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edenfenixblogs · 5 months

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Let’s put some numbers to Jewish fear right now.

In news that I’m sure will thrill all antisemites, it would take startlingly little effort to foment widespread violence against us and cause another genocide of the Jewish people.

I have had many fellow Jews express to me how overwhelming it is to see the rising antisemitism. I have seen many Jews express fear at being drowned out of public, online, and IRL spaces due to dangerously violent vitriol.

I have also seen people who claim to advocate for Palestine—especially western leftists—openly mock Jews who express this fear.

Finally, I and my fellow Jews have often expressed that, while we wholeheartedly support Palestinian freedom and self determination, it is exhausting to have to say so repeatedly, especially when we are trying to advocate for ourselves. This is not due to any latent or widespread hatred of Muslims, Arabs, or Palestinians. It is because we are an extremely maligned and marginalized minority that is fighting to be heard against strong, hostile forces that at best wish we’d shut up and at worst want us eradicated from the planet.

There is a disconnect about how much harm people can do to Jews by spreading antisemitism and refusing to dismantle their own internalized antisemitism—and everyone has internalized antisemitism. It is one of the oldest forms of prejudice in the world and is found in almost every single culture. It is as, if not more, pervasive than white privilege. Yes. You read that right. And if asked to elaborate, I will provide numbers on that to the best of my ability. For the purposes of this post, however, I want to focus on the global distribution of religious groups only.

Specifically, this disconnect is between Jews who are fully aware and feel the affects of this damage and goyim who simply do not comprehend our marginalization.

To help, let’s put some numbers to this. In this post, I’ll be using the Pew Research Center’s survey and findings on the Global Religious Landscape. This is the most recent data from a reputable source that I could find which surveyed every world religion at the same time. While the Jewish population has grown slightly in the intervening years, so have most (if not all) other religious populations around the globe. I wanted to use figures measured at the same time to avoid bias for or against any religious group.

For the purposes of this post, I will not be discussing folk religions or other religions. This is not because they are not important. This is because they are not a monolith and individual folk religions and other religions may have even fewer adherents per religion than Judaism. I am currently only focusing on religions and religious groups who have more adherents than Judaism.

In descending order of adherents, there number of people in the world belonging to these groups:

2,200,000,000 (2.2 Billion) Christians

1,600,000,000 (1.6 Billion) Muslims

1,100,000,000 (1.1 Billion) Religiously unaffiliated people

1,000,000,000 (1 Billion) Hindus

500,000,000 (500 Million) Buddhists

14,000,000 (14 Million) Jews

Reduced to the simplest fractions there are:

1100 Christians for every 7 Jews

800 Muslims for every 7 Jews

550 Religiously unaffiliated people for every 7 Jews

500 Hindus for every 7 Jews

250 Buddhists for every 7 Jews

Combined, there are 6,400,000,000 non-Jewish people in religions or religious groups (including religiously unaffiliated people).

This means that for every 7 Jews there are 3200 people in religious groups who outnumber us.

Jews are 0.2 % of the global population.

When we tell you that hate is dangerous, it is because…

It would only take 0.21% of 6.4 Billion people to hate us in order to completely overwhelm and outnumber every single Jewish person on the planet. In other words, only 67.2 out of every 3200 people.

And given how violent and aggressive people have become toward us in recent weeks, that doesn’t seem far off.

No, most Christians, Muslims, Atheists/Agnostics, Hindus, and Buddhists do NOT hate Jews.

But if even 0.21% of them do hate us, Jews are at a legitimate and terrifying risk of ethnic cleansing and genocide.

It is not possible for Jews alone to fight this rising tide of hate. There simply aren’t enough of us. And many of us are too scared to tell you the truth: if you don’t vocally and repeatedly stand up for Jews (and not just the ones you agree with) you will be complicit in the genocide that follows. Police your own communities.

Nobody acting in good faith is asking you to abandon Palestinians or their fight for self determination and equality in their homeland. All we are asking is for you to learn about antisemitism, deconstruct it in yourself, and loudly condemn it when it occurs in front of you. We are asking you to comfort us and not run away when we are scared or even angry at you. Because a lot of us are angry with you, because we are extremely scared right now and many of you are not helping us. Many of you are actively and carelessly spreading dogwhistles that further the global rise in hatred against us.

You can support Palestine AND avoid Islamophobia WITHOUT making antisemitism worse. But you can’t stop antisemitism by staying silent in the face of it. And if you don’t speak up, you will get us killed. Silence, in this case, is quite literally violence.

Many of us have armed guards posted at our synagogues and schools and community centers because of this. I certainly had times where my synagogue and school had to have armed security for our safety.

The only reason more of us haven’t died already is because we have millennia of experience in confronting this kind of hatred and guarding against it.

But in pure numbers, if you don’t speak up for us now, we don’t have a chance at survival without support.

So, what can you do, specifically?:

* Make a stand or public statement about condemning antisemitism without mentioning another group. Acknowledge Jewish fear, pain, and current danger without contextualizing it in someone else’s. It could literally be something as simple as “Antisemitism is bad. There’s never a reason for it. I won’t tolerate it in presence in real life or online.” If you cannot bring yourself to publicly make this statement, you should have a serious look at yourself to understand why you can’t.

* Learn about the six universal features of antisemitism and the many, various dog whistles affecting the global Jewish community

* Do not welcome people who espouse rhetoric that includes any features from the above bullet point in your community unless you are able to educate them and eliminate that behavior.

* Check in on your Jewish friends, regularly and repeatedly. Do not wait for them to reach out to you. They are scared of you. Even if you don’t have the emotional space to have conversations about antisemitism. Just send a message once in a while, unprompted, “Jfyi, antisemitism still sucks. I support you.”

* Redirect conversations about which “side” is “right” to how to attain peace. Do this by saying that this line of argument is not conducive to peace, and link to a well-respected organization not widely accused of either antisemitism or Islamophobia that is devoted to achieving a peaceful resolution, increasing education, or providing humanitarian aid to relevant affected groups—including Jews, Israelis, Palestinians, Muslims, and Arabs. You can find over 160 such organizations at the Alliance for Middle East Peace https://www.allmep.org/

* Look to support experienced groups without widespread and verifiable claims of prejudice against either Jews or Muslims or Arabs or Palestinians. Many of these organizations can also be found at the AllMEP link above. Avoid groups on the shit list as well as unproductive and harmful movements.

* Do not default to western methods of political demonstration. Specifically, protests are not useful in attaining peace in western nations at this time. Israelis and Palestinians can and should protest to the best of their abilities in Israel and Palestine so as to pressure their own governments. However, protests in western nations have proven to be poorly regulated and to further the spread of bigoted rhetoric and violence against Jews, Muslims, Arabs, and Palestinians. Furthermore, there are nearly as many Palestinians in the world as there are Jews. It is extremely easy and common for the voices of bad actors and bigots on all sides to completely drown out Jewish and Palestinian voices and concerns at these events.

* Spend more time listening and learning than speaking and acting. Anyone who tells you this conflict is simple is someone who is lying to you. Take the time to learn the ways in which your actions and words can get people hurt before joining the fray.

* Stop demonizing Zionism as a concept, even if you disagree with it. Understand that it is a philosophy with many different movements that often conflict with each other. The Zionism practiced by Netanyahu and the Likud party is NOT representative of most Zionists or interpretations of Zionism. It is an extremist form of Zionism known as Revisionist Zionism.

* Don’t deny Jewish indigeneity to the levant. It doesn’t help Palestine and hurts Jews by erasing our physical and cultural history as well as erasing the Jews who remained in Israel even through widespread diaspora.

* KEEP THE HOLOCAUST OUT OF YOUR MOUTH

Things That Are Always OK

* Denouncing Antisemitism loudly and publicly

* Denouncing Islamophobia loudly and publicly

* Telling your Jewish and Muslim and Arab friends you support them and won't abandon them

* Elevating the work of respected, widely accepted people and organizations devoted to attaining peace for all, rather than just one group of people.

* Develop media literacy

* Understand what aspects of the current western leftist movements Jews are criticizing, rather than assuming our criticisms are motivated by hatred for Palestine or Palestinians.

* Expressing sorrow for civilian deaths regardless of religion or nationality.

* When you are not Jewish and you share a post about antisemitism from a Jewish person, please say you’re a goy. This isn’t because you’re not welcome to share. This is because it is indescribably comforting to know we aren’t just talking amongst ourselves and screaming into the void. Let us know you are supportive of us. It doesn’t mean that you or we hate Palestine or Palestinians or that we oppose their full and equal rights in our shared homeland.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #israel #Palestine #Zionism #anti zionisim #jewish muslim solidarity #Jewish goyim solidarity #media literacy #responsible advocacy #direct action #life under stochastic threat #I dare a goy to reblog this challenge

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longing-for-the-past-times · 8 months

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The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - three.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 4,057

synopsis: you get wasted in a pub and Ghost has to take care of you.

warnings: mentions of drinking, occasional swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, Ghost being a softie

notes: I had a lot of fun writing this. Here are the main videos that inspired some scenes (potential spoiler alert): one, two

reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

three.

The traditional post-mission gathering at the pub was in full swing in the late hours of the night, despite it being a Tuesday evening. The atmosphere was almost cosy and relaxed if you were to overlook the three people on the karaoke stage and the way their out-of-sync voices resounded throughout the room.

Seated at one of the tables with a glass of sparkling water, Captain Price exchanged a distressed look with Ghost, who was nursing a shot of Kentucky Bourbon. It was the captain's turn to drive so alcoholic drinks were out of the equation for him.

So he had to spend the entire night watching you, Gaz and Soap getting wasted and trying every form of entertainment the pub offered. You'd started slow with a game of darts, the loser having to drink a shot of whatever the winner decided. As the night progressed you went on to the pool table, had a break to tell stories and debate the key moments of the mission and eventually ended up at the karaoke bar, drunkenly singing to whatever songs were popular at the moment.

You were currently wedged between Gaz and Soap, leaning against each other for support, swaying and gesturing with exaggerated expressions when a new song would come on. You had lost track of the quantity of alcohol you consumed a while ago, yet everything seemed brighter and more colourful than before, so you didn't mind. You didn't know most of the songs that were playing at the karaoke bar, but that did not stop you from singing along, even if your voice was slightly out of tune. What you knew is that you were happy, perhaps happier than ever and, out of a sudden, you felt the need to express that in the loudest way possible, by taking Soap’s phone from his hands and picking the next song.

Surprised by your sudden move, Soap chuckled and gestured to the bartender to prepare three more drinks, even though he had his arm sloppily thrown around your shoulder, and was fighting a tough battle with gravitation. On your right side, Gaz was sloppily reaching towards the microphones, almost tripping over an imaginary wire. You caught him in the last second, grabbing a seat and forcing him to stay put as the first notes of the song echoed through the pub. A surge of drunken determination rushed through your veins as you took one of the microphones and turned towards the table Ghost and Price were seated at, wobbling slightly in the process.

“Captain, Lieutenant - I just… I just wanted to say this is for you. To Price - always being the helicopter, yet cool dad of the group!”. The drunken cheers of Soap’s and Gaz’s quickly accompanied your words, none of them realising how quiet the room had got. Everyone else left in the pub at that hour seemed to put whatever they were doing on hold and watch the inebriated toast with interest.

“And to Ghost!”, you went on unaware of the mood shift, your voice gaining momentum with each word, “who is always taking care of us during missions and let me fall asleep on him once! Cheers!”

Shaking his head in an attempt to hide the grin dancing on his lips, Price raised his glass and beckoned Ghost to do so too. At that moment, Simon was glad he was wearing the balaclava - he could feel an uncharacteristic blush spread across his face, not to mention that he could not control the visible twitching of his lips. The public seemed to be satisfied with the makeshift speech as a round of applause rippled through the crowd, but stopped as suddenly as it began. A familiar tune began to play in the background, and Simon almost pinched his forehead in frustration and disbelief when he saw the drunken determination and the over-confident grin plastered on your face: he had seen that expression before, it meant you were up to no good. His fears were instantly confirmed when the opening chords of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” filled the space, being quickly accompanied by the shouts and whistles coming from the crowd.

You, Gaz and Soap began swaying to the rhythm of the music, humming along to the first part of the song. Ghost was actually impressed that you made it sound nice, keeping your voices low and soft and singing in sync for once. He turned his head to Price, not surprised to see the older man had reached for his phone and was filming the trio like a proud father on recital day.

That is until the part of the choreo came. And literal chaos ensued, as the three of you began screaming because that was definitely not singing, the high notes, even stopping to gasp for air every once in a while.

"I hope life treats you kind And I hope you have all you've dreamed of And I wish you joy and happiness But above all this, I'm wishing you love!"

He did not know when he made eye contact with you, but Simon found himself trapped inside your E/C eyes. The bourbon tasted sweet on his lips, but it did not compare to the joyful and carefree expression you wore on your face as you tried to keep up with the lyrics of the song, occasionally stumbling across Johnny and Kyle who were just as inebriated and dedicated to the artistic moment as you were. The familiar feeling of warmth and comfort was once again blooming in his chest, and for the first time, he decided to let it grow and see where it would take him.

---

You hadn't meant to lock eyes with Simon, definitely not when you were singing a romantic song you handpicked for the occasion. Yet your judgement was clouded by all the alcohol you'd consumed up to that point and now you couldn't tear your eyes away from his chocolate ones. And from his soft blonde eyelashes that made your heart flutter every time you saw them- making you even stutter on the lyrics of the song that you kept close to your heart. At one point you weren't even aware of the words leaving your mouth, just going along with Gaz and Soap, the two literally putting their hearts into the song.

That was until the second part of the choreo came. And you were so into it that you all fell down on your knees, pathetically crying and shrieking the high-pitched notes that Whitney Houston handled with ease.

Simon did not even know why the three of you bothered to come to training and shooting practices. In moments like that, your voices were lethal weapons alone.

And when the song came to an end, the crowd politely applauded you, secretly glad that it was over. Price was careful to save the video twice so as not to lose it, the proud and amused expression on his face not faltering once:

"I think it's high time we took them home, don't you think?", he asked Simon in an unusual cheery mode, downing his glass of sparkling water.

Ghost could only nod as his eyes were trained on your swaying figure. You were leaning against Gaz, a drunken smile on your face as you downed the drink the bartender slid to you with a wink. For a moment, Simon was too caught up in studying the way your eyes crinkled at the corners to notice them widen in an instant as you brought up a hand to your mouth. His jaw tightened when he realised you were stumbling towards the bathroom, probably sick from one too many a drink, and subtly gestured to Price that he'd get you and meet him at the car, before heading towards the bathroom himself.

However, he slowed down in his steps when he realised he wasn't the only one headed in that direction; the bartender had already beaten him to it. Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, his fists involuntarily clenching as he noticed the man standing near the entrance to the ladies' room, wearing an almost expectant expression, his gaze directed towards the toilets. The sound of you throwing up was the only thing that could be heard against the muffled background sound of the pub, followed eventually by the rush of flushing water.

Washing your hands and face, you took a look at your pale face in the mirror, closing your eyes in defeat. It was definitely time to call it a night and find a ride home or crash on someone's couch, and you accepted the thought as you made your way out of the restroom. Yet you didn't manage to go far as a man you vaguely recognized as the bartender stopped in front of you, hands crossed over his chest in what was supposed to be a masculine stance. You internally scoffed at his posture; you have seen it all during the years you've spent in the military.

"Hey!", he eventually said, a light smile on his face. "Hello! Do you mind, I would like to go back to my friends?", you briefly asked, already trying to sneak past him.

But the man was insistent and stepped in the same direction, making you stop once more.

"Look, I just wanted to say I really enjoyed the show you put on tonight!". You raised a single eyebrow, a poker look on your face. "You and your friends, I mean!", he quickly added, blushing slightly. "And I was just wondering if you would like to stay for a drink after my shift is over and, you know, perhaps go to my place afterwards and…" Rolling your eyes in frustration, you let out an impatient sigh and tried to go past him again, only to be stopped by a firm grip on your arm.

"Look, you should really think about it-" "I wouldn't do that if I were you. She may be drunk, but she can still kick your ass in at least six different ways."

Drunk as you were, you couldn't hide the grin that spread quickly across your face as you took in the imposing figure of the Lieutenant, his skull balaclava lending him a threatening air in the dim light of the hallway. The bartender swiftly let you go, his eyes darting between you two as you staggered towards Ghost, too busy to fully take him in to take note of the hand that was softly placed on the small of your back.

"Oh, mate, I think this is a misunderstanding! I was just… but who the hell are you actually? Do you know him, darling?"

You grimaced at the unjustified use of the endearment, a plain expression of distaste replacing the previous smile. You swayed slightly, having to lean against Ghost as you mumbled something unintelligible about the toast. An unexpected wave of fatigue hit you out of nowhere, making you nestle your head against his chest, your arms weakly wrapping around his shoulders.

"I'm tired, I wanna go home, Ghost!", you murmured gently into his shirt, the vibrations of your voice sending a quiver down his spine. Yet if Ghost was affected by the unexpected display of clinginess, he did not let it show. Instead, he made a quick job of scooping you into his arms, your head nestling in the crook of his neck. Letting out a satisfied sigh, you closed your eyes and unconsciously nuzzled your cheek against the soft material of the balaclava, breathing in the scent of his cologne, your hands still clinging onto his shoulders in a koala-like grip.

For a fleeting moment, he became utterly oblivious to his surroundings, his mind consumed by the moment, struggling to make sense of the situation in which both of you had found yourselves. He didn't exactly freeze, but his brain didn't work properly either as the feeling of your breaths against his balaclava sent an electrifying jolt through him. You may have just washed your face and the perfume you wore must have faded during the night, but the subtle smell of your shampoo lingered, sweet enough to leave an impression that he knew would stay with him for the days to come. When he eventually realised you weren't alone, that the bartender was still loitering by the restroom's entrance, Ghost shrugged, remembering your previous words:

"You should have listened to the toast, mate!"

---

Carrying you to Price's pickup trunk proved to be no easy feat for Simon; he was too distracted by the hold you had on him, both literally and figuratively. It was as if his mind had turned to jelly and he could not distinguish dream from reality. And at that moment, he experienced the sensation of living within a pleasant dream, you being in his arms just as he often yearned for when trying to fall asleep in the solitude of his room.

If Price was surprised by the state you found yourself in, he showed no signs. He had just managed to secure Soap in the passenger seat, while Gaz was passed out in the back, head leaning against the window, an empty look on his face.

"I'm sorry Simon but you'll have to sit in the middle tonight", the captain chuckled under his breath as he was watching Ghost put two and two together while you were still clinging to him as if your life depended on it.

He would not be able to get in the car while also preserving the position you found yourself in, yet he did not want to give it up. For a passing instant, he actually thought of walking to your place- a weak attempt at trying to make the moment last longer. But he could feel Price's badly concealed smirk like the heat of the sun in July and he had to fight, actually fight the groan that threatened to leave him as he nudged you with his shoulder.

"Wake up, Bambi! We've got to get you home, come on!" His words reached your ears as a distant sound and instead, you chose to relish in the vibrations that resonated against your skin, letting out a small hum of approval.

"Ok means okay, come on!" "Mhm, sure…" "Y/N…" "Simon…"

Clinging on him like a koala had no visible effect on him, but you saying his name, his real name, made Ghost freeze and set his dark eyes on you. He could not control the cocktail of feelings swimming in his orbs, ranging from surprise to pure adoration, and the thought of hiding them did not even cross his mind at that moment.

Until you were both showered in a sudden burst of light, quickly followed by a camera shutter. Behind the Polaroid camera, Price did not even bother to hide his satisfied expression as he watched the picture develop with a soft whirring sound.

You, on the other hand, instantly jumped from Ghost's arms, the flash of the camera making you look like a deer caught in the headlights. You were still inebriated, as the world was spinning much more than it should have, but the drowsiness from earlier had evaporated in an instant. Shaking his head in disbelief and muttering something along the lines of "fucking hell", Ghost did not even bother to answer Soap's cheers. He just squeezed into the backseat of Price's car, seating himself next to Gaz and trying his best to ensure you would not hit your head and get in safely. And the giddy smile he got as a response was worth it.

Price was the last to get in the car. As he positioned himself behind the wheel, Ghost couldn't help but wonder where he'd hidden the Polaroid camera and the picture. Knowing the older man, he could only hope the instant shot would not be displayed in the lounging room, alongside other just as embarrassing moments.

Not that he had something against you or the picture.

He just thought that the moment was rather special, even intimate to him and that it should not be shared with all other SAS operators who spent their time in the lounging room when on base.

"You three did quite a show out there!", Price half-turned towards Soap and the backseat riders, a comic expression on his face.

"Thanks, dad!", you replied in an awfully cheery tone, swaying slightly from one side to another. You kept humming to yourself, not taking note of the awkward silence that had settled in the car.

"Bambi, did you just call Price 'dad'?", Soap asked from the front seat, his shit-eating grin being reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Do you see me as a father figure, Y/N?", Price quipped in, smiling softly at your confused expression. Simon did not even dare to glance in your direction - he knew the doe eyes were making a comeback and he was definitely not inebriated enough to handle them.

"I certainly do!"

Gaz's voice was muffled as his cheek was currently squished against the window. But the message got across and you reached across Ghost to pat his shoulder, aggressively nodding in compliance.

"And this is why", you began by raising a finger in the air as if to strengthen your point, "you are my brother, Gaz!".

Your drunken determination was almost comical to watch, but it topped when you squealed in excitement:

"Let me give you a kiss!"

"No, you won't! I'm definitely not getting caught up in the middle of this!"

