother. She is my closest friend, I am simply surprised you would not mention even in passing that you saw her,” Anthony spoke through gritted teeth, “Regardless, I look forward to seeing her.”

“Ah, perfect timing!” Francesca grinned as Lady Y/N’s arrival was announced moments later, and in you walked with a gloriously bright smile on your face, though this faltered as you saw the bitter look on Anthony’s face.

“Is everything alright, my Lord?” you asked shyly, taking a few steps towards Anthony, whose expression softened at this, “Have we chosen a bad day to visit? If so I apologise—,”

Suddenly Benedict was at your side now, “It’s quite alright, my dear Lady Y/N. We are all pleased to see you. Might we take a turn about the room? We have some things to discuss!”

“No fair! You saw her yesterday, I want to show her my embroidery,” Hyacinth pouted, though Benedict raised his brow at her and flickered his eyes in Anthony’s direction as if to explain his actions.

Everyone in the family was well aware of the affection shared between you and Anthony, even if he dared not admit how he felt because of his apparent desire not to marry.

Benedict believed he just needed a push to see that you had myriad other options, and that he could only push away his feelings for so long.

“I’m sure Benedict has something important to share, my dear Hyacinth, but I would love to see your embroidery promptly after,” your voice was like honey to the eldest Bridgerton, who fought off the desire to make his own request for a moment of your time, “There is enough of me to go around! My brother will be arriving shortly, also.”

Benedict began whispering almost as soon as you had crossed the room, endeavouring to make you well aware of his plan so as not to cause any discomfort to you.

He didn’t wish for you to be confused by his sudden flirtation, so immediately indulged you with the details of his concocted plan to induce jealousy in his older brother that might finally allow him to be honest about his feelings.

With some hesitation, you accepted his plan.

Benedict was well aware of your feelings for his brother, and you knew this — after all, you had confessed it to him yourself because you trusted him dearly. Much to Anthony’s dismay, nowadays Benedict was your closest friend of all.

Anthony had once filled that role, but as each year passed and your youth slipped away, you had fallen far too in love with him to be so satisfied with a friendship as you were with Benedict.

Benedict was your best friend — Anthony was the love of your life.

Though he did not admit it, you were the love of his too. This is why Benedict’s interference was so necessary as far as the second Bridgerton son was concerned.

It was unfair for you to believe your love unrequited when it was merely his stubborn refusal to see beyond his ‘duty’ as Viscount and head of the household that prevented him from giving in to his feelings.

The plan seemed already to be working by the time you were seated for dinner, far closer to Benedict than to Anthony who sat at the other side of the table.

He scowled as he watched his brother gossiping with you, still irritated by both his earlier remark about seeing you yesterday and his persistence with being the only person in the room to maintain your attention.

“It is working, my dear friend,” Benedict beamed across at you, leaning forward to both better execute his plan and so that you could hear him better, “If looks could kill, my brother would have seen me long since dead and buried.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, hiding the giggle that escaped as you waited to calm before looking across at Anthony, “Benedict!”

You drew in a deep breath, composing yourself before glancing across at the Viscount and catching his eye immediately. His glare was suddenly no more, his lips curling up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You mouthed a small “Hello,” to him, blushing crimson at the intensity of his stare. Despite the conversation going on around him, all he could do was look at you.

The staring contest you seemed to find yourself in was swiftly broken by Benedict’s voice calling your name again, returning you to conversation with him.

The rest of dinner passed much the same — small conversations here and there with the other Bridgertons, longing stares from an increasingly restless Anthony, and teasing comments from Benedict, who was certain that Anthony would be confronting you tonight.

“We should probably call for our carriage, I suppose,” you smiled sadly, disappointed with both how quickly the night had passed by and the fact you’d hardly spoken to Anthony throughout, “I’ve had such a lovely evening. I only wish I could stay longer!”

“You could!” Anthony exclaimed, an unusual outburst for the eldest sibling but one that made all at the table laugh as he rose to his feet, “We could have a room put up for you. It is late, and Wellsbury Hall is quite the distance.”

You bit your lip, smiling at him as he sat back down again, “Oh we couldn’t trouble you with that, my lord.”

“Perhaps my dear friend is right,” your brother disagreed, “It is getting late, and if it is no trouble we would be incredibly grateful. And I hope we might repay you with an invitation to Wellsbury in the near future? I hope to host a ball before the season ends so that my darling sister might finally find a husband.”

His eyes flickered between Benedict and Anthony for a moment and you realised that he must have been in on Benedict’s little plan.

You looked around the room cautiously at every smiling face, before settling your gaze on Anthony with a nod, “Very well then. I’d be delighted. The many childhoods spent staying here overnight are often much missed.”

Lady Bridgerton grinned, “Fantastic. Then it is settled,” she turned to the maids stood by the door, “Please prepare two rooms for our guests as quickly as possible. It is, after all, late, and I’m sure they will soon wish to rest.”

The way Anthony watched you for the rest of dinner made you impossibly nervous.

When the maids told you which rooms were readied, you stood to retire to bed, but not before Benedict offered to show you to the room as it was in his opinion the best decorated.

“Brother, I don’t believe it’s appropriate for you to show Lady Y/N to her room,” Anthony huffed, having had enough now of him being stuck to you like heavy-duty glue, “Perhaps you should allow one of our maids to kindly do so.”

“It is quite alright, Anthony. We are in the comfort of our own home, and I know Y/N quite well enough,” Benedict sing-songed, “Unless you would prefer to show her? The maids are quite busy clearing up.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched at his brother’s comment about knowing you ‘quite well enough’ and so he found himself at your side quickly.

“In fact yes, perhaps I should,” he agreed, a sternness in his tone you’d become used to again today. He was so much gentler with you, but today with you so seemingly far from him he has grown stoic again, “After all, I am the head of this household and you have not let me spend a minute with my closest friend, hm?”

Colin interjected now, aware of all eyes on the conversation, “Perhaps Lady Y/N can make the decision herself?”

“I—,”

“Fine, I concede,” Benedict raised his hands in surrender, “I suppose I’ve not let her leave my side this evening, though you cannot fault me for that. I will bid you goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight brothers.”

He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips for just the gentlest of kisses to the back of it, before he bowed and quickly left the room.

With Anthony facing the other way, towards you, Benedict turned to shoot you a wink before leaving, and nerves bubbled in your gut at the unknown of what was to come.

The kiss to your hand was the final straw for Anthony, who linked his arm with yours and lead you out of the room without another word to anyone else.

You were silent for the walk, but once you stopped still outside of the room you were to sleep in Anthony turned to stand in front of you, his breathing jagged as his eyes searched your face for clues to why he was feeling so furious at your friendship with Benedict.

“Is my brother courting you?” he came right out and asked it, his chest heaving and yours doing so now too as you shook your head.

“Not at all, my lord,” you bit your lip again, before looking down at the ground to avoid his gaze.

He brought his index finger to your chin, lifting your face so that you were forced to look at him again, “And do you wish him to be?”

Again you shook your head, but his finger never left your skin for a moment.

“I was so sure—,”

“Forgive me, my lord, I have just been finding comfort in his friendship of late as I see him regularly about town,” you frowned, suddenly even more conscious of how little time you spent with Anthony in recent weeks.

He leaned ever so slightly closer, “Finding comfort in his friendship? And what of ours?”

“Our friendship, my lord? I—,”

“I apologise, Y/N, but I do not like to see you so close with my brother. Not least because of the fear of a scandal if others saw his behaviour,” he gritted his teeth, “He touches you too often. Leans too close to speak with you and it… it is misleading.”

You gulped, “Why would you be so infuriated by the notion of him courting me, my dear Anthony? He is your brother, and he cares for me. Even if it is not him I wish did so.”

He cocked his head in confusion now, before his eyes widened in realisation of his brother’s scheming. And in considering that, he realised that it had worked.

He’d never wanted to marry, and especially never for love.

But with you stood right there at his finger tips, smiling up at him nervously with a twinkle in your eyes, he threw caution to the wind and realised that you had changed that in him.

He could no longer deny his desire to hold you, to have you entirely as his, to make you his Viscountess.

“Who do you wish to treat you as such, my lady?”

“Surely you can see the answer for yourself, Anthony.”

“I simply wish to hear you say it. But if I must do so first, as a consequence of my foolishness in not seeing it sooner, then so be it. I dislike your closeness to my brother because I miss your attention being mine. I wish to have you at my side always, to laugh with you and dance with you and just talk with you all evening. I do not wish to see Benedict court you because I wish to do so myself.”

“Anthony—,”

“Please, my love, let me finish. I have most probably been in love with you for as long as I have known you, and yet chosen not to see it out of my own stubbornness. If not for my scheming devil of a brother, I might still be in denial. But I love you most ardently, Y/N. And if you feel at all the same then I should like to make you my wife. My viscountess.”

You were speechless, perhaps for one of the first times since meeting Anthony.

You had always told him everything, always saved your last dance for him at balls, always rooted for him in every game of Pall Mall even as his competitor.

And now here he was, the famously anti-marriage Viscount asking if you too wished to wed him.

“Anthony, I had hoped it was clear as day that I too have been unfathomably in love with you for longer than I can explain,” you blushed crimson again under his gaze as a smile spread across his face, “To marry you, well, would be the only way I might find joy in marriage. I know you’ve never sought a match, let alone a love match, but I love you most dearly, my dear Anthony.”

He captured your lips with his as soon as you stopped speaking, knowing that he shouldn’t do so but hoping nobody was around.

Besides, he would soon make you his wife, and he couldn’t contain the excitement.

“I know I’ve previously had my reservations but I am no longer in denial, and I’m sorry for taking my liberties with you by kissing you before we are wed but I could not help myself. And I wish to spend a lifetime kissing you, Y/N. Will you marry me?” he looked shy all of a sudden, which you had never seen before, and you grabbed both of his hands in yours to kiss them.

“Of course, my dear, there is nothing I would like more!”

His smile became impossibly wide, and once more he kissed you out of sheer excitement.

“I’m sorry that this was so abrupt, and I have yet no ring. But my mother will be ecstatic and I plan to give you her betrothal ring because— you are the only woman worthy. And I shall spend our whole life ensuring that I make up for taking so long to do this,” he was vulnerable now, still shy under your careful gaze,

“I had no desire to marry because I had no desire to put the woman I love through the pain of losing me like my mother did my father. She was distraught but— I see now that it is no good wasting time with this fear. However long I might live, I wish to spend those years loving you and making you happy, so that any pain might be worthwhile.”

You kissed him now, tearing your gloves from your hands and reaching up to cup his face and kiss him, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. Always. And I cannot wait to be your wife. It will be the greatest honour.”

You were both hot and flustered, and it was taking everything in him not to push open your bedroom door and sweep you off your feet.

But for you, he was a gentleman, and so he settled for one final kiss atop your head and a sweet goodnight.

“We shall tell the others as we break fast tomorrow, perhaps?” you could see the dizzy joy in Anthony’s eyes as he asked this of you, and you nodded profusely.

“I cannot wait, my dear.”

“Then I will bid you good night, my love. I will dream of you, and look forward to seeing you in the morning. Sleep well, my future viscountess.”

“Sleep well, my love.”

As you went to part, you heard a rustle a little way down the corridor, both looking up to see a smug Benedict smirking, leaning on the wall just down the hallway.

“Even I underestimated my own plan. Congratulations, brother. You finally saw sense.”

———

hello! i know this is completely random as i’ve been writing for djats lately but i has this idea and felt the neeeeed to write it. feel free to request more bridgerton fics, as i’m inspired at the moment and rewatching it.

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader jealous #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton one shot #jealous #jealous anthony bridgerton

[comradekatara]

Your atla analysis is the best so I wanted to ask your opinion on something I've found the fandom fairly divided on - what did you think of Azula's ending within the show proper? Unnecessarily cruel or a necessary tragedy? Would you say that her mental breakdown was too conveniently brought about in order to 'nerf' her for the final agni kai? Also, do you think it was 'right' for Zuko to have fought with his sister at all or would it have been better for him to seek a more humane way to end the cycle of violence?

okay so im saying this as someone who loves azula to death like she has always been one of my absolute favorite characters ever since i was a kid and i’ve always vastly preferred her to zuko and found her to be extremely compelling and eminently sympathetic. i am saying this now before the azula stans come for me. i believe in their beliefs. but i also think her downfall is perfectly executed, and putting aside all the bullshit with the comics and whatever else, it’s a really powerful conclusion to her arc. obviously that isn’t to say that she wouldn’t continue to grow and develop in a postcanon scenario (i have a whole recovery arc for her mapped out in my head, like i do believe in her Healing Journey) but from a narrative perspective, her telos is in fact very thematically satisfying.

no, she wasn’t nerfed so that they could beat her in a fight. the fact that she falls apart is what makes them feel that they can confidently take her on (although i do think in a fair fight katara could win anyway), but the whole point is that it’s not about winning or losing in combat. the whole point is that zuko and azula being pitted against each other in this gratuitous ritual of violence as the culmination of their arcs is fundamentally tragic. yes it’s a bad decision to fight her, and zuko should have chosen another path, but the whole point is that he’s flawed and can only subscribe to the logic he has spent his whole life internalizing through violence and abuse.

that’s why aang’s fight against ozai, while tragic in its own way, is also a triumph for the way in which his ideals prevail in the face of genocide, while zuko and azula’s fight is very patently tragic. there is no moment of victory or triumph. even as zuko sacrifices himself in a beautiful mirroring of “the crossroads of destiny” and as katara uses the element of her people combined with techniques across other cultures to use azula’s hubris and ideology of domination against her, it’s presented as moments of personal growth occurring within a very tragic yet inevitable situation. it was inevitable because azula had always been positioned as an extension of her father, and thus to disempower ozai also means disempowering azula, his favorite site of projection, his favorite weapon.

yeah, it does rub me the wrong way when zuko asks katara whether she’d like to help him “put azula in her place.” it’s not a kind way to talk about your abused younger sister. but it’s also important to understand that zuko doesn’t really recognize his sister’s pain, despite the fact that they obviously share a father, because he’s always assumed that she was untouchable as their perfect golden child and thus never a victim. and he’s wrong. zuko and katara expect a battle of triumph and glory, noble heroes fighting valiantly so that good may prevail over evil. but as they discover here, even more so than their previous discovery two episodes prior, a battle is not a legendary event filled with bombast and beauty until after it has been historicized. often a war is simply fought between pathetic, desperate people who see no other option but to fight.

aang’s ultimate refusal to fight despite having all the power in the world is what makes him so important as the protagonist. but katara and zuko both share a more simplistic view of morality and what it means to be good. and zuko assumes that by fighting azula, he can only be punching up, because she has always been positioned as his superior, and she (in her own words!) is a “monster.” and then azula loses, and his entire worldview shatters. joking about putting her in her place makes way for the realization that behind all her posturing and lying (to herself more than anyone) and performance and cognitive dissonance, azula has always been broken, perhaps even more than he is.

