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strang3lov3 · 7 hours

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Play Stupid Games

Summary - Who woulda thought you could make Joel come by playing with his nipples? NOT ME!! (3.6k words)

Tags - implied age gap as Joel calls reader kiddo, Joel Miller Nipple Worship, almost sub!joel, for like 8 seconds max, sub to softdom!joel, unprotected Piv, nipple orgasm, premature ejaculation, come eating, thigh riding, fingering, Joel talks you through it. A/N - this ended up being something between a drabble and a fic. I don’t know what this is. God spoke to me and I listened.

Thank you thank you thank you @noxturnalpascal for cleaning this mess up, thank you @beefrobeefcal @tightjeansjavi and @joelsgreys for the encouragement I needed to finish this!

Joel’s sheets are scratchy yet soft, his walls are illuminated by the flickering light of his burning candles. Joel’s naked under his blankets, your naked body tangled up with his. Your head rests on his chest and you draw lazy patterns with your fingers on his soft, pillowy tummy as Joel reads Stephen King’s The Shining to you, turning the pages when he asks you to. This is your evening routine with him, and you’ll never tire of it. Sex first, then a shared shower, where Joel washes your hair and you wash his. He dries you off, then you go back to bed to snuggle and read a book together. You giggle at the way he always wears his glasses too far down his nose, and he lightly drags his nails along your scalp. His clean and masculine scent takes over your senses and that low, gravelly tone of his voice as he reads aloud to you usually puts you to sleep in no more than twenty minutes.

“Turn the page for me, hon,” Joel asks.

You’re not so tired tonight. You’re watching Joel’s chest rise and fall, lost in your own world and not really paying attention to his reading. Instead, you’re watching his skin erupt in goosebumps as you trace his chest, toying with his sparse chest hair, lightly teasing his nipples, they’re a dark sort of mauve-brown color. Joel’s breath hitches as they pebble beneath your touch.

He bounces his book lightly on the crown of your head. “You with me?”

“Mhm,” you hum, “Of course.”

“Mm,” Joel mumbles, not convinced. And he’s right to not believe you. You’re grinding against his thigh subtly, but not subtle enough for Joel to not notice. He smirks as you reach between his thighs, first cupping his balls and then playing with his cock, feeling him begin to thicken in your palm. “Ohh,” Joel grins, “That’s why you’re not listening.”

“I’m listening,” you reply, stroking his cock. It’s always such a satisfying feeling, running your thumb along the thickness of his head, feeling him twitch and grow harder.

“Are ya? What’s happening right now?”

“Wendy…”

“Wrong,” he interrupts, “Try again.”

“Jack–”

“Danny,” Joel corrects, “What’s Danny doin’?” You don’t know the answer to that question, of course you don’t. Because you’re too distracted by what’s happening in your hand. “Exactly,” Joel says. He sets his book down on his stomach, the pages split to mark his place. He reaches under the covers and wraps his hand around your wrist, halting your movements. “You wore me out tonight, kiddo. I don’t have it in me to go again.”

It’s true, you did wear Joel out. It had been a few days since you’d last had him, and you were missing him dearly. Joel was gone all day, and you’d watched all three Indiana Jones movies, which didn’t help your case in the least. Fuck it, you might even be ovulating. You’re not exactly keeping track. Whoops.

You practically tackled him when he walked through the door. Dinner was made and the table set, but it remained untouched as you let Joel know just how much you missed him. Scrambling to unbuckle his belt, you walked him backwards until the backs of his legs hit the couch and he sat down. You wasted no time shimmying off your pants and pulling his own halfway down his thighs. He guided you to straddle his lap, his already rock-hard cock held loosely between his fingers.

Usually he’ll tease you a bit, make you beg and ache and cry for it as he drags his tip through your folds, toy with your clit for a moment before notching himself at your entrance. Today, upon realizing the severity of your need for him, he pulled your hips down on his cock, burying himself in you entirely. He let you adjust to him, feel the stretch and the ache of him inside you. No fingers to warm you up, no tongue, he simply gave all of himself to you.

Once adjusted, he began to roll his hips, grunting in your ear as you moaned sweetly in his own. That patch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit, how his thick cock hit all of your sweetest spots with each of his deep, sloppy, and quick thrusts. He was relentless, just how you needed him. As he fucked you, he slid his hands up the softness of your tummy and your rib cage, then cupped your breasts, flicking and twisting your nipples with his fingertips.

Per your wishes, Joel had brought you to the edge and pushed you over it multiple times by the time it was all said and done. You came on his cock once and begged him to let you come once more, and then one more time after that before he finally let himself go. By the time you’d finished, the sun had gone down and dinner had gottencold. It could’ve been hours, and Joel was spent. He could hardly keep his eyes open in the shower, swaying back and forth as he flirted with the idea of falling asleep under the warm water running down his shoulders.

“I’ll do all the work, Joel,” you offer as you squeeze his cock. “I just need you for a second.”

“Charming. You lied to me twice just now,” Joel smirks, turning his head to look down at where your head rests on his shoulder. “Didn’t you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Oh, sure. You just need me for a second, huh? Can I time it?” You bite your cheek to hide your sheepish smile. You see his point, but you weren’t lying, just slightly misrepresenting the truth. “Yeah, and you know what else is a load of bullshit? I’ll do all the work, Joel,” he mocks, putting on his best girl voice and batting his eyelashes.

You’re definitely not lying about that, though. “It’s true,” you argue, “I’ll–”

“Yeah, right. You ain’t done a lick of hard work in your life. You got me in the palm of your hand and you don’t gotta lift a damn finger to get what you want. Do you?”

You’re not answering that. Instead, holding up your pinkie finger, you swear to Joel, “I promise, I’ll do it all.”

Joel eyes you suspiciously before holding up his pinkie finger as well. You link fingers, kiss your thumb as he kisses his own, then smush them together. “S’a deal now, my darlin’.”

Joel first takes off his glasses, then dog-ears the page of his book to mark his place in the story before he sets both down on his nightstand. He raises his hands in the air as if he’s surrendering to you. You pull down the blankets and straddle him, your already wet pussy grinding against his now fully-hardened cock. You smile mischievously, biting your bottom lip as you pin his wrists to the bed on either side of his head. “Goddamn,” he drawls, “Am I nothin’ but a piece of meat to ya?”

“Mhm,” you reply, kissing his cheek and then his lips.

Joel smiles against your lips, “Alright, sweet girl. Show me what you got,” he mumbles. You pull back and Joel waits patiently, his wrists still pinned under your palm as you decide what you’re gonna do to him. You start first by grinding yourself against his member, garnering an amused smile from him as his tip catches against your clit and you moan. “Very nice,” he praises, “Gimme some more.”

Still grinding on his cock, you kiss his lips again, then down his jaw, down his neck, biting and sucking as you do so. “No marks,” he warns, squeezing your ass.

“I know, Joel,” you whisper, continuing your trail of kisses down his chest, down his tummy and back up again. You line yourself up with his cock and sink down on him, experimentally licking a nipple at the same time. Joel shivers. You do it again, this time gently teasing his other nipple with your fingers.

“What are you doin’, kiddo,” Joel murmurs quietly.

“Nothing, Joel.”

“I think you’re lyin’ again. Think you’re causin’ trouble.”

“I’m taking care of you.”

“I don’t, fuck, I don’t know–” you hum against him, sending vibrations through his skin. You’re grinding on him as you do so, rubbing your clit against that patch of hair at the base of his cock, taking in all of him - the feeling of him inside you, how you’re pulsing around him. His smell, his warm and thick body underneath yours. He’s breathing heavily, little whimpers escaping his mouth as he squeezes your ass and your sides, his fingertips digging into your skin so hard it hurts. He seems almost desperate.

“Don’t know what, Joel?”

“I don’t - fuck, ohh god, please, please–” Holy fuck, he’s begging, and you didn’t even know he could do that. You’re not sure what he’s begging for - more, less, go, stop. “Why’re you teasin’ me like this, sweetheart, why’re–”

“I’m not doing anything, Joel,” you smile against his skin. You’re trying it all out now, with one of his nipples you’re using your fingers to twist and tease him, feeling him jolt and tremble with your touch. With your mouth, you’re using your tongue - tracing the outline of his areola, swirling your tongue in a spiral to reach his sensitive bud. And then you switch, using your tongue on the nipple previously occupied by your teasing fingertips.

“Bullshit. You’re—fuuuuuck,” Joel lets out a long groan, his cock twitching inside of you as he squirms underneath you. “I can feel you smirkin’.You’re testin’ my patience. You need, I need, Christ–you’re startin’ something you’re not gonna like finishing.”

He’s warning you that this might be a mistake, but this only fuels your fire. It’s always you who’s squirming and crying and whimpering, begging for god knows what as Joel grins above you, torturing your clit and promising you that it’ll all be okay, that you’re not gonna break.

You’ve got him reduced to a mess, he’s moaning and whimpering, breathing heavily with his eyes squeezed shut, his brows knit together. You can feel in his touch that he’s conflicted, squeezing you tighter yet itching to push you away. His skin is tingling, his balls tightening as you clench around him, still grinding yourself ever so slightly on his pelvis. You’re making a sloppy mess of his chest with your mouth, all spit covered as you circle his nipples with the tip of your tongue, rolling the bud gently and carefully between your teeth. It’s torturously pleasurable when you begin to suck and nip at his nipples and Joel thinks he’s gonna–

“Fuck, Christ, oh my god, oh my god, mmm-ohhhh.”

He’s spilling into you, surprising both you and himself. He comes loudly and desperately, all needy whimpers and cries as he pulses inside you, painting your insides with his warm, sticky spend. Grabbing you and holding you tight, his grip easing as his breaths begin to even and he eventually goes still. You rest on his chest, feeling him leak out of you. When you finally sit up to admire your work, Joel’s got his eyes closed, his cheeks are rosy. A few tears running down his face and when you wipe them away, he opens his eyes.

“You look proud of yourself,” he tells you. His tone is pointed yet quiet, like he’s bashful. “Learned a new trick, huh.”

“I did,” you smile. He’s gone soft inside of you and you get up off of him, but Joel pulls you back down. “Nuh-uh. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Just to the–”

“Sit back down. I ain’t finished with you,” Here it comes. You anticipated Joel getting revenge in some way or another, but you’re not sure how he plans to. Maybe he’ll lay you on your back, lick you until you cry the way you did to him. He might bring you to the edge over and over and over again, yet never push you past it. Or he’ll make you come until your legs twitch and shake uncontrollably, and you’re a sweaty, sobbing mess of overstimulation. He’s done it all before and you know he’s not opposed to doing it again. “You’re gonna hold up your end of the bargain. Do some hard work for once in your life.”

You begin to protest, “I already did.”

“That don’t count. You cheated and found a loophole. You wanted me, so you’re gonna have me,” You’re not sure what he means or what he wants from you. You thought you did already have him. “Get on your knees, kiddo,” Joel says, slapping his bare thigh. When you pause, Joel nudges you and guides you to straddle his thigh. “Like this,” he says.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out,” Joel drawls, “I gave you a hint already.”

He’s placed you on his thigh. He says you wanted him, so you’re gonna have him. But you’ve made him come already, so that means–

“I can’t do that.”

“You started this, you’re comin’ one way or another,” he says. “You’re not getting up until you do it. You’d best get to it.”

His tone is serious, but you’re sure this has to be some sort of game. He watches you, how you furrow your brows in confusion. Joel sits up and adjusts a few pillows behind himself, spreads his legs further apart and holds your ass cheeks in his big, strong hands. “Rock your hips f’me.”

Slowly, you rock your hips on his thigh. You can’t feel much except for the mess you’re making on his leg, your arousal and his spend. It’s all awkward - the clunky and graceless rolling of your hips, the quietness in the room as Joel watches you intently. You shift your thighs, holding on to one of Joel’s hips and one of his shoulders as you rock your hips, trying to feel anything at all. You do - just for a second, maybe. “Keep goin’,” he tells you while drawing lazy patterns on your thigh, but you’re not sure that you can keep going. The expectant look on Joel’s face has you feeling uncomfortable. Not the bad kind of we need to stop this now uncomfortable, but just sort of puzzled. Joel could have tortured you with his teasing and he probably would have gotten a better result. He seems to know this, so he begins to guide your hips again. You’re not sure how he does it, but he finds the perfect angle and he knows this when you moan for him, squeezing his shoulders tight. “Like that,” he instructs.

You do your best to mimic the action, but it’s just not happening. He must’ve been flexing his thigh, or the way he moved your hips is a way that you can’t replicate without help for some reason. Frustrated, you slump down onto his chest. “I can’t do it.”

“You’re gonna have to,” Joel coos.

You shake your head, “No, no. I want–just fuck me. I want you inside me, I can’t come without you inside me.”

“Yeah, I know you want me inside ya. Can’t do nothin’ about that on account of what you did to me, now can I?”

You whine and groan in irritation. “Then I need you to do the w–” you press your lips in a thin line. Oops.

“Work,” Joel adds for you, finishing your sentence. “S’that what I’m hearin’? You need me to do the work?” You nod your head, it’s worth a shot. Maybe. “Not gonna happen, hon. We shook on it.” You pout, whining and groaning again. Joel strokes the skin of your back, “Oh, I know, I know,” he coos, feigning sympathy. “Let this be a lesson to ya then, kiddo. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.”

“Joel,” you protest.

“Joel,” he mocks. “Come on, get up. Get to work.” Joel pushes you back, forcing you to sit back up on his thigh. Generously, he helps you find that movement once more. Where your hips tilt at just the right angle and you can feel the pressure of his thick thigh against your clit. “Right there,” you gasp, holding his hand on your hip. “Nuh-uh,” Joel shakes his head and pulls his arms back, crossing them on his tummy.

It’s okay. You’re gonna figure this out. You brace yourself on Joel’s shoulders as you search for that sweet spot on your own. Within a couple of minutes, you think you find it. You’re alternating between feeling good, better, worse, then to worse, good, and better. At moments it’s great, and then it just…disappears. And at this point, you’re exhausted. It’s been god knows how long since you even found yourself on Joel’s lap in the first place. You groan, resigning yourself to defeat. You’re about to get off of Joel’s thigh when he grabs your bicep. “Aw, come on kiddo. You givin’ up that easy?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, your tone saying all that you’re feeling. Dejection, frustration, disappointment.

Joel shakes his head, “M’not lettin’ ya.”

“Joel–”

“Deep breath in and out for me,” he instructs, and you roll your eyes. He repeats himself, “Deep breath. In. And. Out. Do it now.” And so, not wanting to make this any worse for yourself and just wanting to get it over and done with, you close your eyes. You breathe in deeply, letting your tummy expand with his instruction, then exhale your breath fully. “You need to settle down,” he says as you continue your breaths. “S’it. Nice an’ slow.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “It’s just hard.”