Ghost's answer, more of a growl actually, was instantly followed by Soap's booming laughter as the Scot was trying to turn and face the backseat, extending a grabby hand towards you:

"I'm happily accepting your kisses if you'll let me, bonnie!", he slurred half of the sentence, his head comfortably propped on the headrest as he puckered his lips in your direction.

"No one's getting any kisses!"

----

"Come on, careful, there's a step there!" "I wanna go home…" "We are almost there, Bambi. Now, do you have your key?" "Yeah, it should be in my pocket. Let me… let me look for it…"

Murmuring to yourself, you fished the keychain and held it before your eyes, a small chuckle escaping your lips as the keys kept jingling. The tiredness from the pub was making a comeback and Ghost had to carry you inside after he managed to open the door while also balancing your swaying silhouette.

"Oh, this couch looks good!", you muttered to yourself, letting yourself fall on it.

But instead of touching the plush pillows, you felt two strong arms sneaking around your waist and keeping you partially suspended in the air. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you were aware of it, you were headed in the direction of your bedroom, a warm hand placed on the small of your back.

"You should change into something more comfortable…", Ghost muttered, frowning when you started shaking your head and slurring: "I'll do it in the morning."

He already felt like he was prying, being inside your home, in the privacy of your bedroom, so he did not push the topic and instead, knelt down and removed your sneakers.

"You should at least clean your face." He pressed on the issue, all too aware of your fixation with skincare and how you would complain to anyone on the base about the latest breakout on your face. "Mhm.." "Mhm means yes, Bambi!", he groaned in frustration as he bent down to scoop you in his arms again and carried you to the bathroom, where he laid you on the fitted furniture so that your faces were at the same level.

Ghost was no stranger to makeup removal techniques - he had his fair share of experiences he had gone through when learning what worked best for the black paint he used to smudge the area around his eyes. But he began to grow tired as well, and being in your house took him way out of his comfort zone, so he resumed reaching for a pack of makeup wipes, instead of looking for a cleansing balm or micellar water. His touch was gentle against your face, his fingers applying the suitable amount of pressure needed to get rid of any traces of eyeshadow and whatnot. There was a faint tremor in his hand when he reached your lips, but the remnants of lipstick had to be removed too.

He was not prepared for the sudden shiver that raced down his spine the moment his fingertips brushed against your lips. His breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat as he continued to delicately trace the outline of your lips, the warm and comforting sensation he'd felt before, making a return. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you locked at the moment, Ghost's eyes fervently searching for yours, as he rested a gloved hand against your face.

Letting out a soft sigh, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

"Don't fall asleep on me…", Ghost hummed under his breath, involuntarily rubbing his thumb against your cheek. His gentle touch was a far cry from the deadly one that had become second nature on the battlefield.

"I trust you'll catch me", you whispered back, a delicate smile on your face.

And he did. With a tender grin under his balaclava, Ghost lifted you into his arms once more, cradling you like the treasure you were. Your head rested against his chest as he carried you back to your bedroom, each step filled with a quiet intimacy, completely new to him.

He entered the dark room, gently lying you down on the soft sheets, almost amazed at how quickly you passed out, again. Yes, you may have been wasted, completely inebriated, but you also trusted him to let him take care of you in your state.

Even if the action was foreign to him, Ghost tucked you in as best as he could, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His internal conflict was a raging storm, but he eventually let the few shots of bourbon get to his head. With shaky gestures, he peeled the mask up to his nose and brought his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss. His warm breath lingered over your face for a couple of seconds before he quietly exited the room, leaving you in a peaceful slumber.

---

Bonus scene

Sitting by himself at the small table in the kitchen, Simon lifted the balaclava up to his nose and breathed in the scent of Earl Grey, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. He could see the tendrils of steam rolling out of the freshly brewed mug, the late autumn morning sun filtering through the blinds and bathing the room in warmth and light.

After every single evening spent celebrating in the pub, you, Gaz and Soap had to take the day off and volunteer yourselves for the night watch. Ghost had grown so accustomed to the usual agitation, whether it was Gaz jogging in the kitchen for a snack, Soap casually napping in the lounging room, or you, asking everyone where they had hidden the cookies, and he was finding it weird to spend the day in relative silence and peace.

And he was so lost in his thoughts, replaying the events of the previous night in his head, that he failed to notice the private who was lingering in the doorway and looking at him with a mixture of fear and admiration. It wasn't until he reached for the milk, that he took note of his presence and gave him a questioning look. "Captain Price asked me to deliver this personally to you, sir!" The private placed a white envelope on the table, saluted and quickly left the room. Simon had no time to analyze the interaction as his eyes settled on the letter.

Only it was not a letter, but a photograph. And after double checking, he was alone in the room, Simon actually let out a small chuckle as he held the polaroid in the sunlight, his eyes softening at the sight of you cradled in his arms, nuzzling your head against his chest.

taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar

#cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty imagine #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #ghost fluff #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x you

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goldsainz · 10 months

Text

THE COOLEST DRIVER — one shot.

pairing: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: when you introduced lando to your siblings, you didn’t think they would become so attached.

request: “Lando × reader. Your younger siblings who are 2 and 3 are crazy about Lando. Lando is amazing with them they don't like when you to hug/ kiss him Though. "No he's mine!" Your sister says as she pushes you away. When you go for a kiss. "My Lando time" your brother says. Snuggling into Lando. You find it adorable but annoying. Fans love it.”

warnings: im pretty sure that none

NOTE: thank you for requesting!!!! so this is short and sweet, and i also added a little smau at the end 🫶 i’m in my lando obsessed era. so if you suddenly see a lot of lando content posted, just let it be. silverstone grand prix has me so so excited, can’t wait… also fingers crossed lewis gets podium🤞

[ word count: 737 ]

Lando and you had been going out for quite some time now. It was as serious as a relationship could get, and evidently, he had met your family.

It was no surprise when your siblings got obsessed with him and just about followed him everywhere. They wanted to go to every Grand Prix you went to, because if you could, why couldn't they? It took quite some time for them to understand that you were an adult, and as such could do what you pleased.

Your brother adored Lando. He tuned in for every race and Lando quickly became his idol, even though he would never really say it out loud. Suddenly, he wanted to be a driver too. Your boyfriend was more than happy to help him out with his dream, and since he was so little, he could have a shot at doing it for a long time.

Your sister however, seemed to like Lando in a completely different way. Whenever she saw Lando he would hug him while burying her face in his neck, hiding her smitten face. There was no way you could ever kiss or even be too close to Lando if she was present, not if you wanted to avoid the tantrum she would throw. Claiming Lando was hers, and that you were stealing him from her.

Lando loved your siblings. It was refreshing to have such support from little humans, who idolised him and always got excited to see him. So it was no surprise when for this year’s Silverstone Grand Prix, his home race, he invited your whole family to the paddock.

When you broke the news to your siblings they ran to hug Lando, their excitement almost pushing him off balance as he attempted to hold both of them at the same time. It was a sight to behold, and you wished you would've gotten it on camera because it was just too precious.

“Go pack your bags!” You told them, watching as they scrambled to their rooms.

“I can’t believe they are coming.” Lando says, one wrapped around your waist, pulling you in for a side hug.

“They can’t even believe it themselves.”

You watched your parents talk with Lando over the schedule, all while holding you in his arms. They both couldn’t stop expressing their gratitude, and your boyfriend just repeated that it was his pleasure and there was nothing he would love more than having all of you there.

His sweet words made your heart rush, and you turned to face him just for a quick peck since your parents were still around. You should have known what a bad idea that was, because all of a sudden your siblings appear in the room and they cannot hold in their disgust.

“Ew!” Your brother shouted, covering his face with his little hands.

Your sister ran to push you off of Lando, not liking the sudden closeness. Your mother rolled her eyes at the dramatics your siblings loved to display. Lando just brushed off your mother’s concern, more amused at the reaction than anything.

“Hey! We’re not going to Silverstone if you behave like that.” You tell them, you know you’re lying because there is no way you are not taking them. Not when you know how excited they are.

“No!” Your sister screeches, wrapping her arms around Lando’s leg as if to show how much she wants to go.

“Did you pack your bags?” Lando asks your sister, kneeling down to her level.

“Yes.” She says, her voice muffled now that she has thrown her arms around him.

“And your brother?”

“I think so.”

Your brother takes his hands off of his face the moment he hears he was mentioned. Moving to sit beside Lando, an annoyed look passes his face as he watches his sister.

“You excited to go to Silverstone?” Your boyfriend asks, knowing full well your brother is bursting at the seams of excitement.

“Very!”

“Is there anyone you’re excited to meet?”

“Lewis!”

“Lewis?” Lando asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he hears the emotion on your brother’s voice.

“He’s so cool!”

“Is he?”

“Yes!” A giggle pushes its way past your brother’s lips, suddenly bashful at the admission.

“Cooler than me?”

“No, silly.” He says with an obvious tone, face palming himself as if the answer was obvious, “You’re the coolest driver ever!”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

2K notes · View notes

adascore · 4 days

Note

Hello! Not sure if you’re taking requests but would you consider doing an addition to TSS where young!arsenal reader was starting before Beth and Viv came back and has been benched majority of the time since (Kyra core☹️). Maybe during like the west ham game was one of the subs thrown on halfway through and after the loss made a snarky comment about “being thrown on to unfuck everything” type of thing to another teammate and Viv/beth overhear and think she’s talking about them (maybe they’re already a little insecure about losing such an “easy” game, self doubt post ACL) and things are super frosty and weird at home until one of them snaps and makes a comment about how they still wouldn’t have won even if R started. Hurt/comfort angst but with a happy ending!! Not sure if any of that strikes your fancy but I had the thought and you’re so talented:) no worries if not!!!

TO JUMP THE GUN(NERS)

pairings: arsenal x teen!reader / meadema x teen!reader / kyra cooney-cross x arsenal!reader

warnings: the west-ham match. swearing. angst. awkwardness.

author’s note: OMG LOVE THIS IDEA ! like this was right up my alley I felt like 😭 thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy the story!

masterlist

February 4, 2024 - Essex, England

It had become a routine, seeing her name and number on the bench. She took a glance at Kyra, a knowing look in her eyes.

The young Arsenal homegrown wondered where it all had gotten wrong. Well, she knew the answer, but it wasn't exactly something she could say out loud to anyone.

She was transported back to the 2022/23 season, where she would warm the bench until either Vivianne or Beth were too tired or they needed to be rested for the next match.

Their injuries had changed everything.

Y/N not only became a regular starter, but became a vital part of their game. Her absence would be noticed.

She scored the goals that got them to the semifinals of the Champions League, keeping them level with 2x champions Wolfsburg.

However, Beth and Vivianne were back now. Alessia's arrival also didn't help much, the former Manchester United player having cemented herself into the starting line-up.

It also didn't help that Jonas was not a fan of rotating. Only in specific Conti Cup matches or against what he deemed 'weaker' teams in the league would he make changes to the usual starting XI.

In other words, she was back to step 1.

That's why it was hard to watch her teammates falling 2-1 behind against West Ham, with no one seeming to find an answer or any will to turn the game around. It was a painful spectacle.

In the 63rd minute, Jonas decided to throw herself, Kyra and Cloé in the match, and take out Vivianne, Victoria and Beth. It was a desperate attempt, and the three Gunners found themselves on the pitch, tasked with the challenging mission of trying to fix everything that had gone wrong so far.

Y/N and Cloé quickly created some chances but the West Ham defense or the swift reflexes of Mackenzie Arnold saw them go in vain.

The teenager could see the expressions of her teammates on the bench, visibly frustrated with how the match had unfolded since Alessia's successful header.

Vivianne couldn't hide the discontent in her eyes as she sat with a subtle shake of her head. Her partner, sitting beside her, noticed and Beth patted her thigh, offering silent support as they continued to watch their team scramble for a late equalizer.

As the final whistle blew, the disappointment within the team was high. Y/N did her usual post-match routine, and congratulated all the West Ham players on their win, while giving and receiving solace from her own teammates.

The teen found Kyra again, someone who she had found a friendship in over the months the Australian had joined the Gunners.

''You alright?'' The midfielder asked her, a dejected tone in her voice.

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, you?''

''Not too great, but there are worse things in life.'' Kyra responded, trying to put the loss in perspective.

''True,'' the striker agreed, ''I can't believe he keeps putting us in these positions.''

Kyra nodded. ''You think he would learn after Tottenham.'' She sighed.

''Apparently, we're not good enough to start, but when he needs us to unfuck everything that happened, then he knows who we are.'' Y/N said, her frustration evident. The unfair treatment of some players during the season lingered in the air, leaving a bitter taste after the defeat.

As the youngsters continued their conversation on their way to the locker room, Vivianne and Beth, unintentionally overhearing their discussion, exchanged puzzled glances.

''Did you hear that? 'Unfuck everything'?'' Beth repeated her housemate's words to her partner.

Vivianne's brow furrowed as she processed what was said. ''Yeah,'' the Dutchwoman breathed out, ''not very nice.'' A hint of sadness lingered in her voice. It stung that their efforts were being discussed in such terms, especially by the young girl they were living with.

They didn't say much else to one another as they strolled through the corridor.

The atmosphere in the locker room was subdued, void of any banter and entertaining chats. Most of the players were already there as the couple walked in.

Beth took a glimpse at Y/N and Kyra who still seemed in a discussion with one another, although they were whispering now.

''Girls, we're a lot better than this.'' Kim broke the ice, a neutral expression on her face.

Everyone nodded at the captain, the collective disappointment from the match was visible. ''Well, it's done, we can't change anything about it. So, everyone just do a reset, try to get some sleep or distract yourselves on the bus, and I expect everyone with fresh minds and legs at training.''

The team nodded and weakly applauded Kim's small speech.

As the team began to disperse, Y/N caught Beth's eye, offering a faint smile in greeting. However, the winger's response was noticeably strained, her usually warm demeanor replaced by a subtle tension.

"Everything okay?" The younger one ventured, her concern evident.

Beth's smile faltered slightly, her gaze flickering away before returning to meet Y/N's. "Yeah, everything's fine." She replied, though her words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

The striker's brow furrowed further, a flicker of uncertainty clouding her features. "Are you sure?" She pressed gently, not used to this awkwardness from her teammate.

"I... yeah, I'm sure." She retorted, her voice tinged with irritation.

"Okay..." Y/N trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. Sensing the dismissiveness between them, she offered a hesitant smile before turning back to where she had been talking with Lia.

As her housemate walked away, Beth's expression hardened, a pang of guilt gnawing at her conscience. She knew she shouldn't act like this towards her, but her words had really struck a nerve for some reason and it was hard to pretend it didn't.

The drive home on the bus wasn't that different, though the atmosphere was more subdued due to the loss. Y/N and Kyra were seated next to each other, Katie and Caitlin sitting on the other side of them.

''You alright, Y/N?'' Caitlin asked, noticing the youngster's quietness.

Y/N looked up, glancing away from her nails to the older Australian player. She hesitated answering, not knowing if it was appropriate to say anything about her interaction with Beth.

She sat up straight and motioned for the three of them to huddle together over the small table. They got her message and did just that.

''Did anything happen on the bench or something? Cause I had this weird exchange with Meado, and it's just stuck in my head.'' She explained, her voice hushed.

They all frowned at her words. ''No, she was just frustrated about the game, but so was everyone else.'' Caitlin responded.

''What happened?'' Katie chimed in, curious to know about this exchange.

''I don't know. She was looking at me in the locker room, and I smiled at her, but she, I don't know, just looked weird at me. I asked her if she was alright, but she was kinda distant with me? She responded a little irritated so I left her alone, but it was weird.'' Y/N gave a small summary of the interaction.

"That is strange." Kyra mused, breaking the silence that had settled over their huddle.

They nodded at her words, agreeing with the young Australian.

''I didn't notice anything.'' Caitlin said with a pout, feeling sorry she couldn't help her younger teammate out. ''Me neither, kiddo.'' Katie added, a similar expression on her face.

Y/N smiled sadly, disappointed she wasn't any wiser on Beth. Katie rubbed her arm once she noticed her dejected expression. ''Hey, I wouldn't worry about it. It's a tough loss.''

The youngster nodded at the Irishwoman's words. ''Yeah, you're right.''

Katie was not right.

As soon as she got in the car with the beloved couple it was clear that something had gone down for them to act in such a sour mood. Vivianne's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, while Beth stared out of the window, her expression unreadable.

Sensing the palpable tension, Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The youngster wanted to break the silence, but the words wouldn't come out. It felt like they were stuck in her throat.

The drive home felt like forever. Every minute made the atmosphere worse. Y/N tried to catch Vivianne or Beth's eye, hoping for some sign that things would get better, but there was nothing.

Car rides after losses were never filled with much conversation, but it had never been like this.

A wave of relief went through her as the car was parked in front of their apartment complex, longing for the comfort of her room where she could hide from whatever the situation was.

Y/N couldn't even come up with a guess on what had transpired. Did they have a fight? Did she do something? Did someone else do something?

She had absolutely no clue.

However, the tension seemed to follow them into their shared home. The silence had become even more deafening with each step they took.

Beth disappeared into her room without a word, while Vivianne headed straight for the kitchen, her movements stiff and mechanical. Y/N stood in the hallway, feeling like an outsider in her own home.

Their behaviors made her feel anxious, feeling that knot inside her stomach. What had happened during the game? What had caused them to retreat into themselves like this?

Unable to handle any of it longer, Y/N tentatively approached the Dutchwoman in the kitchen. "Um, Viv?" She began, her voice small.

Vivianne glanced up, her expression guarded. "Yeah?” She replied, accent heavy.

The younger girl hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. "I, uh, did, uh, something happen at the game?" She stammered, her words stumbling over each other in her haste to get everything out.

The striker's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?” She asked, her face neutral.

Her response only added to the youngest one's confusion. It seemed as though they were both dancing around a subject neither wanted to address.

"I-I just... noticed things were a bit off between everyone after the match," Y/N explained, her voice barely above a whisper, "and, well, the car ride home was... a bit weird, you know.”

Vivianne's expression softened slightly, though her guard remained up. ''Don't worry about it. Just… frustration from the game.''

But Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just frustration. She wanted to press further, but the fear of causing further conflict held her back.

Instead, she offered a hesitant nod. ''Okay, good.'' She murmured to the floor, retreating back to her room with a heavy heart.

The Arsenal homegrown player pulled her phone out of her pocket, searching up Kyra's contact. It only took a few rings for the Australian to pick up, she was probably already on her phone as she was called.

''Hey.'' Her accent momentarily bringing a smile to Y/N's face.

''Hey, you're home?''

''Yeah, just arrived. What's up?''

There was a brief pause before Y/N continued. ''Things have gotten a bit weirder since, uh, on the bus.''

''Shit. What happened?'' She asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.

''It's just... the tension at home is almost suffocating," she explained, ''it was completely silent the entire time we were driving home, and when we got home, Beth immediately went to her room. I tried to ask Viv about, but she told me it was just frustrations, but it clearly is not just that.''

There was a moment of silence as Kyra processed Y/N's words. "That doesn't sound good," she finally replied, ''you really have no idea what might have happened? Maybe they had a fight or something?''

Y/N shook her head, even though her teammate couldn't see it. "No, that's the thing. I'm completely lost." She admitted, frustration lacing her words.

''Same. I wish I knew what to say to help.'' Kyra said softly.

''It's alright, Ky. Thanks for letting me ramble.'' Y/N chuckled, appreciating the opportunity to unload her worries onto her friend.

''It's fine, honestly. It must not be fun to be in this situation,'' the Matilda replied, feeling for her friend, ''if anything else happens you can always let me know, okay? I'm gonna have some dinner now.''

Y/N smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Ky. I really appreciate it.”

''Anytime. Take care, I'll see you at training.''

''You too. Bye, bye.'' They bid each other goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Y/N prepared to leave her room again, wanting to check if Vivianne had started dinner yet or not.

Just as she stepped into the hallway, she nearly collided with Beth, who was coming out of her room with a tight-lipped expression. The sudden encounter caught them both off guard.

''Shit, sorry.'' The younger one apologized first, giving her housemate an awkward glance.

''It's alright,'' Beth brushed off, ''uh, were you on the phone just now?" She asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

Y/N nodded. ''Uh, yeah, with Kyra.''

Beth's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. "Oh, Kyra." She murmured, her voice tight.

The younger girl simply stared at the winger, not knowing what to say to her words. "Is everything okay?" Y/N ventured, her voice hesitant as she searched Beth's face for any sign of what might be bothering her.

Beth's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. When she finally spoke, her words were tinged with a hint of irritation. ''Everything's alright.''

Y/N offered a small, uneasy smile and nodded. "Oh, okay." She said, though her words felt hollow even to her own ears.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Beth turned to walk away. As she watched Beth disappear around the corner, she wondered if it had been something she had done. However, she couldn't recall saying or doing anything that day that would have provoked this kind of demeanor from the couple.

The young striker walked into the living room, noticing Vivianne bustling about in the kitchen. But what caught Y/N's attention was the hushed whispers exchanged between the couple, Beth and Vivianne not being subtle about their gossiping.

A sense of discomfort washed over the youngster as she hesitated in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt or retreat unnoticed. But before she could make a decision, the Dutchwoman glanced up and caught her eye, her expression inscrutable.

''Hey, dinner is almost ready. Just some leftover pasta from yesterday.'' She informed Y/N, her tone somewhat forced as she attempted to maintain a facade of normalcy.

Y/N forced a smile. ''Nice, thanks, Viv.'' She answered, trying to ignore the awkwardness that hung in the air.

She retreated to the couch, feeling as if she wasn't welcome in the small space. Something was off, and she couldn't help but feel like she was on the outside looking in.