azula says “im sorry it has to end this way, brother,” to which zuko replies “no you’re not.” but i think azula is truly sorry, because in her ideal world, she wouldn’t be fighting zuko. she doesn’t actually want to kill him, as much as she claims to. she’s already reached the conclusion that zuko will only truly reach once their fight is over. she lacks a support system, and she needs one, desperately. if she could somehow get her family back, do everything differently, less afraid of the consequences, she would. she’s smirking, she sounds almost facetious, but really, she is sorry. as of this moment, she really doesn’t want it to end this way. but zuko cannot accept that, because in his mind, azula is evil. azula has no soul nor feeling. azula always lies.

her breakdown doesn’t come out of nowhere, either. it’s precipitated by everyone she has ever cared about betraying her. first zuko betrays her, then mai, then ty lee, and then ozai — the person she has staked her entire identity to and to whom she has pledged her undying loyalty and obedience, become nothing more than a vessel for his whims — discards her because she had the audacity to care about someone other than him. what i don’t think zuko realizes, and perhaps will never realize, is that azula betrayed ozai by bringing zuko back home. he was not supposed to be brought back with honor and with glory. azula specifically orchestrated the fight in the catacombs to motivate him to join her, and it’s not because she’s some cruel sadistic monster who wanted to separate a poor innocent soft uwu bean from his loving uncle, it’s because she genuinely believes that she’s doing what’s best for him. she believes that their uncle is a traitor and a bad influence, and she believes that bringing zuko home with his honor “restored” is an act of love. to her it is.

yes, she claims that she was actually just manipulating him so that she wouldn’t have to take the fall if the avatar was actually alive, but also, she’s clearly just covering her own ass. she didn’t know about the spirit water, and only started improvising when zuko started showing hesitation. but even if she was only using zuko, then that was an insane risk to take, because either way she was lying directly to ozai’s face. and zuko admits it to ozai while simultaneously committing treason, so of course ozai would blame azula, his perfect golden child who tried to violate his decree by bringing zuko back home a prisoner at best and dead at worst, and instead found a way to restore his princehood with glory.

we only see ozai dismissing and discarding azula in the finale, but it’s clearly a tension that’s been bubbling since the day of black sun. and we know this because we do see azula falling apart before the finale. in “the boiling rock” she is betrayed by her only friends. in “the southern raiders” we see that this has taken a toll on her, that she is already somewhat unhinged. she and zuko tie in a one on one fight for the first time. and she takes down her hair as she uses her hairpin to secure herself against the edge of a cliff. unlike zuko, who is helped by his friends and allies, who has a support system. it’s a very precarious position; she’s literally on a cliff’s edge, alone, her hair down signifying her unraveling mental state. azula having her hair down signals to us an audience that she is in a position of vulnerability. she is able to mask this terrifying moment wherein she nearly plummets to her death with a triumphant smirk, but it should be evident to us all that her security is fragile here.

and the thing is, even though she’s always masked it with a smirk and perfect poise, her security has always been fragile. azula has never been safe. azula’s breakdown is simply the culmination of her realization that no matter how hard she tries, she will never be ozai’s perfect weapon, because she is a human being. she is a child, no less. and there is no one in her entire life who loves her for nothing. zuko has iroh, who affirms to him that he could never be angry with zuko, that all he wants is simply what is best for zuko. but azula doesn’t have unconditional support in her life. she doesn’t even have support.

everyone she ever thought she could trust has betrayed her, and so she yells that trust is for fools. because she feels like a fool. of course fear is the only way; it’s what kept her in line all these years. azula is someone who is ruled by fear, and who is broken by the recognition that fear isn’t enough. her downfall is necessarily tragic because her worldview is wrong. the imperialist logic of terror as a tool for domination is her own undoing, just as ozai’s undoing is losing the weapon he has staked his national identity to. it’s a battle of ideals. aang v ozai: pacifism v imperialism. katara and zuko v azula: love and support v fear and isolation.

zuko is unfair to azula, it’s true. he tries to fight her even as he can clearly recognize that “she’s slipping.” instead of trying to help his little sister, he uses that weakness to his advantage, tries to exploit her pain so that he can finally, for the first time ever, beat her in a fight. it’s cruel, but it’s also how siblings act. especially considering the conditions under which they were raised, and how zuko has always viewed her. and in zuko’s defense, she has tried to kill him multiple times lately, both in “the boiling rock” and in “the southern raiders.” zuko is someone who gets fixated on a goal and blocks out everything else, including recognition of his surroundings or empathy for others. so of course when he’s promised to put azula in her place he’s going to exploit her weaknesses to do so. after all, isn’t exploiting his weaknesses exactly what azula does best? so he allows himself to stoop to her level, and in fact only redeems himself through his sacrifice for katara. but it is when azula is chained to the grate and zuko and katara, leaning on each other, look down and observe the sheer extent on her pain, that zuko realizes that “putting azula in her place” isn’t actually a victory. it feels really, really bad, actually.

they’re in a similar position as they were when they faced yon rha. and now it is zuko’s turn to understand that he is not a storybook hero triumphing over evil, but rather a human being, facing another human being, in a conflict that is larger than themselves. to “put someone in their place” is to imply a logic of domination, of inherent superiority, that someone has stepped out of line and must be reordered neatly into the hierarchy. but aang disputes the notion, ozai’s notion, that humanity can be classified along these lines, that there exists an ontological superiority among some and not others. so operation: putting azula in her place was always going to be flawed, even if she was performing competency the way she always does, because they’re nonetheless subscribing to her logic.

of course they should be helping azula, of course they should be reaching out to abuse victims through support instead of more violence. but first they must recognize her victimhood. first they must come to understand that they didn’t get lucky, and they didn’t dominate her because they are more “powerful,” that they weren’t “putting her in her place.” they must understand that they are not heroes fighting villains in a glorious trial by combat. that the logic of the agni kai is flawed. that they are all victims. that they are all just scared, hurt children who are still grieving their mothers.

#update: ok i readmored it 👍🏼 #azula #analysis #zuko #katara #ozai #azula&zuko #azula&ozai #asks #malatilata #ugh azula is such a beautiful character….. i love her sm #her arc is so beautifully perfectly tragic #just thinking abt the mirror scene gets me sooo . distraught #this was supposed to be like 2 paragraphs lol #as is always the way . with me..

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: even as you grow older, you'll always be his baby sister

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: strawhats x sanjissister!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lowercase intentional, cursing, allusions to insecurities

𝐚/𝐧: this is basically just sanji curing my childhood wish for a big brother. i have more ideas about how sanji would be at his wits end with a reckless little sister so look out for those hehe

i imagine sanji is two years older than you, but it never felt like it. you and him were never apart for too long, more by obligation than choice.

so it was no surprise when sanji dragged confused little you with him as he hid from the pirates invading the ship, only outing your hiding place in the name of saving his food from oregano.

you'd hurried after him, of course; that's all you knew to do at such a young age.

and when zeff had sanji up against the wall, being so young meant you also knew only one thing to do in this situation: you bit zeff, latching your teeth around his arm and drawing blood from his broken skin.

zeff howled and very nearly threw you into the wall as well, before his eyes zeroed in on you, this little girl with wild eyes and a mighty strong jaw. he only jerked you off him, then, staring from you to sanji then back to you. "wha—? what kind of little gremlin just bites a man?!" your eyes were steely. "I'm not a gremlin." then, "bitch." though it was clear you didn't understand what it meant, probably catching it from the other chefs of the now sieged ship. gritting his teeth, zeff continued on his shouting. it made you and sanji angry, and zeff marveled at how your expressions were twin–like, despite your difference in appearance. then, the ship had wrecked, and it all went downhill from there.

sanji always made sure you’d eaten more than him on that damn rock, even when you fought him and scratched him as he forced a morsel of bread into your mouth.

he'd held your hand as you cried the first ten days, and he had mourned when on the eleventh, your eyes took on a dead sort of sheen, like you were now a decade older in the head.

it was unnerving, really.

sanji learned a lot on that rock. like what it meant to be the responsible one, or at least more responsible than you.

sanji just wanted you to listen, but it seemed like all his words went in one ear and out the other. you wouldn't eat despite all his begging, only staring at him with that horridly blank stare and pushing the food back toward him. tears started to form at the corners of his eyes as he held up the very last piece of bread. "please," he begged. "please just eat it." you shook you head, forcing the tears to stream down his cheeks. that broke through your indifference, your frown deepening as you inched closer to him. "we'll half it," you offered, taking his shaking hand and guiding him to split the bread, taking one half and waiting for him to calm down before you ate in silence. you really did feel older than him, and he didn't like it. only when that night fell did he realize you were simply a very, very good actor. your whimpers were like thunder in his ears as he sprang up from a featherlight sleep, his eyes locking on your quivering form just a hair's breadth away. "y/n?" he whispered, shaking your shoulder. you spooked awake, and in the reflection of moonlight he saw glinting tears traced down your face. "nightmare?" your nod and sniffle tore him up inside, and in seconds he was hugging you to his chest, telling you stories till he was sure you were at least sleeping better than him. "someday," he said, "we'll find a place where we'll never go hungry. where every flavor and ingredient can be found. the all blue. i'll take us there, and we'll never starve again." you were asleep by the time he started plotting to raid zeff's side of the rock in the morning. it had been sanji who guarded you from seeing the stump left of zeff's leg, ignoring you when you asked him to explain what was happening.

growing up on the baratie was an experience, for sure.

your only company were the crooks who worked in the kitchen alongside you and sanji, and you found them amusing company indeed.

especially when they started teaching you how to be a remarkable little con-artist. once in your late teens, it wasn't long before you'd abandoned your work in the kitchen to wait tables.

not only were the tips amazing to pocket away, but your charming smile and whimsical attitude made you a master of sympathy.

there isn't a customer you can't placate, a fight you can't break up; sanji would never admit it, but you'd save him from one too many brawls with just a single simper.

it was easy to hold that over his head, but for some reason, sanji never let it keep him from completely wrecking your social life.

to say sanji is protective of you is the understatement of the century; you'd be the first to attest to that.

it was growing to be annoying and just plain inconvenient, if you're being honest.

was it too much to ask for some time to yourself... with the company of a horny teenage boy... in your quarters... alone?

"sanji!" you hissed, face bright red as your brother dragged you and this young sailor boy--you hadn't caught his name--out of a broom cupboard, his grip on the boy's collar deathly. throwing the boy aside, sanji stormed back up to him. "did you touch my sister? you think you can just take advantage of her like tha'?" you ran your hands over your face and rushed to separate sanji, shaking in anger, from the boy, shaking in his boots. "stop! he wasn't takin' advantage of me, sanji. hell, i started it!" "y-yeah!" the sailor boy piped in, cowering behind you. "she was all over me and—" "shut up," you and sanji said in tandem, shooting the boy matching glares that sent the poor sailor darting for his crew's ship.

as the years dragged on, you and sanji couldn't deny that the idea of remaining on the baratie all your lives would be... well... sad.

you wanted more for yourselves—you specifically wanted to get sanji away from zeff's constant criticism, no matter how well–meaning it was.

but the years really were dragging, and could you ever really bare to leave the man you'd nearly called father on several occasions? could you leave the shit-hole restaurant that raised you in it's wooden arms?

probably not. you'd probably die washing dishes (snore) and burning water (whoops) and charming the pants off grumpy old men (yuck).

that is, it always seemed that way until a grand vessel with a goat for a masthead docked at the baratie.

the day had been it's usual level of boring, until two customers decided to have a little row which heated up with every word shot back at each other.

you, having a good track record, rushed forth to prevent the fight just itching to break out. but today was not your lucky day.

"gentlemen," you grinned. stepping between the two men, you held up your hands and settled each of them with batted eyes and a soft expression. "what's this about, hmm?" sanji loitered at a nearby table, refilling drinks with one eye on you. he was ripely kicked out of the kitchen, snug in his waiter's jacket. one of them huffed, "he's at my table!" "i don't see your name on it!" the other snapped. your patience wanned, your thoughts screaming man-child. "i'm sure we can work something out. just please, don't start anything in the restaurant." the first man seemed to consider you, his eyes dragging up and down your form, but any progress you might have made was destroyed by the next second. "i ain't movin', girl. he can go shit 'imself in the corner." that was how you winded up directly between them, your hands pushing against either chest to keep them separated, your heartrate accelerating as they pressed in on you as if you weren't even there. grunting, you called out, "brother?" in seconds, sanji had a grip on your sleeve in one hand and a fistful of the first man's collar in the other. he jerked you away from them and swiftly shoved the men away from each other. "sister," he said in turn, cracking his neck as the men continued to not learn their lesson. "take these rolls to table four, yeah?" you didn't need to be told twice, swiping the tray of bread from his arm and beelining for a booth housing a motley crew of people. behind you, grunts and winces and crashing could be heard, followed by the thick silence of your brother's victory. you set the tray down on the table, shooting a tight lipped smile up at the guests. a boy wearing a peculiar straw hat locked you in place with his bright eyes and wondered aloud, "he's a great fighter." "yep," you quipped. "a real hero. any drinks for the handsome crew?"

it turned out the boy with the straw hat was crazy: he intended to become king of the pirates.

you admired his tenacity, of course, but really? he had a death wish.

still, the more you spoke to luffy and the more you observed his character, being king of the pirates didn't seem so crazy. he had guts, that was for sure.

as crazy as it sounded, you started to believe he could do it.

so it was really no surprise you said yes when luffy asked you to join his crew.

he had already asked sanji the day before—before luffy's swordsman friend got obliterated by a warlord of the sea.

you didn't know him, but when you rushed onto the going merry after zeff an sanji, and you saw the bloodied man lying there, you could barely move a muscle.

you were never good around the air of death, and it was all around roronoa zoro, lingering like a knock you expected but never came. so you couldn't move, not even when they moved zoro to a bed, out of sight. not when zeff and sanji retreated back to the baratie.

you snapped back to life at the sound of luffy's voice, finding him leaning down to be directly eye level with you. he was still speaking, and it felt sort of like being under water, till finally, you surfaced. "sorry what?" "are you okay?" he asked, brows knit. you pondered your response while looking anywhere but his face. "yeah, sorry. i... i don't like feeling helpless, i guess." you vaguely gestured to where zoro's limp body had laid upon the nearby table. "being out of control makes me wig out." luffy tilted his head. "why're you out of control?" "because," you nearly laughed. "your friend is dying." immediately, you regretted your word choice, hating how the light fizzled from his eyes. "he's not dying," luffy snapped back. "he was injured and now he's healing. why does everyone insist he's dying?" you shuffled on your feet. "right, sorry." when you met his eyes again, there wasn't any frustration like you assumed there would be. instead, he settled you with a curious look. "you don't have to keep apologizing." luffy was an odd type of pirate, you thought with a forced little grin. "then how will people know i'm sorry?" he smiled. "fair point." taking a hold of your sleeve, luffy started to drag you deeper into the going merry, leading you right to where zoro was laid. his grip on you loosened as he passed into the room, but you stayed cemented in the doorway. nami was there, sullen looking. you watched as nami berated luffy and stormed away, shoulder checking you on the way out, leaving luffy smileless. that didn't sit well with you. walking up beside him, you took a kneel just as he did, and turned your eyes on zoro's pallid face. "hello," you murmured. silence was your reply. "i'm y/n. you don't know me... your friends care a lot about you. it'd be... sad, if you died." luffy stiffened at your side. "which you won't! i've heard of you. no way the demon pirate hunter will let—let a scratch get him..." as your rambling died down, luffy slowly shifted to look at you, all serious for a moment. unnerved, you chuckled nervously. "what?" a tiny grin worked its way onto his lips, a glimmer in his eyes. "will you join my crew?" you nearly laughed. "luffy, you don't want me." "yeah. i do. why else would i ask?" "i'm useless." "you're kind," he said, shutting you up as a flush bloomed in your cheeks. "not everyone can say that."