“Know it’s hard. What’d we talk about though, hm? Hard work, right?” you nod your head, “Yeah,” Joel says, “I know. You’re gonna work for it, sweet girl. I’ve been spoilin’ ya.” A few more deep breaths, and Joel speaks again, “M’not gonna do it for you, but I’ll walk you through it if you’d like.”

“Yes,” you beg, your eyes flying open. “Please. Help me.”

“Least you’ve still got your manners,” Joel smiles. He reaches for your knees then, spreading them wide. “Tilt your hips forward, sweetheart, and rock ‘em on me,” he tells you. “What feels good? Back and forth, left and right?”

“Back and forth.”

“Then do it.”

And so you do it, just like you’ve been doing this whole goddamn time. Joel watches in your face that you’re not quite there yet, but he encourages you anyway. “That’s it, you’re gettin’ it. Tilt down a bit.”

You’re rocking your hips on his thigh, grinding against him, and with his advice it finally, finally feels good. “Fuck,” you moan.

“Again,” he instructs, “Keep goin’.”

You grind on him, this time with more intent. Faster and harder, having found that sweet feeling that’s beginning to build in the pit of your stomach, you savor it.

“Good girl,” Joel praises. And then as if to reward you for your hard work, Joel reaches between your thighs and finds your clit with his middle and ring fingers, giving you something extra to enjoy. He’s circling your clit as you move your hips, and when that feeling in your stomach begins to build, you ride him more intensely, chasing after that high you so desperately need, that you’ve worked so hard for.

“Need it–need you, Joel, don’t stop, don’t–”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. Take your time, kiddo, I’m right here.”

“You’re here,” you nod, your brows furrowed together and you’re almost unable to speak, too focused on the prospect of release.

Your velvety folds soaked in Joel’s come and your own arousal. “I’m– fuck, Joel, I’m close,” you moan.

“I know you are, keep goin’,” Joel coos, “You’re right there, just let it happen. Gimme a good one, sweetheart,” You feel your orgasm building to a new edge when you hear him say, “Come for me.”

All it takes is that one command, laced with Joel’s encouragement, and you’re sent tumbling over the edge. Your long-awaited orgasm begins at your core and travels through you, washing over you with pulsing waves of pleasure. “Joel,” you moan breathless and needy, writhing on top of him. You feel it everywhere, in your spine and down your thighs. Your clit twitching, your walls pulsing around nothing as you ride him.

“That’s it, kiddo, there it is. Good girl,” Joel coos. “Did so good.”

With a soft moan, you fall limp next to Joel, steadying your breath.

A moment passes. “Finish the job,” he whispers.

“What are you talking about?”

“You made your mess on me, so you’re gonna clean it up. Part of the deal, sweetheart,” Joel gestures to your combined arousal on his thigh, then swipes his middle two fingers through the mess and pushes it between your lips, “You know what to do. Lick it up,” he instructs.

It’s not lost on him, the hypocrisy of having you clean up a mess that he had you make. But like he asked, you do it. You’ll do it every time he asks. He holds your hair back as you lick the mess from his thigh, savoring that slightly salty, masculine flavor he knows you love. “Such a good girl. You ready to go to sleep?”

“No,” you yawn, and Joel puts on his glasses again, opens the book back up and reads you the story. You’re sleeping on his chest in minutes.

If you enjoyed, please please please reblog, leave me a comment, or send me an ask. Your words go a long way and keep me motivated to write 🩷

Forgot to add cat pics!!! I add these at the end of my fics now

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal the last of us #joel miller x reader smut

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 3 days

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Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

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sxmmer-cherry · 14 hours

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❝ AND EVEN IN SORROW, I STAND BY YOU. ❞

↯ OVERTURE — looking at you, hunched over in a state of sorrow, eyes leaking with unfathomably hurtful tears that pierce their heart through and through; your lover stares sadly at you. why though, darling? when they're always so gentle to you? why do you hide your sorrow so, when you know they'd go to the end of the world just for you?

↯ FEATURING — all genshin men + fatui harbingers

↯ AUTHOR'S NOTE — a personal favourite of mine!

↯ GENSHIN MEN WHO FOUND YOU CRYING YOURSELF TO SLEEP. who stand frozen for a moment, unable to react. who can barely comprehend the entire situation, who get so upset that you never shared your burden with them until it made you cry.

— men who jerk out of their shock and slowly take you in a warm embrace and wipe your tears. who don't say a word, just like you once mentioned how you like being comforted. who get into bed with you and pull the blanket over you and themselves once again. who rub your back gently and try not to overthink about what they did wrong. who pour you some water once you calm down and stare gently as you gulp it down and then wipe your cheeks and the area above your lips before tucking you in.

— men who did not talk about it until the next morning. who cook your favourite dish and a hot cup of relaxing tea and get so happy when you wake up and smile at them. who encourage you to change and brush and serve you like you're royalty. who try to formulate words about how to ask you what's wrong before you realise it yourself and are speaking about it before they can mention it.

— men who are secretly relieved when you tell them it's not about them. who are now angry more than worried about the person who made you upset. who hold your hand as you explain everything to them, who are first ready to throw a fist then calm down and give practical advice. who give you a kiss and take you to the lake and make sure you're alright before encouraging you to get back to work and duty.

AYATO, BAIZHU, DILUC, GOROU, KAEYA, KAZUHA, LYNEY, HEIZOU, CHILDE, XINGQIU, ZHONGLI, CAPITANO

↯ GENSHIN MEN WHO ALMOST CRY WHEN THEY FIND YOU SOBBING ALONE AT THE BALCONY. men who are barely holding back tears at your heartbreaking display of sorrow, who want to jump off the very balcony and who feel disturbed completely. who can't think of anything else and rush to you and hug you and cry with you. who convince themselves to be strong for you.

— men who love your smile and hate your frown. who feel pathetic when they see thise red eyes and sorrowful expression. who know something big happened because you're a strong person. who try their best to crack jokes and cheer you up and they succeed, but then feel even more upset when they see that pretty smile once more along with the tears.

— men who try to ask you right away what's wrong, who try to solve the issue at hand. who get rational immediately and give you solid advice, not just to solve the issue but also to cheer you up. who drag you to the kitchen and bake with you. who laugh and make jokes the entire time and sprinkle in small moral advices amd have deep talks. who are so tired by the end that they're a blinking mess and smile lazily before falling asleep, tightly clutching you in their arms.

— men who wake up early and are elated to find you sleeping peacefully. who kiss your nose and laugh when you wake up disgusted. who cook with you that day and talk to you all day long, taking a break from their schedule just for you.

AETHER, ALBEDO, ITTO, CHONGYUN, FREMINET, KAVEH, THOMA, VENTI

↯ GENSHIN MEN WHO IMMEDIATELY CUT THEMSELVES OFF WHEN THEY LOOK AT YOUR EXPRESSION. men who remember that one time you told them how scared you get when they get angry and raise their voice. who find your eyes watery and your fists shaking slightly. who know they get cynical when they fight. who lose the string of whatever they were about to say and slowly reach out for you and hug you, feeling like an absolute monster.

— men who apologize over and over again, completely forgetting the argument. who wipe your tears, bring you water and settle you. who feel disturbed the whole night at the sight of you crying. who are the ones that feel guilty enough to cry themself to sleep. who feel even more sad when you're the one comforting them and telling them it's fine.

— men who make it a habit to always watch their tone. who always keep how much they love you at the back of their mind when they fight you over something so that their voice never increases in volume or they don't scare you into submission. who blush slightly when you compliment them over how much they've changed after their promise that night.

— men who change themselves for you. who calm themselves down when they're getting heated up and then go on a walk with you together to talk it out gently. who never want to hurt or scare you. who respect your needs and fears. who smile when you smile and cry when you cry.

AL HAITHAM, CYNO, NEUVILLETTE, TIGHNARI, WRIOTHESLEY, WANDERER, XIAO, DOTTORE, PANTALONE

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narryffdreaming · 1 day

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Summary: Harry and Gianna are best friends. He's been in love with her for years now, but she's dating someone else and he knows it's time to move on. When Harry finally agrees to go out on a blind date, Gianna reaches out — she just broke up with her boyfriend, and she needs her best friend.

PART ONE AU, friends to lovers +18 (explicit language) 7k words I said to myself that I wouldn't do it, but I'm doing it anyway :D

Harry knocks on the bathroom door once, and then twice. He turns his head to the side and leans in, trying to catch any indication of an answer over the music blasting from downstairs.

It's hard to focus, though. The steady and rapid beat keeps banging from his ears to every corner of his brain, it echoes between the walls, and it seems to shake the ground beneath him. On top of that, even though he's on the second floor of the house, at the end of the hallway, and standing in an empty room, he can't tune out all the shouting, laughing, and cheering. All the people he walked past on his way in feel distant and muffled now, and yet he still can't hear one single thing through the white wood, which somehow makes everything even more annoying.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself, then steps away from the door.

He can still run away. He can still let her know he's busy tonight. He can still tell her that he won't be able to make it because he has somewhere else to go. Because he has someone else to see. Because he's already on his way to the opposite side of town.

He can… He still can… And also he should, right? He should tell her that. Mostly because, for once, it wouldn't even be a lie.

Holy shit.

Isn't it funny that, for the first time in three weeks, he wouldn't be lying to her? That for the first time he actually has plans to use as an excuse to not see her? That finally — finally — he's listened to his friends and agreed to move on?

And isn't it funny that, despite all that, there he is, on a Friday night, ignoring everything and everyone, and standing inside a stranger's house just because she asked him to?

Harry chuckles and rubs one hand across his face. He's so fucking stupid.

Because yes… He can still say no to her. And he should say no to her.

Except…

He shakes his head, and grabs his phone. Who's he even trying to fool? He can't say no to her. Of course he can't. C'mon. It's Gianna we're talking about. His Gianna. His best friend. The one person in the world he would do absolutely anything for. Of course he can't say no to her. Not when she says she needs him.

So… Ok. He needs to focus, instead. He needs to go straight to the point. He can't say no to her, but he can still say a quick hello and jump right into a goodbye. In and out. In a blink of an eye. He can be there for a friend, and still make it to his date.

Yes.

C'mon!

He checks her last text one more time, the one she sent forty-three minutes ago: second floor, last door. hiding in the bathroom. With a sigh, he puts his phone back into his pocket and takes a step forward, then turns his head to the side and presses his ear against the white wood. He lifts his hand in a fist, and knocks again. And again. And again. And again.

First comes some cursing, and then her loud and muffled voice. "Go away!"

Harry closes his eyes and, before he can even register what's happening, his lips have already turned up into a smile.

Gianna's voice is unmistakable. Not because there is something unusual or peculiar about it, but because it feels extremely characteristic of hers. Never too high, never too low. Always enough. It captures everything about her personality: the softness, the certainty, the brightness, the stubbornness, the kindness, the understanding, the annoyance, the reasoning, the confidence, the innocence, the strength, the—

Harry blinks his eyes open, and clears his throat.

He is there on a mission, so again, he needs to focus. Make sure she's ok, and make it in time for his date.

"You're the one who asked me to be here," he points out, raising his voice, but not actually yelling.

And then, it only takes three seconds for him to hear the click of the door being unlocked. He steps back and faces the bathroom, then takes a deep breath and pulls his curls away from his forehead.

Truth is, he hasn't seen Gianna in three weeks, and he can't deny he's dying to be around her again. To see the wrinkles on her face when she smiles, or the sparkles in her eyes when she tells him about something exciting that happened to her.

Fuck.

His stomach feels funny, and he gulps down. He absolutely hates this.

The door cracks open, but Gianna barely gives herself enough space to look outside, let alone to give him the chance to look at her.

"Is it just you?" she asks, peeking around him through the tiny gap she's created.

Harry frowns, and snorts. "No, I just met a bunch of strangers downstairs and brought them up here to check on my friend who apparently locked herself in some random bathroom and—"

"Okay, okay." She rolls her eyes and sighs, then steps aside. "I get it."

She hides behind the door, and silently offers him more room to walk in.

Harry shakes his head and presses his lips into a tight line, but shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walks forward anyway.

The space is tiny, but enough for both of them. White walls match the toilet, the bathtub, the countertop with the sink, and the medicine cabinet. The only sources of color are the orange towel hanging on the wall next to the sink, the bottles of shampoo on a corner shelf, the yellow shower curtain crumpled on one side of the tub, and a bowl of Doritos on top of the closed toilet lid.

He quirks one corner of his mouth up, but also furrows his brows. What the hell is going on? How long has she been here? And why is she even hiding in the bathroom in the first place?

Gianna closes and locks the door, and Harry jolts.

He turns on his feet, just in time to see her twirling around, too.

She glares at him with a frown on her face and hands on her hips. Her chest moves up and down, quickly and heavily, and her nostrils flare every time she takes a deep breath in. It's easy to notice, because the green overall she's wearing does a great job at hiding everything from her belly to her midcalf, but it isn't covering that much of her cleavage. Nor the soft skin on her shoulders. Nor the smoothness of her arms. And her long necklace — the one she got for herself after her first paycheck — follows the movements of her lungs, and the big, golden pendant is this close to get lost between the swells of her breasts.

Fuck. Heat rushes through his body, and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

He can't make her uncomfortable, though. He can't let her know the thoughts that keep crossing his mind every time he looks at her body. He can't even let her know he (sometimes and unwillingly) glances at her body. Fuck no. He can't be inappropriate.

He can't, under any circumstance, cross that line with her.

He just can't.

He clears his throat and forces himself to focus on her face, then. Taking in her infuriated expression first, and then her puffy cheeks, and then her smudged makeup…

And then her red eyes…

And then her washed-out stare…

He drops his shoulders, then exhales through his nose.

Here we go again…

"What did he do now?"

She opens her mouth, then closes it. And Harry's seen that same reaction so many times before that he already knows she's changing her mind about the kind of answer she wants to give him. That she will somehow deflect the truth. And that she will once again try to protect that fucking son of a bitch.

"I just…" Gianna says, and shrugs. "I just hate him."

Harry stares at her for a moment, then tilts his chin down and looks at his feet. Ok. Maybe not what he expected her to say, but still… He shakes his head and laughs, and the sound comes out of him as humorless and exhausted as he feels.

"Right," he offers, because it's the only thing he can come up with.

Is it possible for him to feel concerned about her, but also extremely annoyed at her? Because he can swear he is.