She scrolled on her phone for a few minutes before Vivianne called her to the table as the food was ready. As they gathered around the dinner table, the atmosphere remained strained, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Vivianne served up the leftover pasta, her movements brisk as she avoided making eye contact with anyone. Beth sat across from Y/N, her expression unreadable as she picked at her food.

Y/N tried to focus on her food, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach made it difficult to swallow.

For a few moments, the only sound was the clinking of forks against plates, the silence punctuated only by the occasional awkward cough or clearing of throat.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Y/N opened her mouth. "So, um, what did you guys think about the match?'' She asked the pair, her voice coming out more high than she had intended.

As if on cue, Vivianne and Beth glanced up from their plates at the same time.

''It was tough, but it shouldn't have been tough. We lacked a clear tactic.'' The experienced striker answered, filling up the silence.

Y/N nodded, relieved at least one of them responded to her attempt at conversation. She took a peek at Beth, who did not seem amused in the slightest to talk about the surprising defeat earlier that day.

''It was just another match of us fucking everything up, and you kids having to unfuck it all.'' Beth said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The youngest's eyes widened slightly at the cutting remark, not expecting those words to come out of the Brit's mouth.

Vivianne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, casting a quick glance at Y/N before fixing her gaze on her partner. "Beth, that's enough.'' Her voice was stern, warning Beth that this was not the way to go about this.

But Beth ignored her girlfriend, her eyes fixed on Y/N with an intensity that made her squirm. ''No, she needs to learn to not talk about teammates that way, especially the ones that have just gotten back from serious injuries, and need time to reintegrate into the group.''

Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, she cast a desperate look at Vivianne, silently pleading for her to intervene and diffuse the situation before it escalated any further.

''Beth, I wasn't-''

''You weren't what? You weren't talking shit to Kyra about us right after the match? You weren't talking shit about us to Kyra on the phone just now?'' The oldest continued in an accusing tone.

Vivianne let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she attempted to defuse the situation. ''Beth.'' She said firmly, her gaze shifting between the two other people at the table.

''I wasn't talking shit about you guys. I would never do that.'' Y/N managed to let out, offended at the mere idea of her not appreciating the two women who'd let her move in with them a 1,5 years ago.

''Y/N, we heard you. On the pitch after the match, with Kyra.'' Beth responded bluntly.

Y/N swallowed hard, slightly ashamed of being caught. ''We were just... we were just frustrated, okay? That comment wasn't directed at any of you guys, it was more at Jonas, to be fair.''

The couple grew silent at the admission, realizing they had greatly misunderstood the two young girls' conversation. ''About Jonas?'' Vivianne repeated, her voice carrying a note of embarrassment.

The young striker nodded. ''Yeah, me and Kyra have just been a bit upset with our game time, that's all. It felt like a repeat of the Tottenham game.''

Beth and Vivianne exchanged a glance, coming to a silent understanding. ''We're sorry for jumping the gun on that one, darling. We really thought we needed to teach you some manners.'' The Brit nervously apologized with a chuckle.

''It's alright, we probably should've been a bit more discreet.'' Y/N brushed her apology off with a hand gesture.

''No, you two are in your full right to complain.'' Vivianne retorted, agreeing on the playing time matter.

The teenager waited a few moments before elaborating. ''I don't mind sitting on the bench, it's great to get rest, you know? But it almost feels like he doesn't trust me to get the game starting or something. I like to think I did great last season, so this kind of sucks.'' She opened up, not having voiced these thoughts to anyone but Kyra.

''You did amazing last season, you stepped up when we needed someone and the team will never forget that.'' Beth smiled, squeezing the youngster' s hand.

''It seems that Jonas forgot.'' Y/N muttered bitterly, looking down at her empty plate.

The couple silenced themselves at her mumbled words, not knowing what the appropriate response would be to cheer her up about the situation. They were indirectly responsible for the young girl to not get as much game time anymore, so whatever they would tell her, she would most likely not feel much better afterwards.

''Just focus on what you're doing right now. Show up to training, recover well, maximize everything in the minutes you do get. Show him that he should trust you to start, and that you deserve to have that spot in the line-up.'' Vivianne chimed in, her voice soft but resolute.

Y/N nodded at the older woman's words, though her demeanor still seemed dejected. ''Yeah, I'll continue to do that.'' It came out somewhat passive aggressive.

''I know it doesn't fix the situation, but you're my personal star girl, regardless whether you play or not.'' Beth softly smiled at her.

The teen managed to crack a small smile back, appreciating the sentiment. ''Thanks, Beth.''

''You're mine too.'' Vivianne added.

''Hey, that's my compliment for her! Find another one if you want to be cute!'' Beth scolded her partner, dramatically feigning annoyance.

The Dutchwoman frowned. ''Everyone calls her ‘star girl'! You're not original either!'' She pouted back.

Y/N couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the banter between the couple, happily accepting the momentary distraction from her frustrations.

Beth playfully rolled her eyes. ''At least I'm complimenting her!''

''Sorry that I was just giving useful advice, Bethany.'' Vivianne retorted.

''Useful.'' The Brit repeated, her voice heavily tinged with sarcasm.

Vivianne's mouth gaped, pretending to be offended. ''It was useful! That's what I would have wanted to hear at 19 year-old.'' She defended herself.

''19 year-old's want to hear praise, Viv. They want to be called star girls, not receive a lecture.'' Beth quickly replied, with a smirk.

''Y/N, it was useful, right?'' The older striker turned towards the teenager.

''Yeah, Y/N, tell Miss Miedema how useful her advice was.'' Beth chorused her words, grinning from ear-to-ear.

The youngster simply glanced between the two of them, before picking up her empty plate and standing up from her seat. ''I'm taking this as my sign to leave.''

She ignored their pleas with a satisfied grin, making her way to the kitchen to dump her plate, and walking back to her room.

The couple watched her depart, sharing a knowing look, a hint of amusement dancing in their eyes. ''She's gonna call Kyra, isn't she?'' Vivianne chuckled.

''She so is.'' Beth agreed with a laugh.

requests are always welcome!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #beth mead x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #meadema

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drchucktingle · 9 months

Note

Is there a reason you didn't include an acknowledgements section in Camp Damascus?

yes actually, as man name of chuck i have spent a lot of time FINDING MY IDENTITY through masking and unmasking. in early days there were many more layers hiding me away and it took a while for me to understand WHY. over the last ten years buckaroos have very much seen me find myself through art, accepting and talking about my sexuality, neurodivergence, and gender.

there is ALWAYS a layer to protect my privacy, and to allow myself room for POETRY. example i like to give is that if i post 'i pet a dog today' i might have actually pet a cat, but everything i say is true is some sense. in the early days that truth was stretched farther because even i did not quite understand it my dang self, and it has been my journey to strip away as much of this mask as possible (sometimes called removing my skin) and BECOME MYSELF on this timeline (which is something i have always talked about)

if you have been following chuck for the last decade you will see my older posts were much more abstract and difficult to parse, they reference themes that i have since come to terms with, and this journey to find myself is WHY i have been able to do this. some could say it was the journey of a reverse twin adapting to their new timeline, others could say it was the journey of a neurodivergent artist allowing themselves the freedom to find a healthy expression and conquer their chronic pain from constant neurotypical masking.

FOR INSTANCE this is why i am wearing buckaroo suits on tour now, an outfit that is more true to the INNER ME. i used to answer interview questions with metaphor and now i just answer, only hiding certain details when i need to. i talk less about figures in my life back in billings who were REAL IDEAS and PARTS OF MYSELF but sometimes not flesh and blood or ghostly buckaroos. this is my trot, and this is why i am so strongly against gatekeepers in the buckaroo community. i have been becoming myself long before i knew what that meant.

so when it came time for acknowledgments i realized i would have to acknowledge buckaroos who helped along the way but also ABSTRACT IDEAS who helped along the way, symbols and themes that i have since decided i wanted to leave behind. it was important to me to create a new era of my expression where those abstract layers are respected but also stripped away. i have to respect the inner truth i am trying to cultivate, for way of my mental health and also my physical health.

so i DID write out acknowledgments and sent them to my buckaroos privately, then i said please do not include this in the public book. these days i want to hide behind as few layers as possible, that is my artistic journey now. buckaroos were very respectful and supportive.

very quick before we finish, there was one other small and important reason. i am so sincere ALL the dang time it is kind of my natural state to get very emotional and thankful, that i kinda thought 'i am going to give myself space here to NOT stress out over this for once'. i am constantly thinking about acknowledging others and i LOVE this part of my trot, but doing it in a way that is so defined and specific and maybe even performative (gotta write your acknowledgments now bud. HAVE to do it) felt at odds with my inner way.

anyway thank you for this very good question what a dang treat to talk about this detail and how much it means to me to find truth in my inner trot.

#chuck tingle #tingleverse #acknowledgments #camp damascus

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luvring · 9 months

Text

GOOD WITH KIDS

ushijima, suna, hinata, akaashi, sakusa, kita, atsumu with their kids ^__< reader is never mentioned so u can imagine them as single dads if u'd like 🫶

USHIJIMA’s tall, to say the least. his daughter finds this incredibly beneficial to her every few days. all she has to do is walk up to his spot on the couch and look a little fidgety, biting her bottom lip, for wakatoshi to smile. “is something high up again?” “yeah…the cereal’s on the top shelf again! i didn’t put it there last time though, i swear.” she furrows her brows as her dad stands up to his full height. “well, let’s get it down from there together, then.” he easily pulls her into his arms and she giggles, maneuvering her way to sit on his shoulders with practiced ease. “make sure not to bump your head,” he reminds her, slowly walking to the kitchen. “i won’t!” she carefully holds onto him, and wakatoshi’s glad she hasn’t figured out he’s the one who’s been putting things high up whenever she’s finished with them.

SUNA holds his daughter's hand, his phone with two tickets to the barbie movie open in the hand that's free. they had gotten ready together—rintarou had let her put her cutest pink clips into his hair, and made sure to get a shirt that matched the shade of her dress. he took her to buy a whole outfit for the occasion, from the dress to her bag to her shoes. the pair had taken photos and videos, one currently posted on his story that had her face out of view, but bow in her hair shown off. “can i get the barbie popcorn combo, too?” she asks in line. “yeah, you wanna get a photo with the barbie cut-out after?” “yeah, yeah! she looks so pretty.” rintarou hums and lets her swing their arms back and forth, careful not to hit the people around them. “i think you’re even prettier, though.”

HINATA has always supported his son in decorating and expressing himself, which is why when he wanted to decorate his room, he couldn’t say no, even with his lack of artistic skills. instead, they worked together to fill online shopping carts with different merchandise and furniture and got temporary wallpaper that would fit the bill. a couple of weeks later, and now shoyo finds himself sitting on the ground setting up a new desk, surrounded by boxes and different figures that will hopefully fill the bookshelf they built a few hours earlier. “dad?” “yeah?” “do you think i could get some of your team’s stuff, too?” “my—” shoyo fumbles with the screw in his hand in shock. “like, like your shirt? or something signed by uncle bokuto?” the question could make shoyo cry, he thinks, and he makes a noise of excited agreement. “of course you can! do you want to check my old high school stuff, too?”

AKAASHI’s a fan of thunderstorms. his daughter on the other hand, is not. so he’s made it a little game. they’re sitting together in a blanket fort, legs touching and hands on their lap.she fidgets slightly at the sight of the lightning, but starts to count out loud for the thunder. “one, two, three, four…” keiji joins and they watch each other carefully. at eight, the thunder rumbles the house and his daughter reaches over—not for a hug or comfort, but to try tickling her dad who does the same. she squeals as he reaches for her sides, and keiji laughs as she, maybe a little aggressively, tickles him back. when he picks her up to sit her on his lap, she yells, “no fair! that’s cheating!” between giggles and yelps. in mock indignation, keiji replies, “cheating? i would never do that.” yet stops anyway. his daughter jokingly huffs. “i’m gonna get you next time.”

SAKUSA’s eyes widen as his daughter runs up to him, only to hide behind his legs. instinctively, his hand moves to hold and comfort her as he scans the park for what could have scared her. it’s when two large dogs bark that he spots them playing with each other and the dots click. he turns to squat in front of his daughter, who looks at him with wide eyes and a pout that make his heart clench. “dad,” she says softly. “hm?” “do you think i could play with the dogs? they’re…big.” she sends a pointed look to other kids walking up to the owner and their pets. kiyoomi hums again and gently rubs her shoulder. “ it looks like they’re being nice with the other kids, right? why don’t we go together and ask?” his daughter nods and grabs his hand, and kiyoomi’s eyes crinkle as he smiles before walking over with her.

KITA’s son is adamant that his bed is the comfiest in the house. shinsuke’s happy to hear this, of course, even if he’d have to personally disagree. he’s about to rest in your own bedroom, when his son catches up to him in the hall. “do you wanna try my bed?” shinsuke blinks, processing the question. he laughs a little. “i don’t think i’d fit properly.” “we can both fit!” and before he can object, his son is pulling him into his bedroom and onto the bed that was definitely not made for the two of them to fit. but something tells him that he won’t get out of this easily, so he lets out a breathy laugh before crawling in, leaving space for his son to curl in with him. his back will probably hurt a little when he wakes up, but he pulls the blanket over the both of them anyway with a soft smile on his face.

ATSUMU rolls up his sleeves and pretends to crack his knuckles. “y’ready?” “yeah!” his son says with determination. the carnival game worker counts down, and they both get ready with their basketballs. the grand prize, the largest teddy bear, was locked behind a rigged basketball hoop, but the two of them refused to give up. and apparently atsumu’s mind is on another level right now, honed in as he succeeds with most of his tosses, and gets the last needed shot for that damned bear. “dad! you did it!” his son cheers and excitedly pulls on his arm. “ha! and who said i couldn’t play a sport other than volleyball?” “...no one?” “aw, come on,” atsumu whines, “work with me here!” the both of them are play-fighting when the worker manages to get the bear down and hand it to them. there’s huge grins on both of their faces as they shout a thanks. “can i put it in my room?” “and hide this success? it’s goin’ in the living room.” “you can do that?” “majority of the family says yes, we can do anythin’.”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

#haikyuu x reader #??? reader isnt here. fawk #Well. whatever.#ushijima fluff #suna fluff #hinata fluff #akaashi fluff #sakusa fluff #atsumu fluff #kita fluff #x reader

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dev1lm4n · 9 months

Text

all glory

masterlist | kofi (support me here!)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel has been feeling insecure, finding it hard to come to terms that he's indeed aging. tommy suggests a clever solution: a post-apocalyptic glory hole

word count: 4.8k of pure filth

warnings: minors dni (18+), post-outbreak, joel is 56 here hehe hot old men, insecurities, glory hole, fingering, unsafe piv, slight breeding kink, no pregnancy stuff tho cuz im terrified of that, reader calls him sir, pet name (darling)

note: i decided to create a kofi bcs im a broke college student lol. anyways hope yall enjoy this, do COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed this :)

Joel Miller had always been a man of confidence.

Being left as a single father for Sarah at an early age, he’s been through thick and thin, trying his best to make ends meet so that they wouldn’t have to end up in one of those run-down shelters. But never once did he question his ability to attract women.

He’s always had it in him. With a mere glance from his expressive eyes, he can ensnare hearts and leave an everlasting impression on anyone fortunate enough to encounter him. Rugged masculinity and striking refinement; a deathly mix that kept girls swarming after him like bees. After the world descended into chaos, he’s not much different either. Perhaps the bone-deep trauma had left him looking eternally exhausted with sunken eyebags, or that gray filaments started becoming a welcomed addition to his beard, but all in all he’s still charming.

He didn’t have to seek, because people seek for him. Joel had plenty of erotic rendezvous in times where society crumbled and the rule of law eroded, more so now that everyday could be his last and he didn’t have the privilege to take it slow like a true Southern gentleman. He’s done it everywhere. Inside a stuffy closet while hiding from a clicking monstrosity, behind a thin wall while her husband sat cluelessly on the other side, and even taking sexual compensation for his little business. Joel Miller wasn’t a saint. Neither he one for God and he’d like to make it obvious.

Nowadays though, within the tall foreboding walls of Jackson City, that type of attention has faded away. He’s no longer getting those longing stares from across the floor, no longer being begged to corrupt just for some extra wad of cards, no longer being flirted and fawned over like a goddamn stud. Joel didn’t have any problem with it at first. He’s growing old. Instead of those naughty strands of white peeking out of his head, he’s now a complete mix of salt and pepper. Instead of just having a fun smile line, forehead rolls and crows’ feet are now imprinted deep into every crevice. Joel wasn’t the man he used to be.

He’s weathered away, he thought, unsuited for fun and adventure.

Perhaps it had something to do with his daughter as well. Even when Ellie’s not from his actual blood, everyone in town viewed her that way. He’s her father. Thus, everyone seemed to perceive and treat him as merely a father and not as an actual person that has his own needs and wants. Joel loved his daughter. Terribly so in ways he couldn’t decipher. A part of him has made up his mind that this would be how he should spend the rest of his life: in celibacy. Though the retirement of his sexual and romantic life has slowly taken a toll towards his self-esteem. Tommy, who’s always known to be rather slow and imperceptive, was surprisingly the first one to take notice of his gradual change.

“Maria told me you might be here.”

Tommy’s gruff voice brought him out of his trance. Joel looked up, meeting the familiar figure crouch to get into his little workshop. It was his newfound hobby these days, becoming a hermit and isolating himself from the community. He’d craft a wooden figure or two each night while he relived each and every one of his memories. Good and bad. Of death and of birth. Then by the end of the night he’d feel mildly satisfied with a wooden sculpture shaped like memorabilia from the old world. Joel couldn’t admit it outloud, but insecurity had taken over him. It festered deep into his soul that he couldn’t even bear looking at himself in the mirror anymore or present himself to society.

“Yeah, just..” he paused to ponder on a better way to answer. “Just doin’ my own thing.”

“You skippin’ dinner again?” Tommy’s curiosity sounded oddly suspicious, enough that Joel already knew he’s about to say something obnoxious or entirely uncalled for. The older quirked his thick eyebrows in return.

“Made myself my own plate,” Joel cocked his head towards where a lone plate sat. Judging from the crimson stain smeared on top, it must’ve been one of those canned pastas that he picked out.

“Brother..” Tommy started out, visibly nervous of how his brother would take it. “Is there something wrong?”

“With me?”

“Yeah, with you.”

“No, not that I could think of,” Joel hummed. “I ain’t bitten or anythin’, why are ya asking such a dumb question anyway?”

“You’re just different these days,” Tommy reasoned with a small frown. “You barely come out of your house and if you do, you’re huddled up in this place, carving things for hours on end.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to be alone. Is there?” he challenged.

“No, but you’re.. different. Almost like your mind’s troubled for once.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong, Tommy,” he insisted.

Joel was actively avoiding the accusations. He stood up from where he’s been perched upon for hours on end, bringing his half-carved wooden slab with him to set it on one of the displays he had. He’s grown quite the collection. It’s been going on far longer than he’d expected, the crippling fear of being undesirable and hideous, and it brought up an immense feeling of embarrassment. He couldn’t possibly admit such things to Tommy, could he? Tommy was different from him. His first child was on its way to be birthed, but girls still chatter about his charming smile and strong figure. They’d still gossip and make dirty guesses about his size. How long he endured such activities, the position he enjoyed best, and how sweet he was to his partner.

Tommy couldn’t possibly understand his fear.

“You can’t help me even if I told ya,” he grumbled.

“Put some trust in me, will ya?” Tommy chuckled as he spun around his seat to follow Joel’s every move. “Tell me what’s troublin’ you, big brother.”

“They don’t look at me the same way.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The ladies,” Joel muttered.

His words were barely above a whisper. It almost seemed as if he saw the phenomenon as something humiliating, up to the point where he couldn’t even look Tommy in the eye in fear of having him laugh. He’s never talked about this with anyone else. It didn’t help that he truly didn’t have anyone to talk to in general aside from the few acquaintances his brother introduced him to and well.. Ellie. But none of them seem to be the right person to talk to regarding this.

Regarding his failure in masculinity. His unspoken worries that he didn’t have any of the strong, chiseled jawline or any of the tightly packed abdomen with six separate squares to admire. He’s grown old and weak. Five years ago, he could’ve probably still sweet-talk his way into a woman's heart, but now he couldn’t even look one in the eye without the fear of being put to shame.

“They still do, Joel,” Tommy assured him. He’s telling the truth. Joel knew that Tommy didn’t have it in him to lie, he’d have sounded like a strangled bird or a squeaky dog’s toy if he did. But his mind couldn’t believe it one bit.

“I don’t know, Tommy..” he muttered. “They don’t look at me the same way. They don’t look at me at all even.. and I’m fine with that I 'spose. I ain’t a whorin’ bastard who couldn’t accept that he’s agin’..”

“But they do, Joel.”

“I’m old,” he sucked in the air. “Lately there are these moments where I.. where I’d look a girl in the eye and all I could feel was humiliation.”

“Humiliation?”

“Like they’re lookin’ at me as if I’m some.. some sort of repulsive creature,” he whispered. “I feel like I could hear ‘em gigglin’ with their girlfriends on how shameless I am.”

Tommy was deduced into silence. Time ticked by as he cranked up his brain to figure out the best way to aid his older brother out of his misery. It’s all in his head, Tommy knew that Joel knew that as well, but it’s easier patching up an oozing wound than a troubled mind. He brought his hand together on top of his jeans as he waited for the younger to make another comment, whether of comfort or of a harsh reality.

“I’ll offer you a solution,” Tommy spoke up. “But you gotta promise not to lose your head over it.”

“It ain’t drugs, is it?”

“No, no..” Tommy chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m open to anythin’” Joel dropped his arms to his side as he curiously eyed Tommy.

“Have you ever heard of a glory hole?”