a long story short, you joined luffy's crew of strawhats right along sanji.

your parting from the baratie had been watery, to say the least. whilst sanji shouted curses at zeff and stormed out to luffy's ship, you stood shaky as zeff huffed, his eyes roaming toward you.

you very nearly tripped head over foot in your sprint to wrap him in a hug. he was the only father you'd ever had, really. leaving him was bittersweet.

the going merry was a very nice place to call home, in your opinion.

you were a jack of all trades amidst the crew, choosing to do odd jobs around the ship. most days, you found yourself asking around with a little list in your journal, taking note of everyone’s grocery needs and even keeping track of the ship’s supply inventory.

not only that, but you found your crewmates tended to lack the sense to take care of themselves in a timely manner. 

that is, none of them could be faster than your attentive eye, and no one was safe from your protective inclinations.

nami was attentive, but she tended to disassociate, and when she did it was very hard to get her back. she would go on for hours, working herself to the brink of exhaustion, not accepting even a sip of water. (she couldn't stop you, however, from forcing a cup of ice water down her throat. even she was intimidated by your determination to hydrate her).

then there was zoro, who absolutely refused to allow anyone to help him dress his wounds; and since he wasn't the best at it, you often stared at his haphazard bandages with fear of infection. he brushed you off enough times to invoke your wrath upon him. (zoro quit refusing after the first three times you ambushed him, wrapping your arm around his neck and blocking his airway).

you always listened to usopp's stories, but oftentimes you grew tired of the repetitive and clearly fake tall tales. you wanted to know his real stories, and you told him so. he'd laughed awkwardly and replied that he wasn't interesting enough for that. (he was fairly surprised at your insistence, and was warmed at your fascination with the silly story of how he met kaya).

luffy, your captain, was a walking migraine most days. he was smart, but just as brave, and jumped to action faster than you could process. it left you stressed beyond what you could handle, and this alone was enough to make luffy more cautious. (he never wanted to make you unhappy, so you'd inadvertently given him some of your common sense).

finally, sanji, who you'd been dealing with all your life. you knew all his tells, whether it was baking macarons when he was upset or going eerily silent for far too long. you always knew what he needed, and when he needed it. (more often than not all he needed was a compliment, and not just from some doe–eyed woman at a bar; a word of sentiment from his baby sister could drag him out of any stupor).

overtime, the crew took to calling you their boatswain. after all, you fit the job description, and you took the title with pride.

as time flew by with the strawhats, you began to listen to the dreams and aspirations of the others, and began to wonder what exactly you wanted out of life. the all blue was sanji’s dream… so what was yours?

the going merry was docked at a friendly port for the next few days, meaning the crew was free to explore and roam the city as they pleased. you, however, remained behind that very first night.

as far as you knew, the others had decided upon a bar for the night’s celebration. The quiet dwelling over the ship was calming, and from your sweat crisscrossed on the afterdeck you had a wide view of the stars. 

your notebook rested on your belly, pen tight between your fingers, thoughts moving a million miles an hour. there hadn’t been time to get shopping done that day, so you would rouse the ship early the next morning and assign them to fetch groceries in pairs of two—just to be safe. 

and though the heavy thinking could wait till the morning, you were stuck in a spiral of inventory and lists. it was… exhausting, and offered little to no fulfillment. still, it was what you did to help. 

A familiar patter of boots broke your reverie, and you peeked up to find sanji coming to loom over you, his hands shoved in his pockets. his suit jacket was draped over one shoulder and his hair was a mess—he wasn’t drunk though, which was a very good sign.

silently, he disposed of his jacket and laid down beside you, resting his hands behind his head. for a split second, you got a glimpse of the damn rock imbeedded in your memory for all time, and how sanji used to make up stories about the stars.

since then, you’d come to know their true stories. you knew every constellation by name, having memorized them upon the baratie and spoken to them every lonely night. the stars had been your friends in your youth, and though your conversations with them were few and far between now, they always shined for you. so as far as you knew, you were never alone.

sanji raised an arm and pointed in a random direction. “bet you can’t name that one.”

a grin worked its way up your face. “how much?”

he turned his head, eyes boring into you. “if you can’t, you tell me what’s on your mind.”

“that’s hardly fair.”

“take it or leave it.”

you huffed, but complied, glaring up at the sky. “cassiopeia. cursed to remain in the stars for claiming her daughter was more beautiful than the nerieds.” you kissed your teeth. “hardly a punishment. i’d love to be in the stars.”

there was a weight behind your words; a truth so deep you had to take a long breath to recover. wetting your lips, you asked your brother, “do you think, someday, i could study them?”

“why someday?”

“well, you need supplies. tools. there’s only so much our eyes can tell from down here.”

“tools,” he murmured. “so, you want to study the stars?”

the words flooded from your lips. “i want to know everything about them. i want to know why they shine, how far they are, what’s beyond them… can we get there?” you sighed into a smile. “there are some cities that have observatories dedicated to astronomy, but you’ve got to be some kind of noble scholar to get in.”

sanji listened, and he listened well. He laid by your side and listened to you tell him about the stars till nami and zoro came lugging a drunk usopp between them, luffy taking the lead. he remained in thought for most of the night, and sought out nami to ask about expenditures, and then set out to find luffy. 

it was safe to say you weren’t quite as upset at sanji and luffy for disappearing all evening when they returned at sunset, some beri short, with a gift in hand.

you stood slack jawed as they revealed a beautiful telescope, the metal polished and bright and shining. how they had managed to sneak it past you and set it up on the afterdeck was beyond you, but you hardly cared to ask.

you threw your arms around your brother, whispering your thank yous, and quickly turned to tackle your captain in a hug just as tight. the night to follow was marked by your awed sighs and the excited way you told the crew about ursa major and ursa minor, then about castor and pollux, and so on till you could barely keep your eyes open.

and sanji would never say it out loud, but he admired you. you turned out pretty damn good despite having him as your big brother. someday, you’d reach the stars. he knew that for certain. he could only hope you’d come visit once or twice.

“g’night,” he muttered to the crew as he stood, making his way over to where you’d drifted off against a barrel. he scooped you up in his arms and was veyr careful to not wake you as he made his way to your and nami’s quarters. 

sanji rested you down and moved to take off your boots and pull the blanket over you, and he found himself frozen all of a sudden. lips pursed, he patted your hair, and turned to go. at the door, he paused and looked back. you slept so soundly for once, something he was so very glad for. he wasn’t blind to how you’d been overworking yourself.

perhaps he would talk to you about that in the morning, but for now, he simply smiled. “good night, sister. love you.”

and whispered back to him, just in time for him to hear: “g’night, sanj. i love you.”

#sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x sister!reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #luffy x reader #nami x reader #usopp x reader #one piece live action x reader #one piece #one piece live action #opla #opla sanji #opla x reader #x sister reader #x sister!reader #x platonic!reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader #sanji's sister saga

[greatstormcat]

COD Omegaverse Part 2

Part 1 part 3

Alpha!Ghost x Omega!Soap x Omega!f!reader

TW: MDNI 18+, fluff and smut, double penetration, anal, threesome, angst, past trauma

Gaz looked at you, still smiling to himself as you stared at him in confusion. Who would be interested in you? Why even would they? As far as Omegas went you were not the perfect, dainty little specimen that Alphas craved and fought over. You didn’t cower and submit to stronger figures automatically, you only gave respect where it was due, when it was earned. Up until now you’d never even been with an Alpha, for fear they’d scent out your secret and tell the world. You’d put up strong walls around yourself, for your own protection, avoiding physical intimacy. That was, until you found your Pack with the 141.

the soft kindness in Gaz’s eyes, almost looking like pity now, made you start to wonder if those walls had been built too tall, too thick for your own good.

“I know you’re whole thing about hiding your designation,” he said quietly, “but have you considered you’ve gotten so good at it you’ve started losing who you are? Perhaps you’ve gotten so good at hiding you are missing out on something important?”

“Gaz, I’m scared if I let anyone close I will lose who I am anyway,” you reply.

“You have seen the other Omegas on base, they are in the same boat as you. You’re just as strong as any of them, I’ve even seen you take down Soap in drills. Just think about it, and open your eyes to what’s going on around you for fucks sake.” He grinned as he finished speaking, again hinting that you were oblivious to something everyone else saw.

Ghost was waiting outside the entrance to the Medbay, and looked up as you came outside.

“Wanted to check you were okay and take you back to barracks,” he explained, looking you up and down. “You’re still looking pale, you eaten yet?”

“Yes, I have Lt, just need some sleep now,” you reply, scratching at the raw mark where the IV needle had been taped into your arm. His eyes caught the movement and he took your arm in his hand to inspect the red skin, turning your arm gently side to side. As he did, you spotted that his gloves were rolled back slightly exposing his wrists. It was an odd habit he’d gotten into around you over the last few months and…

The realization hit you like a vengeful god had struck you with a thunderbolt. You suddenly thought of all the times Soap had found an excuse to hug you, put his arm around you, marking you with his scent. Ghost had a habit of being near you during exercises and drills involving other Alphas, always being teamed up with you or sudden switches happening bringing him nearer. Gaz’s words rang in your head, you really had been oblivious to something so clear.

Ghost stopped what he was doing and looked at you, eyebrow raised.

“Problem?” He rumbled.

“No, sir,” you replied but your face betrayed the mix of emotions you felt.

“Well, let’s get you back. You look like crap still,” he told you, and then wrapped his hand gently around your arm to move you along.

“Lieutenant, can I ask you something rather personal,” you asked.

“Yeah,” he replied simply, still guiding you along a route he knew that you knew perfectly well.

“You and Soap,” you started but didn’t know how to continue your line of questioning. What did you want to ask? Did you even really want to know the answer?

“You gonna finish the question or am I expected to guess?” He asked with a chuckle, looking down at you. The hand on your arm shifted and slid up to your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your neck very so slightly.

“Let me try again. I wanted to know if you were serious about what you said back in Price’s office, that you were fine with me going around with your scent on me?” The movement of his thumb was very light, enough that you were able to resist the sensation while still enjoying it.

“Sergeant, you are one of the smartest soldiers I’ve ever worked with,” he began, “but you can miss obvious so easily sometimes.” He didn’t make it sound insulting, like it was just an observation instead so there was no sting in his words. “Soap and I have been interested in you since before we even knew you were an Omega.”

He stopped walking, and you realised you were outside your door now. He stood in front of you, hand slipping from your shoulder to the back of your neck now, his eyes burning into yours.

“We’ve talked and, well, we’d like to court you, if you’d be interested?” There was your answer, and now your Lieutenant was waiting for yours while resting his hand on the back of your neck. There was nowhere to hide now, he knew you and knew you well, his eyes watching your face carefully.

“I’d like that,” you

A few days after your talk with Ghost, Soap caught up to you as you were heading towards the rec room. He approached carrying a paper bag in his hand as he called out to you. When you slowed to greet him, his smile warm and infectious, he held the bag to you unceremoniously.

“What’s this?” You asked, opening the bag and peering inside. You pulled out a soft, thick blanket and it smelled heavily of Soap, as though he had purposely scented it himself before giving it to you. You stared at it in shock and confusion. “It’s a blanket…”

“It’s a courting gift, for your nest,” he said with a confused frown which turned to concern when he saw no sign of understanding on your face. “You have a nest, dontcha?” You swallow back tears, despising the feel of the pain in your chest.

“I’ve never actually nested,” you admit, rubbing the soft material between your fingers and releasing more of the wonderful scent. “If someone found it…” your voice cracked and you stopped speaking, unable to meet Soap’s eyes as you knew there would be pity in them.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “That’s a powerful instinct to ignore. Even I’ve always made sure I have somewhere to go, even when I was hidin’ my designation.” He sighed deeply and leant his head against yours so he could speak as softly as possible. “Be honest with me, are you ashamed of yourself? Of being an Omega?”

The one question you had never wanted to be asked hung in the air before you, and there was nowhere to run from it. You clenched the blanket in your fists, tears burning your eyes worse than any chemical warfare agent you had ever experienced, and nodded once.

The hug Soap enveloped you in was tight and fierce, crushing the air from your lungs with its intensity.

“Right, how about this, I will help you build yerself a nest. Okay?” He looked you squarely in the eyes, palms pressed to the sides of your face. He blinked as a thought struck him and he got up, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind him. “Come on,” he said, as you were pulled down the hallway to the quarters he shared with Ghost. Soap opened the door and pulled you in, shutting it firmly behind you before turning to face you, his expression unreadable.

“This is to show you that I am serious about how I, we, feel about you and that you don’t need to be ashamed. Okay?” He said, resting his forehead against yours. The mixture of scents in the room were a symphony as Soap tugged your hand and led you to the far side of the bed. There, tucked into the corner was a collection of blankets, pillows and clothing. The smell rising from it was a strong mixture of both men and their bond, and it crept into your head teasing and calling to you.

“It’s okay,” he encouraged you, helping you take off your boots and easing you into the collection fabrics. You made sure not to disturb anything as you sat down, and Soap quickly joined you, pulling you down to curl with him against his chest.

The effect was immediate and intense. You relaxed, felt yourself let go of all tension and melted against Soap who held you gently in his arms, stroking your hair. Your eyes drifted shut as your heartbeat slowed, you allowed yourself to nuzzle against Soap, and that was when you felt the vibration in his chest begin low and gentle. It took longer than it should have to realise he was purring as he held you, and the sound drew you further into a state of contentment.

The door opened and you flinched before Soap shushed you, a low chuckle sounding in his chest. You heard an audible inhale of breath as Ghost caught your scent in his private quarters.

“What the fu…” Ghost’s words died in his throat as he moved around the bed and saw Soap and you curled together in the nest. “Johnny, care to explain?” He asked softly, his eyes bouncing between the pair of you as slowly eased himself down to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t get too excited, Simon,” Soap chuckled, “just needed to show the lass what she’s been missin’. Ghost watched as you sat up, Soap continuing to lounge propped up on his elbow beside you but resting his hand on your knee.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Although you couldn’t see his face, his tone betrayed what you imagined would be a huge grin beneath his balaclava. You wondered if he would remove it if you accepted their proposal as mates.

You met Ghost’s eyes and gave a shrug.

“He’s going to help me build a nest. I’ve never had one before,” you explain.

“No nest?” Ghost repeated incredulously, his brows furrowing as he looked down at you and he took a deep breath then blew it out slowly as though controlling himself. “How have you ended up living like this? It’s more than just hiding your designation, something happened to you in the past...”