Gianna's big pleading eyes and cherry pouty mouth have always been some of his biggest weaknesses, but he promised himself he wouldn't do this again. He promised he wouldn't interfere anymore. He promised he would let her go. And he promised he would move on.

"I do, Harry," she insists. "I truly do."

He nods, then takes one hand out of his pocket and rubs one finger under his nose. Whatever. He really isn't in the mood for this drama. Not again. Not tonight. Not when he has finally decided to move on and is supposed to be on a date instead.

"You texted," he says, dropping his arm and lifting his head to face her again. He hides his hand inside his pocket again, secretly wriggling his fingers and trying to get some of his tension off his body. "Thought something happened to you."

She looks away from him, then shrugs. Her hand falls from her hip to hang by the side of her body, and she tilts her chin down, staring at her fidgety fingers.

Harry notices the moment she swallows hard, as if burying her emotions down her throat, and his entire body goes cold.

Gianna isn't happy, and she hasn't been for such a long time. And at the end of the day, it kills him to see her like this. It kills him to see her so sad. It really does. He wants to take her pain away, he wants to hold her, and he wants to protect her. And yet he can't. Not how he would like to, at least. And he doesn't know how to help her anymore. He doesn't know what else he can do. Or what else he can say. He's already tried everything and, to be honest, he feels as if he has completely run out of options. As if he has failed her.

He's powerless, and he's useless.

And he's also really fucking lost.

"I hate him," she finally says, glancing at him and repeating herself. Ignoring his attempt to change the subject.

And for a moment, Harry can swear he sees a flicker of certainty inside her. He sees it, and he feels it.

Maybe…

Yeah. Maybe she finally means it. Maybe this time is actually different.

Maybe she finally realized that fucking son of a bitch isn't worth a second of her day and she's finally going to—

No.

Harry looks away.

He'll just never learn the lesson, will he?

"I mean it."

"Right. Ok, then."

"Ugh," Gianna grunts, then clenches her teeth. "Stop saying that!"

"Saying what?" he asks, walking to the bathtub.

"Right," Gianna mimics.

Her attempt to imitate his voice and accent is endearing, and as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, he also purses his lips to hold back a smile.

"It's truly annoying," she adds. "Especially when you say it like that."

He places his elbows on his knees and tilts his chin up, looking at her.

Her arms are crossed, and she is glaring at him again.

Harry shrugs. "Like what?"

Gianna shakes her head and looks away—first at the floor, then at the sink. It takes her a moment to sigh and shrug, and when she finally speaks, her voice is only a weak whisper. "Like you don't believe in me anymore."

And just like that, Harry's entire body softens.

He didn't mean to make her think that. He didn't mean to hurt her or to be mean to her. He didn't mean to make her sad. He just… He just can't understand the situation. He just doesn't know what to do about it, and he also doesn't know how to bring it up to her anymore.

There is nothing in the world he wishes more than for those words to be true. For her to actually hate that fucking guy and leave him for good. So of course he wants to believe her, and he would if he hadn't heard the same story countless times before. But what good getting his hopes up for nothing, once again, would even do?

"Gi…" Harry says, stretching one arm to poke her knee. She flinches away, and he sighs. "Gi, c'mon, look at me."

"No."

He leans forward, stretching both of his arms now. When he still doesn't reach her, he lifts his bum a little and groans, then finally grabs her waist and pulls her closer. "Just come here."

Gianna doesn't fight him, letting him guide her until she is standing in front of him and in between his knees. Still, she doesn't look at him, keeping her arms crossed under her chest and focusing on the yellow curtain to his left, instead.

Truthfully speaking, her stubbornness is usually one of the traits Harry enjoys the least, because it tends to make her act like a grumpy, annoying little girl. On the other hand, it is also one of the things he envies the most about her, because it drives her forward to achieve whatever she wants — like when she plays it in her favor to get interviews or exclusive content for the magazine she works at.

Besides, Gianna isn't perfect, Harry knows that. And he doesn't expect her to be. So he humors her childish behavior sometimes. Like right now, when he's determined to bury himself inside her eyes. Tilting his chin up, dropping his head back and straightening his back just to look at her. Searching for her sight even if she won't give in and share it with him.

"Gi," he calls, as careful, soft, and tender as he can be. "Hey… I'm sorry, ok?"

She bites her lip, and shrugs.

And because she's also old and mature enough to act like an adult, he doesn't hold himself back from trying to put some sense into her.

"You gotta understand where I'm coming from, yeah? We've been here before, and—"

"I know, but—"

"No, you don't know, Gi. So let me say this."

She sighs, but peeks at him through the corner of her eyes and nods.

It is more than enough for him, and he gives her a half-smile, placing the tip of his fingers on the side of her knees—just to hold her somehow, just to make sure she won't run away from him before he can explain himself.

"We've been through this thousands of times, and I fucking hate when you still stay with him every single one of them. Because I hate the guy."

"I know sometimes you don't like him, but—"

"Gi, no. Listen to what I'm saying. I don't like that guy from work who chews too loudly and makes boring jokes. But Miles? I'm telling you I fucking hate him."

Gianna drops her shoulders, and her arms fall to her sides.

"Harry…" She dips her chin down and draws her eyebrows together, finally fully looking at him. "But that's… I mean… He's my boyfriend."

A new kind of heat flushes through his body, and Harry tenses.

Is she being fucking serious right now?

Is she actually going to defend him?

Is she going to stand up for him or something?

He closes his eyes for a second and clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath and trying his best to keep himself together.

He can't do this anymore. He can't keep running in circles. He can't keep dodging the truth just to protect their friendship. Mostly because, at this point, he isn't really protecting any of them anymore.

"I know," he says, blinking his eyes open and meeting her gaze one more time. "I know he is. But you're my best friend and I love you, and I hate the way he treats you. I hate that we can't see each other without it turning into a fight between you two. I hate that he won't support the things you love. I hate that he's always tricking you into changing your mind about things. I hate that you're always sad because of him. I hate that he's always making you cry. So yeah, Gi… I know he's your boyfriend, but I hate him. And I'm not sorry for that."

For a long moment, there's nothing but silence between them. Music and people are completely muffled by the walls and the closed door, almost making it easy to forget there is even a party going on out there.

Harry sits there patiently. Watching her. Waiting for her.

And Gianna watches him back. Attentive. Curious. Puzzled. Thoughtful. Scanning him with those beautiful, big, meaningful eyes. Standing right in front of him, between his knees. So close that, if he faced forward, he would only need to lean a couple inches to kiss her body. And she smells heavenly, too, like she always does when she's wearing that same perfume — fresh, captivating, sexy.

The woman of his dreams, embarrassingly as it may sound. And embarrassingly as it may be.

"Is that…" she murmurs, so quietly she really doesn't mean for anyone but him to hear. "I mean, is he the reason why you've been avoiding me these past few weeks?"

He closes his eyes for half a moment, then looks back at her. "You noticed, huh?"

"You thought I wouldn't?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Wasn't trying to make it obvious."

"Well, it sucked, okay? One morning I even cried listening to you on the radio."

Harry tilts his head, and pulls the corners of his mouth into a smile. "No you didn't."

She rolls her eyes, holding back a smile of her own. "Trust me, I wish it was a lie."

"Ugh." He dips his head down for a moment, rolling his shoulders before looking up again. "'M sorry, Gi."

"Yeah…" She crosses her arms once again, pressing them against her stomach and clenching her hands into fists. "I'm sorry, too."

She looks away, and he taps the tip of his fingers on the back of her knees. Already missing her undivided attention.

"What happened, Gi?" he carefully asks. "How long have you been hiding here?"

"I… I don't know. An hour? Maybe more…"

Harry sighs. "Gi… C'mon."

"I know."

"You see how insane it is, right?" he asks, staring directly at her just to observe her reaction. To make sure he isn't pushing too much. To make sure he's actually helping her, and not making it worse. "Hiding in someone's bathroom for over an hour while he's out there throwing a party for people half his age?"

She closes her eyes, then bites her bottom lip and nods.

She knows.

She actually knows.

Whatever happened this time, it finally woke her up. It finally made her see it.

He drops his shoulders, scanning her face.

Then why is she still here? Why does she keep waiting around for him? Why does she keep putting herself in this position? Over and over again? What is so special about this fucking guy that is worth all the pain he constantly puts her through?

And most importantly, what is it going to take for her to finally realize that she deserves so much better than to be treated like… This?

What can he do to help her? What's left for him to try? If he's run out of ideas, if he's said everything he could say to her, what difference can he still make?

Maybe…

No.

A thought creeps in, but he doesn't want to acknowledge it. He doesn't want to engage with it.

Although he should, because it is a new idea, and it is something he hasn't tried yet. It includes being honest, not filtering his thoughts just to make sure she won't end up hating him, and stop playing safe. It also forces him to finally take a chance, and to finally stop holding himself back.

It's too risky, though. Especially right now, when she's so vulnerable and still dating the guy.

Ok… So maybe not the entire truth, then? Maybe just the facts she needs to hear to break away from whatever curse that asshole spread on her.

And he can try that. He did it just minutes ago, when he told her how much he hates the guy — and that seemed to work more than fine so far, right?

Yes.

Ok, then.

He slides his tongue between his lips, and rolls his shoulders. And then, keeping his eyes on her, he finally says, "Gi, you deserve a lot better than this."

Gianna doesn't seem to react, although the way her breasts suddenly pop up into his eye-line suggests she's holding all the breath in her chest.

He insists, then — mostly because he knows she's actively listening to him, but also because he can't allow his fucking hormones distract him from what's really important right now.

"You deserve to be treated so much better than the way he treats you."

She stays still, frozen in front of him.

So he places his hands on the back of her knees and gently squeezes her. Briefly, though. Just one time. Just to make sure he gets her attention when he asks, "You know that, right?"

Gianna shrugs, then. And Harry catches the moment her bottom lip trembles. And how her breath quivers when she exhales.

"Hey," he says, squeezing her again. "Sorry, love. Don't wanna make you cry."

He's crossing the line.

He shouldn't touch her like this.

He knows that.

Even if it's an innocent hold on top of her clothes. Even if she barely notices it. Even if it means nothing to her.

Because he notices. He feels her body under his palm, and he feels the way her flesh sinks when he digs each one of his fingertips to get her attention.

And he notices how she fits perfectly into his grip. And now he can't stop thinking how there isn't even an inch of her body he doesn't want to squeeze and feel just like this, but also way, way more.

"I'm not—It's not…" Gianna says (or tries to say).

Harry blinks, and loosens up his craving fingers.

Gianna shakes her head and opens her eyes, looking at him again. "He didn't look for me, y'know? I've been here all this time and he didn't… Not even a text."

Harry doesn't know what to say to that, so he brushes his thumb up and down once. Trying to comfort her. Trying to sooth her. Trying to remind her he is there, and he is listening to her. He is taking care of her.

"Something could've happened to me and he just… He just doesn't care at all."

He repeats the movement of his fingers one more time, and when she still doesn't seem to mind or be bothered by it, he repeats it again. Over and over. Drawing small, tiny circles on the back of her knees.

"'M sorry, love."

"I hate him."

And this time, Harry genuinely believes her.

"Me too," he says, keeping the steady stroke of his thumbs.

"He's just so fucking stupid."

"He is. Most fucking stupid guy I've—"

"And he broke up with me!"

Harry shuts his mouth.

What?

He did what?!

"It was so… Humiliating…" Gianna laughs, painfully, shortly and bitterly. And then the first tear rolls down her cheek, and although she quickly wipes it off, it's like she can't stop the next ones from following the exact same path.

Holy shit.

"Gi," Harry whispers.

She shakes her head and looks down to his chest, or maybe to his thighs, or just to anywhere in between them that doesn't include his eyes. She sniffs once, and, amidst new tears, she finally shares with him the one thing she's been avoiding to face the entire night.

"I don't… I don't even know what I did this time. Honestly… He came early to set everything up, so Crystal gave me a ride and… And then when we arrived he just… I just went to say hello to him… I didn't… He just broke up with me, H… Out of nowhere, and in front of everyone."

Jesus Christ.

There are suddenly a lot of things to unpack.

Too many things to point out. Too many things to ask.

Questions.

Yes.

So many questions.

Hundreds of them.

But the first one he blurts out is, "Crystal is here?"

Gianna sniffs, rubbing both hands on her cheeks, and nods.

"Angela too?"

"Yes."

Harry frowns. "Well, and where are they right now?"

"I don't know."

He can feel his muscles twitching. The urge to crack his knuckles and run after those two little b—

"Were they there when it happened?"

Gianna nods.

"And do they know you're here? Did they at least try to reach out to you?"

"I don't—I don't know, H…" she murmurs, dropping her arms to her sides and fidgeting with her fingers. "And to be honest I don't care… I don't want to see them… They'll tell me it was nothing… That he didn't mean it… And then they'll say I should forgive him and I just… I don't… I can't…"

Harry shuffles on the bathtub, and suddenly he's awfully aware of how much he'll, sooner or later, regret sitting there for so long. Still, right now, as he leans just a little bit closer to her, that's definitely the least of his worries.

"You can't forgive him, Gi," he pleads. "Not this time. Not after all this."

"I know… I know I can't… I just…"

She shakes her head, and Harry twitches his fingers around her knees. Digging them slightly, begging her not to stop. Not now. Not after all the progress they've made.

"What? Tell me… I'm here, yeah? I'm listening."

She takes one hand to her forehead and rubs the tips of her fingers from one side to the other. As if trying to slide the words out of her brain.

"I'm just… Scared."

"Ok…" Harry tilts his head, searching for her eyes. "Scared of what, love? Of him? Because you know I'll never let—"

"No." She shakes her head. "I'm not scared of him… It's not—Ugh… Look, I don't want to keep doing this anymore, okay? I really don't. But I'm… I'm scared I'll end up calling him anyway… And I know I shouldn't, I know that, but I… I mean, I don't know… I just… I don't know…"

"Ok, just breathe, yeah?" He moves his thumbs up and down again, foolishly hoping his touch will be enough to soothe her.

"I don't want to be that girl," she says, then takes a deep breath in, and lets the air out through her mouth. "I swear I don't."

"Ok… That's—"

"I'm scared I'll be, tho. And I don't want to. I don't—"

"Gi, hey… Listen to me."

She stops talking, and she also glances back at him. The look on her face is so scared, though, that it makes Harry's chest hurt.

He sighs, and asks. "Why would you call him, tho, hm?"

Gianna shrugs.

"If you don't want to… And if you're saying you know you shouldn't… Why are you so scared you'll call him anyway?"

"I don't know…"

She looks away again, and Harry notices that, unlike him, the only way she can get the words out of her mind is if she isn't staring at him.