Joel’s expression contorted in such a way that the younger Miller couldn’t possibly read what he’s thinking any longer.

“I ain’t goin’ outside those borders just to go to some sketchy brothel, Tommy. That’d be pathetic.”

“Well, the thing is this whole operation ain’t sketchy,” Tommy reasoned. “The girls were tested and approved by the local doctor before..”

“Local doctor? You tellin’ me this is happenin’ within Jackson?”

“I operate it, Joel,” he sighed, knowing he’s about to be bombarded with a handful of questions. “And before you ask, no this ain’t considered prostitution as there’s no material exchange.”

“You mean..”

“Yes. The girls do it for free. Volunteers. They do it for their own pleasure and I help make their dreams come true.”

Joel looked at his own brother as if he was a mad man. Who wouldn’t? When he’s just told him that they had an actual glory hole installed without most of the public knowing. Or perhaps they knew, they were just not talking about it in front of Joel.

“Ten to twelve. There’s a small house across the sheep field. One girl every Friday night.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy. Maria knows about this?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

“No, but it’s better off she doesn’t.”

Joel felt his morals set askew for a second. This sounded like a terrible idea, despite the fact that he’s confirmed it himself that it’d be the safest a glory hole could possibly be. He scratched his beard and took it into deep consideration.

In the quiet stillness of a winter’s night, the world was wrapped in a soft, white blanket of snow. The moon hung low in the dark sky - a beacon towards those who chose to travel in the deepest hours of nighttime. Joel blew puffs of warm air onto his gloved fingertips, hoping it’d satiate the coolness that made his joints ache and his skin itch. The air was crisp and biting, each breath producing a frosty cloud which quickly amalgamated into the air. He watched as gentle snowflakes, alike to elegant ballet dancers, fell from the heavens up above and twirled and swirled into an intricate pattern. He’s been waiting for way too long.

“So what are ya sayin’? Are you gonna let me take you tomorrow night?” Tommy broke the silence.

Tommy promised to meet him on the edge of the sheep field, where they’d herd livestocks all throughout the warmer times of the year, but he’s yet to see his tall nose and dark hair from any of the cardinal directions. He’s been waiting for too long to keep the same mindset Tommy’s trained him into, that this was simply a beneficial exchange for every party involved and that he shouldn’t feel shameful for something so instinctive. Waiting gave him time to weigh out the cons, how this was naturally an act of debauchery that wounded both his moral values and beliefs. He ain’t a God preacher, but he’s sure to keep some of those Southern manners.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

None of Tommy’s ideas are ever well thought out. Starting from his sudden gravitation towards the military, to his desires to hand over his entire life towards the Fireflies, and now this. He knew his younger brother wasn’t the brightest of men, but creating an entire glory hole to keep the town’s morale up might be the stupidest one he’s heard yet. Especially when Maria’s not aware of it. He feared for the day when the beans spilled out of its jar, but tonight wasn’t that day. During the time in which he contemplated his decisions, Joel didn’t notice the crunching of snow against thick boots. Tommy was here and he looked far too calm for a self-made procucer.

Tommy beckoned him to follow the path his boots had made. Joel sucked in some of that painfully cold air into his lungs, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started trailing along. There were a few street lamps across the field, a ruddy glow emanating from them as they were adorned with a light dusting of snow. He kept his guards up while he scanned through the whistling field of crop, that traumatized part of him always keeping in check of abrupt movements and unsettling sceneries. After a quiet walk for a good three minutes, they finally arrived. The house fronts looked dark enough, and the windows even darker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs.

There was snow piling up outside as well, dirtier ones whose last deposit had been plowed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons. He scrutinized over the tracks, wondering if this was meant to be used as a makeshift grain tower. If it was, then Tommy must’ve been a great scheming asshole to turn such a place into his own little heaven. Not one soul was around, which confused Joel even more. Wasn’t this supposed to be a public glory hole? Weren’t it supposed to be disgustingly packed with sweating men, adorned with walls covered in left-over spurts of cum and other bodily fluids, and smelled like sex itself?

Joel continued to pursue Tommy even when he’s overly skeptical about this entirely new scene. His boots were scuffed as he was dragging his feet through the front door, a fight against his defense system that’s begging him to flee out the door at the unfamiliarity. The establishment consisted of a long narrow hallway that eventually led up to an imposing door. Wooden, large, and mysterious.

To his surprise, what was beyond that door wasn’t some tacky sex dungeon with rattling chains and leather whips, it was a modest looking box. Square, he’d assume one meter wide and half a meter tall. He took in the wood it was made from. His pointer finger slowly traced the circumference out of habit. Oak, he concluded, making it sturdy and cool even in the warmer weather. What he failed to notice from the get-go was a pair of legs that were stretched open, chained onto the wall from the considerably-sized gap. Joel’s heart dropped to his stomach, he forgot for an entire minute what he was planning to do, and he’s starting to get cold feet.

“Darlin’, I’ve got someone for you,” Tommy cooed.

“You do, Tommy?”

Normally, people acquire hobbies in order to soothe their brief but occasional boredom, though you have discovered a unique way to tackle long hours of the night. This brilliant discovery of yours was birthed from a fated moment. One where you accidentally stumble across the conversation Tommy had with one of his patrol friends. It began a fantasy in your head. One you didn’t believe could come true until you overheard a passionate storytelling session one of the barmaids gave their friend. Only then did you gather enough courage to talk to Tommy about it. Despite his initial disapproval, saying things like you look too good and gentle to be doing such things, you managed to convince him with a week's worth of nagging.

“Mhm, one of my good friends here,” he hummed. “You’ll let him use you like a good fucking girl, won’t you?”

Goosebumps trailed from your backbone down to where your legs spread wide. Your nervousness made you flinch, effectively causing your legs to rattle against the metal restraints.

“Yes, I will, Tommy.”

When did you get so.. obedient?

“Alright then. I’ll see you in um.. twenty?”

“Thirty,” the foreign voice spoke up, masculine with a twinge of accent.

“Thirty it is.”

The entire room went quiet for an entire minute, only then did you finally hear the door slammed back shut. You swallowed back the throbbing fear in your heart, pushing back those persistent thoughts constantly warning you of the dangers. Even if you trusted Tommy with all your life, you didn’t trust the random strangers Tommy’s picked out. How could you trust them when you didn’t know who they were for sure? They could’ve been someone you see on the daily. The friendly guards, the cafeteria guy who’d always beam a sweet smile your way and give out more bread than standard, or even.. Tommy’s hunk of a brother. The same one who wouldn’t even spare you a look when you’re obviously sending heart eyes his way.

“Darlin’ is your name, ain’t that right?”

There was something so.. alluring about his voice. The type that makes your knees buckle inevitably, despite your best efforts to push it apart.

“That’s right,” you squeaked out.

“Darlin’, it’s been a long long time since I’ve done this, so let me indulge in you alright?”

“Okay,” you breathed out unsurely.

Your eyes instinctively followed the direction of the hushed voice, but all you could see from the dim box was a piece of dark fabric that was hung from above the hole. It was to keep your identity a secret so that the patrons across from you could only see you from the belly button down. Though now you felt more inclined than ever to pull on the draping and meet this man’s eyes. Your thoughts soon diminished when you felt a large hand over your inner thighs. Nowhere dangerous, just resting below where your kneecaps sat. You closed your eyes to try and envision the kind of hands touching you.

Were they soft and unsullied like a baby’s bum? Or were they rough and ridged with years of work?

That large hand traveled down South, inching with an irritatingly slow pace down towards where you ached the most. He was a fair man. He treated both of your thighs in the same manner before the two gathered together in a v-shape over your cotton panties. You wondered if you should’ve worn something more enticing, something which suited a person like you - someone willing to spread their legs for a true stranger. But the man on the other side didn’t seem to have a problem. He didn’t seem like he was bothered by the simplicity of your presentation, instead he was keen on pressing his thumb down the center.

They were the latter.

His fingers were textured and it felt too good to be true. At the briefest touch, you followed after his movement, hips reaching further up to chase after his departing touch. You whined. Frustrated that he’s cruel enough to press your sensitive clit and leave you all hot and bothered. He let out a deep chuckle, one that came out from the depth of his stomach as he placed his thumb back where it belonged. Your hole clenched and unclenched at the stimulating sensation. Your cotton panties seemed to be a great aid for your needy clit. It felt similar to grinding over a pillow, just this time, it felt a lot more real and animated.

“How long have you been doin’ this, darlin’?”

“Doin’ what, sir?”

So polite. It’s laughable the fact that you’re so soft spoken. Your lips spilled out a gentle moan as his thumb dug deeper into that sensitive spot.

“Lettin’ strangers fuck you,” he was frank with his words that’s for sure.

“This is my first time.. in the box that is,” your voice cracked almost immediately under pressure. “Been thinking of this for a long long time though.”

The gruff man hummed noncommittally as he continued to please you with his thumb. You used to be shy when it comes to being reactive during intercourse, but with the box, it almost felt like you could finally be your true primal self with your utmost carnal desires. He slowly eased your stained panties to the side once he saw an increasingly growing wetness, knowing that it’s time to move on to his next way of torture. Your pussy was exposed to the cool air immediately, it felt like the air was nipping at the sensitive skin all around. He took his two fingers - his middle and pointer finger being his favorite choice despite the controversy - and slowly dragged it atop the slick canal.

“A pretty girl like you gettin’ all wet from a little touchin’,” he chided. “You haven’t been fucked well or somethin’?”

What a considerate man. He called you pretty when he could barely tell what you look like.

“No, maybe, I-” you were flustered. You’ve never had to exchange proper talk when someone’s touching your dirty, wet cunt. “None of Jackson’s men did good. That’s why I hoped..”

Your voice trailed off into a garble of nonsense when he teased at your entrance, trying to decide whether you’re soaked enough to push a finger in comfortably. You whined, louder this time, as your legs fought against the uncomfortable metal cuffs wrapped around your ankle. He decided to play nice for once and made your dreams come true by inserting that thick finger of his. Fingering has never felt good for you, it always felt like an intrusion rather than a welcomed feeling, but he’s making it feel like heaven on earth.

“Hoped a stranger would fuck me well enough,” you took awhile to finish that statement.

He let out one of those noises of disapproval, at your skewed moral direction perhaps or at the tone of desperation your voice must’ve let out. You could only suck in a shallow breath when he started making proper, continuous motions with his finger. He pushed upwards to poke the tip of his finger onto that squishy part, playing around to find out where exactly made you react the most. You loved how he’s patient. You’re half-expecting the men to just stuff their cocks in you like you’re some sex doll instead of taking their time, which you don’t mind either. Half the pleasure was from being treated like nothing.

“Dirty gal,” he degraded, which you found both surprising and exciting. “Just wanted her pussy stuffed with any cock she could have, hm?”

Your hips thrusted up at a larger interruption. This time, the man managed to insert two of his thick fingers inside your eased cunt. He twisted it one-hundred-eighty degrees to the left, then back to the right, before he curled it in a come-here motion. The motion had left you dumb. A combination of ah ah ah’s and unfinished pleads for him to keep still. The man never once fully removed his fingers out of you. He’d slowly pull back to only have a single knuckle stuck inside before pushing it all the way in once more. For once, someone didn’t finger you like you’re a pizza dough waiting to be pounded.

“A-ah, sir. I really.. mmh- I really like that,” you moaned out shamelessly. “Feels really good in my.. in my pussy.”

“You like what, darlin’?”

“Like your fingers.. fingers in my ah- ah pussy!” you whined when he deepened his reach by rotating his wrist upwards. “Something- fuck- something’s coming! Please.. Please don’t sto-”

You warned him like a goddamn virgin and there it was, you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the way your pussy squelched around his finger at the new wave of sticky fluids. The noises were filthy and lewd that you were embarrassed for the first time that night. It coated your throbbing cunt and slowly ebbed out of your hole, dribbling down onto the wooden floor boards under. Strings of almost translucent thickness proof of his success. It’s pretty. The way you gaped around his fingers, tightened and relaxed at his fingers that still kept you full.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

He must be experienced, because he was quick to rub your clit precisely as you went through the throes of orgasm. His broad palm never missed where that bundle of nerves were, until you’re dripping all over the place. Only when you’re right towards the end did he land a small smack atop your pussy, keeping pressure where your womb is to maintain the pleasure for as long as you could. It felt like this wasn’t a shit place for once. It felt like this stranger could surely turn the flesh-eating monsters into a field of rainbows and flowers from how good he’s making you feel.

“You taste sweet,” he muttered. “Someone ever told you that?”

It took you a while to notice that his fingers weren’t there to stuff you full. He was busy tasting you. You could imagine him on the other side of the room, rough fingers deep in his mouth, drenched in your arousal. The thought made you squirm, growing wet once more. You shook your head as his hand slid back up. His fingers ran over your clit with one long stroke before they stayed there. His thumb sat right atop the throbbing spot, unmoving.

"Perfect little thing, ain't ya?” he asked, and you nodded, your muscles tense as anticipation ran high. "Gonna fill you up real nice."

As soon as the dull tip of his cock prodded against your entrance, your whole body convulsed. Tears slowly crept into your eyes, frustrated, you might as well cry out a pathetic plea if he kept on stalling. Your palms banged flat against the side of the box. Overwhelmed and on the verge of tears when he purposefully missed your weeping hole. His length slid upwards, the warm tip rubbed against your clit from below before it shied away once more. Your toes curled and he must’ve taken the hint from behind the curtains.

The perfect stranger pushed himself up to where his mushroom-like tip ended, allowing you to adjust to the dimensions of his cock before he eased himself deeper.

You let out a strained moan.

You almost bump the top of your head on the oak boards when he forced his way in. His cock was fully inside you at last. You were ecstatic. Eyes shut close as you bit into your bottom lip, flesh tearing beneath your canines. It was too much all of a sudden. Too good. Too large. Too full. You could hear the loud squelching noise your spongy hole made as he pulled back and stuffed himself back in.

“Fuck,” he groaned silently. “Don’t squeeze around me, darlin’. You're gonna get me in big trouble.”

He chuckled and fuck did it sound so hot.

You felt his fingers gently reach for the width of your hips. His grip was tight and harsh as he guided your every movement with them. He thrusted like a man on a shooting range, with much precision and prowess. You liked this. Liked feeling as if you’re just a doll for people to use and dump their loads in, especially when it's for someone like him. His cock made you writhe and fight against the metal cuffs holding your legs up. Eager to have him speed up to meet your desires yet he was persistent in keeping a stable speed. The sensation was growing. Slowly but surely.

“A-ah.. mmph.. oh God!”

“God ain’t here to save you, darlin’. It’s just this old man right here,” he cooed crudely.

He made sure to keep you full at all times. Never once did his perfectly-sized cock leave your sloppy hole, it just kept on twitching and growing in size with the help of your warm embrace. “You like this, don’t ya?”

“Oh- oh yes. I like it. Love your..,” he stopped your lewd confession by placing his thumb back atop your once neglected clit, drawing lazily with what’s left of your wetness. You could feel him starting to seep. A tinge of his own arousal mixing in with yours. “Cock! Love your c- cock.”

His heavy pants started to intensify in volume, such a lovely melody when combined with your pathetic whimpers. He’s close.

“Gonna cum in you, darlin’” he muttered out breathlessly. “Gonna make sure you’re all fucked out with my cum.”

You couldn’t think straight. Not when you’re on a highway to heaven. Your little hole tightened, so eager to milk him dry.

“Yeah, you’d like that, won’t you?”

“O-oh.. oh yes. Please.. fuck,”

“Please?”

“Please fill me up.”

His tip started oozing out ribbons after ribbons of cum, quickly filling you up relentlessly. Though he hasn’t stopped bottoming himself up into you. His load sloshed around, coated his length a perfect milky shade, and dribbled down your rear deliciously. Did you really just let a complete stranger fill you up to the top? Did you truly just let him pour his seed up your needy hole?

Maybe you did.

And maybe it’s reckless.

But oddly enough, you don’t feel too bad about it.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #tlou fic #tlou #the last of us

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stil-lindigo · 5 months

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Hey, I just wanted to share something with you, as someone who's so invested in the Palestine conflict, I hope it might inspire hope, even a little.

I was born and live in Egypt, a very conservative and religious country. These days I deleted my Tiktok and rarely ever use Twitter, as I'm in my senior year, and seeing the constant deaths and torture was getting into me so much that I couldn't even eat or drink properly, nevertheless properly study. I honestly am not proud of myself for doing so, but there's comfort in the fact Egypt is so Pro-Palestine. There's a lot to be done, and even for people like me, we can help.

My school has been donating food, clothes and blankets to Palestine. The McDonald's in here have been trying to distance themselves, claiming they're "100% Egyptian", only to get mocked and insulted. I go by the local McDonald's, there's a lot of schools where I am, around 5 in two blocks, and where before they were constantly so full, these days they're so empty. I can only see maybe 3, 4 people in there. A lot of people in my school are on a complete strike, against every American product. We've resorted to buying and getting local products instead. Egypt is doing very poorly economically at the moment, but there's still a lot of effort into knocking out American products, even if not by the companies, by the youth and the children. I can't go a single class without one of my teachers openly supporting Palestine. My Arabic teacher constantly uses the people in Gaza to teach me grammar, calling them brave and courageous. My geography teacher denies Isreal, and has been in league with others to get more donations and aid. Egyptians believe so truly that Palestine will be free that it's hard not to think so too. I've had classmates openly agree that if they could, they'd join the army to help fight for Palestine, I've seen more people than ever mocking the current regime, I've seen more people than ever falling out of the American illusion and seeing it for what it is. I've spent a lot of religion classes being taught Arabic brotherhood and chivalry, when previously, the lessons were stereotypically conservative in nature and I used to despise them for it.

Yes, the government sucks like every other, but there's an air of open support in here. No one is losing their jobs for stating the truth, homes and shops are waving the Palestinian flag. Even the antisemitism, which was rampant, has seen a noticeable decline. People in here stand for Palestine.

I want to also let you know you've been an inspiration for people, or at least, to me. I want to be able to participate more, and I see your reposts and reblogs and I want to do even more than what I did at the start, which was retweeting and reposting and sharing what I can to my friends. Unfortunately due to my current living situation and my terrible memory, I missed being able to donate to the school, but they have stated to open up donations again soon, and I'm preparing in advance for that one. I was not raised Zionist, but I was raised warned against participating in political affairs, saying I'd be put in more trouble, and even could be killed. But I see you and I see so many Americans losing their jobs and being branded criminals and as moral failures for speaking out, and I find it harder and harder in me not to also speak out. And even if I'm not constantly retweeting and reposting, there is something I can do. You helped me realize that, and I'd like to thank you.

I hope this cheers you up even a little, I've noticed your posts these days expressing how much this has been upsetting you. It's been upsetting to all of us, and I want you to know that it's not fruitless, no matter how many western countries and how many bootlickers make you feel otherwise. This ordeal has taught me the world is a brotherhood, politics and money are never a reason for why we should not stand together, and why we shouldn't speak for those having their voice silenced.

Please excuse me if something comes off wrong or unnatural. Like I said, I was born and I live in Egypt, English is not my first language and I still have issues communicating my personal thoughts in it. Please never don't stand for Palestine. Please never lose hope for it, like the Egyptians never have and never will. Please never let people make you feel hopeless and insane.

Thank you for listening to me, thank you for caring about Palestine when it would've been easy not to. Thank you for using your platform, and if you found it in you to read this thing, thank you for giving time to a brown Arab, when the world so strongly encourages you not to. Please continue to inspire justice, and I hope the world one day continues to inspire hope for you.

😭 anon, I cant explain how much I appreciate you sending this message. I know there is hope for Palestinian liberation, I know that we will see freedom for Palestine. But god do I need the reminder sometimes that we aren’t all just shouting into the void. My country of Australia shamefully takes a cowardly stance on Palestine, always deferring to the US to guide our foreign policy, and yet always claims moral superiority over other countries such as yours. Thank you, really thank you so much for sending this message. I feel so so honoured to have earned an audience that includes you. I believe an audience does reflect an artist, and to know I have done you proud in any way makes me feel full.

And please don’t ever feel ashamed of your English, you are eloquent and have a wonderful, compassionate voice, and you have inspired hope in me for yet another day.

#free palestine #askbox #I need to save this one. to look at when all seems bleak and hopeless #thank you anon I needed to read this today

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actual-changeling · 6 months

Text

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner - although today it is less unhinged and more of a watertight analysis.

What I am about to present you is something most people have probably already noticed, but it has been three months and I still lose my mind while going through the final fifteen frame by frame (which is a normal thing normal people like us do, right? right).

You literally cannot convince me my following meta is wrong, and the only person whose criticism I will accept on this post is Michael Sheen and Michael Sheen ONLY. If you're not Michael Sheen (hi Michael Sheen who probably has a secret tumblr account) then your guess is as good as mine, though again, I think mine is solid.

So.

We all love and hate Aziraphale's "I forgive you", but what I find even more painful is the fact that before that he almost said "I love you". Then he stops himself and changes it, and the amount of micro-expressions on his face as he makes that decision is my current cause of death.

Here's the clip as evidence #1, and while it can definitely support itself, let's dive into the pain a little more, shall we?

One important thing I noticed is that Aziraphale doesn't look at Crowley while he stutters his way through his initial reaction. He blinks up at him for a few frames before averting his eyes again and only holds eye contact after the almost-confession (from here on referred to as IL-).

This is Aziraphale holding eye contact with Crowley (left) vs. him looking away (right):

The frame on the left is from the I forgive you (IFY) part of the scene, the other one from right before IL-. If we go through the above clip little by little we will find that he avoids Crowley's face the entire time and his gaze slips further and further down, which I interpret as him overthinking/trying to come up with something to respond to this entire situation.