“My dad, he would rant about Omegas a lot when I was little,” you explained. “He said Omegas were attention seekers, whores or worse. When I started to present as one, he lost it and kicked me out,” As much as it hurt you to relive the memory, being able to share it was cathartic, especially whilst Soap cradled you against his chest.

The scent of Ghost’s anger cut through the air, his hands clenched until his knuckles went white and he growled low in his throat.

“Simon,” Soap warned his mate gently, recognising the protective edge of Ghost glinting through his outer calm. Ghost shook his head, running his head over the top of his head. “She knows she doesn’t have to live like that now, it’s okay.”

“I do, it’s okay. I know I’ve been living half a life up to now and you’re both helping. Honestly.”

You carefully got out of Soap’s nest and stood up, feeling content and more sure of yourself than you had in years.

“I should go,” you said with a smile, picking up the bag containing the blanket.

“I’d rather you stayed,” the Alpha said firmly, “but it’s up to you.” You walked to the door. “Wait,” came a firm command which stopped you in your tracks. Ghost stood and walked to you pulling his t-shirt over his head as he went, then held it out to you with a raised eyebrow. “Johnny gave you his gift. This is mine, maybe it can be the start of your first nest.” You hear Soap swear softly, and you accepted the warm fabric. You pressed it to your nose and inhaled, earning a satisfied hum from the Alpha, who nodded with approval.

“Thank you, both of you,”

It took a few days, a trip off base during some down time with Soap’s guidance, but you finally completed construction of your nest. Once you had allowed yourself to start the project you were amazed at how important the task became to you. The placement of each item was carefully scrutinised and adjusted, until you were happy with the outcome. Ghost’s t-shirt was given a prominent position, alongside the blanket Soap had given you at the start of the endeavor.

Eventually you felt comfortable enough that you decided to invite the other Omega to join you.

“You ready for that, hen?” He had replied after you made the offer in a break in training.

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t, would I?” You replied with a grin.

“Fair enough, it’s gonna drive Simon nuts you realize?” he smirked, nodding across at the Lieutenant who was busy across the training ground. “He’s dying to see what you’ve made, and if you’ll ask him to see it.”

“All in good time, you’ve both been patient with me and I can’t be grateful enough for that,” you said. “But between you and me, I promise he will very soon.”

Later that day, you opened the door to your quarters in answer to Soap’s knock. His gorgeous, smiling face greeted you, and you bite your bottom lip to fight the urge to kiss him then and there.

“Come on in,” you smiled, letting him step inside. He looked around happily wandering about the space, stopping only when he saw your nest.

“Looks good, you’ve done well for a first timer,” he said softly, giving you another beaming smile. You lowered yourself down into the comforting softness and beckoned him in with you. Soap moved gently beside you, slipping his arm under you and shifting you so he could spoon up behind you in the warmth of the nest.

This time, when you began to relax, it was you who purred. It was the first time in your life you had felt safe and happy enough to do so, and Soap kissed the back of your neck in response. His own purr started shortly after, and you wondered what Ghost’s response would be to having two mates with him just like this moment.

You felt Soap’s lips on the skin of your neck again, leaving a tingling wetness behind that cooled under his breath, and a rush of arousal coursed through your veins. It bled into your scent almost instantly in your relaxed and unguarded state.

“Soap…” you whispered, hips gently pressing back against his.

“I know, hen. Can smell it on ya,” he whispered against your neck and placed a firmer kiss. He slipped his hand down from your hip to your thigh and squeezed. “Not yet though, love. I promised Si I’d keep my paws to myself for now.”

You sighed with frustration. “I know, it’s probably best while we work out what we are doing. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck,” you pour playfully.

“Can’t be too careful now,” he agreed and placed another kiss against your neck despite the obvious effect it had on you.”how ‘bout I go and let you rest, rather than get you riled up?”

“Okay, and say goodnight to Ghost for me,” you say as Soap got up, cresting a cold space behind you that you instantly hated. “Actually, let him know I’d like him to come here tomorrow after training. If he wants to, that is.”

Soap grinned even wider than before.

“Aye, he will be here, trust me on that.”

Ghost looked down at the fabrics, eyes taking in the items from Soap and himself with pride, his chest swelling.

“That’s a good nest,” he said with a nod, and reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a wad of black fabric. “Just needs one more thing though,” he unfolded the wad to reveal one of his balaclavas.

“Oh, yes that would be nice,” you reached out for it, but he pulled it back.

“No, that one's clean, no scent on it,” he said and reached up and pulled the one he was wearing off his face. He smiled at you, messy blonde hair ruffled by the mask, lips crooked with scars and a nose bent from too many breaks, but warm and beaming at you all the same. Your heart thundered in your chest as you looked at him. “You take this one,” he held out the mask to you, smirking at your shocked response. “The other ones for later when I leave.”

“Thanks,” you managed to say, and cracked a massive smile back at him before gesturing towards the nest.

He squeezed himself into the space with you, thick limbs adjusting with instinctual ease to surround you, protect you like any good Alpha should. Like you Alpha should, the thought came so easily now. His nose pressed against your scent gland and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, your body suddenly falling soft and limp. He felt your reflex, and chuffed against your skin.

“You’re a good Omega,” he said softly, lips just touching against your neck. “You shouldn’t feel you need to hide, be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you sir,” you whisper back.

“I think we can forget that ‘sir’ stuff for now. Simon will do just fine.”

“Thank you, Simon,” you grin. There was an answering growl from him as he heard his name leave your lips, and he kissed at your gland sending another wave of bonelessness through you which this time you managed to resist. He chuckled in response, a deep and wicked sound.

“Yeah, such a good fucking Omega,” he growled and kissed harder at the raise flesh to test you. This time a whimper escaped your throat as you fought the urge to submit, and Ghost pushed his hips against your backside, rubbing his hardening cock against you.

When his tongue ran over the sensitive patch of skin, you moaned openly and he pulled your shoulder back so he could kiss you. His tongue slid against your lips and you opened obediently for him, letting him taste you deeply. You curled your fingers into his hair and tugged, deepening the kiss and urging him on. The smell of arousal suffused the air around you, but he suddenly pulled back.

“Fuck, you’re delicious,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. “We’re not going any further though, just so you know.”

“Yeah, Soap said the same thing yesterday. Something about being careful until I decide what to do.”

“That’s right,” Ghost replied softly. “I don’t want you making a decision in the heat of the moment that you then regret. We want to be your mates, but only if you’ll have us.”

“Well, I accept you both.”

Ghost pulled off his mask the second the door his quarters shut and turned the lock. In a blur of movement he then had you pinned to the wall beside the door, caged with his arms either side of your head and his face close to yours.

“Say it,” he said. Soap had been lounging in his nest and sat bolt upright as he caught the scent rolling off the two of you. When he heard Ghost’s words he got to his feet quickly and moved closer.

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked with an eyebrow raised as he looked between Ghost and you.

“Say it. Tell Johnny what you said,” Ghost rumbled, eyes never leaving yours as you chewed the inside of your mouth trying to hide your smile.

“I said that I accept you both,” you replied firmly. Ghost’s mouth crashed against yours in an almost violent kiss, his hands pulling at your clothes desperately. Soap swore under his breath and began to strip as well, knowing full well what would happen now.

The three of you tumble onto the bed, you pulled Soap towards you to kiss him as well, as Ghost kicked away the remaining items of clothing. For a moment he stood and admired the two Omegas in his bed, his Omegas, as Soap kissed you with equal ferocity to his current mate.

You felt Ghost’s hands skate along the inside of your bare thighs and glanced down, but Soap pulled your attention back to him by nipping your bottom lip. You tried to cry out when Ghost’s tongue pressed against your slit but Soap swallowed the sound with his persistent and demanding mouth.

Ghost’s tongue worked up and down your slit, drawing out your slick with each pass until you were moaning and writhing with the need for more.

This was nothing like before, they were taking their time with you, there was no burning pain this time, just the pleasure of the three of you being together because you chose to be. This was happening because you wanted it to.

Soap kissed along your jaw, neck and then collarbone before running his tongue across the swell of your breast. As Ghost began to tease your clit with his tongue, Soap flicked at your nipple with his tongue. The dual sensations caused you to shudder with pleasure, eager to see where this would lead.

With a rumbling moan Ghost pressed his mouth against your pussy and licked deep into you, pushing as far inside as he could go, causing your back to arch up off the bed.

“Oh fuck!” You gasped out as you felt his tongue moving in and out of you, his hands gripped your thighs to keep them spread open for him.

Soap watched with a lax mouth, mesmerized by the sight before him, his hard cock straining with need. You reached out and wrapped your fingers around Soap’s length and began to pump it, drawing a guttural moan from deep in his chest and his head fell back on his shoulders in ecstasy. You felt the huff of air leaving Ghost’s lungs as he watched you and Soap, but his tongue never stilled. As Ghost pushed you closer to orgasm, your hand worked Soap feverishly, your combined moans music to his ears and precum dribbled along the hard shaft of Soap’s cock.

Without warning Ghost sat back on his heels, chin and mouth coated with your slick as he watched Soap tremble, nearing orgasm at your ministrations.

“Johnny, I want you here, now,” Ghost ordered, pulling the Omega to position himself between your shaking thighs, and then pressing between his shoulders so he was on top of you. “You can come after when she does, not before.”

Soap lined his leaking cock up with your entrance and pressed in, hissing at the tight heat as it surrounded him, and you moaned wantonly as he began to thrust into you slowly taking you closer to your orgasm. There was movement on the bed, and Soap suddenly stilled and shuddered.

“Fuck… Si, what are you… ah!” You felt Soap’s cock twitching inside you, and you realised that Ghost was behind him sinking his cock into the other Omega’s slicked hole. When Ghost thrust into him, you felt the force through Soap’s cock and gasped.

“Remember Johnny, not before she cums,” Ghost growled and began thrusting. You were already teetering on the brink of orgasm, but the sight and feel of Ghost fucking Soap into you pushed you quickly over the edge and you orgasmed hard clutching onto Soap’s shoulders. Your inner walls clenched onto Soap’s straining length as Ghost pounded into him, and he followed you over the edge quickly, gasping and whimpering with the sensations.

Soap carefully moved off of you, kissing you tenderly, and you felt Ghost move himself into position. His cock glistened with Soap’s slick as he teased it against your sensitive flesh until you rolled your hips, chasing the blunt head as he collected Soap’s seed as it leaked from you.

With one smooth thrust Ghost pushed into you, the ripples of your first orgasm merging into a new wave of pleasure, building towards another quickly. Ghost leant down to you, his breathe coming in harsh pants until he latched onto the side over your neck, drinking in your scent and you felt his knot growing and catching. The pressure when it finally caught made you cum again.

As you orgasmed again Ghost sank his fangs into your gland, marking you as his mate, and you fell completely limp in his arms as he came, painting you inner walls with his cum. The mark throbbed, but in a wonderful way, and Ghost lay you carefully on the bed, your back against Soap. Both men, your mates, pressed themselves against you, damp with sweat and scents mingling into one beautiful bonding scent, along with the combined purrs of both Ghost’s Omegas.

#posts and runs away #omegaverse cod #omega soap #alpha simon riley #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au #a/b/o universe #a/b/o fic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley smut #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghoap x reader #ghoap smut #soap modern warfare #soap call of duty #soapghost #soap x ghost #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap mactavish smut #johnny soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #soap smut

[ellecdc]

can i formally request something? (i have no idea if you take smut requests so please ignore me if not😭) a barty x reader smut where everyone already thinks they’re together so they’re like 🤔?? maybe they’re onto something

and maybe if they try to tell people (read regulus) they’re just like -_-¿ this is new

and well done on your exams!! i’m sure you aced them

hahaha omg this is so Barty and reader coded fr. thanks for your request (I hope I did it justice)

Barty Crouch Jr x afab fem!reader who has sex for the first sodding time, Evan

CW: smut - like straight up porn people, p in v intercourse, pussy slapping cuz apparently I'm a freak, soft choking, a slap in the face if you squint, 18+

This conversation had been going on for so long that you were truly fighting the urge to throw your head back and let out a guttural scream out of pure frustration.

But Barty never fought his urges.

“For fuck’s sake!” He screeched. “How many sodding times do you need me to say it: we - are - not - to - geth - er!” He shouted at Evan, emphasising each syllable with a stomp of his foot. 

Evan smirked and shared a look with Dorcas before rolling his eyes.

“Sure. And what exactly is this?” He asked, gesturing with his book at your tangled forms.

Okay, so maybe you and Barty were physically affectionate with each other - but that didn’t mean anything.

“What?” Barty asked simply.

“The way you’re sitting, Junior.” Dorcas drawled in a bored tone.

You both looked at each other like you were only just now realising your proximity to each other. 

You were positioned on the cushion of the sofa between Barty’s thighs with his arms wrapped around you and his hands weaselled under your shirt and tucked under your breasts.

What?

It was for warmth; he has terrible circulation, you know.

“We always sit like this.” You replied.

Evan scoffed. “You always sit like you’re one sneeze away from having his dick slip inside of you?”

“Okay, you know what?” Barty said, slipping his hands out from your shirt and patting your thighs to say ‘get up’, and standing up behind you. “I didn’t come here to be spoken to like this, least of all by someone who has his head shoved so far up his arse that he could check for tonsillitis.”

Evan shut his book he’d been pretending to read up until that point causing Barty to screech and shout at you to ‘save yourself’ as the two of you took off in the direction of his dorm room. 

You were laughing and breathless by the time you made it into Barty’s room and he shut the door behind you, casting a locking charm for good measure should Evan come looking for retribution for the slander.

“Honestly, I think they’re just jealous.” You said breathlessly.

Barty nodded as he sucked in a few deep breaths himself. “I mean, it’s kind of sad he’s never had a best friend that he felt so comfortable with, you know?”

“Exactly!” 

“And I don’t know why everyone has to make it so sexual. Do you have great tits? Sure. But that’s not why I put my hands on them!”

“Of course.” You agreed readily. “And I mean, are we two of the hottest people to walk these fucking halls? Of course we are -”

“Absolutely.”

“- but that doesn’t mean we’re shagging!”

“Right!” Barty said with finality as he finally sat down on the chair at his desk. “I don’t know why they have to make everything so weird.”

“Me either.” You groaned as you fell backwards onto Barty’s bed and stared up at the green velvet bed curtains draped over the four poster bed. “They’re probably just jealous.” You repeated. “I mean, we would make a really hot couple; I’d want to be with us too.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I was just thinking.” Barty agreed quickly. “And if we were having sex, they’d bloody know it. It would be hot.”

“Gods, it really would be, wouldn't it?”

“Without a doubt; I’m great in bed, and you’re great at everything.” Barty said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You know what.” You said as you sat up to face Barty. “It would be hot. Great sex comes from trust-”

“Check.”

“- communication,”

“Check.”

“Familiarity,”

“Duh.”

“Confidence.”

“Obviously.”

“We’d be sodding lucky to be shagging each other!” You proclaimed.

“I agree!” He responded. 

You both stared at each other; breathing slightly laboured having gotten yourselves so worked up pleading your cases (to no one, seeing as you were both clearly on the same page).