"It's just what I did every other time before… He'll break up with me, then I'll get lonely at home and call him. And then he'll—"

"Wait." Harry frowns. "Just... Hold on a minute. This isn't the first time?"

She looks down to the floor, and shakes her head.

"How many times did he break up with you?"

Gianna laughs — humorlessly, tirelessly, unwillingly.

"Please don't make me answer that."

Harry freezes for a moment, and cautiously watches her. He examines her. Studies her. Trying to find any of the sparks she's usually radiating off her. Or any traces of joy. Or at least some peace in between everything that's happening. But she's just so sad. And she also looks so ashamed, and so scared, that he just… He can't do it anymore.

Honestly.

It's beyond whatever he can handle right now.

So he squeezes the back of her knees and pushes her closer, then leans in and places his head against her belly.

He closes his eyes, and sighs.

Holly shit.

Harry doesn't want to be dramatic, ok? So he'll never admit this out loud, but this shit physically pains him. It just does. He can't grasp his mind around the fact that getting into fights with her, making her cry, and diminishing her ideas wasn't enough for that fucking asshole. That he still needed to mess around with her feelings, and that he got away with it for so long that she now believes she'll end up crawling back to him no matter what.

He also hates the fact that he never knew "breaking up" was a common thing between them. That Gianna wasn't just forgiving all the childish and fucked up things Miles did, but that she was actively calling him up and asking to go back to him. And he doesn't blame her for that, ok? He doesn't. He loves her. So he just… Y'know…

He just…

"Fuck," he murmurs, clenching his teeth. "That fucking son of a bitch."

Gianna breathes in, and Harry feels the way her stomach slowly fills up with air, moving his head along with it. And then she exhales out, heavily and through her nose, and her stomach empties again, and Harry's head follows the movement again.

"I'm sorry, H," she murmurs, too. "I didn't—"

He shakes his head, burying his forehead on the fabric of her overall, and lifts his hands slightly, just an inch above the back of her knees. Being mindful to not overstep, but also deeply struggling to contain himself.

"Please don't apologize," he says, intentionally keeping his voice down. "You didn't do anything wrong."

She places her hands on the back of his head. Softly and gently. Almost like she's unsure of what she's doing.

"It feels like I did, tho."

"You didn't. I promise you didn't."

Gianna doesn't seem to have an answer for that, and she also doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands. Tapping his hair as if she's trying to figure out where to put them.

Harry brushes his thumbs up and down, just like before — although he's now hesitantly venturing himself on the back of her thighs, and that embarrassingly feels way more dangerous and thrilling than whatever he did with (or to) any other person up until then.

And it seems to have some sort of effect on her, too, because she relaxes underneath him. Her muscles seem to loosen up, and she finally drops the weight of her palms on the back of his head.

Next thing he knows, Gianna's already threading her fingers through his hair. Running her nails over his scalp, and entertaining herself while fiddling with his curls.

Harry smiles, and slows down under her touch. His breathing follows the rhythm of her hands, and his heart is loud and heavy, but it doesn't seem to squash his chest anymore. It's not painful anymore.

Time goes by unnoticed. And it's like the world around them doesn't even exist anymore.

It's good.

And it's new.

And it's peaceful.

And it's refreshing.

So much so that, when Gianna speaks again, even the pain and the sadness in her voice sound lighter.

"I hate myself for calling him," she says, keeping up with the strokes on his head, "and I really don't want to do it again."

Harry nods.

"I'm scared I will anyway, H…"

He squeezes her once, just to let her know he's listening, and then he rummages through his brain, trying to find something useful to say.

He can't say he understands her fear, because he isn't sure he does. What he knows is that he always struggled to say no to Gianna, and that no matter how hard he tried he was never able to let her go. But he can't compare both situations, can he? After all, she never played with his feelings, because she doesn't know about them. Miles, on the other hand, was pretty much aware of the relationship they were in. Miles knew what he was doing, and Miles actively chose to string her along.

So, no, it is not the same thing.

On top of that… Harry can't imagine her calling him out of nowhere. Not when she's so sure she doesn't want him anymore. Not when she's so sure she hates him.

Unless… Well, is she still in love with him? Is that why she thinks she'll go back to him? Because she loves him so much that she'll miss him?

No… C'mon… She doesn't.

Does she?

Shit.

Certainly, it's not his place to answer that, but it doesn't feel like she's in love with the guy. It feels like she's used to being with him, but because she doesn't know anything better.

Besides, he's never seen her so determined to put an end to the relationship. This is the first time he's seen it written all over her face. It's also the first time she's called him because Miles broke up with her, and the first time she even told him it happened. So how… How can she still be so unsure of herself?

Harry pulls away and blinks his eyes open. Adjusting to the bright cool light, and also searching for her eyes.

Gianna slides her hands off his hair and rests them on his shoulders. Holding herself onto him while she tilts her chin down and meets his stare.

"I know you said you called him every other time before, but… Did you also feel like this the other times?"

She frowns, and it's enough for him to already know the answer. Still, he waits for her, and lets her come to a conclusion on her own.

"I don't… Think so? I mean, no. It feels… Different this time."

Fuck yeah it does.

Just look at them!

Harry wants to chuckle, but he knows he can't, and he knows he shouldn't, so he breathes in deeply and shrugs.

"So maybe this time it will be different, yeah?" he asks, then takes a chance and drags his palms another inch further up on the back of her thighs.

Gianna takes a tiny step closer to him, and he's more than happy to take that as a little victory.

"Maybe… But I don't know if I have so much faith in myself."

"Why not, Gi? If you know he's such an idiot, and you know you don't wanna go back to him, why do you still think you will?"

"Because I'm that stupid, H. Because apparently I can't—"

"Stop," he says, and squeezes the back of her thighs

Gianna gasps softly, and widens her eyes.

Shit.

Although Harry always tries to be gentle, he knows his grip ended up being tighter than he originally meant to. He can feel it on the way his nails are digging into her flesh, and on the way he's also flexing his arms.

Part of him wants to apologize and put some distance between them before she can do it herself. Before she realizes what's happening and tell him to fuck off.

The other part, though, knows it's too late to go back from whatever he already did tonight, and that so far the truth is the only road that seems to be actually taking him somewhere.

So Harry straightens up his back and keeps his hands in the exact same place, firm and steady.

He doesn't take anything back, nor pretends it isn't actually happening.

"I can't let you do this to yourself, ok?" he says. "Because you're not stupid."

Gianna blinks.

"You're the most fascinating woman I've ever met," he adds, because now that he's started he doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself anymore. "You're kind, and smart, and creative, and funny."

He loosens up one hand and pulls it away, but only to take it up to her face and brush his thumb under her eyes.

"You're so beautiful, Gi," he says, cleaning some of her smudged makeup.

"So, so beautiful…" He strokes her cheek, and then under her other eye. "That you're just… You're breathtaking."

She blinks again, and again, and again. As if trying to absorb the information not only through her ears, but also through her eyes.

And Harry likes the way she's listening to him, the way she's leaning closer. The way she's softening in front of him. He doesn't know what it means, but he knows he likes it. So he keeps going, choosing to only stop if she asks him to.

"And you're constantly blowing my mind, for whatever reason." He drops his hand again, placing it on the back of her thigh, where it feels they belong now. "Your ideas, your point of views, your actions… Everything, Gi. Everything you do is just… Amazing. You are amazing."

She flickers her eyes around his face, and Harry gives her time to do so. He waits for her. Brushing his thumbs up and down. Subtly caressing the back of her thighs.

"I don't… I don't know what to say."

"It's ok…" He smiles. Softly. Fondly. "You don't have to say anything."

Gianna shrugs. She picks his t-shirt between her fingers, fidgeting with it while still watching him.

"Kinda feels like I have to. I mean, those are… Y'know… Really nice things to say about someone."

"I know. Yes." He smiles bigger, and nods. "Want me to say them again?"

She rolls her eyes, but it's easy to catch the way her mouth tries to curl into a smile as well. Or the way some cheerfulness brightens up her face.

And there she is again…

Harry tilts his head, hooked and charmed by the way she looks. By the woman she is.

Chest warm and fuzzy.

Head over the moon.

Pathetically in love.

"I think very highly of you, Gi."

"You do?"

"Mhmm… You should know that by now."

She drums her fingers on his shoulders, and he brushes his thumbs on the back of her thighs.

"This is… I mean…"

"What?"

"Ugh." She groans, throwing her head back and glancing at the ceiling. "I don't know. I'm just really confused right now."

"Oh. It's... It's ok," he says, eyes suddenly too focused and mind too distracted.

Her neck is pretty, isn't it? And her skin looks the sweetest, softest place he could lay his lips on.

Harry swallows.

He looks down, and meets her chest — which only makes it worse.

Fuck.

He closes his eyes, and shakes his head.

When he looks at her again, she's thankfully already facing down and staring back at him. Making it easier for him to talk again.

"Don't wanna confuse you right now," he says, then clears his throat. "It's not the right time to reveal all of my thoughts about you, anyway."

"All of your thoughts about me? What—How many do you have?"

Harry chuckles. She's so fucking cute.

"Not today, yeah?"

She narrows her eyes. "Harry…"

He shrugs. "Look, all you need to know right now is that you're not stupid. And I know you're scared, but this time you have me by your side, yeah? And I won't let that son of a bitch hurt you again. Ok?"

"I appreciate that, but you don't have to—"

"Gi. Ok?"

She sighs.

"Okay."

"Good."

A beat of silence echoes between them.

Gianna and Harry fill it by staring at each other. Consciously ignoring the fact that time is ticking by. And also ignoring the fact that, although they probably should feel awkward by whatever is going on right now, they actually don't feel awkward at all.

And then clattering and shattering thunder from downstairs, and Gianna and Harry jolt. They both turn their heads to face the door, waiting for something to happen. And when people seem to erupt into desperate cheering and yelling, they both turn again, and look at each other. Again.

"Do you think it'll be okay if I spend the night at yours?" she asks. "Most of my things are at Miles' and I… I don't know. To be honest I don't want to spend the night at my place."

Harry nods. "Yeah, of course. You can sleep back at mine."

He rolls his shoulders, then tilts his head to one side, and to the other.

"Do you think it'll be ok if we leave this place right now, tho?" he asks, brushing his palms up and down the back of her thighs, then sliding them to gently tap the sides of her legs. "Can't stand this place anymore."

"Yeah." Gianna smiles, and squeezes his shoulders. "We should go."

"Great." He squeezes her legs, and brushes his thumbs in wide, slow circles. "Good."

She nods and slides her hands down his shoulders, letting her fingers brush down his chest. "Mhmm…"

"We'll go, then." He spreads his legs even wider and nudges her forward, holding her legs tightly while forcing her to take a step closer.

"We will." She draws her hands back to his shoulders, fully holding onto him. "Whenever you want to."

Harry closes his eyes and leans forward, pressing his face to her stomach, and then a kiss on top of her clothes. Without pulling away, he groans against the green fabric, then murmurs, "You're not making this any easier for me, y'know?"

Gianna chuckles, allowing her hands to timidly explore his back. "I swear to God I have no idea what's going on right now."

He pulls away, tilting his chin up and looking at her. "We'll have plenty of time to figure it out. But right now, let's just get the fuck out of here. Please."

"Okay," she says, and smiles, but doesn't make any attempt to actually move.

"Ugh." He grabs her waist and pushes her off, standing up and stumbling along with her feet as they both step away from the bathtub.

She bites her lip and giggles, and it honestly takes absolutely everything inside him to not kiss her right then and there.

"C'mon," he says, finding her hand and holding it tightly. "Let's take this back to mine."

Hiii :)

Someone sent me a request back in 2022 and I came up with 85% of this. Then last week I decided to finish it and finally post it (always better late than never, huh? hehe).

There are soooo many things I have in mind for this one, so many things I haven't explored yet, and so many things that I intentionally left unanswered... But for now, this right here, is all I have, and I wanted to share it anyway :) I'm basically just challenging myself and my overthinking, so let's hope I don't regret it lol.

ANYWAY, thanks for reading.

Dani.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles au

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anashins · 2 days

Note

So this just happened to me but I found out my bf doesn’t have my contacts saved with any kind of emoji or cute nickname. Maybe a suggestion for a Drabble? Feel like a child writing this but idk how this has me so bummed and sad

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: fluff, romance

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: As you find out that Jaehyun doesn't have your contact saved on his phone under a cute nick name, you start comparing your relationship to others. After all, that must mean you're not special to him - right?

A/N: I hope everything went well for you, dear! My bf always says, “I don’t know, you have to tell me!” - so just tell him! Because men are simple but their partners' feelings matter to them, even if they seem childish to you 💞

“Under which name did your boyfriend save you on his phone? You know that?”

You looked at your best friend who tilted her head as though in deep thoughts. For a moment, you hoped she wouldn’t know, wouldn’t care, and that you were overdramatic after all like you had feared all along, but almost instantly, she replied,

“When we started dating, he had me saved as ‘my girl’ without any kind of emoji. When we officially decided to get together, he saved my contact as ‘baby’ with a pink heart, and it remained like this until now.”

Your best friend wasn’t the first one who you had asked and whose answer was almost identical to your other taken friends you had questioned about this topic: Their boyfriends all had them saved on their phones with either a cute nickname, some meaningful emoji or both.

Your own boyfriend had you saved on his phone under your government name.

You usually never looked at his screen as there were always so many things going on with different people from his group, from his management and from people in the industry in general, so it was always buzzing anyway.

But when a week ago you had been lying next to him, sending him pictures from the activity you had done together shortly before, your name popped up in his chat history.

Your full name.

You had been bummed, and he had happily continued on as if he hadn’t minded you seeing this, as if this was the most normal thing in the world and didn’t make you feel less special among all his other contacts - and there were a lot for an idol.

After all, even when you didn’t have as many connections as him, you had your boyfriend saved as,

‘Yuno-ya’ with a pink heart.

It wasn’t the most romantic nickname as you weren’t calling each other pet names at all, but still cute and emphasized his contact to filter his name out of all other people.

Now, hearing all the other boyfriends having your female friends saved as something special, it made you feel even sadder as if the entire thing hadn’t been bothering you for a week already.

“Under which name has your boyfriend your contact saved on his phone?” your best friend questioned back.

You sighed out loud.

“I don’t like it when you make that face,” Jaehyun immediately said to you instead of a greeting when you came over to his house later that day. “And you have randomly started making it the last time we met. I’ve been worrying all week, but on the phone you always say everything is fine when it’s clearly not. Tell me now, did I do something wrong?”