He is overwhelmed and surprised, caught between his two main desires: Crowley and being a Good Angel.

Combing through the frames, we can actually nail down exactly when Aziraphale first makes eye contact before the IL- and when he stops. Keep the above comparison in mind! The angle is slightly different because his chin is lower and he straightens up throughout the scene.

So! This is where he starts looking at Crowley:

And this is where he stops:

Hard to see? Let's zoom in on his eyes (numbers are the file names):

Now, you might ask me "Alex, this is all fine, although a bit insane, but why is any of this important?"

Because, fellow tumblr user and good omens enthusiast, I think that looking at Crowley is what changes his mind about what to say.

He doesn't look at him -> about to confess his feelings.

He looks at him -> says the absolutely worst possible thing.

Partly to hurt him because they're both lashing out at each other during this argument, but he looks at Crowley, looks at the person that just kissed him, that told him they could have been an us, that wants him and has always wanted him, screw everyone else.

He looks at Crowley and he wants to say l love you but then what? Once he says those words, he can't leave. He just can't.

We have to remember that they have existed within a complicated dance, a game that they have been playing for centuries without ever telling each other what that game actually is, what the rules are - because they couldn't. It was based entirely on trust and knowing the other person well enough to play it safe.

Crowley just flipped the playing board. Nothing is the way it should be, he is refusing to do their dance, refusing to play. He is looking at him and daring him to stop trying to put the pieces back on the board. The only thing neither of them has done yet is actually say I love you out loud.

Saying those words would mean stepping away from the playing board and acknowledging the room they have been playing in. It would mean saying fuck you to heaven, yes, but it would also force Aziraphale to finally define himself outside of the role he has been playing for both Crowley and heaven, and he isn't ready for that yet.

Additionally, there is the fear and/or knowledge (depending on what else the Metatron might have said or done that we did not see) that heaven will retaliate against him and Crowley if he disobeys them now, and he does not want to risk that either.

All that is what, in my opinion, happens in his head when he averts his eyes and interrupts himself. I do kinda what to make a whole different post about his facial expressions leading up to the IFY, so I will end this one with one more bit of pain.

Ready?

Firstly, the face he makes when he makes his decision.

Look at the tight line of his lips, the pain etched into his face, the pure pain in his eyes.

This is the face of someone who knows exactly how badly he is going to hurt Crowley and himself. This is an apology, an I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, this hurts me as much as it hurts you. I'm sorry but I have to.

And then he winces afterwards. I don't know about you, but this is exactly the kind of face I make when I'm emotionally torturing myself with my own thoughts. For the final blow, please look at the picture very, very closely, especially the last frame, because Aziraphale isn't just sorry and he isn't just in pain.

Aziraphale is scared because he knows* that he might lose Crowley over this. He knows that saying I forgive you is (almost) unforgivable. He KNOWS.

He does it anyway because he will lose Crowley either way but he'd rather have him alive and hating him than dead.

With that I am concluding today's unhinged meta corner, thank you for your attention and you're welcome for the pain.

Also: If you want to call me a 'tin hatter' or insane or otherwise make fun of me - this is very much a girl, what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament moment because you read my meta post all the way to the end. <3

*authors note: what Aziraphale thinks he knows and what is actually real is not the same thing but that's a different post

#alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens kiss #good omens 2 meta #no nightingales

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ailithnight · 1 year

Text

A fic based on this prompt by @chaoswarfare that I had originally put in the reblogs, but decided to move to its own post since I've got some ideas to continue it. No promises on this ever being a completed fic, but I'll try.

A King in Arkham

Listless eyes trace the cracks in the ceiling; their owner blinking slowly from his place, lying nearly motionless on a thin mattress supported by a metal shelf held to the wall by thick black chains. His face is blank, not sad nor angry nor despairing like so many others in this cold and lonesome place. No, his expression is empty, as though there is simply nothing to feel.

Bruises and scratches and even a couple very deep cuts litter a small body. Were anyone watching, they'd see a new one appear as if by magic across a gaunt cheek. Even as blood begins weeping from the slash, not a single emotion flits across the face. Not even a flinch.

Tomorrow, doctors will assume the patient cut himself. They will search his cell, again, and find no weapon. They will search his body and find not so much as a fingernail capable of creating the mark. They will check the security feed and find, as always, that the moment of injury glitches; one second no cut, the next fresh blood. They will try to force the patient to admit self harm, but he will remain silent.

When the door to his cell swings open with a buzz and a clang, echoed by every other cell in the building, the blank faced boy with dull eyes doesn't move. It's the 6th time this month, and the 13th since arriving 3 months ago.

When the sounds of screams and rioting grate on sensitive ears, he merely sighs, the first hint of feeling flashing across his face in the form of a minute second of frustration before blankness returns. When a pair of escaping patients rush past, one stopping to ask if he's coming, he remains unresponsive.

"Leave him! Kid never tries to escape. He's to far gone."

The kid in question feels his eyebrow twitch. He's not 'gone' anywhere, thank you very much. There's just no point. Nowhere to go. No one to help him; to understand that he's not crazy, just haunted. At least, no one who won't turn him into a monster. A horrible, world destroying, viscious monster.

Besides, Arkham's not too bad. At least it isn't a GIW lab. And his rogues have even started showing up less and less since he was sent here! Though maybe that has less to do with Arkham or Gotham and more to do with the kid's utter refusal to even defend himself.

"Now come on before Bats start showing up and put this place on lockdown."

A black form with a red head drops from above, just barely within the kid's peripheral vision. A brief moment of recognition and even something adjacent to interest flickers in blue eyes.

"Bats like me, perchance?"

Red Hood was assisting containment with an Arkham breakout. There had been a lot of them in the last few months and Batman was getting grey hairs trying to figure out why. No one in particular was even trying to break out. No one could be pinned for the inciting incident. Just randomly, at any point in the day, the automatic locks would spazz out and everyone would be released.

So the big bad Bat had called all hands on deck, requesting at least one vigilante be at or near Arkham at all times, hoping to at least keep most of the big fish in their cages while they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. And Jason had graciously agreed to help. So here he was, at 3am on a Saturday morning; assisting guards in keep inmates corralled; keeping any eye out for any maximum security escapees.

With none spotted so far, and the people below him literally admitting that they're giving up hope when the Bats arrive, Jason figured he might as well see if a bit of scare tactic will convince them to go back to bed willingly.

"Bats like me, perchance?" The would be escapees in front of him startle and whip around.

"Red Hood?"

"The one and only." Jason shifts to not so subtlely place a hand on his weapons. "Now why don't you 2 just go on back to your rooms and we can forget this little infraction. I won't even tell the guards to write up a discipline slip." The two inmates eye him, then his guns, then each other warily. Finally, they both raise their hands in surrender and begin walking back to their cells.

Jason permits himself a quiet chuckle, much to low to be picked up by the modulator. As he turns back to grapple up to his bird's eye view in the rafters, his eyes catch sight of the inmate who apparently doesn't try to escape. For just a moment, green swamps his vision as Red Hood registers the sight in front of him.

He almost steps in to the cell before a harsh buzz sounds and cell doors clang shut again. An intercom crackles to life announcing the effective lockdown, instructing guards to begin escorting patients back to their cells, cataloging each attempted escapee for future disciplinary measures.

Batman's voice sounds out over comms.

Not a single inmate made it past the main gate. Good job Hood.

Jason seethes for moment longer in front of the cell before biting out his question on the main channel.

What the hell is a kid doing in Arkham!?

A strangled sound makes it through the feed and Nightwing responds, strained.

What?

A KID! Can't be older than 15. In cell... 26B. Looking rather roughed up, I might add. Since why does Arkham even accept minors?

Oracle responds.

Pulling records right now.

Jason eyes the kid, who seems to be entirely unfazed by Red Hood discussing his imprisonment 8 feet away from him. Actually, unfazed is the wrong word. Apathetic is better. Entirely emotionless. Green threatens Jason's vision again as he ponders the potential reasons for the look of resigned desolation on a face so young.

Looks like he was transferred over from a psych ward in Illinois 3 months ago. Ward of the State. File says self-destructive behavior. Apparently he picks up unexplainable injuries and claims ghosts gave them to him.

That still doesn't explain why they sent him to Arkham!

Batman's voice filters back in.

Hood, pull out.

Jason has to force himself to keep his voice down.

WHAT!? I'M NOT LEAVING A KID HERE!

It's almost 4am. Red Robin is on route to relieve you.

I AM NOT LEAVING A 15 YEAR OLD IN ARKHAM!

We will be investigating this further.

15! YOU KNOW, THE SAME AGE I WAS WHEN YOU LET ME DIE IN THAT FUCKING WAREHOUSE.

Jason almost regrets the statement as he here's Dick's stuttered breath. But it seems the kid might have heard him and something about the statement seems to catch his attention.

He actually turns his head to look quizzically at Jason. The expression only lasts a couple seconds before slipping back into blank neutrality as he turns back to the ceiling.

Batman's voice grinds in his ears, an edge in his tone telling Jason that if he doesn't listen, the Bat himself will come pull Jason out.

Hood, his transfer coincides with the start of these break outs. He may be involved. We will be investigating this further, very thoroughly. If he's clean, we will be getting him out of there. But for now I need you to pull out. File your report.

The tone softens.

And get some rest.

#dp x dc #Danny Phantom in Arkham Asylum #A King in Arkham #my writing #I guess I should start a tagslist #I'll try to pull some from the original post #But it would be easiest if y'all just drop tag requests in the comments

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teez-the-time · 4 months

Text

Choi San, Wolf Warrior

Pairing: Warrior! San x Chief's daughter! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, action, romance, angst

Synopsis: Ten years ago, your best friend San promised his eternal love to you. Now, the danger of his oath creeps through the both of you, and he has to bear the weight of his words. No matter what his fate will be, you must remember that he is the Wolf Warrior.

Warnings: Blood, wounds, death (animals die, I'm so sorry), weapons, cursing, San is fucking RIPPED, reader doesn't do much (sorry again), way too much flashbacks and monologuing (sorry x3, but I do not know how to stop), sappy af.

Wc: 7.8k

Taglist: @darkdayelixer

A/N. Well, it's finally here. This is officially my first fanfic posted here. Do I believe this is my best work? No. Do I care? Maybe, but I appreciate any feedback that you might have (please take into account that English is not my first language, so I rely in grammar checkers and that stuff). I'm not sure if I should keep the second person format, but you tell me what you think. Again, I'm open to suggestions and kind criticism. If the story sucks, sorry not sorry.

Once again, I'm eternally gratefull for the support I've received in this platform. Whatever you need, my DMs are always open.

XOXO -May

A little treat for those who liked the story.

Your tribe had a sacred tradition.

The first hunt is the most sacred; dedicated to whom you thank your life for.

The best hunt is the most important; dedicated to whom you’d die for.

That is why you couldn’t help but tremble while looking at San down below.

Even if he had clearly announced his decision to embark on the journey no more than a couple of months ago, nothing could have prepared your heart.

Not even kneeling alongside your father and your mother at a higher ground, far away from where he stood, could you escape the power radiating from his stance. Even his posture was perfect; perfectly still and elegant, like a wolf just like the one he had marked with ink on his chest. His eyes looked up, and you knew your Sanie was long gone.

He was Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

The drums started beating in an ancestral rhythm; one you had heard in too many unsuccessful attempts. Men and women below hollered and twirled their bodies to the music, almost in a spiritual trance brought by the excitement of the hunt. The sound got louder and louder in your chest, so hard that it felt like a second heart. Your hands were shaking and you couldn’t help the shivers that ran several times through your spine. You just kept praying for it to be over.

And just as they had started, the drums ceased as your father rose as the chief of the village. He, too, didn’t feel like your father anymore, his hierarchical title far outweighed the one of father right now. You couldn’t decipher his expression, no longer familiar to you.

“Choi San”, his voice boomed through the whole village, “why are you here today?”

To you, San didn’t look intimidated one bit. “I’ve returned to fulfill my promise made sixty-two days ago, in this very place.”

This was all part of the ceremony, nothing more than a formality, but your heart fluttered with San’s words. But still, you knew he was wrong. No, he didn’t make that promise sixty-two days prior. He had made it way before that when you both were young kids.

He had promised to marry you ten years ago, at age twelve.

But your father didn’t find it that endearing. “An oath like that can’t be made by anyone. Are you sure you will be able to keep it?”.

San didn’t fall for the taunting. “Absolutely, sir.”

“Are you sure? Do you even know the consequences?”

Everyone knew them, even more San. “Yes, sir. I know them.”

“Are you willing to go through them then? Even if it means your death?”

With that, San let out a grin. “Especially if it means my death…sir.”

Then, the chief let go of the mocking stance he had tried and became solemn again. For the briefest second, you had hoped San stepped down, but you also knew him like the back of your hand. You knew he never backed down from a challenge.

Your father cleared his throat. “Very well, then. Seeing your determination to proceed, I’ll remind you once more of the rules.”

The few whispers and hushed voices that had been going around since the start finally came to a halt. The newfound silence made your head spin and your palms shake even more.

Gods, you prayed, don’t let harm come to my San. Please give him my strength and my will if he needs them.

“Rule number one. You have only one chance. If it’s lost, it’s lost. Gone forever.”

“Rule number two. You will not receive aid from anyone or anything. The village will only intercede if the hunt doesn’t finish with the beast’s death.”

“Rule number three. You will only carry one weapon of your choice and no armor. Any of those will deem the attempt failed, and you will lose your only chance.”

“Rule number four. The hunt only stops after one of you is dead.”

While your father talked, San seemed unfazed. Even if he already knew the rules, it made you uneasy to not know what he was thinking. You felt the urge to run to where he stood, grab his hand, and smooth out the crease on his brow that always popped up when he was thinking hard.

You yearned for nothing more than to be by his side.

“Choi San,” now your father spoke in a warning tone, “dare to break the rules, and you will face consequences bigger than what you can imagine. I will make sure of that.”

Not once had San looked intimidated, and that put your heart at ease (just a tiny bit, if you are being honest).

“I understood perfectly, sir.” San had always respected your father as a chief, so he always tried to keep his composure despite the adrenaline in his veins making him want nothing more than to begin with the hunt. But he had to remain polite, especially now that he was trying to become his successor.

“Good,” the chief stated plainly. “If there’s nothing else to say…let the hunt begin!”

The drums resumed in a frenetic rhythm, making your heart race once more. Nevertheless, below where you sat, San seemed pumped by it. He let the thick fur coat he wore fall to the ground, exposing his naked torso and ripped pants. You knew he did it to prove he wore nothing to protect him, but you couldn’t the blush that crept to your cheeks.

“Holy shit, that was hot” you murmured unintentionally. You looked to your left to see if your parents heard. Your father didn’t appear to have listened to you, concentrated on his duty as referee, but your mother let out a snort. You shot her a glare and she tried to suppress her laughter.

Trying to appear unfazed, you looked back at San. He was now holding a beautiful sword, which you knew like the back of your hand. The hilt was golden and decorated with flowers and power symbols. A short inscription written at the butt.

Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

It was barely more than his name, but San had spent a fortune having it engraved in the shape of your handwriting. You smiled at the memory of a sixteen-year-old San running to show you his new possession.

“Y/N! Y/N!” you heard your name being shouted from behind you. When you turned, it was San running towards you at full speed, holding a piece of fabric in his hands. He finally reached you, showing his dimpled smile. “Geez, why do you have those ears if you can't even listen when one is shouting at you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut it. Not my fault you are so out of breath that I couldn’t understand shit of what you were shouting.”

“I was not-!” He looked like he wanted to bicker, again, with you, but he cut himself short. “It doesn’t matter, look what I got!” He proceeded to remove part of the folded fabric, exposing a shiny object. The blade of a sword. You let out a gasp and he chuckled. “Beautiful, isn’t it? But there’s more.”

He uncovered the rest of the weapon, and your eyes fell on the golden inscription. The letters were masterfully carved on the metal, so much it took you a moment to realize it was written in your handwriting.

“Is this…?” You didn’t even finish your sentence, and San already knew what you were trying to say.

“Yes. Custom-made from the best welder in town. It cost me a fortune, but it’s worth it.” San was grinning like an idiot at what he thought was an accomplishment.

Nevertheless, that didn’t sit right with you (even though you couldn’t deny that your heart was racing like a horse). “Are you dumb?! Why are you spending your money on dumb things like this?”

Your heart broke a little when you saw his smile falter. “What are you saying? Of course, it’s not dumb!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it 's not!”

“I said, yes it is!”

He frowned and grabbed your hand. “No, it’s not. Wanna know why? Because every time I wield it and see the hilt, I’ll be reminded of what I have back home. That I have someone waiting for me to come back. My treasure.”

His words from back then still made you feel warm, and after that, you always felt proud seeing him carry that sword.

Your gaze is torn away from the weapon to San himself. He was pacing around the makeshift arena planned for these occasions, warming up his limbs. His eyes seemed to wander through the place, not focusing on anyone, until they fell on you. Despite the seriousness that had ruled his behavior up until that point, he gifted you one of his characteristic smiles, which turned his eyes into two small crescents. Even with the loud music coming from the drums, you heard some girls squeal from his gesture, and you laughed at that.

San always knew how to lighten up the mood of every situation.

He kept walking until his back was turned from you, which you took as a chance to admire his sculptured figure. While he had always made clear to whom his heart belonged, that didn’t keep people from falling in love with his god-like looks. His chiseled torso was littered with tattoos, going around his arms, neck, and ribs, in addition to the big wolf head on his chest he had gotten when he was nineteen (when he had absolutely begged you to come with him for moral support).

His body was also covered in scars, mostly from battle wounds and hunting accidents. Some looked old and faded, while others appeared more recent. You knew each of them fully, seeing that you were the only one San let tend to him during those times. When he lowered his arms, you got a glimpse of his most famous one, which he bore on his left forearm. The one that earned him the title of Wolf Warrior, back when he was just twelve.

You stood waiting, just a few meters from the edge of the forest the boys had gone into a few days prior. Many of them had already returned and were celebrating all around you. But, still, there was no sign of San’s return.

You had accompanied San’s parents to wait for San to return from his ritual first hunt. For your people, this marked the beginning of manhood; a rite of passage from boys to men. It was the first time each of the boys would go hunting on their own, and they wouldn’t be allowed to come back without a prize. This ceremony was reserved for only the closest people in the boy’s life, but San’s parents had asked you to come since you were his best friend (and practically their niece, being their best friends’ daughter).

“It’s getting late, again,” San’s father said, and he was right. The sky was turning red and purple with the last lights of the day. Another day without San. “It’s only been three days, so it might still be early for him to return.”

“But most of the boys have come back,” his mother noted. She bit her lip, looking at the forest. Then, she looked at the grass and let out a sigh. “I guess you are right, we can wait another day.”

They moved to leave but stopped when they saw you hadn’t gone with them. “Y/N, let’s go home.”

You wanted to wait just a bit more. Just to be sure San wouldn’t come back that day. “I want to wait a few more minutes. If you want, you can go ahead and I’ll go back when I’m done. There are plenty of other parents here, so don’t worry about me!”

They didn’t look convinced, but they still let you. “Fine, but come back running to us if something happens.”

You waved them goodbye, but before long had passed, you saw some bushes rustle. You squinted to make sure your vision didn’t betray you, and a large figure emerged from the last line of trees. A scream rose to your throat when you saw the thick fur, but it soon died down when you saw the person carrying the furry mass.

“It’s San! It's San!” you shouted back at the distant figures of San’s parents. Thankfully, they had heard you, and they were sprinting back to your position. You ran behind them but stayed back when you saw them embrace their son.

“My son, my son is alright!” his mother repeated while holding him in her arms. Her husband embraced both of them without saying anything, but his face showed the relief he felt.

He is supposed to have returned a man, you thought while looking at the sweet scene, but they will still treat him like their baby.

“San is back!” you heard another boy say, “San came back from the hunt! But…what did he bring back though?”

That seemed to return San and his parents to reality. The ceremony wasn’t finished, as he still hadn’t presented his prize. They untangled themselves from their son and stepped back, allowing him to regain composure. It was then that you could finally see San clearly for the first time. He was soiled in mud, part of his clothes were tattered, and he had several scratches on his face, neck, and arms, but he didn’t seem bothered by them. He looked exhausted, on the verge of collapse even.

“San, my son,” his dad called out to him, “what have you brought from the hunt?”

San looked back at the big leather bag he had dropped with his parents' hug attacked. From the opening, a lot of fur spilled out without a clear form. “My prey was difficult to catch, that’s why I’m late. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sanie,” his mother reassured him but, to you, she looked nervous. “It doesn't matter what it is, just that you are here. Have you decided who you will offer it to?”

You smiled at your friend. Even if you had stood back all this time to let the Choi family have their moment, you were overjoyed at seeing your best friend take part in one of the most important challenges in his life, and you would have given anything to run to his arms. Nevertheless, you stood back and contented yourself with giving him your usual reassuring smile (also, you couldn’t deny that you were madly curious to see to whom he would give his hunt, although knowing him, it was probably his parents).

Somehow, when you caught San’s eye, he didn’t relax. On the contrary, he stepped back from his parents' embrace and clutched his bag, never releasing tension. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

Mr. and Mrs. Choi held hands, seeing their now-grown son make an important decision. You also squealed in delight, cheering on your friend as he threw the bag over his shoulder with effort. He walked towards his parents and…ignored them?

Your confusion grew as he walked past his parents in your direction. You looked behind yourself, just to see no one. San kept approaching you until he stood merely two feet away. At that distance, you had a better view of all his injuries, especially the gnarly cut on his left forearm.

“Oh my god, Sanie!” you let out, closing the distance to grab his injured arm. “You need to get that treated immediately. It’s going to scar!”