“Huh.” Barty said finally, giving your body a once over. “You know, maybe it is weird we haven’t fucked before.”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes met his green ones that held an intensity you’d not seen from him before.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Yeah.”

And like a flip had been switched, the two of you were launching yourselves at each other. 

No time was spent savouring touches or testing waters. It was all teeth clashing, tongues dancing, heavy breathing, and tearing each other’s clothes off.

It felt somehow both forbidden and oh so right.

You’d truly never thought about Barty like this; you really were just that comfortable with one another.

But as you pulled his shirt over his head and started fussing with his belt, a fire roared to life inside you screaming we should have been doing this the whole bloody time. 

You nearly tripped over the waistband of your trousers as Barty backed the two of you towards his bed where he sat on the edge.

You broke apart for air as he moved his sinful mouth down the expanse of your torso and took to marking up your breasts.

“Salazar they’re even better like this.” He murmured to himself before taking one of your nipples in his mouth whilst he pinched the other.

You ran your finger through his hair, an action you'd done many times before, but never like this.

You pulled at it roughly and brought his lips back to yours as you pushed him to lay back on his bed so you could straddle him.

“Merlin, Y/N. No foreplay?” He chuckled breathlessly as you gave his cock a few strokes and whispered a lubrication charm.

“Next time.” You sighed as you lined him up with your entrance and slowly sank down onto his cock, causing the two of you to moan in unison.

“Next time, huh?” Barty teased as he smoothed his hands up and down your sides, allowing the two of you to adjust to the feeling of one another before you experimentally rolled your hips.

“What? Don’t you want to fuck me, Junior?” You taunted right back.

Barty thrusted his hips up roughly into yours, causing you to cry out and place your hands on his shoulders to stabilise yourself. “I think it’s very obvious I want to fuck you.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, bringing your mouth back to his and biting gently on his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

You breathed a laugh out through your nose before you bit down harder.

“Then fuck me.”

And before you could tell which way was up, Barty had flipped the two of you over so he now hovered over top of you and had his hand wrapped around your neck.

“You want to be fucked, doll?” He groaned as he hooked one of your legs around his hip allowing himself that much deeper in you.

If there was one thing you could thank the fucked up breeding habits of Purebloods for, it was apparently the size of their cocks. 

“You want me to ruin you?” He continued as he added more pressure to your throat, still grinding into your now sopping cunt. “Make sure no other wizard is ever good enough for you?”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire; the feeling when you’re sitting on the poolside in the sun after a swim; the beads of water only make the sun’s rays feel that much warmer against your skin.

“Oi.” He demanded, giving your cheek a chastising tap. “You gonna be good for me?” He asked more seriously this time.

His beautiful green eyes were nearly fully eclipsed by his pupils as he continued moving in and out of you with what you realised now was a very controlled pace. But you were eager to see where he’d go from here.

“I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” He ordered.

“I’ll be good.”

“What was that?”

“I’ll be good, Barty.” You whined, pulling at his arms in an attempt to bring him closer.

“Who are you going to be good for?”

“You.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement as he hiked up your other leg and wrapped it around his hip.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll be good for you! Promise. I’ll be so good for you, please.”

Barty chuckled and let out a taunting cooing sound as he fell to his elbows and brought his face to yours.

“There’s no need to beg, sweets.”

And just like that, he was pulling away from you again.

Suddenly, his hands were on your hips and he lifted them into the air, holding them there as he began slamming into you. 

“Gonna be so fucking good for me, aren’t you angel?” He grunted.

You scrunched your eyes shut at the feeling of his throbbing cock pounding into you; adjusting his angle every few thrusts in search of something.

“I bet you’re a fucking screamer, huh? You always got so much to say babygirl; don’t go quiet on me now.”

His fingers dug further into the fat of your hips as he adjusted his grip on you, causing you to let out an embarrassing keening sound.

Apparently that was close, but not quite what Barty had been looking for.

“Close. How about we try…”

And he pulled out of you completely before landing a hard smack against your pussy, forcing a surprised scream to tear from your throat. 

“There’s the pretty sounds I was looking for.” He celebrated, rubbing placating circles on your clit before repositioning himself and sinking back into you. “Think you can keep that up for me, Princess?”

“Yes!” You cried quickly, grabbing helplessly at the bedding as he once again lifted your hips up into the air, finding that sweet spot inside you that he’d been in search of before his interruption.

He knew he found his mark when you let out another strangled sob.

“Alright pretty girl, there we go, huh? Does that feel good?”

You were babbling affirmatives nonsensically as he groaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him; yesses and pleases spilling from your lips.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

“Please Barty.” You cried, reaching a hand up to his wrist.

He let your hips fall to the bed as he brought one thumb to your clit and his other hand took yours in his.

“What is it, princess? Hm?”

“Please.” You whined, and it sounded pathetic even in your own ears in your current state.

But Barty only tsked and pulled two of your fingers into his mouth which he began to suck.

You could feel the tension building in your core as he quickened his pace with his thumb and his hips before letting your fingers go with a pop.

“I’ll take care of your princess, you know that. When have I ever let you down?”

Never.

“Never.”

He smiled triumphantly down at you; and though his mouth was cocky, his eyes were sincere. 

“Exactly. I’m not about to start now, yeah?”

And suddenly his thumb was gone from your clit, your ankles were thrown over his shoulders and he was leaning his weight against the backs of your thighs as he began thrusting into you with an air of desperation.

“Atta girl; so good, huh? S’good.” He grunted as his thrusts became somewhat sloppy. “S’fuckin’ good for me. Perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted with each thrust of his hips. “Please, oh gods, please, please Barty.”

“I know, I know.” He grunted, clearly as close to teetering over some sort of edge as you were. “I know, I feel it. You’re alright, yeah? Go on, sweets; I’ve got you.”

And his hands were holding onto your thighs for dear life and he was kissing at your knee like even that silly little part of you was something worthy of worship, and he did have you and he never let you down and he wasn’t going to start now and you saw stars as you finally fell over the edge.

The room fell quiet as Barty locked his lips on yours, and you realised you’d been screaming. 

His hips stuttered as he thrust into you once, twice, three times more before he followed you over the edge; letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he fell to his elbows on top of you and the two of you fought to catch your breath.

In complete contrast to the Barty who was only moments ago pounding mercilessly into you, he started placing, slow, lingering, gentle kisses over your face as his thumbs rubbed idly at your temples.

He pressed a kiss to your neck, your jaw, the tip of your nose, over your eyelids, your forehead, your ear.

You knew Barty could have a soft side, but you never imagined it so tender.

“I knew you’d be a screamer.” He whispered, breaking you out of the serene moment and surprising a bark of laughter from you, which caused both of you to groan in discomfort before Barty slowly pulled out of you. 

“Stay here, princess.” He instructed as he walked away from the bed and returned a few moments later with a warm cloth and one of his (read: your favourite of his) t-shirts.

You watched him carefully as he cleaned you up - and once again, what probably should have felt awkward or embarrassing felt nothing but natural as he doted on you. 

“Can you sit up?” He asked; not one hint of condescension in his tone as he held the neckhole of his shirt open for you to slip your head into.

As it poked through, he pressed a kiss to your lips before helping to thread your arms in.

“Is it safe to assume we’ll be doing that again?” You asked with a smirk, causing him to scoff dramatically. 

“We’ll be doing that the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it.”

After a shower and a change into comfies, the two of you returned to the common room, and though Dorcas was long gone, Evan could be found where the two of you had left him, now in the company of Regulus. 

“Well boys.” Barty sang dramatically as he swung his legs over the back of the sofa and landed on the seat with a bounce. “We just fucked.”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant goading as you sat beside him.

“Yeah? And I had potions today; so what?” Regulus muttered without looking up from his novel.

“What do you mean so what? This was the first time!” Barty argued.

“This is new.” You insisted severely.

“You know, I always knew Barty was a liar; but I expected better from you, Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped open as Regulus and Evan stood up and walked away from the seating area.

What you didn’t see as they walked towards the Slytherin dungeons was Regulus passing Evan five Galleons for their bet on who could convince the two of you to finally get over your “just friends” bit.

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #barty #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #slytherin skittles #the slytherin skittles #smut #barty crouch jr imagine #barty cr #barty crouch jr x reader #Barty Crouch jr x #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch jr smut #barty crouch jr drabble #barty crouch jr headcanons #barty gate #if you give the fans a barty #they’re going to ask for smut #ellecdc fics

[the-offside-rule]

Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Reconsider

Requested: yes

Prompt: 35) "Can I convince you to stay?"

41) "Do that thing I like"

52) "You looked great out there today"

Warnings: smut, 18+, douchebag Max, teammate x teammate, possessive Max, oral (f!receiving), edging

Christmas Day 7

Y/n smiled as she took her helmet off. P2 in qualifying and it was what she expected to be her last race at Red Bull. While she loved the people there, she wasn't winning and that is quite frankly what she wanted to do. She didn't think she could do that having to play second fiddle to Max Verstappen. When she hopped out of the car, she was met with Lando who congratulated her and joked she should come to McLaren. She laughed along with him until she felt a poke at her shoulder and she knew exactly who it was. She turned to see her teammate with his helmet hair looking as hot as ever and a lazy smile on his lips. "You looked great out there, today. Pity you're not here next season." He said. Y/n smiled back and took her own helmet off. "Yeah, a real shame." She replied and placed her helmet onto the podium table.

Max moved closer and leaned down to her ear. Her heart beat in her chest. "Can I convince you to stay?" Max whispered lowly into her ear. She looked around at all the cameras snapping photos and videos of this moment, yet kept her composure. "Bold move." She replied, still smiling. He looked down to her lips. "I can."

As Y/n went around the media pen, she anticipated finishing up so she could get her convincing to stay by the dutchman. It wasnt the first time they would fuck and it probably wouldn't be the last. Neither of them did this for feelings, it was simply to blow off steam after sessions and it kept them both focused without getting frustrated. The team knew and they didn't care as long as it didn't interfere and it never did. Both drivers did their job, then left for a half hour only to come back as professional as they started the day. Sometimes, they'd even schedule to hook up in between weekends, just because they could and the PR would handle the media speculating about the closeness of the two. Their favourite was when the other would do well in a race or when both would DNF. It was good to celebrate, but it was good to angry fuck too. For today, however, Y/n didn't know which side of Max she would get.

She smiled as her last interview finished and she began walking towards her trailer. Y/n looked around slyly, trying to find where her beloved dutchman was and surely she saw him hanging closely by. She smirked and walked quicker to her driver room, lifting her phone to pretend she was answering a phone call to avoid questions from the fans and paparazzi. Shortly after she closed her door, Max barged in. "New record." Y/n joked. "What can I say? I like breaking records." Max said, walking towards her and almost immediately beginning to kiss her lips hungrily. Y/n unzipped her overall and wrapped it around her waist, her lips not leaving his, both their lips fighting for dominance. That was the problem for her. They fought for dominance both on the track and behind closed doors and that was a dynamic that wouldn't work for her.

"Please stay." Max said, unzipping his overall. Y/n's hand ran down his under armour before her hand lifted it and ran over his toned abs. "Will you let me dominate?" She asked, lingering dangerously close to his lips. "In what way?" He asked. He moved his forehead closer and they ended up touching. "You know what way. I want to beat you." He chuckled and let his own hand drop to her hips and pulled her closer. "And why would I let you?" Y/n turned and looked out the one way glass, before she took her hair tied off and let her hair fall. "Well it's more of a 'you scratch my back, I scratch yours' kind of thing." She explained, moving her hair over to one side, knowing Max was right behind her to begin nipping at her neck and he did just that. She grimaced as her teammate's hands glided up under her fireproof shirt and began caressing her breasts. "You know I can't do that. But I can let you dominate and beat me in my apartment." He whispered. Y/n turned again to look back to him. "That's a pity." She began pushing the driver backwards before he fell back onto the sofa.

Max couldn't comprehend what was happening before Y/n hopped on top of him and began grinding. They both felt his erection growing within seconds. They looked down and grinned. "Are you gonna take care of that?" Max asked, biting his lip and sighing as Y/n lowered her hand cupped the clothed area. "Do that thing I like." Max begged. "You're meant to be convincing me to stay and you want me to pleasure you? I may have to go sign with Mercedes now, I'm afraid." She chuckled. "You're acting like that would change what we're doing." Max replied boldly. "It might not, but I'm sure whoever my teammate is would love to do what you're doing. And maybe they'd do it better-" Max hopped up and lifted her over to the counter and slammed her down with such force, she felt shaken. Max spun her around so she was leaning against the counter before he grabbed her wrists, holding them behind her back and pushing down. "No one would do you better than I do you." He growled. "Prove it." She replied. Max grinned and undid the lower part of his race suit. "You're not going to be able to walk tomorrow, nevermind drive." He tugged at her race suit, chucking down to her ankles and taking his length out and delving into her. She gasped. He didn't give her a chance to adjust to him this time. She was getting angry Max, and that made her smile. His thrusts were deep and hard, just as she liked. He loved the sounds that fell from her mouth. Strings of curses, followed by his name. Heavenly. He let go of her wrists and wrapped his hand around her neck, pulling her back towards him. "Look out there, shcat." He demanded. Y/n looked out at the people walking around the paddock. She even spotted some drivers still doing their interviews.

"You're so loud, I wonder if the media pen knows how good I fuck you yet." He whispered into her ear. "Just keep going." She pleaded. His spare hand spanked her, making her moan in bed pain and please. "Look in your mirror, I want to watch you." He watched as her face contorted with each thrust she took. Her moans grew louder and louder before she crumbled and her knees nearly gave out. Her finger nails dug into the wooden countertop as her mouth fell open. Max leaned closer. "I'm not finished yet." She groaned. "I can't. Fuck me, I-"

He pulled out and pulled her up onto the countertop before dropping to his knees and looked up to her. She looked down to him through hooded eyes. "You wouldn't." She huffed. Max boldly kissed her thighs, inching his way closer and closer to her soaked pussy. "Max, don't tease me." She pleaded. "You wanted convincing, you're getting it." His mouth got to work, making her crumble yet again. Her fingers tangled in his dirty blonde strands of hair, her grip tightening with each swipe of his tongue. He grabbed her thighs and threw them over his shoulders. "Max, Max I'm gonna cum again." She whimpered. Max stopped and looked up at her. "New record." He smirked and stood again, her legs still on his shoulders. He stroked his cock, leaving it at her entrance. "Can you just fuck me?! I don't know what the problem is!"

He pushed in and started a quick pace. Y/n's fingers dropped to her clit, rubbing it to match the rhythm of Max. "Who's my good girl?" He asked. Y/n couldn't speak. She could only hum in response. "I can't hear you, schat." He said, edging her on to answer. "Oh my god, me! I am!" He grinned. "Max, can I cum?" She asked. "Wait for me, schat. You're taking it so well for me." She took her legs off his shoulders and sat up, gripping his shoulders now and kissing him again. She moved her hips to meet his thrusts and in no time, Max began moaning and his thrusts became sloppy. "Can we cum now, Maxie?" She pouted with a strained voice. That was enough for Max to come undone. Her begging and her using his pet name. "Ugh, fuck- yes!" He replied before they both came undone, holding onto eachother. As they rode through their orgasms, they simply kissed before Max pulled out and the pair went to change and get ready to leave the track. "Look, you've been a good teammate." Max said. "Well, yeah. I don't think any other teammate would suck you off in between sessions." Y/n replied. Max smiled and looked back but she wasn't laughing. She was tying her race boots. "Y/n, besides that. I mean this, you've been one of my better teammates." Y/n watched as Max walked towards the door and he looked back. "Just, consider re-signing?" He said, before closing the door and leaving.