You bit into your bottom lip. You felt that now was the chance, now or never before it would eat you up from the inside and you would never be able to let go of it. “Under which name do you have me saved on your phone?”

Jaehyun widened his eyes, completely blindsided by this unexpected silly question, apparently. “Pardon?”

“My contact,” you described it better for him. “Under which name can you find me in your contacts?”

He confusedly proceeded to speak out your full government name.

“Exactly!” you called him out.

“I don’t understand.”

“You have me saved in your contacts under my full name!”

“Well… isn’t that your full name? Under what name should I save you then? Should I make one up or…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on! What’s the problem here?”

You folded your arms in front of your chest. The longer you went on to explain this situation to a very oblivious Jaehyun, the sillier you started to feel. Were you exaggerating? But none of your friends had said so and claimed your feelings were valid.

Suddenly, your voice was very low when you poured out your feelings to him as there was no turning back anymore. “My friend’s boyfriends have them all saved on their phones under some cute nickname. Or with a cute emoji at least. I also have you saved as Yuno-ya with a heart. It makes the other person feel special and makes the contact stand out from everyone else. It gives you a little surge of excitement whenever that person’s name pops up. As you have me saved with my full government name… it makes me think if you see me as everyone else and I’m not that special to you.”

Your breakout followed a few moments of silence in which you kept your gaze locked to the ground as you were now kind of too embarrassed to face Jaehyun. Hearing these words… you felt so childish.

The pat you felt on the top of your head only shortly later convinced you of the opposite though. When you lifted your head, Jaehyun wasn’t laughing and he didn’t look like he wanted to make fun of you or didn’t understand your feelings at all.

“I’m sorry,” he said with genuine concern. “I… didn’t know. I have everyone saved on my phone with their full government name as there are just so many people that it really gives me a hard time to separate them all or even remember who they are. Even the members aren’t an exception, only my parents. It was just a habit I followed when we exchanged contacts and I was never bothered enough to change it. If I had known it was this important to you, I would have done it right away.”

Was it really this simple? Some men like your boyfriend just didn’t know, were totally unaware of such things and you simply needed to tell them to change whatever bothered you, no matter how silly and childish it might sound?

He was a perfect partner for you and you couldn’t believe you let such a futile thing question his feelings for an entire week.

Jaehyun smiled at you and pulled out his phone. “Don’t ever think again that you’re not special to me and I never feel excitement rushing through me whenever your name pops up on my phone. Your chat is pinned at the very top and your number saved as favorites. Among everyone I regularly keep in contact with, even if I don’t answer for hours, I always answer you first. I always recognize your picture, no matter how many times you change it. Upon first glance, I always recognize it’s you. My beautiful girl.”

He gave you a kiss on the cheek and then proceeded to type something into his phone with a wide grin, obviously changing your name name.

“What did you save my contact under now?” you asked and wanted to catch a glimpse, but Jaehyun quickly pulled his phone away from you.

“Text me now and you’ll see.”

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x you #nct x reader #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #requests

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originalartblog · 2 days

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"Nawy what do you MEAN quick-ish 3D render it's got scratches and everything and I thought this was real for a minute!!"

Well, first, thank you very much that was the intention ❤, and second, you see, all speed is relative, and between finding my references, modeling, texturing and lighting, on top of having to learn how to make convincing gems, it still took me quite a few hours. I, however, cut corners everywhere for speed, and I wouldn't put this piece in a portfolio in its current state.

But! for the curious, I thought I could do a simple breakdown of how the witchcraft happens, without using too much specialized language to make it more accessible. In short,

In this case, I’m talking about a 3D model that was textured (colours and stuff) and then lit (lights on!) to make a pretty final picture. The objective is not to make a tutorial, but to put in simple terms what a 3D artist does to make something go from this, to that:

(people curious and/or trying to see if this interests them welcome)

I'm skipping the 3D modeling part altogether, since it isn't where most of the magic happens here. Just know that to be able to add colour and stuff on a 3D object, you have to go through the process or "unwrapping" it, which is like doing those foldable cubes in reverse

and then we can draw on it!!

Now, the good stuff:

Surfaces (metal, plastic, fabric, wood, skin, etc.) have different looks that make you able to differentiate them on sight. To make something look realistic, you have to try to replicate real life into the 3D world (duh.)

The software developers took care of the hard part (math and coding), so as artists we can play with the parameters available to make something pretty. What those parameters are depend on which "recipe" we're using. One of the most common "recipes" for realistic results is called PBR: Physically Based Rendering, named that way because it's trying to replicate real-life light physics. In this case, the 4 basic parameters are called albedo, roughness, metalness, and normal.

Albedo is the base colour of the surface (easy stuff). Roughness is to determine if a surface is rough or shiny. Metalness is to say if something is made out of metal or not. The normal is there to add all those tiny details you don't want to or can't sculpt on your 3D model (engravings, fabric bumps, etc.)

The roughness and metalness are black and white images because the information you're giving to the software is black = no and white = yes. It's easier to understand in the metalness image, where everything that is NOT a metal is black, and everything that IS a metal is white.

The normal is a bit more complex, but in short, it uses the colours green and red to know what is up/down or left/right, and will help the software fake relief on top of the model. You don't make it by hand; it's computer-generated from other stuff I'm not getting into.

With the technical stuff out of the way, we can actually use these. There are specialized softwares that will let you preview the results of each parameter in real time, so you can see what you're doing easily. This is what I have.

That software comes with some types of surfaces that are already set up, like the fabric in my piece, which was already 85% good for me straight out of the box. Then, it's up to me to use the tools available to decide how shiny a surface is, if there's dust or scratches and where, what colours things are, if there's metal parts, etc. That's where you can see a 3D artist's skills.

And finally, you bring it all together into a specialized software that can render 3D stuff and use those images on the corresponsing parameters, and then light the scene.

Because it all comes down to this: the light! For something realistic, light is vital to get right. You can pour your heart and soul into those tiny scratches, but if you don't light the scene correctly, well...

So we carefully light the scene to get some nice highlights to make the textures look good and highlight our subject (it's basically a photography studio inside a computer)

And then we add some camera effects...

and voilà! pretty picture!!

... and if you somehow did notice something different with the bolo tie from my last post, I did find out while taking all these screenshots that I messed up my initial renders in a way that made everything darker than it was supposed to be and that's why my gold looked so muddy...

I hope this was interesting and that you learned a thing or two!

#welcome to nawy's 3d school for complete beginners #nawy's 3d #technically not art but... you know...

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dragonrider9905 · 3 days

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Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him.

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart.

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing.

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same.

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands.

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could.

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for?

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you.

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart?

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.”

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering.

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage.

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.)

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you.

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them.

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok.

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could.

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little.

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.”

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved.

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out.

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better.

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh.

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit.

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that.

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door.

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you.

Kriff. He had to fix this.

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship.

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before.

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken.

He was lost.

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it.

A lost love.

And it was his fault.

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible.

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on.

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep.

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty.

He saw it. And he caused it.

And he hated himself for it.

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t.

Turns out he was wrong.

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that.

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt.

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold.

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality.

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else.

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be.

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her.

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice.

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed.

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand.

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack.

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy.

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated.

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands.

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face.

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for.

It was ‘that’ look.

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time.

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone.

You squeezed his hand.

“We’ll find her. I promise.”

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long.

He squeezed your hands.

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore.

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself.

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering.

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free.

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him.

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again.

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before.

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead.

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him.

Taking a look around, you carefully considered.

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.”

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker.

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back.

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?”

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.”

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.”

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?”

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you.

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go.

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two.

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun.

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had.

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed.

Your voice.

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training.

“Meshla, no!”

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror.

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you.

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you.

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter.

Your painful cry.

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart.

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge.

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.”

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…”

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started��“

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body.

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled.

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly.

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?”

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep.

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run.

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.”

Hunter came in running.

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him.

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls.

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open.

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up.

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you.

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space.

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand.

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat.

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up.

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating.

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing.

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat.

Oh well, you could only push forward.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help.

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding.

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago?

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry.

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing.

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face.

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak.

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened.

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing?

You had an infection.

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly?

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you.

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you.

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water.

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle.

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter.

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes.

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least.

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt.

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late.

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response.

“Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope.

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him.

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk.

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand.

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her.

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed.

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area.

You blinked your eyes open with a smile.

“Hey Handsome.”

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss.

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?”

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him.

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled.

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.”

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help.

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words.

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.”

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon.

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you.

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level.

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets.

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern.

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way.

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm.

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out.

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most.

This one, he couldn’t do.

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could.

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you.

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow.

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes.

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself.

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips.

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air.

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain.

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard.

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there.

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.”

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again.

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—”

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier.

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace.

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened.

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler.

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest.

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

#I gave Hunter's scarf a fate #We now know what happened to it #It deserved a story #Hunter's scarf is important and we recognize that here #sergeant hunter x you #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter #the bad batch #tbb hunter #star wars #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb echo #star wars the bad batch #clone fic gift exchange #TBBE24

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lumosinlove · 2 days

Text

Vaincre

June part v

You and me Sunday driving

Not arriving, on our way back home

Finn couldn’t remember the last time it had been just him and Logan for more than a couple hours.

Leo had seemed content if not exhausted when he’d let them drive him to the airport to meet his parents. The fact that he had only packed his weekend bag made something settle in Finn. He still felt guilty about the way he had reacted. He was better than that now. He knew he was.

While they were saying goodbye in departures, Logan and Leo wrapped up in each other, Eloise had pulled Finn aside.

“Finn, honey,” she’d said. “We’ll take good care of him. He’ll be back to you in no time at all.”

Finn had smiled. “Don’t I know it.”

Eloise had just put a hand on his cheek. Those blue eyes saw right through him, just like her son’s. “I know my Leo. I know him better than anything or anyone in this world. And I know Logan’s going to be busy, but you give him a week at home with me, you let me take care of him, and then I swear, on my most secret sauce, he’s going to want you.”

Finn hadn’t known just what to say.

Finn opened his eyes in Logan’s New York bedroom. His realized that his head didn’t hurt. His shoulder ached a little but with none of the sharpness. Usually when he woke up he had to clear all the pain away with gentle blinks, water, and small rolls of his shoulder and neck.

Finn had taken Logan out to dinner last night and watched him laugh at his jokes and sip red wine. There was just something about Logan with a delicate wine glass in his hand. They’d curled up in bed and they had talked until they were too tired for complete sentences.He felt clear.

He felt good.

It only got better when he turned his head to look at the source of the soft, even breathing beside him.

Logan was beautiful in sleep. He always had been. His head, as usual, had migrated off of his own pillow and onto Finn’s good arm. Finn slept with two barnacles, and maybe sometimes he woke up sweating, way overheated, but he wouldn’t move them for the world. Careful not to shift his arm too much, Finn turned on his side and settled a hand over the dip of Logan’s waist. He was at the height of his strength right now, the season had done all of its work on him. Finn drew a thumb along the cut of muscles that slanted down from his hip bone, disappearing below his pajama pants.

Almost immediately, Logan stirred, thick eyelashes moving as he began to wake up.

“You know what I remember?” Finn whispered.

“Mm,” Logan said, still half-asleep. He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

“Every morning when I would wake up early for my run. You know, back at school. I would keep my eyes closed for a second. Because some of my mornings were good, but some of them were great.” He reached out for a perfect curl of Logan’s hair and gently pinched the end of it between his fingers. “Guess what the difference was?”

Logan turned his face so that his mouth brushed Finn’s skin. Eyes still closed. Face still the picture of peace.

“I’d look over across the room at your bed. Sometimes you’d have your back towards me…Those were good mornings, don’t get me wrong. You have a very nice back.”

A small smile overtook Logan’s face, even though he was still lulled with closed eyes—Finn knew his voice did that to him.

“But sometimes,” Finn said quietly. “You would be facing me. And I’d get to just lay there and look at you for as long as I wanted. Sleepyhead.”

Logan inhaled slowly and opened his eyes.

Green.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Finn whispered. “It’s you and me today.”

Logan shuffled closer to him, freeing Finn’s arm as his head shifted to his chest. Finn curled his arm low on Logan’s back, dipping his fingers below the band of his pajama pants—Leo’s. They had pooled around his feet as he walked around the apartment last night.

“Take you on a date,” Logan said, voice deeper from sleep—Finn didn’t know why that happened but he hoped it never stopped. “Show you the city.”

Finn laughed. “You show me New York City.”

“Ouais.”

“Hm.” He traced a finger down Logan’s spine and felt him move into the touch. “Whatever you say.”

“I know it better now. Than you.”

Finn smacked him on his hip. Logan just smiled and pushed his face into Finn’s neck. He said something unintelligible in French.

“Par-don?”

Logan pulled back to look at him. “I say I love you in my bed.”

“Oh. Well, I fucking adore you, you know, wherever.”

Logan pressed a kiss to Finn’s mouth and then nestled back down against his chest, close to the thump of his heart.

Finn smiled.

“Are you smiling?” Logan asked from his nook.

“Yeah.”

“What?”

Finn didn’t answer right away. He slid his fingers through Logan’s hair. “Because I got you.”

Logan looked up at him, his chin propped on Finn’s chest.

“Nice not having the sling in the way,” Finn said, rubbing his thumb over the high of Logan’s cheek. “What’s that look you’re giving me?”

Logan just kept looking at him.

“What?” Finn laughed. “Hold still.” He brought his thumb up to ever so gently touch Logan’s eyelashes. When he pulled it away, there was a single, dark lash on the pad. “Make a wish.”

Logan looked down at the eyelash, then reached out and took it from him. With it balanced carefully on his own fingertip, he let it fall against Finn’s own cheek, a small, dark line among all the freckles.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Finn said, but his heart had picked up.

“Ouais.” Logan pushed forward, settling his weight on Finn’s chest but keeping it off his shoulder, and kissed him again. “Good morning, Rouge.”

“Morning.”

Logan pushed forward more to kiss Finn again, hand appearing from beneath the warm comforter to tangle in Finn’s hair. “Stay here for now.”

“Hm?”

“We stay here for a little longer.”

“Good,” Finn said, following it with a playful bite to Logan’s lower lip.

Logan made a slightly disgruntled sound. “My back hurts a little.”

Finn frowned. “Oh?”

“Not bad, but can you…” Logan gave Finn’s foot a little kick and Finn laughed.

“Yes, sir.” Finn reached down to dig his fingers into the hard muscle of Logan’s lower back. Logan groaned and dropped his forehead down against Finn’s chest. Finn smiled. “There?”