Tension seemed to lift from his shoulders as San heard your typical nagging. He grabbed your wrist back and unlatched your fingers from his arm. “That’s not important right now!”

“What do you mean-!”

“It’s not,” he cut you off. Stepping back a little, he put the bag back on the ground, letting it fall with a loud thud. “This is what’s important right now”.

He opened it completely, a gray furry mass spilling out partially. San kept grabbing and pulling, freeing the animal from the cramped space. Once it was completely out, you let out a scream.

An enormous wolf was looking back at you.

“San, what the hell!” you stumbled back from the shock. “You brought a whole ass wolf?! Are you allowed to give that thing to someone?”

Sanie beamed his boyish smile. He grabbed the animal by the scruff, not raising from his kneeling position, and offered it to you. “I’m not giving it to ‘someone’. I, Choi San, from the Choi family, present my most sacred achievement to you, whom I most treasure and thank for in life”.

Your memory was shattered by the piercing shriek that resonated through the arena, making you clutch your necklace (made from the wolf’s teeth) in fear. It sounded like straight out of your nightmares.

The rumble of heavy steps only confirmed your worst fears.

San was looking directly at the forest line, where the noises were coming from. He stood his ground as a couple of trees fell and many shook with violence. The shouts of other men could be heard as they came closer and closer. Finally, before the whole tribe appeared a creature that left you nauseous.

Four enormous green and scaly legs carried an even bigger body; as tall as the tallest building in your village. The scales shone under the harsh sunlight and were thick enough to compare to an iron armor. Its talons tore through the hard soil like it was mere sand. Its lack of wings didn’t make it less intimidating; on the contrary, it warned its prey of its prowess on land. But it wasn’t the size, the fangs, the talons of the scales that paralyzed your body.

It was the eyes.

For the briefest moment, your gaze connected with the dragon’s. Its eyes glowed red with a primal fury you had only seen on a cornered animal, waiting to fight back if only to cause damage to its hunter before its ultimate demise. That look raised every hair on your body.

The dragon continued to shriek and thrash against the chains that the men, whom you recognized as San’s best friends, held tightly. They were being overpowered by the creature’s brute force, but they still held on for their friend’s chance at having the best prize the village would ever see.

All for you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” San had turned to the crowd, “let the best hunt our people have ever witnessed in our long history begin!”

The sound of chains hitting the ground was almost drowned by the roar of your people. Once the beast was free, it lounged at full speed at San, forgetting about his other captors, hissing and letting its venom drip on the floor. An involuntary scream was ripped from your throat as you stood from your kneeling position.

“San, run!” you screamed moving forward, but a heavy hand on your shoulder stopped you from going further. It was your father’s.

“No, you stay here,” he demanded.

“Father, you have to stop this,” you pleaded at him. “This is madness! San can’t fight on his own against that!”

But your father was unmoving. “No, this is the challenge he chose, and he must accept his fate.”

“You don’t believe that,” your tone was dark, “at least not with San. Do you want your best friends’ child to die a stupid death? Do you want my best friend to die a stupid death?! Because I wi-!”

While he had remained emotionless during all the ceremony, now he looked furious. “(Y/N), compose yourself for gods’ sake!”

“But-”

“Your feelings do not matter right now, only San’s. He is down there, risking his life only for you to look at him. He chose this, no one else, and what he needs the most right now is your support. Do you understand?”

You understood, and those were the words you needed to sober up. Regardless of your feelings, whether you thought he was being reckless or not, San was fighting for the acceptance of your love in the eyes of your village. He didn’t need you to doubt him, he needed you to be by his side. Not to mention that he would be upset that you doubted his strength.

Until that moment, San had managed to evade all of the dragon’s attacks, opting for taking a defensive stance. The strength and size difference between them was abysmal, so the fate of either would be reduced to who could endure the chase for the longest. A battle of attrition.

The dragon charged at full speed once more, and San stood his ground, sword in front of him. The beast had almost reached him, when San dodged at the last second, managing to slash the tendon of one of its talons, but his arm brushed against one of its scales. Blood began to gush out of the wound, but he paid no mind to it. The battle was far from over, and he was determined to be the last one standing. He owed it to himself, and you.

For what seemed hours (and probably were), you saw San run around the arena, dodging attacks and inflicting more on his opponent. He was visibly injured, having been hit numerous times by the sharp weapons of the dragon, and caked on blood and mud. Nevertheless, the dragon itself wasn’t in a much better state; San had managed to slash open the tendons of three out of the four legs, and it had trouble moving at a fast speed. The sturdy sword of San had also pierced the thick armor of the beast, leaving big wounds on its sides and belly.

Dragons were magnificent creatures. They were perfectly designed to withstand almost all types of damage, being covered in those solid scales that rivaled metal. Some had enormous wings that they used to soar the skies of their vast territories, some breathed fire and ice. Many explorers even claimed that some races could even understand human language. From those many tales, it was expected to believe these beasts were invincible. However, what not many knew was that dragons did have a weakness, a physical one even. Under the sturdy chunks of armor on the chest, just at the area where the heart would’ve been located, the scales were more fragile, soft enough to let a blade penetrate the skin and kill the creature. Not many knew of this weak spot due to the difficulty of even getting close to a dragon, let alone surviving the encounter. Not many knew of it, except for San.

He could see that the dragon was getting tired from constantly playing the offensive. The blood loss was weighing it down, making its attacks slower and weaker, and San wasn’t easy prey to catch. He had been getting closer and closer to the one spot that would lead him to victory. The plan was to make the dragon bleed as much as possible, before ending it all in one move. He wasn’t much fan of making his prey suffer, but neither he was of getting his head bit off (leaving you practically widowed).

San kneeled for a moment, taking a breather as the dragon hissed at a new wound he made near its tail. His own injuries were also slowing him down, although the adrenaline kept him moving. He knew he couldn’t keep up much longer, and it was time to put an end to the battle while he still had the strength to continue.

It was time for the last act.

You saw San muster up the strength to stand up. You had lost count of how many times he was close to finally hunting down the dragon, so now you prayed that he just kept inflicting cuts on the beast until it finally died from blood loss. However, something was different in San. He seemed more confident this time, and you knew what it meant. San was now playing the offensive.

In half a second, San had banished from where he had been standing. Your eyes found him again a few meters closer to the dragon, sprinting at full speed directly towards him. The animal had taken notice of your friend, and stood firmly on its four legs, waiting to rip his head off his body. When San was directly in front of it, the dragon raised on its hind legs, as if to gather full force to strike down on the man and end the fight. You let out a gasp.

It was a fatal mistake.

Instead of stopping as the dragon had expected, San slid underneath it, raising his sword as the creature threw itself down full force. You blinked. One moment, the dragon had been roaring in victory and, in the next one, it was shuddering as it had impaled itself directly into San’s blade. The last remnants of life escaped in convulsions from the body of the beast, and it collapsed unceremoniously into the ground, a mere carcass of the magnificent animal it had been before. The crowd went quiet for the death of a splendid being.

You couldn’t care less for the animal. You couldn’t see San, so you were beginning to be worried that he had been crushed under the weight of the dragon. Your eyes frantically searched for him, until a figure emerged from beside the dead body. San was drenched in blood and struggled to breathe. He had never let go of the sword.

It was the true sight of a legendary hero.

San raised his hand and tried to wipe away some of the blood off his face, which made you chuckle as it was also covered in blood. Realizing the futility of that, he desisted and, instead, looked down on his weapon. He smiled at the inscription and grabbed it with his two hands. In one swift movement, he stabbed the chest of the dragon once more. You frowned in confusion as he kept stabbing and cutting through the body of the beast, as it was already dead, leaving a carnage behind. Behind you, a couple of old men were discussing the useful properties of all the organs and parts of the dragon and how they would have used them, but you couldn’t care less about that. At last, San seemed to find what he was looking for and dropped the sword. He plunged his hands into the hole he had made (which made you gag a little if you were being honest) and pulled out something. Everyone around you let out a collective gasp.

San was holding a dragon’s heart. A heart made out of pure gold.

Your jaw went slack. The heart was huge, as it belonged to a huge creature, and probably weighed a considerable amount. Nevertheless, San held it with the remaining strength he had. You couldn’t start to fathom the value of such rarity, much less the fact that it was now yours. The crowd cheered as he raised the piece over his head; a sign that declared him the victor.

Having basked in glory long enough, San secured a grip on the golden heart and began the ascent towards where you still kneeled beside your father and mother. It wasn’t that long of a distance, but carrying a heavy object after hours of battle sure was harsh on his body. Despite the ache, he continued to advance.

Your mother reached out for you, smiling as she grabbed your hand affectionately. "He did it! He did it! Finally, you can marry San!"

Finally.

You glanced down at San once more. The grown man that just killed a dragon looked nothing like the kid from ten years ago.

"Marry me". San blurted out of nowhere. The sudden request startled you, making you accidentally press on his wound. "Ouch! Be careful, you idiot!"

You felt offended. "Me? An idiot? You are the dumbass that proposes to someone while they are cleaning your wound. I should let your arm rot for being an idiot and reckless on your first hunt!"

He glared at you. "You wouldn't dare…"

"Try me."

He didn't reply, and you fell into a comfortable silence. San had dragged you away from the banquet his family had prepared on account of his newly acquired "manhood", complaining how his arm hurt from not being properly treated and he needed you to do it for him. Now you sat on a small hut next to his house, illuminated by a small candle, jars of ointments and gauzes lying on the floor beside your forms.

San watched as you applied another cream to his arm. "You didn't answer".

You didn't look at him, focused on treating him. "You didn't ask anything". Before he could hit you with a reply, you added "Besides, we can't get married".

That seemed to upset him. "Why not? We know each other perfectly, and our parents as best friends. I'm sure they would accept it".

You laughed at his naïveness. "It's not about approval. Marriage is for people that love each other".

Now, San just seemed confused. "But we love each other. We say it all the time".

"We love each other," you conceded, "but we aren't in love with each other". San's expression remained confused, so you tried to explain it in another way. "You and I love each other as brother and sister, and we act as such. People that get married treat the other as…well…lovers. They spend time together, they share stuff, they hold hands, they kiss. They swear to be with each other until death. They take care of each other. Forever!"

Your explanation didn't convince San. "But, don't we already do that? Minus the kissing, of course. Wouldn't that mean we are in love?"

The mere thought of being in love with San sent your prepubescent brain into short-circuit. It repulsed you in some way, as you had only looked at him as a brother, but you couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach.

"No, it doesn't," you exclaimed. "Also, people that get married first become girlfriend and boyfriend! You can't be my boyfriend!"

San also looked repulsed at the sound of that word. "Ew, no! I don't want a girlfriend".

"See, that's why we can't get married".

"I don't want a girlfriend," his eyes burned holes in your head, "but I still think it would be nice if we got married. We already promised to be in each other's life forever and I care for you, so I don't think it'd make much difference".

You briefly looked back at him and rolled your eyes, grabbing a roll of gauze. "Why are you even thinking about that, Sanie? Marriage is an adult thing. We are twelve-year-old kids!"

"Speak for yourself! This proves I'm a grown man", he pointed at the wound, grinning. You shot him an amused look, opting for saying nothing and continuing with your job. It didn't take much time for San to break the silence yet again. "I guess all this new 'adulthood' stuff got me thinking about this new chapter of my life and-"

"Mhm"

"-all the things I can do now. Somehow that ended up in my thinking about marriage and how would it feel to get married to someone you like, you know?"

"Yes, yes".

"Then I thought of who I would marry, and I thought of you. Since all that best friend shit is basically the same shit you described, but if you say it's different, I guess it is. Either way, we should wait a little more before that, to think matters better and decide if-"

Oh, no. San had started rambling. "Sanie! What on gods' sake are you trying to say?!"

"What age do you think is the most appropriate to get married?" He looked dead serious now.

You finished dressing the wound, and threw your tools on the ground, exasperated by San's strange behavior. "I don't know! I already said that marriage is for adults!"

"Well, then at what age did your parents get engaged?"

You loved the story of how your parents go together, so it was an easy question. “Oh, my father proposed to my mother when he was twenty-two and she wa-”

San beamed as he interrupted you once more. “Perfect! Then my proposal will be suspended until then. I will ask you again when I turn twenty-two. That way I’ll give you time to fall in love with me, or whatever it is that you need.”

All the previous conversations had proven fruitless again and again, so it was better to leave things as they were, hoping that soon San would move to other subjects.

“Fine, whatever. We’ll probably have forgotten it by then”.

Except, he did not. And neither did you. On the contrary. With time, you had grown fond of your best friend, leaving behind the innocent affections of childhood to make place for the blossoming feelings of romantic love. Where you were hesitant to express these feelings, he openly did to anyone and anything willing to listen. He wanted you and only you. It wasn’t only the grand moments of expressed admiration that made you fall for him, but the quiet moments of thoughtfulness that instilled your devotion for him.

When he carried your things without a word, even if he knew you were perfectly capable of doing it on your own. When he held your hand as you walked through more deserted parts of the village. When you would silently work on the injuries he would bring home, never asking how he got them. When you would hold each other, letting the other shed their tears, just basking in each other’s comfort.

All those moments paved the way for the unspoken transformation of your relationship. You were neither friends nor lovers. No words could describe the depth of your understanding of each other. So, for you and the rest of the world, you were simply “Y/N and San”.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As usual in any other important celebration, San had dragged you away from everybody. This time, it was his birthday and, although he loved being with his friends and family, he wanted to spend time alone with you. As you both grew, so did your responsibilities, yours as the daughter of the village chief and San’s as the strongest member, so there were periods where your time together was limited.

As soon as you were decently away from the rest of the party, San had taken you in his arms in a warm embrace. You inhaled his scent. He smelled like home. You didn’t question what was up with the sudden display of affection, you knew he would let you know in time. He was never one to keep quiet for much time.

“Marry me”.

He hadn’t forgotten. San was a man of his word.

“Today I turn twenty-two,” he told you, as if you weren’t currently celebrating that fact, “it’s the day I’m finally asking you to be mine”.

Your heart threatened to escape your ribcage from pure glee. “I’ve always been yours, Sanie. Since the day you first asked.”

You felt his smile as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Thank you, thank you. You know that I belong to you too. I’ll take care of you, so good. Every day, all day. And you won’t be able to get rid of me”.

You chuckled. “I don’t know about that. You can barely take care of yourself”.

“But it’s different since I don't care about myself, only about my treasure”.

For longer, you remained like you were. Many breaths passed before any of you said anything.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow,” he announced, shattering the moment, “it won’t be for too long and the guys are coming with me”.

“Leaving? To where?” you asked, confused.

“As much as I’d love to stay with my beautiful fiancée,” you loved how the title sounded coming from him, “I have to bring her a pretty hunting trophy, so she can boast to the whole town about having the strongest boyfriend to ever live”.

You stayed silent. Even if you wanted San to forgo tradition and stay with you, you knew he wasn’t in an easy position. As the chief’s daughter, you didn’t require him to only fulfill the role of the husband. By marrying you, he would automatically become the next in line for the position of chief, as you had no male relatives that could assume it. Thus, he needed to prove himself worthy of you and the whole village.

The very next day, he announced to your community his intentions of marrying you and becoming head of the village. The day after that, he was gone.

Sixty-two days had passed since you last felt his warmth, so when he stood before you, still covered in blood and grime, holding his heart (well, not his in a strict manner), you itched to extend your hand to his cheek and wipe the exhaustion away.

Once more, the ceremonial drums stopped after hours of incessant banging. It was time for your father to speak.

“Choi San,” he called out to your lover, “Ten years ago, when you were barely a man, I bestowed you the title of ‘Wolf Warrior’, which has been reserved for the strongest of our kind, in hopes that you would use it to protect and serve our people. Despite that great honor, you have used that same title and strength to recklessly endanger our home by bringing a dragon for mere spectacle. Had things gone askew, it wouldn’t have been just your life that we would have lost, but many others”.

After the little speech he gave you about trusting San, you were surprised by the harsh scolding your father was giving San in front of other people. Nevertheless, you understood his position as responsible for the village.

“However, on this day you have achieved a feat none of our ancestors could compare to. The tale of the man who single-handedly slew an adult dragon with just a sword will be told by many generations to come, under the title of ‘Choi San, the Dragon Warrior’; title I am to bestow you and will only belong to you. But I’m afraid names and merits would be meaningless if the intent behind them isn’t honored”.

Your father paused briefly before resuming. “Time and time again, you have proven your worth as a man beyond the power of his sword. Your contributions to the safekeeping of our people speak for themselves, and any reward would be in order as compensation for your service. However, I know you seek not money or fame, but something deeper than that.

“Choi San. I’ve seen you and Y/N grow into the splendid adults you are today. I’ve seen your care for each other and your understanding of each other. After today, I do no doubt that there is no better man for my daughter, and no better one to succeed me when I am no longer able. Therefore, I declare successful your attempt and bless the union between the two of you”.

Your heart soared higher than the sky above you. You could have broken your neck with how fast you whipped your head to look back at San, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

San. San. Sanie.

He was on one knee on the ground before you. The golden heart sat on the floor in front of him, displayed as an offering to you. He held his hands open, waiting for you to take them. You did so, standing up and grabbing his fingers, not caring one bit that they were still covered in grime. San looked at you intensely, wanting you to look at him and only him. Now and for the rest of your lives.

“My treasure,” he spoke so softly as if you were going to shatter if he spoke any louder, “from my very first breath, everything I’ve done has been for you and only you. My first thoughts in the morning and my last ones before bed are of you, and even in my sleep I see you next to me. Every beat of my heart is for you, until the last of them. But, even then, there are no words to describe how deeply I love you”.

Your lips quivered, but you broke into a teary smile nonetheless. “Oh, Sanie. If you keep going, I’m afraid I will cry for real”.

“Don’t worry,” he gripped your hands tighter, “I will be here to wipe away all of them”. San planted a kiss on your knuckles before continuing. “Ever since I was a child, I knew it was you who I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, even if you disliked the idea of that. I knew it had to be me who had to be there in your moments of joy, as well as your moments of sadness. It had to be me who cared for you when you weren’t able to care for yourself and be by your side when you didn’t want anyone else. It doesn’t have to be me, but I want it to be me”.

You swore you could hear some girls sigh behind you, and you couldn’t relate more to that.

“Today I, Choi San of the Choi family, offer you the best of me. I present to you this prize as an offering of my heart, my body, and my soul, which from now on are yours to dispose of. If you wish to accept it, and therefore accept me, I’ll belong to you for the rest of eternity. If you let me be by your side, I’ll do my best to care for you, and not even water will touch your hands. These words will be true, whether you accept my offerings or not since it’s only to you I wish to lay my life for”.

With a last kiss to your hands, he brought them up and rested his forehead on them. The tips of his ears appeared slightly red and his own hands trembled. You knew your Sanie enough to recognize he was equally nervous and embarrassed (which he had nothing to feel shame for, as he had said cheesier things under the influence of liquor).

You rubbed your thumbs on the back of his hand, hoping to soothe his nerves. “Rise, my young warrior. A man like you should be kneeling for nobody”.

He didn’t stand up. “But you aren’t ‘nobody’, my love. You are my strength and my will”.

This man will be the death of me, you laughed to yourself.

“And you are the most stubborn man I’ve ever encountered,” you poked at him. You tugged firmly at your intertwined hands, signaling that you needed him to get back on his feet, “and I’m afraid that you won’t be able to hear my words properly from down there”.

That made him look up to you once more, and finally stand up from the ground. This time, you didn’t hold yourself back from letting go of his fingers to remove a piece of hair from San’s eyes. Your own ones lingered a while longer, just to find themselves cupping his cheek. San snuggled up to your palm instinctively, reminding you of a cat.

“My love,” San closed his eyes and sighed at the name, “you have fought so bravely for the both of us. Not just today, but for a very long time. It is me who should be thanking you for brightening my life with just your presence, and for never giving up on me. We’ve had our highs and lows, but there’s no time of my life that I can remember without you being present. You too have had full ownership of my heart since the very beginning, and it is not my desire for you to relinquish your rights to it”.

“I too want to be the one who cares for you when you aren’t able to fend for yourself. I too want to be who you come to when you have wounds to heal. I want to be who you wake up to every morning, and who you sleep next to every night. I want to be the source of your strength and your place of rest; to protect your heart from harm and your mind from turmoil.”

“My Sanie, for as long as you let me, I will be yours, and even further than that if you decide you love me no more. Everything I have, I will share with you. Where you go, I will go. Whom you love I will love, and whom you despise I will despise. There’s nothing that will give me greater joy than to be yours. So I, Y/N, accept this prize as a symbol of my love and the union that will bind us from now on”.

You had barely finished when you found yourself spinning in the air, San’s hands grabbing you firmly by your waist. You finally let out tears of joy and looked down to see that he was crying too. San put you back on the ground, but never let you go. On the contrary, he pulled you towards him in the biggest hug. One of his hands held you by the waist, while the other rested on the back of your head. Your forehead hid on the crook of his neck, and your hands moved restlessly across his broad back. The drums now played a happy beat and people danced for the new couple. From the corner of your eyes, you could see your parents and San’s embracing each other, finally together as a family.

“My love, my love, my love,” San whispered in your ear, unable to stop repeating those words.

“My Sanie,” you whispered back, “I’m sorry I made you wait for so long”.

“Nothing of that matters now,” he reassured you, “I could have waited longer if it meant I’d have you at the end.”

“You always know what to say,” you joked. “Always the hopelessly romantic idiot”

“You are right. But now I’m your idiot”.

“No, you are my husband”.

San stopped all movement before slightly pushing you away from him. He held your gaze for a couple of seconds before grabbing your face with a smirk adorning his lips. “Hell yeah, I am”.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a heart-stopping kiss. Your brain melted to mush and you could only think about him, surrounding every part of you.