A week later, Max scrolled through his phone when he came across an Instagram post.

Y/L/N RE-SIGNS WITH RED BULL FOR 2024 AND BEYOND

Max grinned and opened his messages

Congratulations on resigning. We should meet up to celebrate ; )

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen smut

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

HOTD has made many interesting choices in their adaptation of the story of the Dance. One of their favorite excuses for many of their questionable choices is "feminism". Why did they remove Alicent's ambitions and autonomy? Feminism. Why is Rhaenyra less proactive and hesitant? Feminism. Why are Daemon and Otto the primary active agents in the lead up to the Dance? Well women can't be in the wrong or violent, so feminism.

These choices are the farthest thing from feminist; they're sexist, end of story. Every decision surrounding the women of the Dance reeks of benevolent sexism. One of the most obviously sexist decisions made is the purposeful removal of female cooperation and friendship.

Rhaenyra in F&B has many female allies and friends. Her ladies in waiting loved her so much, one of them, Lady Elinda Massey gouged out her eyes at the sight of Rhaenyra's death. Lady Jeyne Arryn, Lady Alysanne Blackwood, and Lady Sabitha Frey/Vypren are just a few examples of ladies who fought for Rhaenyra (Alysanne and Sabitha literally fought in battles). Lady Fell chose death over betraying her oath to Rhaenyra.

Now, we haven't had any opportunity to meet most of these women I listed in the show. Lady Fell was portrayed as she was written in the book, a very minor character who simply foreshadowed how most of the realm would choose Rhaenyra over Aegon. Elinda Massey, however was reduced to an unnamed servant, not even a lady in waiting. Her treatment is an echo of one of my biggest issues with HOTD, the treatment of Laena and Rhaenys.

Laena was Rhaenyra's dearest friend in the book, in fact it's implied that they had a romantic relationship. Whether you believe that telling or not, it's undeniable that she and Laena were extremely close. They chose to betroth their children while they were infants, Rhaenyra flew to Laena's bedside during her final labor, and she stood vigil with Daemon over Laena's body.

All of that closeness and intimacy was removed in the show to make room for Alicent. So let's break that down: they removed a long and healthy relationship between two women and replaced it with a short-lived (in terms of screen time) friendship that quickly fell apart and turned into an intense rivalry. Reinforcing an old stereotype of female friendship: that it is entrenched in rivalry and toxicity and can quickly be turned to enmity. Alicent was so quickly and easily turned against Rhaenyra and it's even implied that she was jealous of Rhaenyra long before they became enemies.

Rhaenys in the book was an ardent supporter of Rhaenyra. She happily claimed Jace, Luke, and Joff as her grandsons, advised Rhaenyra to go to war, and gladly flew against Aegon and Aemond.

Meanwhile, in the show, Rhaenys was turned into one of Rhaenyra's rivals. She constantly challenged Rhaenyra's ideas, dismissed her as a naive child, disliked her children, and even considered backing the Greens. On top of that, they turned her into yet another "peaceful" woman. She advises against the war, and seems to continue to do so in season two. Rhaenys is virtually unrecognizable in the show. They chose to take a woman who tried to prevent a younger woman being wronged by the patriarchy the same way she was and turned her into a bitter woman who resents Rhaenyra (for most of the show).

HOTD claimed to have wanted to tell a story about how the patriarchy pits women against each other. That's all very well and good, but that's not what they actually did. They took a story where a woman is wrongfully usurped because of her gender and is supported by many other women and turned it into another tired female rivalry story.

Rhaenyra has no female friends aside from Alicent. Laena was turned from her dearest friend/lover into simply a rival for Daemon's affection. Rhaenys was turned from a supportive mentor and defender to someone who took out her resentment for the system on a fourteen year old who only starts to support her when she's proven "peaceful".

HOTD chose to perpetuate a harmful stereotype about women: that we constantly view each other as threats/rivals and can't have truly healthy relationships with other women. Rhaenyra had women who supported and cared for her in the book, in the show all she has is Alicent. A woman who abused and undermined her for ten years, raised her children to hate her, and usurped her. Every change HOTD made in the name of "feminism" solidified just how sexist it really is.

#rhaenyra targaryen #canon rhaenyra targaryen #laena velaryon #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys the queen who never was #anti hotd #anti ryan condal #anti sarah hess #asoiaf #house of the dragon #team black #anti team green #anti alicent hightower

[fuckmyskywalker]

𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞! — 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫.

18+ smut, stripper!reader x dilf!anakin, age gap, lap dance, mutual masturbation, fem!reader/afab!reader | word count: 2.8k (not proofread).

Everyone say "thank you Anya".

After a nasty divorce, Anakin Skywalker wanted nothing to do with dates— let alone random hookups. Call him outdated or old-fashioned, but Anakin firmly believed in marriage. Maybe he just had bad luck. He has better things to worry about! His children, his company, his 850 credit card score, and… keeping up with his overly cheerful assistant.

Who somehow, managed to convince him to visit the best nightclub in town— and by nightclub, she meant strip club. 

Standing outside the bright building, Anakin wondered how many neon signs were too much. He flickered his cigarette with his thumb, dialing his assistant’s number and watching the ashes fly with the wind, he just wished his hopes didn’t fly that easily. After a few rings, she picked up. “I’m here,” Anakin informed her, feeling as if he was about to start a super-secret mission and he was calling HQ. Lisseth is right, he stays too much at home watching cheesy, 90s TV shows. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Is it obnoxiously bright?” Lisseth asked from the other side of the line, and Anakin discerned the faint click of a lighter. 

“Yes.”

“Then you’re in the right place.”

“Can you repeat why am I here again?” Anakin asked, rubbing his forehead and throwing the cigarette away. 

“Because you are lonely, divorced, and old?” His assistant replied, presumably smoking as well.

“I should fire you.”

“But you won’t,” He didn’t have to see her to know she was smirking. Lisseth was right, she was one of the few people besides Obi-Wan Kenobi— his business partner— who dared to say things straight, and people like that were a nice change in a world where everyone fights for your favor. “Go inside, give it a chance. You deserve a change of scenery. I know you are the committed type. Give yourself a chance.”

Anakin hesitated again, just like he did when he agreed when the young woman texted him the address, and when he called the cab. He had no idea why she would suggest this place from the many—many strip clubs in the city, but he knew better than to question her. He looked around, it was not like he would care if someone recognized him— he just… didn’t want to be recognized. Big difference, or at least that was what Anakin kept repeating.

“Hello?” Lisseth said which brought Anakin back to his senses. He was overthinking it. How can you overthink walking into a strip club? Men do it all the time! “Are you alive?”

“I am.”

“Good. Now get inside, I think there’s an ATM next to the bathroom. I don’t remember— and dial me if you need anything, I’ll try to stay awake.”

Anakin hung up the call, taking a deep breath and pushing the black door open. Multiple times he had heard his associates talk about this place; how the drinks are great and the girls are better— which perhaps was a reason why Anakin was so reluctant. If a married man found this place appealing, he couldn’t imagine what it would have in storage for a divorced man. 

Inside the club, the neon lights were far worse. His eyesight wasn’t bad but the dazzled effect was overwhelming. Anakin fought the urge to rub his eyes, he didn’t want to look that old— so he just brushed the wrinkles off his suit and approached the bar. The bartender eyed up curiously but simply greeted him. The place was crowded but it was somehow comfortable to navigate, he saw a few girls but he felt somewhat strange to stare at them for long. He wasn’t in his twenties anymore— he wasn’t able to see them as a piece of meat like he used to (last time he did he got his first and only wife knocked up).  So he just thanked the bartender for his whiskey and took a long sip, hoping it would ease the knot in his stomach. He was a fast drinker, and he was halfway done with the glass when he heard a voice behind him and a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Is this seat taken?”

Your hand on his shoulder was gentle, but Anakin was aware of the salacious undertone in your voice. It was all fake, part of your job. Looking over said shoulder, his blue eyes met your face, and probably for the first time in your life working in the strip club— you found yourself speechless. You have never seen eyes in such a shade of blue, so deep and so easily to lose yourself in. Your glossy lips went dry for a second and you weren’t sure if he felt the same. 

“It is not,” He replied, grabbing your hand and guiding you to the empty stool next to him. His hand was strong and warm, too polite for a man who was here to watch women half naked. You took a seat next to him just like you intended but your demeanor switched, which was something that surprised you. The blonde stranger didn’t seem to notice it, he knows nothing about you. For the first time, that has worked in your favor. “The name’s Anakin.”

He let go of your hand and you found your finger twitching against your bare thigh. You gave him your stage name and he simply smiled back, bringing the glass up to his lips. You leaned closer, placing your trembling hand on his thigh and squeezing it softly, noticing how his eyes drifted down to your cleavage only to go back to your face. “What brings you here, handsome?” The usual repertory was filled with cheesy phrases, sweet talk, and 101 manipulations. Emptying a man’s wallet wasn’t a hard thing, or at least after months of practice it no longer seemed like a challenge.

“I assume the same as every man here,” Anakin replied, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. He was good, he must be an orator or something. Not everyone can stare into your eyes when your tits are literally out. “But being honest, a… friend of mine insisted.”

“Well, then you have a good friend,” You smiled, thanking whoever pushed him into your arms— even if you already knew the culprit. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Your fingers play with the hem of his white button-up, tapping your nails over the ironed fold. 

“I have a few ideas,” He lowers his now empty glass, licking his lips. A simple act shouldn’t excite you but Oh it does. He looks like the type of guy who knows how to please a woman and the type of guy to rock your world…

Too bad that’s against the club’s guidelines.

“Such as?”

Anakin seemed to fall under your sultry voice, smirking and bringing his face closer to yours. You thought for a moment he was going to kiss you, but he just whispered in your ear. “I’m sure you know what I want, and I’m sure you are tired of small talk. Do us a favor and tell me what I can and can’t do.” 

This was the second time in the night you found yourself speechless. Normally you are the one being straightforward, so why is that handsomely old man doing your job? Unbeknownst to you, Anakin’s heart was racing inside his chest at light speed. It has been years since he last flirted with someone, let alone a stripper— so he felt quite rough around the edges. It seemed to be working, or at least you faked it really well. Anakin’s charm never faded, even if he wasn’t fully aware of it. His bright smile and those wrinkles around his eyes… he could easily be your dad, which shouldn’t be as hot as it sounded. You ran your fingers through his blonde hair, silky and smooth. God, there’s nothing hotter than a man that takes care of his appearance. 

“Follow me then,” You manage to say through the loud heartbeat that drowns the loud music around you. You have done this countless times, but this was somewhat different. Why were you acting brand new? Get a damn grip. “You seem like a man who can afford our special treatment.”

Anakin chuckled, he never thought getting robbed would be so sexy. “Do I look special? Or do you say that to every guy?” He followed you anyway, surprisingly lacing your fingers together. His eyes never left yours, not even when other girls and dancers called for him. 

“Believe it or not, you look special.”

As you guided him inside the farthest room in the hallway, you locked the door and kindly settled him on the large sofa against the wall. There was a bed in the center of the bed and a pole next to it, but mostly for decoration. Not everyone had the privilege to fuck, lucky ones got to touch— but Anakin looked like he could win the lottery. This time he eyed you up and down, relaxing over the velvety cushions and spreading his legs. You’ve seen men sit that way countless times yet the way he did it was abysmally distinct. He had an air around him that no one could match and it truly excited you. Time wasn’t really a problem in this room, and he looked like someone who could treat themselves. The treat is a lap dance, of course. 

You picked the music, and that was the only thing that fitted into your routine. The top piece of your heels sank into the fluffy carpet as you made your way back to him, deliberately swaying your hips. Comfortably, you straddled his lap, lazily draping your arms over his shoulders. Anakin’s hands touched your hips and you were about to warn him about the rules… but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at that moment. 

“You’re beautiful,” He whispered, his voice already hoarse. How long has this man been pent up? Only God knows. You giggled and began grinding against him, running your hands up his shoulders and cupping his face. Anakin’s eyes left your breasts to meet yours, lidded eyes heavy with ecstasy that the erotic dance brought him. “So fucking beautiful…”

His presence was starting to be a problem, at least for you. You couldn’t look away or stop your hips from rolling over his growing erection. It was highly unprofessional, even for a stripper but you’ve done worse things— to uglier men. Anakin hissed when you fully sat on top of him, and the grip on your hips tightened. The song changed and neither of you was aware of it. 

Returning your hands to his shoulders you used them as leverage to move, basically humping him without realizing it. You could lie and say this was part of the dance— but in reality, your body was moving on its own.

“Can I touch you?” Anakin requested, huffing and lifting his hips. His cock was aching but not fully hard yet. The right answer was to say no… so your hands reached for his and placed them over your chest. He sighed in clear contentment and cupped your tits, jiggling them softly and running his thumbs over your nipples, teasing you until they peeked underneath the sheer fabric of your lace bra. 

The urge to thank him was very, very present. Words failed you as he lowered the cups of your bra, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his eager mouth. Instantly, you tugged on his curls, just noticing the silver strands. He groaned against your flesh, tugging on your sensitive bud with his teeth and guiding you with his free hand. The dance quickly turned into a session of dry humping— not that you had any complaints. 

Anakin then cupped your center, rubbing his index finger through the thin thong and pushing it to the side. Everything was escalating too quickly and you needed to even it out— mostly to defend your pride— so you quickly unbuckled his belt, and Anakin didn’t even flinch. The tip of his finger ran through your folds and quickly found your clit, faster than any other man you’ve been with. You gasped, yanking his black boxers and biting your lip when you saw his cock. He was fully hard now and it looked like it fucking hurt. Above than average was your first thought, followed by the incessant desire to have him stretch you. From zero to a hundred, probably. Your hand looked tiny around his shaft, which sent a thrill of excitement down your spine. Anakin rolled his eyes and jerked his hips, silently asking for more. He circled your clit with practiced ease and that confirmed your suspicions— he is the type of man who knows what he’s doing and how to do it. 

“Are you always this wet for your clients or am I really special?” Anakin taunted you as if he wasn’t the one paying for the fucking lap dance. To confirm his accusation— because yes, it was an accusation— he sank a finger inside you, curling it softly and rubbing your walls at a slow pace. “I’m starting to think you don’t do this for everyone.”

“I don’t,” You choke, panting and determined to not be left behind. You began jerking him up at the same speed he fingered you. “It takes two to tango, you know?”

Anakin laughed. He dared to laugh. God, this man… “You are feisty, I like that.”