“How did you know? Fuck, that hurts—non, non, it’s good, keep, keep…”

“I know everything about you,” Finn whispered—his best attempt at creepy. Logan just went limp against his chest and let him ease the tight knot. “Jesus, Lo. Put some heat on that.”

“Ouais,” Logan said. He lifted his head again. “You do know everything about me, don’t you.”

Finn smiled. “Yeah. Now, what else can I do?”

Logan’s eyes brightened up a little. “I want to kiss you.”

“Oh, you’re looking for a little make out sesh?”

Logan wrinkled his nose. “Sesh.”

“Little college action.”

“Action?”

“As though we were in our old dorm,” Finn said, giving the mattress a thump with his good hand. “This bed’s bigger than that one.”

“Hm,” Logan laughed softly, looking over at the spare mattress. “Leo.”

“He’ll be home soon.”

Logan nodded. “Imagine how much time we would have spent just…in one of our beds. Back then.”

“Maybe we would have pushed the two of them together,” Finn said.

They could have. It sent a little thrill up Finn’s spine just thinking about it. Anyone who would have walked in their room would have known they were each others.

Finn tucked a curl behind Logan’s ear. “And we’re just all settled in. There’s no practice tomorrow…First day of summer. No homework.”

Logan rolled his eyes but he was grinning. “Percy’s gonna knock on our door and ask if we want to go to the bars, and we’re gonna ignore him…” He dragged his lips over Finn’s jaw to find his mouth again. “Because you’re such a good kisser. And I can’t stop.”

“Huh.” Finn’s hand smoothed over Logan’s hip, pushing the elastic band down closer to the swell of his ass. Smooth, tan skin.

“I never want to stop,” Logan said. “And Perc finally leaves us alone, and we get food delivered and we watch that show you love—what…I don’t know but we’re not watching anyway because I can’t stop kissing you…” His kisses were hard and relentless and Finn was on fire. The most perfect burn, whiskey-like. “You’ve been mine since the first day.”

Finn felt his brows draw together as he kissed Logan. He loved him talking like this. Everything in him loved it.

“I didn’t really expect you to play along,” Finn said.

“Not playing,” Logan said. “This is our life now.”

“Oh,” Finn whispered. “Oh, Lo…”

“Go to a bagel shop this morning?” Logan mumbled.

“I love the way you say bagel.”

Logan bit his lower lip and pulled gently.

“Bah-g-elle,” Finn whispered and hitched Logan’s leg up further over his hips. He knew it would stretch out his back nicely—and he knew he was right when Logan hummed happily. He moved his hand from Logan’s ass and dug two knuckles against the knot in his lower back.

“Yeah,” Logan breathed. “B-ay-gal.”

“No, don’t say it like me, say it like you.”

Logan bent to mouth over Finn’s mending shoulder. “Bagel.”

“Hm, yeah.” Finn snorted. “I really want Le to call and we’re just like, bah-gel, bay-gal, bah-bay.”

Logan laughed probably too hard at that, but Finn could tell they were both a little giddy. Logan was filling his chest up with happiness that was going to spill right out of him. Once he started laughing, he found that he couldn’t stop. Logan was shaking against him, hiding his grin in his neck. It got Finn going all over again.

Logan leaned back, smile wide. “Bah-bay.”

Finn put a hand over his eyes. “Oh my God, I can’t breathe. Bah-bay.”

“It’s not even funny,” Logan said, which sent them both into silent laughter again.

They quieted slowly, temples leaning together. Breathing in sync. This. This had never been in question—this part of them. Even in the times when Logan had taken Finn apart, told him no, told him nothing…Finn had never felt like they’d lose this part of them. Maybe that didn’t make sense, but it was true.

“You gonna win a Cup for me?” Finn whispered. He traced patterns on Logan’s back. A one and a zero. An L, E, O.

Logan nodded. “Mhm. Wr—r…” He sighed when Finn smiled. Finn felt kiss-stupid. “Rather win it with you.”

“Oo-wa-rather,” Finn whispered, and then took Logan’s chin between his fingers and melted Logan’s protests right out of his mouth. He kept Logan in place, kept the kiss gentle, tracing his tongue along Logan’s bottom lip. “I love everything you say.”

“How ‘bout them apples,” Logan mumbled and then cracked himself up.

Finn pressed his smile right into Logan’s cheek, making him turn his head to be caught in another kiss. “Mfh—okay, you’re just sticking your tongue in my mouth now.” Logan got back at him by licking a strip up his neck. Finn’s voice cracked when he said, “Weirdo.”

The bagel shop was one Finn hadn’t been to before. Logan had found it. He’d known Finn would love the black and white tiled floor and he had been right. Finn had scored them a table outside while Logan waited for their orders. Finn watched him through the window. He had taken two Advil and was stretching out his back when their order number was called. Finn caught the way the girl who handed him the bags looked at him. She and her friend had been watching the flex and stretch of his arms, too. Finn smiled to himself. Ha-ha-ha.

“Extra capers. Crazy.” Logan said when he sat down. He had two iced coffees as well. Finn’s was black, Logan’s was a light, light brown with milk. There were three sugar packets on the table and Finn watched as Logan ripped them open, popped the lid on his cup, and shook them in. Logan’s hair was still wet and he wasn’t wearing a hat. He had a sort of rust colored shirt, almost pink, and Finn couldn’t really stop looking at him. It was so different from his dark grays and greens. The breeze ruffled his curling hair.

“You look…” Finn said, then bit his straw between his teeth.

Logan arched a brow, unwrapping his bagel. He stuck a finger in his mouth when he got cream cheese on it. “Quoi.”

“Is that shirt new?”

“Ouais…” Logan looked down at it. “What’s wrong?”

Finn shook his head quickly. “No, no…You look good, baby.”

Logan didn’t look convinced and Finn laughed.

“No, I just never see you wear that color. I thought it was Leo’s. It surprised me. And—yeah, I just think you look good.”

Logan looked down at his bagel, his cheeks going a little pink to Finn’s delight.

“I went shopping,” Logan said grudgingly.

Finn’s eyebrows rose. Logan didn’t like clothes shopping. At all. Any other type, fine, but the kind where someone looks at you and tries to help you? No way. “Really.”

“Yes.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

“Really…”

Logan huffed. “Finn.”

“With who? Alex?”

Logan took a big bite. He chewed. He took a sip of his coffee.

Finn gasped and slapped the table with his hands. The metal thrummed beneath his touch. “Oh. So Luke Deveaux gets to take you shopping but when I try—I see. Okay. I see.”

Logan was biting back a smile and Finn turned his chair sideways, away from Logan. Logan laughed and reached across the table to catch his hand.

“Non. You can take me shopping if you want.”

“Well, I don’t see a purpose to it now.” Finn was having fun with this. He angled his chin completely away from Logan and yanked his hand away with a flourish to pick up his coffee. “I see how it is.”

Logan groaned through his laugh. “Fi-i-nn.”

“He takes you shopping, he takes you running…”

With a scoff, Logan scooted his chair back. He stood over Finn. Finn put his sunglasses on.

“When Luke and I go shopping, we buy clothes,” Logan said. He leaned down, one hand braced on the back of Finn’s chair. Those green eyes didn’t let Finn look away from him. Not when he was this close. “We try on our different outfits and we’re in and out within the hour.”

“Good for you two. Very efficient.”

To Finn’s surprise, Logan turned to the side a little and sat himself right in Finn’s lap, all the warm, heavy strength of him. His arm went around Finn’s shoulders, the other flat-palmed against his chest. He could probably feel the way Finn’s heart picked up when he leaned in close and brushed his lips over Finn’s jaw. God, Finn hoped those girls were watching. Ha-ha.

“When you take me shopping…I want to pull you into the dressing room.” A soft kiss pressed to Finn’s neck. “I want to lock the door behind us and I want you to fuck me right there…” Another kiss. “In front of the mirror…” A gentle bite and, behind Finn’s glasses, his eyes slipped closed. “Where I can see how good you look when you’re about to make me come. When you’re trying to keep me quiet…”

Finn’s hand snapped to Logan’s hip. Logan smiled—Finn felt it. “You’d be so good at keeping your voice steady when someone knocks on the door…” Logan put on a slightly higher voice. “‘You finding everything okay?’” Logan pressed his mouth harder against Finn’s throat. “You’d be so good at it. ‘Oh, thanks so much…We’re fantastic.’”

“Logan.” Finn was starting to get hard in his shorts, pressing up against Logan’s thighs. He eased his palm over those strong thighs, fingers creeping up the inner seam of Logan’s shorts. Logan was sporting a semi and he knew Finn could see.

“So, please,” Logan said. “Take me shopping.”

And just like that, Logan was off of his lap. Finn swung his chair back inwards with a groan, shuffling his legs underneath the table. He took a sip of his iced coffee then held the cup to his cheek. “What the fuck.”

Logan returned to his own chair much more smoothly. God, if he had looked good in the dark pink a second ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked with that color flushing his cheeks. Finn needed a second. He picked up his food and tried to get his insides to stop throbbing.

“If it was one of those doors,” he said around a bite, “that don’t go all the way to the floor—”

“That would be so embarrassing,” Logan said, then grinned. “For the person who caught us, I mean.”

Finn just shook his head. “You liar. You’d be so nervous.”

“Try me.” Logan took another bite of his bagel and Finn swore, he swore, Logan made a show of licking the cream cheese. Logan looked at him all the while, green eyes playful. Finn didn’t know what unimaginably hot thing was going to come out of his mouth next. Did he want to go to the bathroom right now? Did he want to go home? Did he want to go shopping? Because Finn would. He would.

“Bah-bay,” Logan said.

Finn laughed so hard he dropped his coffee.

They had cleaned out their lockers. They had said see you at the lake to Remus’ parents. They had had one last dinner with as much of the team as they could—minus any New York stragglers—Kasey, Finn, Leo… They closed up their Gryffindor House. Sirius’ eyes had followed Remus around as he filled out his checklist. They had a final breakfast at their diner spot before hitting the road. Julian had been standing on the wrap-around porch, waving both of his hands as they pulled into the driveway. The grill had been going, his father raising the tongs in salute.

“Mm,” Sirius said, turning off the engine. “I’d kill for your dad’s steak.”

Remus laughed as he popped the door. “You know, I think he’ll just give it to you easily enough.”

After everything, those first two days felt like a fever dream. Afternoon swims. Sirius’ smile in the campfire light, laughing at something his mother had said. Sirius, wrapped up in the old-as-time blankets, snug in the bed Remus had been sleeping in since he was a child. Julian and Sirius tossing a football on the beach. Playing street hockey in the driveway. Watching people recognize Sirius in the little harbor breakfast spot—and, Remus had to keep realizing, watching them recognize him. Sirius’ big hands around a sharpie as he knelt to sign a little kid’s shirt.

Remus was now in the kitchen mashing up avocados for guacamole while his mom mixed a pitcher of margaritas. The dining room table was covered with place cards, flower combinations, and menus from the restaurant down the road. In just over a month, they’d bring their grills to the house for pulled-pork. They’d mix huge bowls of coleslaw, they’d chop up watermelon and make it into ice cream during dinner. Remus hadn’t had any time to worry about these things, and then suddenly he’d had nothing but time. Thank God for Hope Lupin.

“So, Lily and James are arriving in a week, right?” Hope said. “And Harry of course.”

“Yeah,” Remus said. “Sirius thought Harry would love the beach.”

“Lakes are good for babies,” Hope said. “Nice shallow water. Easy to watch. I always loved bringing you and Jules here. It’ll be sweet to see little Harry again.”

The back door slammed and Remus looked up at the sound of Julian’s laugh. He saw his mom smile.

“Shoes off!” she called. “No sand in the house, please! Or you’re doing the sweeping!”

There was a scuffle of shoes coming off and hockey sticks being leaned against walls, and then Julian bounded into the kitchen. Sirius followed a moment later.

Remus didn’t even think Sirius was making a show of how he leaned back against the refrigerator, sweating. “Jesus, Lupin.”

“Yes?” Remus said.

“Non,” Sirius panted. He jerked his chin at Julian. “That one.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Julian Lupin? Did you beat up my boyfriend?”

Julian swallowed a long drink of water and raised his eyebrows right back. “You mean your fiancé?”

Sirius laughed, using his t-shirt to wipe his face. Remus let his eyes catch on his stomach for a moment.

“Yes,” Remus said. “I mean my fiancé.”

“Then yeah,” Julian said. “I did.”

“He did,” Sirius agreed. When Julian wasn’t looking, Remus raised an eyebrow, and Sirius’ grin gave him away.

Sweetest boy on Earth.

“I’m going to take a shower if I have time?” Sirius said, eyes on Hope.

“You certainly do,” Hope said. “We’re on lake time, honey! Woo!”

“D’accord.” Sirius paused as he passed by Remus and settled a hand on his hip. “Salut, mon amor.”

“Hi,” Remus said.

“Be back soon.” Sirius pressed a kiss to his neck and disappeared towards the stairs.

“Re, will you take the clothes in from the line and bring them upstairs? I think it might rain a little tonight. Julian, finish up that guacamole, hon.”

“Kay,” Julian said. “Can I have a sip of a margarita?”

“You can have a baby one because you’re my baby,” Hope said.

Julian rolled his eyes, but he kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mama.”

On his way out, Remus kissed her other cheek.

Outside, the breeze did smell a little like rain, but the sun over the lake felt like summer. The wind was warm. The small nets were still set up for Sirius and Julian’s game of hockey. Remus walked around the side of the house towards the lake and found the clothes swaying in the breeze. A few of Sirius’ t-shirts hung together. Worn Lions ones from seasons past. Remus took one down and held it. He remembered this from Sirius’ second season. He brought it to his nose. It smelled like Sirius and like the cottage. Like the lake air and the detergent his mom used here.

Remus could have wrapped himself entirely in that smell.

He heard the shower cut off right as he reached the top creaky step. He set Julian’s clothes on his bed, his parents’ on theirs, and brought the basket into their own bedroom. He set Sirius’ shirts on the bed to fold. He was laying out a sweatshirt that hadn’t quite dried when the Sirius came in with a towel wrapped around his waist. Like always, he stubbed his toe on the frog-shaped metal doorstop.

“Merde,” Sirius cursed.

“You think you would have learned by now.”

Sirius nudged the heavy metal frog a little under the old dresser. “Me too.”

Sirius stole a shirt off of the pile Remus was folding. Remus watched quietly as he dropped his towel and shook it through his wet hair a few times. He’d gotten it cut before they left. He had a bit of a tan line, the part of his neck which his hair had covered was pale, but the sun would change that soon. The summer would change change many things. Sirius’ body still held every ounce of muscle built up throughout the season. Remus knew what each ridge and valley felt like. His shoulders and back looked like heaven in the light coming through their bedroom window. That would soften over the next months.