San. San. Sanie.

The world could have ended at that very moment, and neither of you would have cared. Not when you had each other in every sense of the word, cause that is all that mattered. You and him.

Y/N and San.

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#ateez #teez-the-time #ateez fanfic #atiny #choi san #san #san x reader #san smut #san fluff #san angst

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pennyellee · 10 months

Text

preview

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, smut, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, yandere, threatening, kidnapping, partial religious behaviour, graphic violence, graphic depictions of torture, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, implied non-con, minor character death, spanking, blood, gaslighting (more to be added)

word count: 655

author’s note: yaaaaaay!! can't believe I actually made it to post a fanfic I desperately wanted to write for two whole years now. I am very much excited to share this preview from one of the chapters ♥ I'm rising from the dead when it comes to writing fics, so excuse any ridiculous mistake I make, I'll always try to look into it backwards. Lastly a big thank you goes to Bex @chaoticpuff17 who not only inspired me to write but constantly showed me love and support, therefore I would love to express my unending gratitude and admiration, love you baby ♥ lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

m.list CHAPTER I

“You crave the throne don’t you?” she asked cocking her head and chin defiantly, her narrowed eyes fixed on him. “I want you too.” She chuckled at his response. “I'm merely a convenient excuse, am I not?” Y/N smiled too sweetly. “You’ll kill m—” he rose from his chair, not even letting her finish. Grabbing her by her shoulders in steel grip with a penetrating gaze.

The fragile cup slipped from her trembling hands and shattered on the floor, a nearby maid prepared to clean up the shattered shards. “Leave us!” he barked at the startled girl, his voice filled with anger. Y/N's eyes widened. He was even more aggressive and intimidating than before.

“I could—” his voice seething with fury, “— I could gather man and slaughter your entire clan keeping you as a trophy, a symbol of my power.” The threat hung in the air, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Fear was coursing through her, yet she resisted letting it control her.

“Matter of fact—” he continued, his grip tightening on her shoulders, eliciting a whimper of pain from her, “—you will be a symbol of the magnitude my power has, no matter if your father and family remain alive. So it’s on you. The fate of your kin rests in your hands. Their survival hinges on your decisions and how well you’ll cooperate.” He tightened his grip again, eliciting another whimper of pain from her.

“But I will never dispose of you.” he growled through gritted teeth, his tone a mixture of possessiveness and frustration. Gathering her courage, she managed to speak again, her voice trembling but filled with resolve.

“You cannot manipulate me like this. You think I’ll fall for this fucked up scheme? I have spent my entire life under the orders of others, forbidden from making choices for myself! And you have the audacity to use my innocence thinking I will willingly crawl into your bed and love you like a devoted lover.” Venom in her voice and the desperate tone made fall for her even more.

“I've only recently met you, so spare me your attempts to deceive me that you’re being my saviour.” Y/N has enough fire to still conquer and fight him back. “I refuse to be a passive participant in this game.” She shall not take it lying down.

“I'm giving you a choice—” he asserted, his voice laced with a dangerous undertone “—either you’ll walk down the aisle to me or there will be a bloodshed. I won’t send you back to your father nor will I relinquish you easily.” His eyes locked onto hers, and she could see the darkness consuming his pupils when anger consumed him.

“Call it love, obsession, or whatever you please, but no matter what imbecile attempts you make to fight or flee, we will inevitably end up together nonetheless," he declared with conviction. Was this the fate God had laid out for her? Her faith wavered, and if he didn't provide assistance soon she shall forbid him altogether.

“You just want to fuck m—” he cut her off abruptly, his voice low and seductive.

“I can either fuck you hard or I can make love to you,” said he, whilst setting her left arm free and sliding his to her thigh, caressing it sweetly.

Breathing started to become harder for Y/N. Unfamiliar sensations welled up in her lower belly whilst his touch was sending shivers through her body. Was this attraction? Excitement? Mother told her this is how love is supposed to feel like. Butterflies in her stomach. But she certainly wasn't in love with her captor.

He sensed her confusion and distress. Leaving her fall back to the chair. Finally letting her breathe freely. Yoongi sat back to his chair, collecting himself and his three peace suit he wears today.

“Loss of words, innit?” He chuckled.

coming soon CHAPTER I

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

taglist: @chaoticpuff17 @honsoolgloss

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yaut-jaknowit · 3 months

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Suspect

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Yautja (Platonic)

Word Count: 2979

Summary: After the attack that left you a mess and marred you skin, We'ar-ow has increased her protectiveness of you. She's constantly has you either in her lap for scent marking or somehow less than five feet from her. You no longer sleep in your own room. Just hers.

Author Note: I think we all know who the suspect is. Said suspect will surely pay for the pain they caused. We'ar-ow will make sure of it. Also, side note, I'm hyperfixating on Marble Hornets and Toby Rogers... again so if I'm slow to post, blame them

Masterlist

Ao3

The tension in the air could be cut with a blade. It latched onto every other form that sat at the council table before her. It was a dreaded, cold feeling that leeched away the heat from the room. We’ar-ow easily produced it all with the intense expression on her face. She stood at the end, palms flat on the table. The last of her words leaving her mouth. Her eyes filled with the fire that burned her soul and created her personality.

No one spoke or dared to move a muscle. Their terror of their monarch palpated through the air. All of their eyes were trained on her. We’ar-ow scanned along the room and waited for someone, anyone to speak up. For a single being to have any sort of clue to what happened and why her ooman was attacked.

A huff surpassed her mandibles. We’ar-ow stood straight up and looked down upon her councilmembers. “Does no one have anything to say? At all? Was no one aware that that sector had gone down, including life support? How could this happen? If any of you have an issue with my pet, grow some courage and come after me,” she snarled then slammed a fist down onto the table.

“I said, does no one have anything to say or report?!” We’ar-ow spat at her group, ready to tear into the closest councilmember until someone speaks up.

Out of everyone, Xilomere was the only one lax yet on high alert. There was a reason We’ar-ow was crowned as Monarch for this clan. A tilted earned, not bestowed. He was ready at only a beck to back up We’ar-ow. There must be order in the clan unless it falls to ruin.

Off to the right, a throat is cleared. Dunkot stands up and nods his head at We’ar-ow. “Monarch, as commander of security, I have no reports to speak of. There hasn’t been anything to be alerted of. I will personally look at the footage we have of the area and report to you of my findings immediately,” Dunkot rasped and met her blazing eyes for a fleeting moment.

One of We’ar-ow’s upper mandibles flinched. “Go now. I want a report within the hour.” Dunkot took his leave swiftly and left a trail of fear out the door. Not that anyone noticed as the room reeked of it.

She looked around the table again, but no one dared looked her in the eye. “Anyone else?” More once, complete silence. We’ar-ow stiffy rolled her eyes. “Everyone out! Be useful or I’ll find someone else to do the job.”

Everyone rapidly filed out of the room besides Xilomere. He stayed and leaned back in his chair, feet thrown up onto the table. “We’ar-ow, this is the most intense I’ve seen you. I’ve got to be honest with you: what is truly bothering you?” he asked the Monarch.

We’ar-ow plopped down in the chair and placed her forehead in her palm, elbow resting on the table. “This isn’t the first attack on the ooman. This time, it was planned. It had to be,” she conferred with him and looked at him with what could be considered pleading eyes. “I will not stand by and let my pet get injured because someone had a problem.”

Xilomere twitched his mandibles and nodded. “Alright. And you know I will stand by your side even if this ship implodes. Now, we have to ask the hard questions. Why would someone attack the little thing? No respectful Yautja would even think of such a thing. And why now? No one had a problem the week after the ooman arrived. No one dared attacked.”

The questions made the Monarch think. An idea struck her. “I know who it is: Dwainet. That little snob of mucus!” We’ar-ow stood up abruptly, ready to mow down anyone to get to the thorn in her side.

The male got to his feet as well and put his hands out. “Whoa, whoa there missy. You can’t do a thing him without evidence.”

C’jit. He was right. Her mandibles were wildly fretting and clicked against one another. She slowly turned towards Xilomere. “I will get the evidence and flay him alive. I will have his head mounted on my wall… no, no. Above my pet’s door, daring anyone to hurt them again,” We’ar-ow stated firmly. It had become fact and not even Paya could challenge her words.

“And I’ll ensure the door is locked so the little gnat cannot escape for even a second,” Xilomere proclaimed and stood by his Monarch’s side. Through thick and thin.

A pink hand rested on his shoulder and gave a firm shake. “I thank you, my dearest hunt brother for your words and backup. I could not and would not ask for a different soul in all my years.” Xilomere smiled at her words and bowed his head.

“My monarch, are something different.” A pregnant pause for their words to settle in fell upon them. Xilomere brushed off We’ar-ow’s hand. “Now, you must return to your pet and ensure their safety. I will investigate myself. I will look into every dark corner and turn over every rock to find the evidence we need.”

Through the haze of her rage, We’ar-ow nearly forgotten about her little ooman pet curled up in her bed once more. A second attack in two days was not a coincidence. Neither was the first one. Dwainet had tried to kill you from the marks of your neck, that was evident. It had failed. An accident she was thankful for. Sorrow would fill her veins as she would mourn over your loss.

In a state of exhaustion yet wakefulness, you jolted when the door hissed and groaned when the movement pulled at your fresh wounds. Sleep had not found you. It felt like it was keeping a twenty foot pole between the two of you. You wanted nothing more than to simply sleep away the pain, to pass out and forget about the day’s event for just a moment. The world hated you.

The brighter light from the main room filtered into the dimly lit bedroom. It was harsh on your eyes, forcing you to bury your face back into the blankets as a shield.

Seconds ticked by before it suddenly hits you. You scrambled to sit up on your knees and reached for the knife that perched on your hip. It’s spot empty. Your eyes snapped wide open. The realization dawning over you that whoever entered could’ve killed you without even struggling.

Everything returned to the low light situation from before you. A sight you were most thankful for. Through the pain that throbbed behind your eyes, you peered up and sagged in relief.

We’ar-ow stood just shy of the closed door, face neutral. Her bright eyes nearly shined through the creeping darkness and scanned over your form. Whatever she found pleased her, the Yautja moved towards you and sat down on the low bed. Her hand reached out, carrying a weight of timidness, and cupped your cheek.

You didn’t have it in you to speak and felt like if one wrong thing was said could set her off. You didn’t need to know the alien long to see the tension that wormed its way into her muscles. Worse of all, you couldn’t tell if you were relieved to see this seething anger about the fact you had been injured or dreadful. Did she care about you or was this just because this posed a threat to her status? You attempted to bow your head but her hand stopped you.

The two of you stared into the other’s eyes, searching. For what? You mentally shrugged.

Whatever held this trance of We’ar-ow vanished and her hand fell away. “How do you feel?” she questioned and stood up. You followed her with your eyes while she moved towards the bathroom but didn’t turn the light fully on. The same dimness filled the space.

Through the lump gathering in your throat, you swallowed it harshly down. “Hurts. Couldn’t sleep.” You rubbed at your crispy eyes and licked at your dry lips. “I probably have a concussion from how hard I was slammed into the ground,” you rasped in a monotone voice.

A short hum came from the bathroom. We’ar-ow exited the connected room with a glass in one hand and a box in the other. Her lethal form stalked across the room swiftly and sat back down on the edge of the mattress. The glass was offered to you. Which, you took her up on it and sipped away at the clear liquid.

Silence engulfed the room to the point you heard your own heartbeat. A ringing began in your ears. We’ar-ow set down the box at your side and opened it up. Medical items were revealed to you. “Turn around.” Her voice gruff with the order.

In the haze and cotton that still filled your brain, you wiggled your body to have your back to face the alien. Warm, coarse hands touched at your shoulder. You couldn’t help the jerk or the gasp. “Calm, little ooman.” Ashamed, you bowed your head and muttered a short apology to her. You hated this feeling of weakness in front of her. Yet, there was nothing you could do in the moment besides cowering in her room.

The thick, sticky bandage that covered the claw marks on your back was pulled off to reveal a nasty, angry sight. You shuttered at the fresh air touching the damp skin.

“Did… did you find out, out who…?” you trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Her fingertips ran a path down between two of the claw marks. Another shutter raked your sore frame.

“Not yet.” Despite the headache pounding inside of your rattled brain, you picked up on her choice of words. ‘Yet’. She was actively searching for the perpetrator.

In this dark moment of your pathetic life, you needed the light she sparked in your chest. Anything not to wallow in your sorrow and mourn over the day. “Okay,” you whispered, lips barely even opening to let loose the word.

A new silence overcame your voices. Neither of you finding the energy or focus to talk. We’ar-ow worked away though on clearing the fresh wound again and covering it once more. A heavy hand rested on your shoulder after she finished and tugged you towards her.

The Yautja easily turned you around and sat you in her lap, arms mindfully wrapped around your torso. In your vulnerable state, you leaned into her chest. This wasn’t the first nor, you believed, the last time you would sit in her lap. She held you close, like a protective shield against the monsters on this ship hunting you.

“I will protect you, little ooman.” Your heart swelled, needing reassuring words. “You are my pet and no one shall hurt you again.” Then harsh reality crashed down on you. Nothing more but a pet. Your facial expression soured, not that We’ar-ow could see it anyhow. You just stayed, limp against her chest and trying to find sleep in the moment of semi peace.

Over what felt like a week, We’ar-ow rarely left her quarters. Not that she was at your every beck and call. But, the Yautja was mindful of what you needed.

Water for every time your glass goes empty. Three meals throughout the day and snacks as well. The wounds on your back cared for every day. Your tablet had been replaced. All the data lost and forcing you to start from scratch. But, from the depths of your mind, you knew the foundations of your plan and the backup ones as well. You had engraved it. You wanted to go back home, leave this wretched place.

Time passed swiftly over that week. She kept you close, never letting you leave her sight. This included bedtime. Instead of letting you sleep in the room she has given you, We’ar-ow has you constantly nestled into her massive mattress and many pelts. Deep down, a thought you wouldn’t admit, you didn’t mind sleeping in the same bed as her. It was a comfort you had missed, feeling touched starved. Dwainet would cuddle with you every night. With him gone, it was hard to recover.

Today was no different. You had woken up to a gentle shake on your shoulder and the face of We’ar-ow. Said Yautja motioned her head towards the open bedroom door. “Food is prepared. Come and eat.” Then, she stood to her full height and exited.

The door stayed open. An open invitation to follow her out. You stretched out with a big yawn but winced when it pulled at the claw marks. A groan sounded from your lips. You pulled yourself out of bed and meandered into the main area of her quarters.

We’ar-ow had made her way into the kitchen and dished herself a plate. It was set down next to your spot at the counter. You continued your way over to the dish and sat down with a huff. All this sleep made you feel tired and ready to simply pass out again. But with the way your stomach snarled and grumbled for food forced you to follow the scent of food.

It took little time to finish off the plate. A quick thanks was sent to the Yautja. You didn’t move though and stayed perched on the stool. The skin of your bottom lip was gnawed on while deep in thought.

Questions whirling around before you grew enough courage to speak up. “We’ar-ow… are there any updates?” Your voice was meek and quiet in already calm room.

During this entire time, she’s not once mentioned the attacks or who was responsible for them. You couldn’t tell if that increased your anxiety or somehow put it to ease knowing she was handling the situation. Yet, if they hadn’t gotten the attacker, meant they were still at large and could… attack again. They could fulfill their mission.

She set down the clean plate on a drying rack and peered at you. “I am dealing with the situation,” she answered shortly. You knew that had to mean she hadn’t found out. Your whole body sagged, nearly curling into itself as if that could be your shield.

Breakfast was over. We’ar-ow moved over to a couch in the main living area of her quarters and pulled out a tablet device like yours. Your eyes darted between her and the familiar entrance to her bedroom. Her bed practically calling your name.

One the last look at the salmon pink Yautja, you paused and admired her lethal form. Not necessarily bulky or lean. A mix of both. Her tresses hung from her strangely shaped head. A cascade of what looked to rubbery dreads that were all a light black with a hint of undertone brown. Two of her tresses were painted a pink similar to color of her skin.

The middle of her torso was colored a creamy white that started from her neck and down the insides of her thighs and touched the arch of her feet. Purple splashes marked her scales in random spots.

A creature born and bred for danger and death. Yet, here you stood, as her pet, alive and soon-to-be well in her care. You caved into the thoughts that sat in the back of your mind.

Within a few steps over to her, you timidly lowered yourself next to her. It was a strange feeling to crave the touch of an alien that surely didn’t want anything to do with you. But you needed it, like a drug to keep your heart beating.

The weeks have come crashing down on your fragile form in a dangerous world. You craved comfort, touch, anything to let you know it was going to be okay. Because after a near death experience that you endured a week ago, you were ready to collapse and bawl your eyes out. Again.

Her heavier weight caused the couch to dip further than your own. When she shifted, it caught you and dragged over to her side and forced you to be pressed into her torso. The Yautja barely even reacted besides another simple shift of her hips. She continued on with the tablet and let you stay. And stay you did.

The warmth engulfed you. A feeling welled up inside of you, making you feel gross. You should be disgusted or terrified even to be this close to her. The fact you’re not furthered that growing feeling. You were used to be touched by her when she held you in her lap and scent marked you every week or so. This was different than that though.

In a floating haze of being awake and asleep at the same time, you feel the Yautja at your side vibrate with a growl and tense up. Irritation grew in your veins at the fact you were forced to be in a more awakened state. You groaned and nuzzled more into her side, delirious in the moment.

The action caused you to slip down into her lap. Mentally, you shrugged it off. You shifted around to lay down properly on her lap, head resting on one of massive thighs. They were muscle as much as of her body was corded with it but they were still comfortable to lay on.

All of the tension in We’ar-ow’s body washed off of her form. She placed a palm on your head and softly scratched her claws mindlessly over your scalp. An action that had you dazed and on the verge of passing out on the second stroke alone. You hummed and became lax, body completely malleable if need be.

The sounds of the room faded out as you embraced the peacefulness.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x you #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow

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endthedream · 6 months

Text

hygge

pairing: model!niki x photographer!reader

summary: meeting at a time where the both of you need a supportive person the most, a beautiful friendship (or more) rises from similar struggles.

words: 6k

story colour: gray

notes: I know this story is shorter than the other ones but I still feel a bit awkward writing about Niki. I tried my best tho and hope all of you can enjoy this story! <3

masterlist of 'enhypen as jobs'

Hygge

noun

a quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being (regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture).

If there was one word your father would describe you with it would be ‘vivacious’. You have always been full of life, walking around with a smile on your face and appreciating the small, little things in life. He called you a ray of sunshine, touched by the angels, and graced with the gift of never-ending happiness. He said you were his inspiration, his muse, his realization of how magical the world can be, and how there is always good in bad. He said you were everything he ever wished for in life.

He used to tell you stories about his travels around the world, places that he captured with the lens of his camera and people he remembered in his heart. Your father told you everything about the world, the cultures, and the unimaginable love he felt when he visited those places. How inspiration was at every corner, how he could see beauty in the tragedies of the world and how everything he felt changed him. He was just a little boy, when he thought he knew the world he never even saw before, but when he came back, he was a man, full of knowledge and respect.

One place he still carries deeply in his heart is Denmark. Not only because it is a beautiful country, so full of wonders and stories, but also because there was one thing he learned from his visit, one thing he still carries with him. ‘Hygge’ is what it is called. A word he now lives by. A word with a greater meaning that inspired the way he was thinking. Hygge is finding happiness in the little things in life. He was the one that taught you from when you were a child that happiness is made out of those small little moments rather than just grant events, finding magic in the ordinary, commonplace, imperfections. You think that he was the one that turned you into the vivacious person you are today.

Your father stopped traveling the world when he met your mom, but his love and passion for photography stayed. He sent his pictures to every agency, working his way up until this point. Until he started taking pictures of the most famous people in the world. It’s not something that he originally wanted or planned, but it is definitely something he enjoys. Because instead of traveling to meet people around the world, he invites them to his studio and takes photos of them. He has met dozens of people without even having to leave town.

It’s been two weeks since you ‘officially’ started working for your dad. You have been helping him at his studio ever since you can remember, and when he offered you to work for him full-time, you couldn’t say no.

Much like him you love photography, always taking pictures of everything and everyone. It has become your thing, your passion as well. And while working at your dad’s studio isn’t the kind of photography you originally wanted to do, it is a start that will hopefully take you far. Like him, you want to travel the world, appreciate every single country and capture everything you see with the lens of your camara. You want to have a blog where you can post those pictures and write about the experiences you have during your travels. You want to inspire people to follow their dreams, to pick up a camera and express themselves, to find who they really are. You want to be able to close your eyes, take a deep breath and know that the moment you open your eyes again, the view that will wait for you is worth every single dollar on this planet.

“You are daydreaming again.”, you can hear the voice of your father right next to your ear, making you snap out of your thoughts and turn around to him. He is grinning from ear to ear, arms folded.

“Sorry.”, you say, showing him a sheepish smile before looking back into the computer right in front of you, showing a picture of a woman who came in her just two days ago. “I am almost done with editing though. How do you like it?”

Your father leans down, eyes skimming over the picture for a few seconds before looking at you again. “I like how you enhanced the colors of her dress, but I think it’s too dark. We wanted to go with a more tropical, summery vibe and now it looks like fireworks on a stormy night. Brighten the picture and see what you can do to get rid of the white dots in the background.” You never said working for your dad was easy. He is your loving, kind, devoted father, but he is also a businessman. He knows what looks good and what doesn’t and whenever he takes the pictures, he has an exact vision of how it has to turn out.