The damned butterflies returned, this time fluttering around your stomach and your pussy. Anakin was good at this. He wasn’t the average pathetic man who couldn’t understand the touch of a woman, nor an ancient dinosaur that was cheating on his wife and shamelessly rocking their wedding band as they threw dollars to your feet. No, he was one in a million. He noticed your silence and took advantage of your blissful state, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside you. If you knew better you would’ve thought he was stretching you. Stepping up your game, you stroke his cock faster, bringing your free hand to your mouth to spit on it, using both hands to touch him. 

That seemed to be a weak spot for him, and you actually heard him moan. It was a raw, guttural groan that made your pussy clench around his fingers. Looking down, you saw the wet, throbbing head, now glistening with your spit and the smeared precum. You could swear he looked thicker— or maybe it was your burning delirium for having him rearranging your guts. 

He wasn’t one to back up from a clear challenge, so he rubbed his fingers against your G-spot repeatedly, pressing tight circles over the spongy spot. Your hips jerked just like he did moments prior and for the first time in a while, you moaned someone else’s name. Anakin seemed to be pleased by your reaction and continued it, exclusively stimulating that spot that built up the recognizable pressure in a matter of seconds. 

“I’m gonna come,” You whimpered, closing your eyes. Anakin’s jaw clenched at the way your pussy sucked his fingers. Would you suck his cock with your velvety walls the same way? “Please, don’t stop.”

“Hold it,” He hissed but it wasn’t a request or anything. “I want to do it with you.”

You held your breath, flicking your wrist up and down, moaning repeatedly at the expertise of his touch. The knot in your lower stomach threatened to snap and holding it was borderline painful. The loud squelch of your cunt made the music surrounding you irrelevant, it was new music that was indeed expensive but— pornographically beautiful. Anakin hung his head back with a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. His scent was intoxicating, the mixture of his— surely fucking expensive— cologne, aftershave, and salty sweat was drowning you in a needy mess. Dragging you down to his spell when it was supposed to be the other way around. 

“Do it,” He urged you, repeating it over and over. His hard cock twitched in your hands repeatedly until he groaned loudly and his release crashed with yours. “Come for me— come on, princess.” 

Your walls gushed around his fingers, coating them in your own arousal seconds before his cum landed on your hands and your thighs— some on his thighs too. You called his name again, this time in a high-pitched moan. Anakin continued until you were on the verge of tears from the overstimulation, absentmindedly jerking his cock again as it started to soften in your hands. Your sweaty bodies were a mess of combined fluids and… broken rules. 

You were in so much trouble.

“See what special guests get?” You painted, finally retrieving his hands from his dick and fixing your bra. “You should be thankful.”

“Oh, believe me. I am,” Anakin purred, grabbing your hips and yanking you closer, finally pressing his lips against yours. “Hope you have a better treat for regular special guests.”

You really, really needed to thank homegirl for bringing him here. 

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes! #dilf!anakin #dilf!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin x reader smut

[coeurify]

LACY, OH LACY

ellie williams.

·˚ ༘ * “like ribbons in your hair, my stomach’s all in knots. you got the one thing that i want."

pairing: ellie williams x f!reader. summary: you’ve got the one thing ellie wants, and it’s rotting her thoughts of you. based on lacy by olivia rodrigo. warning: my first go at true angst, but a happy ending! i took a much sadder direction with the song lol. reader is described as having a father figure. looks of reader never described beside that there’s ribbons in their hair. they/them pronouns used. for a GUTS writing challenge in writing server!

Envy was a nasty thing. Ellie knew that. Ellie knew that the way her lip curled down upon the sight of your frame disappearing into the Tipsy Bison in Jackson was unfair.

Ellie knew that the way her body tensed whenever you were followed quickly by an older man, one who grumbled and wiped at his sleepy eyes, wasn’t fair. The way she turned on her heel and walked away each time she saw you two, the pebbles under the toe of her converse being kicked away, that wasn’t fair either.

But god, did it tie her stomach in tiny little knots, ones that made it hard to swallow, hard to look away when your shining eyes met her’s across the street somedays.

Sometimes, she tries to blame it on sleep. She tells herself the angry feeling bubbling in her stomach is simply a result of the sleepless nights. Of the shaking and panting breaths that shoot from her as she awakes from another never ending nightmare.

But most days, she realizes it’s only an excuse. This sick feeling is reserved only for you, and Ellie wishes she could swallow it down like a shot, but it instead pools in her mouth, poisoning her movements, her thoughts, her everything around you.

When you smile the smile Ellie knew all too well, It only made her feel worse. It shouldn’t, really, Ellie should quirk her lips up in response, wave you over maybe. Joel would have insisted. But lately she just raised a hand in a softer, colder response before finding a new corner to escape down.

Hell, if Joel was here, if things were different, he would have tilted his chin up knowingly when Ellie’s own chin jutted down at the sight of you, her cheeks painted pink with something akin to affection, rather than the near constant shade of frighteningly pale her face seemed to be lately.

He had done so a million times.

When Ellie was only a measly sixteen, telling Joel she just couldn't let you stay the night while Joel and your old man went on a particularly long patrol.

“I barely even know them!” Ellie had fought, her arms crossed over the quickly beating heart in her chest. She knew you, she knew you liked to wear ribbon in your hair, she knew your favorite color was blue because your favorite shoes were that color, and she knew you were pretty. So fucking pretty, the kind that made her stomach turn all mushy and gross when she tried to talk to you over the semi regular shared dinners Joel and a few other older men around town had insisted upon.

Joel just shook his head, seemingly fighting back one of those chuckles that made it sound like he knew something Ellie didn’t. Ellie hated when he did that. “You know them well enough, kid.” was all Joel had responded, patting Ellie’s slumped back.

Joel did it when you coaxed Ellie out of her little garage for dinner inside of Joel’s, a few years later. He would never say anything, not when he could barely get Ellie to say hello anymore, but a look was all that was needed. Green meeting a more tired looking brown for just a split second, and Ellie knew. Joel saw right through the nervous looks Ellie threw your way, saw through how Ellie insisted on totally platonically complimenting you every time you walked through the door. Ellie’s knees were always pointed your way at the table, and Joel always saw.

“They’re pretty,” Joel said later that night, voice careful as he watched Ellie, who watched the dishes she silently cleaned off the table. “Sweet too, too sweet for a hell like this.” Joel could barely finish the words before he heard the creak of the door, before the house was quiet again.

The last time you were brought up, Ellie remembers being cold. She’s often cold now, but the night on the porch was one of the first truly cold nights in Jackson. It stung her nose while she walked outside of the Tipsy Bison, leaving a crowd of shocked faces.

She felt stupid, so stupid that it made the wind feel even icier against her skin. God, why did she have to dance with Dina? Her eyes had been settled on you all fucking night, but Dina was always a firecracker, always tugging Ellie to dance or talk loudly at the bar top. Ellie couldn’t stop heaving as she slammed the door. Did you think they were together too? Did you think Dina was leaning in to kiss her like Seth thought? Dina wasn’t. Ellie wanted to tell you that as soon as Dina’s lips came to her ear, “They’re watching, El.”

But Seth broke the dance before Ellie could. Joel only made it worse in Ellie eyes, and yet you still followed her out the building.

Of course you did.

“Ellie,” she remembers you saying so softly, as if she might break if you had raised your voice even a little. Maybe she would have, she was a fragile thing that night, something easily crushed in your hands. Hands that had been gripped by yours outside the Bar that night.

You were the only one who didn’t look at her like she had two heads after the Seth incident, after her face had gone red at the sight of Joel. Her harsh words to the older man didn’t scare you away, didn’t make you crumble her between your finger tips.

“You should talk to him.” Your breath hit her face, the only warmth in that fucking air, and ellie remembers smelling something that was just as delicate as a pastry, maybe a perfume your father found on a patrol, maybe just you.

You cared. Something Ellie had convinced herself otherwise of, something that didn’t make sense in her mind. Why did you have any worry about she and Joel? How did it concern you at all? But it did, and Ellie listened to you.

Ellie walked up that frosted porch, arms swinging nervously, searching for space on the wooden railing. Ellie let Joel join her, let him ask about you.

“You like them?” Joel’s hands cupped his coffee, his head tilted Ellie’s way.

Ellie remembers so vividly how she turned away, tucking her chin near her shoulder. “I’m so stupid.”

Ellie could see how Joel’s head shook lightly, “You ain’t. They’d be lucky to have you.”

Ellie wishes she answered him that night, wishes she would have sat back on the porch, wishes she didn’t call him an asshole. Ellie wishes a lot of things about that night. Maybe she would have hugged him, if she had known. Maybe she would have started that conversation with forgiveness, rather than a hint of it, thrown at the end of her scrambled words, swallowed by her eyes she willed not to cry.

Ellie wishes for a lot of things, but she knows it’s useless.

Just as useless as avoiding you, now.

You had worn a black ribbon in your hair, the day of Joel’s burial. You had hugged Ellie so tightly, and Ellie almost could feel the heartbeat she swore she lost.

“I’m so sorry,” you had blubbered into her solid frame, and she almost tucked her nose into the skin of your neck, almost let the scent of your perfume calm her. But she just thanked you, pulled back and wiped one of her shaking thumbs over your tear streaked face. She was wiping your tears that day, and somehow it felt like the only right thing to do.

But Ellie remembers that day for another reason. It had been the first day she noticed the sick feeling in her stomach. The first time the hue of pink that always clouded her vision around you was dusted green instead, jealousy clawing at her throat.

She hated it. She hated how she couldn’t look away from where you slumped against your father’s chest. How his hand rubbed your shaking back as his breath puffed out in cold little clouds.

She hated how it reminded her of him.

Ellie stood alone, and watched on, feeling the tightening green branches of whatever awfulness was growing in the pit of her stomach. She cursed whatever it was laying above space, she dug the ball of her feet into the freezing grass and she cursed the earth for leaving her here to have to see this.

She walked home alone that night, shrugging you off with a rather monotone, “Go home, don’t worry about me,” when your eyes met hers in the cold air. She saw how you deflated lightly, saw how your eyes dropped to the ground. It made her feel more nauseous. She swallowed her feelings, the good and the bad, and wrapped her arms around herself as she turned.

That night Ellie veered away from her garage, finding comfort instead on the old couch that sat in Joel’s living room, and she thinks it may be the quietest place she has ever heard. She wonders what you may be doing. Was the creaking of the walls all you heard in your Jackson home too? Surely you hadn’t ripped an old and faded jacket from a closet that did not belong to you to use as a makeshift blanket, like Ellie had.

No, Ellie is sure your father walked close to you all the way home, sure he pulled out the chair at the kitchen table for you and offered you dinner, she’s even sure he had managed to crack a smile from you.

Ellie goes to sleep with a sick stomach.

“You're jealous, that’s natural,” Dina told her a few weeks later, after another stint of that awful green vine rooting itself in Ellie, one that kept her from taking you up on an offer to help clean up Shimmer. The growing seed that made her shake her head at you and offer a small and untruthful, “Don’t need any help.”

Dina handed Ellie a cup of warm tea in the cold garage. Ellie wouldn’t drink it, and she also wouldn’t eat any of the meals the Jackson residents left at her doorstep. But everyone still tried.

“But I shouldn’t be,” Ellie’s voice didn’t sound like her own. It was void of any vibrancy, any spark that Ellie’s tongue usually made. It was empty, spoken coldly. cold for herself, cold for that feeling in her chest.

“You’re grieving, El, it’s ok.”

Dina pressed a kind hand to her shoulder, and despite the way Ellie poisoned you in her mind, she still found herself wishing it was yours instead.

And now, more weeks that all pressed confusingly together had passed. The flower’s outside Joel’s were covered by snow, wilted and drained of life. His house had been empty since Ellie stole some of his old clothes a week back, a jacket that embarrassingly laid on the edge of her chair as she swung open the door of her garage turned home, glancing at another container on her doormat.

It was from you, of course it was. Ellie was sure you had been sent from some sort of heaven she was far too damned to ever access. A small note held your handwriting, and Ellie leaned down, grasping the food, the warmth burning at her frozen fingers.

Maria said she didn't see you at supply day again. I think you’d like this. I remember you eating it a lot at the dinners.

ps. you’re doing great in patrols, glad you went back to them. you’re one of the best jackson has.

xx.

A strand of auburn hair fell across her cheek as her chin dipped down, eyelashes tickling her skin as they closed.

Ellie was avoiding you, you had to have known that. Jesse knew it, Dina knew it, hell, even Tommy had commented on it last time he came by. Sure, Ellie was avoiding nearly everyone still, but it was no secret she turned the corner whenever you and your old man were around.

But here you were, making her food, leaving her notes of praise, complimenting her as if you had any need to. It made Ellie’s always down pointed lip quiver for a moment. You still fucking cared. Just like always.

It didn’t feel nice, it didn’t feel like how it would’ve if she got this note months ago. Then she would’ve clapped a hand over her heated cheek, stuffed it under a notebook like a kid with a crush.

But now, it felt more like an ache. A burning in her chest that made her push the door back open and slide the container on the waiting table near her door.

She should eat it later, that would be the kind thing to do. But the little voice whispers in Ellie’s ear again, the voice that drips poison over the thankfulness blossoming in her chest, ‘You think he helped them make that?’ the voice asked.

The palm of her hand pressed to her eyes as she leaned on the doorway, “Fuck.” Ellie muttered.

She kicked the wood, “Fuck!”

Ellie slammed her already bruised fist on the cracked wood and yelped. The splitting pain broke the girl from her mini temper tantrum, and the empty hand cupped the throbbing skin, a pair of teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Surely this wasn’t a normal way to react to something so kind, something as simple as food. She didn’t have to overthink every small thing, didn’t have to let her brain flip every positive to a negative, but how does Ellie stop what she has grown so accustomed to?

Ellie’s first attempt to rid her chest of the vines that constricted her ribs was a deep breath and a squeeze of her eyes. She pretends she can smell your perfume still lingering in the air, she imagines your cheeks turned up in a smile, she wonders what color of ribbon you found this week to turn into some new hair tool, and then she exhaled.

Maybe if she thought hard enough, the vines would retreat, the ache on her bones would feel more like the silk of your touch. Maybe she can let herself care more about what you give her, kindness, food, those stupid butterflies she used to feel whenever you spoke, that set of pastel oil paints from a year ago. Rather than letting that voice remind her of all the things you could not give her, things you could not repair.

You hadn’t taken Joel from her, your old man hadn’t either. You having that.. having him, it wouldn’t make any of what Ellie was going through change. She swallowed the truth down like nails as she turned away from the garage.

When Ellie opens her eyes again, her vision seems a little more bright.

By the time Ellie winds up at the stable, she is pressed closely by Dina who tends to Japan, brushing quietly

Ellie breaks the silence first, and it surprises both when the first word from her mouth is your name.

Dina’s gaze shoots over, and Ellie can almost see the thin ice she is debating stepping on, lips parting. You were never an easy topic, and usually when El uttered the syllables of your name, Dina was in for a long and drawn out conversation she never knew truly how to maneuver, the conversation layered with every confusing feeling Ellie had for you. The guilt, the jealousy. Everything in between.

Ellie beats her to speaking again, “They left me food again today. I woke up to it.”

Dina nods slowly, eyes falling back to her horse. “That’s nice of them.”