Sirius turned once he’d pulled his shorts on and laughed. “You keep staring.”

Remus looked down and smiled. “Oh, I just like your haircut, that’s all.”

“That’s all?”

Remus eyed the way the t-shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders. “You’ve got play-off shoulders going on.”

Sirius stepped towards him. He tossed the sweatshirt Remus was holding away and settled his hands on Remus’ hips. “So do you.”

Sirius’ kiss was heavy and slow. They hardly broke before a new one sent Remus’ head spinning.

“Remus!” Julian’s voice called up the stairs.

Remus didn’t reply. He wrapped Sirius up tighter against him. The bed creaked as Sirius pressed him against one of the posts. The wooden carved flower dug into the small of Remus’ back but Remus didn’t care. He felt like they hadn’t been alone in decades. Regulus in Gryffindor, his family here…

“I wish…” Remus panted as Sirius leaned down to kiss his neck. “You’re so…” His eyes slipped closed.

“Re-mus,” Julian called. “Mom won’t let me have a margarita and chips until everyone’s here.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Remus whispered, sounding almost forlorn to himself. With all his strength, he gave Sirius’ chest a little push. Sirius barely moved and Remus caught a flash of his smile when he dragged his mouth along Remus’ jaw to kiss him again.

“Remus!”

“Yeah—one second!” Remus called down, hoping he sounded at least a little normal.

“It’s been like fifty seconds!”

“On our way, Jules!” Sirius called—then he went right back to kissing Remus. Long, deadly-good kisses that made Remus feel like he was about to lose his footing. That was a good move, though. Julian never talked back to Sirius.

“Okay, cool!” Julian called back, much more happily.

Sirius laughed softly. Remus pushed his hands under Sirius’ shirt and rested his forehead against his shoulder. He spread his palms over Sirius’ stomach before sliding them around his hips to his back.

“Is this helping you?” Sirius asked. He was standing there almost patiently, dark eyes amused.

“Not even a little, but it’s nice anyway.”

Sirius took Remus’ hands in his and kissed his knuckles. “Allez. We’re holding up dinner.”

“What took you so long?” Julian dug his chip into the guacamole and sighed happily as he chewed. At least someone was satisfied.

“Sorry, I was getting dressed,” Sirius said. “Re was just putting away the laundry.”

“Jules,” Lyall laughed. He’d come in from the garden. “Leave them alone.”

Julian seemed to think this over. “Do you guys want to play another hockey game after dinner?”

“Sorry, Jules, Sirius is all mine after dinner.” When Julian stuck his tongue out at Remus, Remus did it right back. Beneath the table, Sirius took his hand.

#Vaincre lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #remus lupin #sirius black #sports au #finn o'hara #Logan tremblay #finnlo

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mydearestdaryl · 1 day

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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 ‧₊˚ ✧

Summary: Daryl realizes he is in love with you (fluff mostly). Warnings: TWD violence, blood & gore, character deaths, explicit language. Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader. Setting: Prison. A/N: Not thoroughly proofread, and English is not my first language, so please point out any mistakes if you find any! Love you, thank you for reading.

You were pretty. So pretty to his eyes and to the eyes of anyone else with an ounce of common sense and the ability to see, he was sure.

He believed you were everything he was not. At first, he envied it a little, but now he admires it.

You were spring and sunshine. The flowers when they're in full bloom. You were a breath of fresh air. You were art. You were a masterpiece made by an artist who was in love. You were a poem written as the vows of a groom deeply enamored. You were a perfect first kiss. You were love.

Not only was your face pretty but your heart and mind were too. You were smart and compassionate and kind. A real-life angel, as many would say. Those wings that decorated his vest would suit you a lot more than him.

He had never felt this way before for anyone, but he figured most people probably felt like this for you as well, because who wouldn't. He firmly believed it was a natural reaction to your pretty and kind self. Human nature.

He could stare at you for hours. Listen to you for hours. And if only he could touch you… no, what was he thinking?

Now Daryl watched as you folded the laundry, chatting with Maggie, who you were sharing this chore with. He was supposed to be killing the walkers at the fence with Carol, who was looking at him with a knowing smirk while she actually did the task, which he hadn't noticed from the trance he was currently in.

He only snapped out of it when he heard Carol giggle next to him.

"Wha'?" he squinted, returning to the task as if nothing happened.

She full-on chuckled at his blindness, poking one last walker through the fence before they walked back to the cell block. "You're so in love," she teased him, shaking her head before grabbing her rag from her pocket to dry the sweat on her forehead.

His frown turned into a scowl, but behind it she found genuine confusion. He spared a quick glance in your direction, watching as you tried to apologize between bright laughter while Maggie scolded you; the folded laundry on the floor now. It made the corners of his mouth twitch, a smile threatening to appear, but he managed to avoid it.

His eyes returned to Carol's, who had witnessed the scene and looked at him again like she knew. He scoffed, a hand flying up shortly in a dismissive gesture. "Yer crazy," he huffed, making her laugh as she followed him.

The sun was setting, and everybody now sat on the table or steps of the kitchen while enjoying a hearty stew made by Beth and Hershel. Rick ate while holding Judith as you played with her, and Daryl found himself staring again. He just couldn't stop.

As if sensing his eyes, yours made contact with him, and he froze, almost choking on the piece of carrot he was swallowing, making him cough. You made him feel so dumb.

Next thing he knew Carol was handing him a glass of water. "Can't have you die choking on veggies in a world full of walkers," she joked as she sat next to him. "Especially not before tomorrow, right?" the woman added, wiggling her brows teasingly.

His eyebrows met. "Tomorrow?" he asked breathlessly after drinking the whole glass of water at once, drying his mouth with the back of his hand. She nodded. Oh! "Ah, yeah, right, tomorrow," he said casually, as if it wasn't a big deal. But truly, he was nervous as hell.

Tomorrow you'd be going with Daryl to hunt for the first time in months and for whatever reason it made him feel floaty and tense at the same time.

"(Y/NNNN), I can't find the last word, and neither can Glenn," Carl complained, plopping down next to you with the crossbow book you gifted him in his hands, "I swear it doesn't exist," the pre-teen said, looking genuinely exasperated, making you laugh. Oh, that laugh. So airy and clear. It made your pretty eyes shine. He liked it when they shined, but not because of tears.

You were pretty when crying too, but only when the crying was because you were happy. He hated when you cried out of pain or sadness; it made his heart all sad and heavy too.

A loud clear of throat snapped him out of his trance again. Annoyed to stop looking at you, he looked up, and he found Hershel. The same smile as Carol was wide on his face. "Sorry to interrupt," he said.

For how long did he stare? Because Carol was now picking up the dirty dishes with Rick's help. "These got mixed with my clothes," the vet explained, handing the hunter a couple of folded button-ups. Daryl nodded gratefully and was about to get up and leave when Hershel sat next to him on the steps, a hand on the hunter's shoulder.

"You know..." the older man started, his gaze on you as you laughed with Carl and Glenn, "this world offers few but precious joys these days. When we find someone who makes life a little brighter, who eases our burden even a small bit, that's a gift we'd be fools not to embrace."

Daryl glanced up to look at Hershel, his eyes pleading for answers underneath uncertainty. Hershel continued, "Love gives us purpose to keep fighting. It soothes our souls when times are darkest. Don't be afraid to open your heart, son. Life is too short and brutal not to seize happiness where you find it."

Chewing on his bottom lip, Daryl nodded, his eyes on you until you waved at Carol, Hershel, and him, wishing everybody goodnight, Carl did the same when you silently reprimanded him for not doing so.

"I love 'er?" Daryl asked, but it sounded more like a confession. Hershel laughed before he slowly got up from his seat.

"That's a question only you have the answer to, son. Goodnight," with a pat on Daryl's shoulder, the man made his way to his cell.

That night Daryl stayed up for hours deciphering his own feelings. It scared him to be in love with you because any outcome could be negative. You either felt the same and it would make him feel worse if something ever happened to you; he'd have more to lose. Or, you didn't feel the same and he'd be rejected, which would make him feel like shit.

But, like Hershel said, happiness would be worth a shot, especially in this world, where it was rare to come by. So with a new determination, he allowed sleep to take him, not noticing the smile on his face as he fell asleep.

The next morning he woke up before the sun, as usual. Throwing on yesterday's jeans after figuring they were clean enough, and a clean button-up with cut-off sleeves, he headed to the kitchen, pleasantly surprised to find you there already.

You were making coffee and smiled when you saw him approaching. Butterflies.

"Hi, Dar," your soft voice greeted him as you handed him a cup of coffee. The coffee was a little old, but it felt like a luxury nowadays. He nodded in response and as a thank you for the coffee. "Oh, look, I washed this one yesterday!" you mentioned, fixing the collar of his shirt quickly.

"'S getting dirty again, sorry 'bout that," he added, finishing his drink and placing it on the counter, attempting to avoid eye contact. He heard you saying something like 'It's okay' while getting your bow and arrows. Once both were ready, you headed out, saying goodbye to Glenn and Maggie who were on watch.

The walk to the woods was silent, but not uncomfortable, he noticed you were still a little sleepy, but he knew once you were awake enough, getting you to quiet down would be the issue. Not that he minded to hear you talk, but it wasn't ideal for hunting.

As you crept through the woods, Daryl seemed lost in thought. When he gestured ahead to a deer trail, you noticed his hands were uncharacteristically unsteady. "Ya wanna try leadin'?" he asked, surprising you. You started forward carefully and were doing pretty good. His "good," and hums of agreement conforming it.

Suddenly Daryl's hand closed around your wrist, stopping you.

"Wait. I...there's somthin' I gotta say," For what felt like the first time today, he looked into your eyes, his icy blue eyes looking particularly warm. "Been thinkin'. Thinking 'bout how...when we're together, the bad shit disappears, even just for a while."

Your heart swelled at this rare show of vulnerability. Still he struggled to voice deeper feelings. Your hand found his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Daryl's throat bobbed in a swallow. "What I'm tryin' to say is...you're important to me. More than most. An' I was wonderin'... I... If," he sighed, why was this so fucking difficult?

Looking away, he chewed on his bottom lip, but you stopped him, grabbing his hand and placing it on your chest where he could feel your heart. "I'm nervous too," your voice was quiet, but it grounded him, "'cause I feel the same way, Daryl."

His eyes bounced between your lips and your eyes, "ya do?" you nodded and hummed.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything before, but I... I don't know, I get a little shy around you," you shrugged, taking a deep breath.

His eyes widened subtly, looking like you just told him something absolutely insane. It made you giggle. "Why?"

"Because you're handsome and strong and smart and perfect and I really like you!" your hands gently cupped his cheeks, tilting your head to the side a little, adoring eyes tracing his features. "I love you."

That was the confirmation he needed to lean forward, trapping your lips with his in a slow kiss, almost hesitant. Your hand found the back of his head, pulling him closer. His lips molded perfectly against yours, and his strong hands felt perfect as they found your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your clothed skin.

It felt like fireworks inside you.

He pulled you even closer, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth which you gladly allowed. The taste of him almost made you melt. You wished you could tattoo the sensation of his kiss into your brain and remember it forever.

Only because of the lack of air did you pull away, breathing heavily and with dilated pupils. "I love ya too, sunshine," he confessed, smiling in a way you hadn't ever seen before. So perfect.

Taglist: @ledgeria16

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon headcanons #twd fanfiction #twd

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f1byjessie · 5 hours

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part thirteen.

Lando places third in the Australian Grand Prix. The buzz of lingering adrenaline leaves him keyed up with pent-up energy and, coupled with a few mouthfuls of champagne from the post-race celebration, the part of his brain that stops and thinks through all of his actions before he does them is trapped in a thick, foggy haze.

You━ overjoyed to see him back on the podium and still thrumming with the nervous excitement that always comes from such a close race━ aren’t faring much better.

You’re thoroughly drunk on your happiness and Lando’s infectious exuberance when he meets you back in McLaren’s garage━ high on the euphoric bliss of his success━ only serves as an echo chamber that further encourages the thoughtless choices made under the influence of intoxicating glee.

The post-race glow that shrouds him doesn’t help, either. He’s damp with sweat and champagne, glistening beneath the lights of the garage as he’s all but manhandled around to receive a congratulating clap on the shoulder or pat on the head from every mechanic and engineer who can get their hands on him. His hair is plastered against his forehead, and his fireproofs cling to the curves and angles of his body. His cheeks are still flushed from the exertion of the race, an innocently rosy hue against his tanned skin.

There’s a grin splitting across his face, wide and unfaltering. His eyes squint with the force of it and you imagine his cheeks must be aching by now, but he seems undeterred and, when his gaze finds you tucked away in the corner with your camera poised to capture it all, it seems to grow even wider despite the seeming impossibility.

He approaches you with your name on his lips, whispered like a prayer that’s meant for your ears only. You don’t know if you actually hear him say anything at all over the din of cheers and chatter, or if you’re just remembering how he sounds in the solitude of a hotel room━ when you can pretend like the world outside doesn’t exist and let the pretenses of your relationship fall away to reveal the gnarled claws of your hearts reaching desperately towards one another.

He reaches for you now, a comforting warmth ghosting across your waist. You have just enough sense left to transform his intimate touch into a friendly hug, but the weight of his hand pressing against the small of your back and the tightness with which you wrap your arms around him betray the truth.

“Congratulations,” you murmur into his ear before pulling away. Your hands linger on his shoulders, and you can’t help it when your eyes flicker to his lips━ a deep urge settles within you, a desire to stake your claim here in front of the entire team and show them all that Lando is yours and you are his, despite what the articles written about you and Garrett might claim━ but you relinquish your hold on him when he’s beckoned away by Andrea and resign yourself to maintaining the secrecy still.

Cloak and dagger aside, being in a relationship with Lando has been surprisingly easy. Surprising in the sense that you expected there to be more conflict━ more lingering resentment or uncertainty from all that happened. But the reality is that you both slipped into your new roles rather effortlessly because the only real thing that changed was the label.

And the kissing, of course. There’s a lot more kissing.

Even still, there isn’t too much of a difference between curling up beside him in on a couch and running your fingers through his curls while listening to him gossip about the drama of the other drivers, and snuggling into his side and holding his hand while he talks about his day.

There are still things he’s making up for and he knows that, but somehow the jump between what you were before that night in Bahrain and what you are now, after, feels right.

You consider it, the jump, to be a leap of faith, and it’s brought you to the realization that the life you’d been living━ the life you’d convinced yourself to be content with━ hadn’t been enough and would’ve never been enough. There would’ve always been a part of you that remained empty, a part of you that you hadn’t realized existed until Lando soothed away the ache of its longing. You think, without him, it would’ve been left wanting and waiting for forever.