“Oh, and we also got a last-minute photo shoot for tomorrow. I think this is your chance to show off your photographer skills.” In an instant you spin around in your chair, eyes wide and mouth hung open.

“What? But dad, I’ve never taken professional photos before. What if I mess up the shot and you will get a bad reputation?” Until recently, photography was a hobby to you, just capturing small things you saw while taking walks, taking pictures of your friends and family or sometimes even creating abstract pictures, but never have you ever done it professionally. Not with an expensive camera or twelve lights around you or with a model in front of you. God, especially not with a model that has probably high expectations in you.

“Y/n, sweetheart, this is a good opportunity for you. And I will just be two rooms away, if you struggle or have any questions, you can always get me. But you will never make it if you don’t step over your own boundaries. How will you travel the world and capture everything with a lens, when you can’t do it right now? That’s how you learn it and that’s how you grow within it. Don’t see this as a challenge, see this as an opportunity to come out big into the world of photography.” It’s quiet for a moment, you taking the time to think about your fathers’ words and your father taking the time to study your face. He knows that this is a big step for you, but he needs to push you over your own boundaries and help you over the fear of failing.

“Okay, yeah, okay, you are right, dad. I can do this. Who will I have the photoshoot with?” Placing one hand comfortingly on your shoulder, your dad smiles proudly at you. You love that look on his face, the love and pride radiating from it. It fills you with joy and the determination to always give your best in every situation. It has made you turn into the efficient and hard-working person you are today.

“His name is Niki Nishimura. He is a model from Japan, and I thought that this would be perfect for you since the two of you are the same age. I think that you will be able to hit it off perfectly.” There is something in you that stops for a second. You have heard of Niki before from girls in your class, have seen the covers of magazines he is on and commercials on the tv. He is popular, well, more than that actually. Niki is the face of the most well-known brands, walks on fashion week catwalks and on top of that is known for his sweet and polite personality. He is the whole package, and you are going to meet him tomorrow.

“Are you okay?”, your father asks you after you’ve been silent for a while. “Do you know Mr. Nishimura?”

“Know him?”, you say, voice suddenly rising. “Dad he is so popular. Everyone knows him. How do you expect me to do a photo shooting with him when he has literally been on every single magazine I see? How am I supposed to keep my cool when he walked for fashion week in Paris? Dad, this is a huge responsibility, I can’t do that.”

“No, you cannot change your mind now. Y/n, what happened when you said ‘Yeah, dad, you are right. I can do this. Thank you for giving me this wonderful opportunity. You are the best dad in this whole world, and everyone should be jealous because they don’t have such a kind, loving, fantastic, talented, handsome father like I do.’”, he says, mimicking your voice in a high-pitched tone, and you can’t hide the small grin on your lips.

“First of all, that’s not how I sound. Second, you are so full of yourself.” You dramatically roll your eyes as you let your head fall into your arms. “And third, that was before I knew the photo shoot was going to be with the freaking Niki Nishimura. This changes things, dad, this changes things drastically.”

“Y/n, stop being so hard on yourself. Famous or not, that boy is still a human being. He is the same age as you are, so don’t think of him any differently. This is the first lesson you have to learn in this kind of work. Celebrities are humans too. They are just known by more people, but they go to the toilet like you, and they probably also do dance parties in their room late at night when they think their dads are asleep.” Your cheeks turn red as you hear the last sentence, not having known that your dad actually heard you dancing late at night in your room before. But before you can open your mouth and defend yourself, your dad continues. “They are like you and me, sweetheart. So, don’t worry, okay? If anyone can do this, then you. I believe in you, with all my heart.”

Your hands are shaking as you set up the camera. The lights are already on and directed right at the boy in front of you, who is currently watching you with attentive eyes as you fiddle around with the tripod. You were aware that Niki is known for his respectful personality, but when he walked into your dads’ studio, you didn’t expect him to be this… shy. He really seemed like a little boy who lost his parents in a supermarket. Niki was barely able to mumble a quick hello to you and tell you his name.

“Are you ready?”, you ask him, looking up at the boy who quickly- almost as if he was caught doing something wrong- looks down at the ground, nodding his head. “Okay, I’m just going to fix this light, since I think it makes you look to pale, and then we can start.”

Without waiting for an answer, you walk over to the softbox, changing its position a bit.

You are so caught up in your head that you get startled as you hear the boy in front of you start to talk. “Your hands are shaking.” It’s a simple sentence, a simple statement, but it makes you stop in your tracs. You look up at him yet again, noticing that he has taken off the sunglasses he has to wear for the shoot. There is something in his eyes- softness, you think- that makes you feel comfortable, less nervous.

“Yes.”, you stutter, clearing your throat a few times. “I’m nervous. This is my first time doing a real photo shoot, and I’m… just terrified that I will make a mistake.” Niki just nods at your words, taking a few seconds to look around the room, which gives you time to take in his outfit for this shoot. You haven’t really looked at him closely, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in any way.

He wears an all-black outfit, black slacks with a black shirt underneath a black blazer. The red and white collar of his shirt gives the outfit the finishing touch, hinting just a bit of color that is needed to compliment him. He looks amazing, dashing, like he is out of a movie- a James Bond movie probably. And you realize you have never seen a more gorgeous person in your whole entire life.

“I’m sure you will be doing just perfect.”, he says, giving you a tight-lipped smile at a thumbs up. You have to scoff slightly at his try of encouragement, showing him the same tight-lipped smile, before continuing to change the position of the softbox.

Somehow your hands are even more shaky as you stand in front of the camera again, your breaths come in shallow, and your vision become blurry. You have to close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to calm yourself down, trying to remind yourself that it’s just a photo shoot and that Niki is just a normal boy. But it doesn’t work, your mind is spiraling with all these bad thoughts and can’t stop them from coming over and over again, attacking and breaking you into pieces.

“Hey, are you sure you’re fine? You look like you are about to faint.” You hear Nikis’ voice, but it is somewhere in the distance, you can’t grasp if it is miles away or right beside you. The world starts turning and you really think you might actually lose control over your whole body.

“Yeah.”, you can hear your own voice, but you can’t feel your lips moving. “Just… just give me a second.” You stumble backwards, eyes still closed and somehow you land right on your behind. You don’t open your eyes, still too afraid of how your surroundings look. You don’t even flinch when you feel two hands taking yours.

“Listen to me, okay? Just follow what I am saying.” There it is again, Nikis voice. There is a mix of concern and determination in it, but you don’t have time to think about that any longer. “Breath in, and out. Again. In and out.” You continue this pattern for a few minutes. Niki guiding your breaths and you following his orders. And you can slowly start feeling yourself calm down.

When you open your eyes again, the world has stopped spinning, your heart beats at a normal speed again and your hands stopped shaking. Niki is sitting beside you, watching you carefully. “Thanks.”, you just mumble, letting out a long and deep sigh.

“No need to thank me.”

There is a comfortable silence surrounding the two of you, and for a moment you forget that there is someone sitting right beside you, until Niki speaks up again. “Did that happen to you before?”

You shake your head, letting a hand glide through your hair. “No, never. I think I was just worrying too much about everything that my body just couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Niki nods slightly, eyes fixated at a point in front of him. “I used to have panic attacks all the time. Before photo shootings, before catwalks, before pretty much anything.” You look at him as he speaks, seeing the pain on his face as he remembers past moments. “I was nervous, terrified of messing up, of not being good enough, of failing every single person in my life. Those thoughts never left my mind, and I did not know how to stop them. I felt helpless, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, afraid they might laugh at me or think I am a pathetic little boy.”

“What did you do to change that?”, you ask him, attentively listening to him and hanging onto every word that was coming out of his mouth.

“Well, I started believing in myself more. Because why would people book me for modeling, if they didn’t think I was good at it? I started telling myself that I am good enough, that I made it this far, because I am good at what I am doing. Believing in yourself is always the first step to a healthier mindset.” You watch as he nervously picks at the skin on his fingers, before continuing. “And then I started telling myself that we are all just tiny little humans on a tiny little planet in this big universe. Why would I waste my time caring about my looks, or the way I walk and talk, when nothing of that is important? I mean, it is important, but you know what I mean. It seems like nothing compared to the universe. Why should I care about the opinions of others, when I will probably never see them again in my life? Why would I give my precious time to people who will just waste it, if I can surround myself with nothing but happiness? After all, we are all just little humans having dreams and hopes, having a life of our own and chasing one thing. Happiness.”

There is a silent tear rolling down your cheeks as you hear his words, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice it.

“And then I started to talk to people about my thoughts, and it helped so much. Other models told me about their worries, about their problems. And suddenly, I didn’t feel alone anymore. I felt understood, like someone tuck me into bed with a warm blanket and kissed my forehead.” There is a short moment where you both smile into the distance, caught in your own heads, before Niki directs his gaze back at you. “I’ve seen your dads’ work, that’s why I wanted to come here and get my pictures taken by him. And when he told my agency about you, his prodigy daughter, I knew that if a person as talented as him recommends you do the photo shoot with me, then you must be just as talented as he is. When I saw you today, saw the way you took so much care of the equipment and about every single person on this set, I knew that I wouldn’t want anyone else to take photos of me. You just have to believe in yourself more, trust yourself and your abilities and stop the spiral in your head. Stop thinking and just do what you love to do.”

“So, I went up to him and told him to get lost. I mean he is famous, yes, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat other people like that. Especially since my dad was having a photo shoot with him. Like be grateful that at least someone is taking pictures of you.” Niki laughs at your story, long having forgotten the hot chocolate in front of him. After your panic attack, Niki proposed a little break, so you took him to one of the best cafés in town.

“It’s so good that you gave him a piece of your mind. Sometimes fame really gets into peoples’ brains and they start thinking they are above anyone.” You nod your head, smiling at him widely and taking a bit of the cake you ordered. You close your eyes, enjoying the different flavors melting on your tongue. And when you open your eyes again, you find Niki staring at you, a fascinated look on his face. You show him a questioning look, swallowing another bite of your cake.

“I find it fascinating.”, he says, fork poking his own cake. “The way you seem to soak up every single small thing in life. Just a second ago, you looked like you were soaking up the flavor of this cake with your whole body. On the walk here, you stopped walking just to watch a bee on the flowers of the flower shop we passed by, and your eyes were actually sparkling. And it’s the way you talk about things, especially your dad. You have this way of making me feel like I was actually there with you throughout all your little stories. It’s just fascinating how much someone can enjoy life and all its little wonders.”

There is a faint tint of blush slowly creeping up your cheeks and you quickly try to hide it by covering your face with your hair. “Do you know the word hygge?” Niki shakes his head at your question, waiting for you to continue. “It’s a word from Denmark and it basically has the meaning of enjoying the small things in life and finding happiness in them. I learned it from my father and been living by it all my life.”

“That is so beautiful.” You can feel the air shift. Niki lowers his head, fork dropping beside his cake. “Sometimes I feel like my life is moving so far. I have to be somewhere new every single day. I rush from one place to another without having time to appreciate the stuff I get to see and do every single day. Everything moves so quickly, and I feel like I can’t just be a simple kid, living a simple life. I have to be a mature role model who knows everything and behaves perfectly at all times. I had to do that since I was fifteen. And it’s just… exhausting. Sometimes I just want to stop time and be… me. I want to appreciate things, stuff myself full of food until I’m nauseous, play pranks on my friends without being titled as mean. I want to act goofy without being called childish, even though I am still seventeen.”

Sniffling down your tears, you reach over to grab Nikis’ hand. “Listen to me, Niki. You are the bravest, most talented, kind-hearted person ever. Life isn’t treating anyone fairly, but we should not let that decide our whole future. If you really want to enjoy life to its fullest, then do it. Take a break, talk to your management or something like that. If you really want something, you can always get it, if you want deeply want it. People will always have something they won’t like about you, because they are jealous and miserable, but just remember that you don’t know those people and you never will. So, don’t let them decide who you are, and definitely don’t let them have power over who you want to be. Life is too short to waste it, and we won’t stay young forever. It’s important to enjoy every single little thing before it is too late.”

There is a single tear rolling down Nikis’ face, but he catches it with his thumb before it can land on the table. He takes a few breaths, calming himself down, before looking into your eyes again. He shows you a sad smile, the hand that is still holding yours squeezing in an appreciating manner. “Thank you so much for telling me all that. You don’t know how much this means to me, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me for something like that, Niki. I just said what you needed to hear a long time ago.” A few seconds of silence fill the air, Niki just looks around, trying not to think too much about your words. He doesn’t want to tear up yet again. “Okay, before any of us will start bawling their eyes out, how about you finish your cake, and I will take you to a cool place?”

Nikis’ eyes widen at the scene in front of him. The towns autumn festival is known for being breathtaking, decorations of pumpkins, leaves and mushrooms everywhere, a fairy’s wheel laced with moos and fairy lights, games you can play at every corner and a big campfire where people laugh, talk, sing and grill marshmallows. Niki doesn’t know where to look first, his eyes trying to take in every single little thing at once, before eventually landing on you, again.

“This is, wow, Y/n, this is the coolest thing I have ever seen.” You smile brightly at him before tugging on his sleeve, silently telling him to follow you. You walk up to a stand selling waffles, smiling at the elderly guy.

“Hey, Mr. Kim. Can we have two waffles, and please give them a bit of extra chocolate sauce, my friend here has never tried your waffles before.”

“Y/n, my dear, anything for you.” Niki and you both watch as Mr. Kim prepares the waffles, adding sprinkles on them and even an extra amount of whipped cream. Before you can take out your wallet to pay, Mr. Kim shakes his head violently. “No, it’s on the house. You have never brought a friend here before. Enjoy the waffles, okay?” With red cheeks you nod at the kind man, taking the waffles from him and walking to a free table with Niki.

“So, you never brought a friend here, huh?” You can hear the teasing tone in Nikis’ voice, but you are too ashamed to look at him. It’s not like you never wanted to bring a friend here, but it just never felt right. Friends weren’t really a permanent thing in your life, having had too many bad experiences with them. And whenever you had a friend that you started to trust, you always felt like they would destroy this magical festival for you. But with Niki it was different. You just felt so comfortable with Niki, so understood. Niki is different than anyone you have ever met, and after his confession earlier, you just knew that you had to share this with him. You had to share this beautiful place with him.

“I never really had friends. Whenever I did, they only seemed to like me because my dad is somewhat known. They wanted to get some fame as well. So, I just stopped looking for friends. You are the first person I feel like could actually like me for me, you know.”

Niki smiles at you, for the thousands time today, taking a bite out of his waffle. “I already do like you for you, Y/n. And I really appreciate it that I am the first person you bring here. But I just want to say that, wow, these waffles are amazing. I feel like I’ve been kissed by an angel, like I am at the beach hearing the waves softly crash against the sand, like I am floating on a cloud, like I am a changed man.” You laugh at his words, holding your stomach and tipping your head back. Niki watches you, eyes trained on your face, and he realizes how much he loves being the reason for your laughter. “Like I want to marry this waffle, that’s how good it is. And then we have little waffle children running around, spreading sugary joy all over the world. And then me and this waffle will watch those waffle children grow up and have waffle children themselves. We will sit on the porch, in little rocking chairs and watch our waffle grandchildren play in the front yard.” Tears are flooding down your cheeks from laughing at his words. There are people staring at the two of you, but you don’t care, you just live in this moment together.

“And that cloud looks like a cat eating ice cream.” The sun is setting painting the sky in different shades of pink and yellow, as you stop at the top of the fairy’s wheel. This is your third time riding the fairy’s wheel, not caring about the amount of money you are spending on it. You subconsciously hug the unicorn plushie Niki has won you earlier- after at least twelve tries- tighter to your chest as you look up at the sky with him.

“Oh, and that cloud looks a big popcorn bucket.” Rolling your eyes at the boy sitting beside you, you can’t help the grin that creeps itself up on your lips.

“You are so bad at this, Niki.” He just chuckles at your comment, eyes focusing on you again. “It’s not a popcorn bucket it is obviously a dragon drinking a cup of Pepsi.”

“Okay, this is the first one that I cannot see, Y/n. How is this a dragon? It is just a big blob, nothing more.” Gasping at his words, you shake your head in disappointment at his lack of creativity.

“How could you say that about Mr. Dragon. Has he done anything to you? No, he hasn’t. He is just enjoying his Pepsi, and you are insulting him like that. I cannot believe you right now.” Niki tips his head back in laughter, wiping at his eyes.

“Thank you.”, he says between laughs, voice raised a few pitches higher than normally.

“For what?”, you ask him.

“For this day, Y/n. This has been the coolest day ever, and all that thanks to you. I never had so much fun, I never laughed so much and so hard. I swear my belly and my jaw hurt from laughing so much.” There is this happiness, this pride, filling your heart as you hear his words. You have never felt this way before, never had someone tell you such sweet words, and thanking you for company. You swallow your tears, blinking a few times up into the sky, before you can face him again.

“You’re welcome, Niki. I hope that you can have many, many more days like this one in the future with a lot of people all over the world. Because that is what you deserve.”

“Well, I hope I can have many more days like this as well with you, right? After this day we won’t just pretend we never met, we won’t just become strangers, right? This day will lead to an amazing friendship that will last until we are old and gray, right?” You smile at him, scooting over to him and softly taking his hand in yours.

“Of course, Niki. I won’t let you leave. You are stuck with me now.” You grin brightly at him, squeezing his hand appreciatively.

“Oh, no. I take back what I said. You scare me.”

“Nope.”, you say. “No take backs, Niki. This is only the beginning.”

“So, if you are that confident in our friendship? Will you do the photo shoot with me now?”

“Those photos are amazing, Y/n. God, I am so proud of you. You did everything just as I imagined it to be, even better actually. I knew you could do it.” Your father wraps you into a tight hug, holding you against him and a bright, proud grin on your face. Pride fills your entire body as you hear those words out of your father’s mouth. You have been editing those pictures, making them perfect, for the past few days, night and day, and knowing that it turned out amazing, was worth all the stressful hours.

“Thanks dad, but I don’t want to have all the credit. Without my muse I wouldn’t have been able to pull everything off.”

Your dad breaks the hug, giving you a stern- not serious- look. “Your muse, huh? I heard Niki and you got really cozy at the autumn festival. You can’t fool me; I have eyes and ears everywhere. I tell you, before anything he becomes your boyfriend, I want to formally meet him first. I want to know everything about this boy and then I will decide if he can date my precious daughter.”

“Dad!”, you complain, cheeks redder than the tomatoes your dad is growing in his garden. “It’s not like that. I mean not yet. We are friends, dad.”

“Yeah, but if, sweetheart, if he becomes your boyfriend, I want to meet him first.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let’s just get out these photos.” With one last smile in your dad’s direction, you walk back to your desk, the pictures of Niki still on your screen. But before you can do anything, your phone ring tone breaks the silence in the room. Smiling as you see Nikis’ contact, you open the text message he sent you, seeing a picture of him at a zoo somewhere in Japanese with the caption ‘Enjoying the little things right now and thinking about you. I’m already counting down the days till we meet again’.

Holding the phone to your chest, you can’t help but grin like a lovesick idiot. Life is great, it’s hard and exhausting sometimes, but it’s great. And you can’t wait to continue enjoying the small little moments it gives you with Niki by your side.

Bonus

“Only three more days.” Nikis’ voice says through the speaker of your phone as you look at the screen of your laptop.

In three days, it will be the fifth time you and Niki will attend the autumn festival in your town. It’s already been five years since you met, five years since you grew up together and five years since you started to enjoy the little things in life together. It still feels surreal to you, having him by your side for such a long time now.

“Three more days till I see you again, Y/n.” The excitement in his voice is evident and it warms your heart, fills it with so much appreciation for the boy on the other side of the planet. Niki is currently in Paris, attending his last fashion week for this year, and you are in Thailand, one of the countries you always wanted to visit. You have taken thousands of pictures, talked to hundreds of people and learned so much about their culture. It has been a dream, these past few weeks, and you wouldn’t trade this experience for anything in this world. But part of you misses your home, misses your dad, and misses Niki. You had one of the greatest times of your life, but you are ready to go home again.

“I can’t wait to see you.”, you say after a while, closing the laptop, grabbing your phone and sitting down outside on your little balcony. “God, I’ve missed you so much, you don’t even know.”

“Aw.”, he coos. “Are you getting emotional my sweet tiny little baby.”

“I take my words back.” You can hear his laughter through the phone, smiling at the familiar noise that became your favorite sound over the years. “But all jokes aside, I really do miss you, Niki.”

“I miss you too.”, he says, sighing softly after his words. “But it’s only three more days, right? We did five months before, so we can easily do three more days.”

“Those three days feel longer than the five months though.” You wrap your jacket tighter around yourself, slightly shaking in the cold evening wind. It’s times like this that you long for him the most, that you wish he was by your side. Traveling has shaped you in so many ways, helped you find who you really are and taught you so much about the world, but it also made you realize how much you value having a fixed place to stay, to settle down. It made you realize what you really want.

“What are you thinking about right now?”, Niki asks you, shifting from his position on his hotel bed. You can almost imagine him, messy hair, make up stains still left on his face and his SpongeBob pajamas on.

“You, I’m thinking about you. And us. Our future.”, you answer him honestly, eyes raised up into the deep blue sky.

“This is only the beginning.”, he whispers, voice low and deep with emotions. “This is only the beginning of our forever together, of our hygge together. It’s crazy to think about that sometimes, you know. The fact that we came into each other’s lives at a time where we needed it the most, and the fact that we made it so far. It’s crazy, but so indescribably beautiful. I can’t wait for these three days to pass by Y/n. And I can’t wait for every single day to pass by with you by my side. This is only our beginning, Y/n. And I already know where we can start together.” Niki stops his sentence, taking a small breath, making you anticipate his next words. “In Denmark.”

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