“It is,” Ellie agrees, flexing her bruising knuckles. “Left a note too, complimenting me and shit.”

The brunette to the side of her pauses for a moment, her boots turning in lightly as she judged her next step. “If you had told me this a year ago, I think you would’ve blabbered for like.. forty minutes about how they were ‘the greatest thing ever to exist’ or convinced me it meant they were in love with you.”

The air is silent, and Dina thinks she may have overstepped.

But the vines have taken on a softer sort of squeezing on Ellie’s chest now, one that felt like the ribbon you wore.

“Yea,” she smiled lightly, and Dina stumbled a bit, maybe out of pure shock. “Yea I probably would have.”

The silence finds them again, though there’s no thickness to it, and Ellie finds her heavy shoulders just slightly less pained for a moment.

Until the stable door swings open, and Ellie watches as Dina’s head turns. She can tell from the look on her face alone, on the way she blinks a few times and glances at Ellie.

You had just walked through.

You walk by where Japan and Shimmer stood, and you smiled like you always did.

This time, Ellie’s chest only tightened lightly. She only felt the small tug of ribbon when she recognized the flannel you had pushed up to your elbows, one she had seen your father wear on patrols many times.

This time, Ellie tries to smile back. She doesn’t let that burn find her stomach, doesn’t let the voice sneer at the clothing and remind Ellie of what she did not have. This time, Ellie speaks instead.

“Thanks for the food.”

You look almost as nervous as Ellie feels. You probably didn’t expect responses by this point.

“Oh it’s no problem,” you shake your head and smile. “Hope you enjoy it.”

Ellie nods, tensing up, useless to decide where this conversation should go, where it could go.

Just as the branches begin to curl around her lungs again, Dina cuts them down with her voice.

“El and I thought about sharing it after patrol today, maybe over some shitty movie. You in?”

The auburn haired girl shoots an aimed look at Dina, but the way you light up and step closer, the way she can smell that pastry scent again, it calms her lightly.

“It’ll be fun,” Ellie offered, voice cracking toward the end.

“Yea,” you smile, toes bouncing like they did when you were excited. Toes covered by your favorite shade of blue shoes. “I’d really like that.”

When you meet Ellie’s eyes, she can see pink instead of green again for the first time.

#ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams

[darklordofthesimp]

Clement (John Price x Reader)

Can be read as a standalone. Part 1 here. 

Summary: John continuously ends up in your medical bay but now it’s his turn to take care of you. 

A/N: These two are my fluffy couple and even that I can’t manage

Category: Mutual Pining || Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Graphic Language || Anxiety || Themes of PTSD

“Don’t take this the wrong way, John. But, I really don’t like how much I’ve been seeing you.” 

Captain John Price raised a brow, groaning as he situated himself in his usual seat. The man was soaked in blood, a sight that you’d begrudgingly gotten used to but still hated. He had no right to take offence, he was in your office every other week with varying injuries. The way you saw it, he was in that office more than you were. 

“Kinda hard not to take that the wrong way, darlin’.” He chortled as he readjusted his bad arm, the noise just as pained as it was amused. 

“Saint,” you corrected. 

“Saint,” Price rolled his eyes. 

You sat down in front of him, a huff pulling from your chest as you took him in. There was a long moment as you both stared at each other, silent and almost comical. 

“I’m sick of your shit, Captain.” You gave him a deadpan glare. 

John scoffed, “oh, don’t be like that.” 

“No, seriously ” you threw your hands up, “You owe me a drink.”

Price’s eyes widened in disbelief but you ignored him as you slowly dabbed antiseptic across his wounds. You could feel the muscles beneath your fingers tense as he fought to find the words.

“I’ve been asking you to let me buy you a drink for weeks!” John hissed, his eyes flitting cautiously to the doorway as a nurse walked past. He didn’t want to compromise your professional reputation, no matter how much you drove him crazy. 

You only raised your nose at him, “well, that’s because I don’t mix business and pleasure.” 

“And now is the exception?”

“No, now is the payment for putting up with you and your accident-prone kids’ fuckery.” 

Price laughed, it was full-bodied and warm and something that you could listen to forever. Your hands faltered in their work. Usually, you were steadfast- but John Price always had you on the edge of your seat with a pounding heart and a fuzzy mind. 

“Well, then.” The Captain conceded, relaxing a little more into his chair. “I’d better make it a damn good drink.” 

You hummed your agreement, leaning in closer to get a better look at the wounds on his neck. 

“A damned nice place too,” you said distractedly, “no grubby bars for this one.” 

How did he even manage shit like this? You were so in awe of the strangeness of his injuries, that you hadn’t realized the effect your proximity had on the good Captain. Your words whispered across the skin of his neck and jaw like a gentle caress. The knowledge that he could kiss you right now simply by tilting his head down a little, it drove him insane. 

“Of course not,” he rasped, “I’d take you somewhere fancy. One of them nice cocktail bars, maybe.”

You smiled as you tended to him, your gaze glued to where your hands worked their magic. You couldn’t have seen the way his eyes flickered from your brows to your lashes, and then to your lips. You wouldn’t have noticed the way he clenched his jaw and prayed to anybody who was listening that you weren’t talking shit.

“I’d love that,” you murmured, pulling your touch from his skin to reach for the wound dressings. He craved the warmth immediately. “You’d be in a suit and all.” 

Price chuckled, partly at what you’d said and partly by how distractedly you spoke. 

“Is this all part of your master plan to see me dressed up?” The Captain said jokingly. His heart stopped when you finally flicked your gaze up to his. 

It was at that moment that you realized just how close you sat to him, your mouth going dry at the proximity. You could smell him so clearly as if all your senses had suddenly kicked into overdrive. John always smelt like pine and tobacco. You wondered if it was just his body spray mixed with those damned cigars, but part of you knew it had to be some pheromone that drove you crazy. 

“Funny,” you regained your bearings, leaning back in your seat to observe him. “I was going to accuse you of the same thing.” 

Those ocean-hued eyes sparkled with mirth, roving over your features as if he were committing them to memory. John had a way of seeing beneath all the armour you wore, but somehow it never left you with the sense that you were defenseless. He always made you feel seen but safe. He was comforting. 

“Won’t lie to you, love. I’d give anything to see you all dressed up,” John said honestly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

You raised a brow challengingly but the Captain only watched you, as comfortable as ever and confident in his words. After a long moment of silence, you finally spoke. 

“A lot of these boys would,” you rolled your eyes. “Not exactly invoking confidence here.” 

John straightened in his seat a little. 

“Well that’s the problem, innit?” He said, shooting you a meaningful look. “They’re boys, not men.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, maybe with something smart or clever or anything really that would throw the good Captain off kilter. Instead, you were interrupted by a woman leaning in through your doorway. It was the new nurse that had transferred from another unit only a few days ago.  

“Saint?” She said softly, eyes flicking between John and yourself. “Just wanted to pop in and let you know that this is the last patient on your roster.” 

You smiled, trying to ignore the way that her hand sat precariously on your door handle. The stomach-churning realization that she didn’t know the protocol for your office was making it difficult for you to speak. 

“Awesome, thanks Angie.” You choked out.

As you opened your mouth to remind her to leave the door open, the woman skittered away as fast as she’d appeared. You watched as the door swung shut, anxiety roiling in the pits of your gut. The sound of it clicking closed felt like the final nail in the coffin. 

You took in a deep, calming breath. “Lovely.” 

Price stood up from his seat instantly, resting a hand against your shoulder as he moved to pass you. “Easy love, I got it. You just focus on getting me back into fighting order, yeah?” 

 “Yeah,” you rasped, your fingers shaking as you slowly reached for your stitching kit. The sound of John’s footsteps behind you felt like a hammer in your chest and you tried to fight the urge to swing around and watch him. 

You trusted John. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you and you knew this was just a reaction from your prior experiences. A closed door and a turned back had been a recipe for disaster last time, but this time you were with the good Captain- you were with John. 

There was a long silence from behind you as the door rattled and you tried to ignore the sound, focusing on attempting to thread the string through the eye of the needle. Your hands were trembling far too much for it to be anything but a joke. 

“Saint.” John said from across the room. 

Not love, not darlin’, not even Doc. 

Just Saint. 

You held your breath, swivelling slowly on your stool to face the man behind you. Price stood by the closed door, his expression carefully blank. He had a palm resting on the handle. 

“I need you to take a breath,” he began. “Don’t panic.” 

Too late. 

You said nothing, painfully aware of how dry your throat suddenly felt. Each breath felt like your skin scraped against sandpaper, and with every beat of your heart, it felt like it was only going faster.

John rattled his hand against the door and to your horror, it didn’t budge. 

“Saint,” he raised his other hand with his palm facing outward, an attempt to placate you. It was well and truly too late for small acts of comfort, it was well beyond that point. 

How could they have accidentally locked the door? 

You stumbled off your seat, reminding yourself of the breathing techniques that you had taught both Birdy and Ghost. How could you help them when you couldn’t even help yourself? 

You were a fraud. 

“That’s fine,” you said, sounding anything but fine. “This is fine, we just need to call the nurses on the outside.” 

“Saint.” 

You reached clumsily for your table, the tools and bottles tipped overboard to bounce against the vinyl flooring. You swore beneath your breath, painfully aware of how hot it had suddenly become. Sweat trickled down the length of your spine, prompting your anxiety to run with it. 

You had forgotten what you were even looking for. 

“Saint.” 

You needed to get out of there. You needed to get that door open. You couldn’t be in there, couldn’t be left to the mercy of another soldier. Your heart thrashed wildly in your chest, your ribs aching as they tried to contain it. 

“Saint!” 

The door was closed and there was a man in the room with you. If you showed weakness it would only encourage him to attack, you needed to maintain the facade. You needed to be strong. Your fingers found the scalpel handle on your table. You wouldn’t let it happen again. 

“Saint!” 

You shot up straight, whirling around on the soldier now standing behind you. The instinct to protect yourself overcame any situational awareness that you had, you weren’t going to go through it again. The blade in your hand came down hard, aiming straight for his chest. 

Price caught your wrist instantly, ocean gaze baring deep into yours. 

A desperate noise, something akin to a sob fell from your lips.

“You’re alright, darlin’,” John rasped, sparing a quick glance at the weapon in your hand. “Gonna need you to take a breath with me, yeah?” 

You were sweating but cold, shaking but frozen, all at the same time. 

You were a mess. 

A fraud. 

“Saint,” the Captain ducked his head to meet your dropping gaze, “look at me.”

His fingers came to rest softly against your chin, tipping you up to meet his eyes miserably. You sniffled, tears running rampant down the length of your face and neck. You wanted to sob, you wanted to tear yourself from his grip and beat against the door. 

You weren’t sure whether you were too scared to move or too safe. 

“You’re safe. I’m not gonna let anyone lay a fuckin’ finger on you,” John reassured, genuine and firm in the statement. He wasn’t fucking around, he wasn’t spitting pretty words just to break them. 

John Price was right about one thing, there was a difference between boys and men. 

And there was no way to confuse which one he was. 

“Yeah,” you rasped. It was dry and crackled but it was a sign that you still had some control over yourself. It was a sign that you weren’t going to snap. 

“Yeah?” The Captain smiled. The sight of it put you at ease. The sound of his chuckle comforted you. 

“Yeah.” You reaffirmed, nodding your head this time. 

You were okay and you were safe and it was just a fucking door. 

“Good,” John said, eyes sparkling with mirth. He flicked his eyes upward at where he still held your wrist. “You reckon you could drop your machete then? Fearin’ for my life.” 

You jolted at the realization that you were still holding the scalpel, the blade still pointed directly at the man before you. Your knuckles had gone white from how hard you’d been gripping it. 

You sucked in a deep breath, dropping it as if it had burnt you. Price hummed consolingly as you stared up at him with wide and teary eyes. 

“Im sorry-“

“Don’t.” John warned gently, releasing your wrist. “Don’t apologize for defendin’ yourself.”

You closed your mouth and offered him a shaky nod. You needed him closer, you needed comfort and for once that didn’t involve you craving isolation. Usually, you wanted nothing to do with people when you were like this. Now, your fingers itched to touch him. 

The Captain rocked back on his heels a little, observing you from beneath his lashes.

“You alright?” He asked. His hands moved to touch your elbow but he paused halfway, as if he thought better of it. You watched as they dropped, wishing that he’d just done it. 

“Could be better,” you said honestly. “Could use a drink.” 

Price laughed, short and sharp. His fingers flexed. 

There was a long silence as you both took each other in. You wanted to say something, literally anything. You could slip in one of your dry jokes or maybe ask him to sit back down as you searched for your phone. 

Instead, you found yourself watching him, enjoying the visage of the Captain behind the lense of a new perspective. 

And he was watching you right back. 

His hands moved again, this time slow and with intent. John was giving you the option to move away, giving you the time to reject his touch. Some part of you tried to remind you that you should be afraid, that you were alone in a room all over again. But there was no reason to be afraid of this man, he was not some broken soldier- he was the master of his own ship. He was the Captain. 

He was John Price.

When his fingers came to rest on your arms, goosebumps rose across the places that his warmth trailed. 

“Let me take you out,” he whispered, so close you could taste the words. “Let me get you a drink, Saint.” 

Again, the intentional use of your call sign. The name that you had given him but he’d refused to use up until today.

“John-“ you hesitated, shifting where you stood.

You wanted nothing more. However, your thoughts had a way of running away from you, taking your fears and experiences and sprinting from where you stood. You knew he was a good man, but at the end of the day military men had a stigma for good reason. 

What if he would fuck you over in the end?

What if he didn’t come home?

“I know what you’re thinking,” John spoke, stepping closer. “I know where that brilliant fuckin’ mind of yours is going and I want to stop you right there.” 

You snorted softly. “You don’t know what I’m thinking, Captain.” 

His palms settled against your biceps, fingers enclosing around your skin. You could feel his thumbs rub into your arms, as though he was grounding himself as he spoke. 

“I do. You’re thinkin’ about me doing wrong by you. You’re thinking I’m full of hot air and pretty words and all that shit.” John rattled off, shaking his head as he spoke. “You’re thinking ‘bout what happens if one day I don’t make it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Well,” his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that you’d never seen. “I’m not here to play games. What you see is what you get and if I have you to come home to, I promise not even God could take me.” 

John’s breath was shaky at best as he scanned your features. It was nerve wracking to put yourself out there but it spun you out trying to process what he’d just said. Everything in you wanted to kiss him the second he’d finished his sentence.

You swayed on your feet, mouth opening and closing as you tried to muster a response. Your heart beat against your chest, trying to escape its prison and run right into John’s grasp. 

“Okay.” You said.

You wanted to die. The man had said the most romantic thing you’d heard since you’d binge watched Bridgerton, and all you had was one word. The most unenthusiastic word, mind you.

But, in true John Price spirit, the man only laughed. Full bodied and victorious. 

“Okay?” He sought confirmation with the biggest smile you’d seen from him in months. 

“Okay.” 

You wanted nothing more than him. 

#john price x reader #john price #captain john price #john price cod #john price mw2 #COD MW2 #cod x reader #cod #call of duty x reader #captain price #Call Of Duty MW2