But that’s not a future that you can envision anymore, because you do have him, and he makes sure to remind you of that fact every night when you’re both safely hidden away from prying eyes.

You were, of course, still careful throughout the rest of your time in Bahrain. Maybe too careful, with the way you both avoided each other in the garage. The entire weekend of the Grand Prix, Oscar had looked like he’d wanted to ask about it━ to pick it apart and figure out how to put it back together like some sort of puzzle in a way that was so uniquely him. You’re better now, sometime during Saudi Arabia you both managed to find the middle ground between ignoring one another entirely and being so smitten with each other that you can’t look away. Oscar still looks like he wants to ask, but he also seems content to observe whatever he’s convinced himself he’s watching unfold on its own.

Everybody else is used to the closeness you share with Lando and the years of history backing your friendship. They don’t bat a lash at the fluctuations between the two of you. Most of them have seen, or at least heard about, the spats in the early days, but all of them have witnessed the attachment you share which makes it that much easier to slip, unquestioned, into Lando’s driver room.

He enters the room himself a few minutes later and seems entirely unsurprised to see you waiting for him.

He takes you in through pupils blown wide with euphoria. He’s still twitchy with the high of his win. “You gonna congratulate me for real this time?”

You beckon him closer with a curl of your finger, an instruction he’s eager to follow. He spares a fleeting moment to lock the door behind him, and then slinks over to where you’re leaned up against the wall opposite the door.

You pull him in by the collar of his fireproofs and press a slow, searing kiss to his lips.

They’re chapped━ he’s been licking them━ but it doesn’t take away from the sweetness of the champagne you can taste in his mouth or the heat that swells in your stomach when he makes a punched out, desperate noise.

His hands shake as they come up to clutch at your shirt and when you pull away, he’s breathing heavily. The pink tinge that had faded from his cheeks is back, and his gaze flickers back and forth between staring into your eyes and staring down at your lips.

“Congratulations, Lando,” you purr, before releasing your hold on his collar and gently pushing him in the direction of the bathroom door. “Now, go shower. The faster you do that, the faster we can get back to the hotel and we can celebrate.”

Lando all but stumbles into the washroom, sparing glances over his shoulder as he goes like he’s worried you’ll disappear. You give him a wave before he lets the door close behind him, and then you wait.

It feels like your fault. You know it isn’t━ or, if it is, then Lando carries just as much blame as you do━ but it feels like you should’ve known better.

You’re the one who set the rules, you’re the one who established the necessity of being careful. No PDA in public, whether it be hand holding, kissing, hugging or whatever. No anything anywhere that someone might be able to see, no matter how inconceivable it might be. It was for Lando’s safety as much as it was for yours, because you were desperate to keep him as far away as you possibly could from the danger of Garrett Ward and his fans.

But you got comfortable. You should’ve put your foot down when he’d crowded against you━ should’ve waited until you were inside the hotel at the very least and not standing in the middle of a parking building━ but you didn’t, too wrapped up in the heat of the moment and still buzzing with the rush of desire from the implication of more that you’d promised in his driver room. Now, you’re staring down at undeniable evidence of a secret that has the power to leave you ruined, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Honestly, it was all going well━ too well.

You don’t typically believe in the luck or karmic balance, but it feels hard to deny their existence now when you’re faced with proof of their work. With so much good fortune used up in such a short amount of time━ your fledgling romance, being able to keep it hidden so well, and now Lando’s win━ you feel like you should’ve anticipated some sort of catastrophe to strike and balance it all out again.

Garrett Ward’s name flashing across your screen is the harbinger of your continued misfortune. He’s made himself scarce the last few weeks and the radio silence on his end has been an enjoyable vacation away from the almost constant reminder of the deal you’re trapped in, but the incoming call from him leaves you shaken and uneven, like your legs have been kicked out from beneath you and now you’re in freefall.

When you answer, he gets straight to the point.

“We had an agreement.”

“Garrett━”

“So,” he interrupts, voice stoney and cold. “Care to explain why I woke up this morning to my agent informing me of a very incriminating picture of you and Lando Norris sucking each other’s faces off?”

You aren’t “sucking each other’s faces off”, but the picture is incriminating. There’s no denying that it’s you wrapped up in another man’s arms and kissing someone who is very obviously not Garrett. You could try and argue that the kissing isn’t technically on the lips, but you doubt that would make much of a difference when the intimacy is plain as day.

“That’s a stretch━”

“Stretch or not,” he interrupts again, “you have royally fucked up and I expect you to find a way to fix it. Unless, of course, you’ve forgotten about why you agreed to this all in the first place?”

You’ve never heard Garrett ever sound so angry before. He’s been annoyed and pissy, and he’s snapped at you with cutting remarks and sneering derision like your presence alone pains him, but he’s never been angry. The dark undertone of how he speaks and the thickening of his sharp accent forces something cold to settle in your chest.

“I don’t care that you got what you wanted out of this whole scheme, Y/N,” he continues, snarling your name. “Quite frankly, if I cared any less about you and the happiness you’ve found with Norris, I’d stop breathing. But I haven’t gotten what I’m after, yet, so you better not fuck this up anymore than you already have or you can say goodbye to everything━ Norris included.”

There’s a finality to the way he says it, like he’ll personally ensure your happiness is destroyed if he doesn’t get his own.

Garrett is aware of what he can get away with. You’ve learned this through the time you’ve begrudgingly spent with him. He doesn’t fear the consequences of his actions because the likelihood of there ever actually being any consequences is slim, and he has such an obsessively devoted fanbase that they’d turn a blind eye to any wrong doings he’s accused of.

All Garrett has to do is tell them to jump and they’re tripping over themselves to ask him how high.

You can’t believe you ever thought you could get anything out of him. It seems so unforgivably stupid now, to have tried to stoop to his level out of your pettiness towards the situation with Lando. The fact that you ever felt it justified to risk admitting your feelings on the matter with him is appalling. Garrett is a conniving, manipulative prick and you think the only person truly capable of loving him would be his mother out of a maternal devotion to her child. There is nothing redeeming about him or what he does. He is useless in every way, and you’re tired of him having so much control over you, especially when a good chunk of that control was handed to him through your own fears.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Garrett.”

He scoffs, like it’s obvious. “Because I can? Because I’ll do whatever it takes? Manchester City is my team, and I’ll be damned if I let them kick me off because a few people take issue with how I keep my company.”

“I don’t think it’s all that unreasonable to not want to associate with someone who’s a notorious prick,” you bite back.

“Maybe I am a prick,” you can practically hear the sneer in his voice, and it doesn’t take much to envision what it looks like on his face. “But I’m a prick who plays for the greatest English team in the world. The trophies prove as much.”

It feels like a slap in the face to the players that actually got those trophies for the club. Players like Jack, Erling, Kevin, Bernardo, and so many others━ who actually put in the blood, sweat, and tears that were necessary to earn them their Treble win in the prior season. Players who care about their club and team beyond the notoriety the name gives them, or how good it’ll look in the future when their Wikipedia page says they played for Manchester City under the tutelage of a legend like Pep Guardiola. Players who care about the people behind the scenes━ the coaches and physios that ensure they can do their job and do it at peak performance, and the staff like you who don’t really affect their ability to play but who still have a role in keeping everything in motion.

“You didn’t even help them get those trophies!” You exclaim, happy Lando left earlier that morning when the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and Melbourne was bathed in the dawning light. It gives you the ability now to tear into Garrett without his concerned hovering, to be as viscious and cutthroat as you want without fear of Lando judgement.

“You were on loan to a Championship team all of last season,” you continue, “and you only got called back because of your injury. You weren’t game ready until February of this year, and even now you don’t start. You’ve been back on the pitch a whopping two times, and both of them were for the FA Cup when Pep wanted to rest up the players that actually matter. Everything City has gotten they earned without you. They don’t need you at all, Garrett. You’re useless to them, and you’re useless to everyone else without them.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you can tell you’ve struck a nerve. As much as Garrett pretends to be infallible and nonplussed, he is still a human and he has insecurities of his own, and you’d bet every chunk of change you’ve ever earned that you just managed to find his.

When he speaks again, his voice is low and dangerous. The blazing inferno of your anger dwindles down to a flickering candle flame in the face of his own rage, like you’ve been doused with a bucket of frigid water.

“And you’re useless to me━” he says, “━if you don’t find a way to fix this mess you’ve created. So either you do what you’re told, or I’ll follow through on what I promised and make you so miserable that you’ll never feel even a fragment of happiness ever again. Have I made myself clear?”

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

He laughs. “It’s nothing personal, love. I’ll be in touch. Cheers.”

INSTAGRAM.

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tagged: garrettward

yourusername i was made aware today of a set of photos going around featuring me and my coworker in a situation that could be mistaken as compromising. i’m coming here to tell you that me and garrett are still very much together and still very happy to be with one another. lando is a long time friend of mine and i was congratulating him on a well deserved victory. a kiss on the cheek is not implicit of romantic interest, and i will not be made to feel ashamed for supporting my friend in a way that is unique to us. we, like all friends, have quirks to our relationship, and those quirks are no one’s business but our own. lando is very dear to me, but i can have male friends and still be very much in love with my boyfriend. as proof, here are pictures of the day me and garrett spent in london on a date after i got back from melbourne.

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user i was actually kind of excited at the idea of her being with lando… 🫤

↳ user IKR??? idk, her relationship with garrett has always seemed to surface level. her and lando have YEARS of friendship under their belt and i gen thought they were already dating when i got into f1

↳ user so glad i’m not the only one who thought this!! seeing the pictures of her with ward actually shocked me bc i thought her and norris were in a not-so-secret secret relationship already

user THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU Y/N 🙌🙌🙌

user if my bf kissed another girl on the cheek and hugged her like that, congratulations or not, i’d be livid.

↳ user just say you’re insecure and move on. not everyone is out to cheat on their partner, but it says a lot about you that your first instinct when you see two friends sharing a moment is that you automatically assume they’re romantically involved 🙄

user ok but those pictures look pretty damning…..

↳ user i ain’t never seen “friends” hold one another like that is all i’m saying 👀👀

↳ user friends can be intimate without the intimacy being romantic, but in this singular case i do think there was mayhaps a bit more going on than just friendly congratulations

user ooooooh I know Lando has got to be fuming rn 😂

user seeing this comments makes me so afraid for the future generation. since when did we condone cheating?

↳ user are you actually fucking blind?? 🤨🤨 you’re commenting this on a post where she is literally telling us she didn’t cheat and that her and lando are just friends. it’s literally a he-said-she-said situation between the paparazzi and her and lando, and quite frankly i’m choosing to believe the people actually involved because the paparazzi are notorious for capturing things without context and painting situations in a certain light purely to drum up drama and excitement.

↳ user yeah but if someone’s cheating and they get caught they aren’t gonna admit to cheating? especially if they can just use the excuse that they’re friends with the person they’re having an affair with?

↳ user i think it’s super telling how the media views women if the first impression is to assume a woman with a male friend is cheating on her partner. god forbid women have friends that aren’t exclusively female 🙄😮‍💨

user GARRETT GET OUT OF HERE LET US Y/NLANDO GIRLIES HAVE OUR MOMENT OF TRUTH 😭😭😭

user i know my girl y/n wasn’t a cheater

user is it morally wrong to hope that y/n really is cheating on garrett? I’ve always gotten a bad vibe from him from the beginning, especially when he did nothing to defend her when his crazy fans were bashing her in the comments and literally sending her death threats. I’m not saying cheating is okay, but i don’t think i would blame her in a situation like this, especially when lando is her best friend and has been since like 2019

↳ user i don’t think it’s morally wrong persay… i don’t think i would blame her either for cheating in this situation, but i also don’t want her to be associated with the type of stigma that comes from being exposed to the public as a cheater. especially since her career is as public as it is and relies so much on having an online presence

↳ user honestly i just hate garrett ward and i’ve wanted her and lando together since 2021 🤷‍♀️

user why does the caption to this post seem so scripted…?

INSTAGRAM.

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 594,950 others

landonorris can’t tag who took these pictures for me cuz we might get accused of cheating 🤷‍♂️

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oscarpiastri do you think people suspect we’re also having an affair? 🤔

↳ landonorris they can never stop our love, oscar! 😩

user MR NORRIS DID NOT COME TO PLAY 🫢🫢

user i love you lando pls never change

user i just know bro was FUMING when he saw y/n’s post denying the rumours

↳ user mans has been trying to shoot his shot with a babe like her since 2019 💀 if i were him i would be too

user okay so do we think there’s actually smth there or are they really just friends?

↳ user my two cents is that they’re together and garrett knows but doesn’t care and just doesn’t care so long as the public doesn’t find out about it

↳ user what??? no wtf why would any guy, but especially a guy like garrett ward, let his girlfriend be with another man???

↳ user because garrett ward is an infamous cheater and he probably is seeing other women too? because garrett would be a hypocrite to condemn his gf if she cheats when he’s cheated on several women in the past and not even faced any consequences?

user god what I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall when all this drama is happening

↳ user I have never wanted to be in the room where it happens more than this moment right now

user 🧡🧡🧡 LANDO PODIUM LET’S GOOOOOOO!!! 🧡🧡🧡

user bro got the trophy and (almost) got the girl

↳ user he’ll have his first win AND the girl by the end of the season, i’m calling it

user so disgusting to see you condone cheating. what happened to bro code??

↳ user be so fucking frrrrrr omg. he’s not condoning cheating, he’s making fun of ppl who think he’s having an affair with someone who has a boyfriend just bc they’re friends, bc for some reason society forbids boy-girl friend duos. grow up. “bro code” is so middle school.

user bro wants us to know it was real so bad but he knows he’d get in trouble if he out right told us

user lando is either telling us we’re all dumb for thinking they’re together, or they’re actually together and we’re all dumb for not knowing

↳ user he’s a paradox and his only purpose in life is to make things chaotically confusing for the rest of us 🤦

user the filters on these photos just SCREAM y/n...

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: please disregard any typos or mistakes! i wrote this in bits and fragments and wanted to get it posted as soon as i could, so i only briefly scanned through it after i finished. but i hope you enjoy it! i am genuinely so sorry it took me so long to finally get this out here, my job has been a bit hectic and it's a lot more physically demanding than i had initially thought, so i'm pretty wiped out by the time i get home and i usually just veg out and rot on tiktok or something until i feel like i can turn my brain back on again. but here's to hoping i can get back into the swing of things here soon as i get more used to my schedule!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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