#but the first thing he gets told when he bravely approaches is to get to safety <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

risuola · 9 months

Text

SHUSH, WE'RE IN THE LIBRARY — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

cw: smut, student x teacher, age gap (reader is 18, Satoru is 28), public sex, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), little bit of cum play, reader discretion is advised — 1,8k words

a/n: since you liked the first part so much, here’s a little nsfw sequel

» FIRST PART

When you walked into the library earlier in the day, there wasn't a single hint as to how the visit was going to end. It had been a few days since your last training session with Gojo, the one where you kissed him (and punched him in the face), and everything seemed quiet after that – he left Tokyo for a couple of days on a business trip, and you had no idea he was already back. You were quickly made aware of that, when his honeyed tone reached your ears as you walked pass him, not even noticing the headful of white hair, “not even a hello? Ayy, that’s rude,” he chuckled and before you could even think of reaction, he was already behind you. You were searching for a book, somewhere in the middle of dozens of bookshelves, when he trapped you in between old medical literature and his well-build body.

“I didn’t notice you, sensei,” you admitted quietly, suddenly hyperaware of him – the sound of his voice, the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his body; everything became all to close, tickling your senses and freezing you on the spot.

“I may forgive you,” he chuckled and you felt his hand snaking around your waist, pulling you flush to his torso. Breath stuck in your throat as you noticed the hard outline of his cock pressing against your back. “So, tell me, what are you looking for at that hour?”

“I forgot about homework Shoko gave me”, you responded, trying to keep your composure. “I came here to study before I meet with her.”

“Forgetting about homework? How unruly”, Gojo lowered his head, nipping at the tip of your ear and once again, you stopped breathing. It was all new to you, he was never that brave with his flirting but he had told you before he left that he’ll catch you when he’s back. That day on the training grounds, things got pretty heated, until he noticed some students approaching, what forced you two apart. “How about I give you a lesson.”

“Sens-“

“Shush, we’re in the library,” he smiled and your vision went dark, as he covered your eyes with his blindfold. Fighting with confusion, you forced your other senses to sharpen and you quickly became extremely aware of the traces his large hands were leaving all around your body, the wet marks his lips were planting on the sensitive skin of your neck and his rock-hard statue right behind you.

Satoru acted quickly, desperate to finally have you after he's been thinking about you nonstop for the last few days. He gathered your skirt up and unbuttoned your shirt a bit to get more access to your skin, while his lips never lost contact with your neck. Grateful for the early hour and the empty library, he whispered filthy little somethings into your ear, messing with your senses as you never knew from which side he'll speak next. Your little gasps and whimpers overjoyed him, the needy roll of your hips against his hardened cock made him hold his breath and he reached down, sneaking his hand under your belly and lower to tease you. The wetness that has already soaked a patch through your panties made him grin with cocky pride.

"So needy," he purred, not wasting any more time. His long fingers found their way beneath your underwear and you bit onto your lower lip, swallowing the whimper that threatened to escape your throat as you felt the circling pressure on the most sensitive bud in your body. Feeling brave, you reached back, touching his thigh and moving up to stroke his clothed member. The size hit you, a gasp left your mouth and you realized that there's no way he could fit inside you. As if sensing your hesitation, he undid the button and zipper, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free. You gasped as your palm wraped around his girth, your mind slowly spiraling about what you've gotten yourself into, but your pussy seemed to be nothing but excited. Satoru could feel the arousal underneath his fingers, he felt your clit throbbing and your hips rolling slightly to get more friction from his hand.

"Now you're going to be a good girl, yeah?" he smirked, taking away the pleasure of his digits and swiftly turning you around. "Down," he commanded, and without a second thought, you dropped to your knees. Quickly you found the magic wand, your eyes are still covered so touch was the only sense you could only rely on. As you stroked it up and down, you felt your mouth salivating, you were curious and decided that if you cannot see it, at least you can taste it. Driven by the thought, you gave the head of his cock a few experimental licks, circling your tongue around the tip and tasting the salty pre-cum that's already collected there.

You felt his hand stroke your head, wordlessly praising you and you took him into your mouth, slowly at first, almost teasingly, as you created a mental image of what you felt under your tongue – all the veins dancing around his long shaft, the sheer size of what you were working with, the way he filled your mouth completely and you still had room to use your hand. Encouraged by his palm, you picked up the pace, licking and sucking, listening to his breath hitching in his chest above you, and when the tip hit the back of your throat and you used your teeth to graze along the length, his head fell back. Few fucks left his throat and you felt him snap his hips forward. His cock was leaking, throbbing in the warmth of your mouth and you decided to tease him a bit.

Taking him out completely, you run your tongue along the underside of his hard member and Gojo felt like it's torture as your lips sucked hard on the very tip. "Enough teasing," he breathed out, grabbing you under your arms and pulling you up again, your back turned to him. The next thing you felt was his length sinking into you without warning.

He pushed himself into you painfully slowly, stretching you incredibly well, and you muffled the moan that tried to escape your chest with your hand. Satoru bottomed out, angling his hips upward, filling you just right as his palms landed on the sides of your waist, where he also kept your skirt from rolling down. Your panties were quickly torn by him, the seams giving up under the pressure of his strength, and you couldn't help but shiver at the sudden feeling of losing your underwear. "Such a good girl," he cooed directly into your ear, before pulling out almost completely, only to push back fully. He was drunk with the sight of his length disappearing inside you, the feeling of your muscles squeezing him is overwhelming and if it weren't for the grounding iron grip on your hips, he'd be completely lost here and there.

You bit down onto the heel of your palm, quieting yourself as your mind went completely blank. All your senses were focused on him – the taste that still lingered on your tongue, the musky scent of his cologne, and the way his thick cock hammered into you, twitching and flexing from time to time, successfully driving you crazy. You saw stars in the darkness of his blindfold. The force of his hips was brutal, stretching you deliciously with each thrust, kissing every sweet spot inside you, and the way your pussy squeezed him was a reward he found intoxicating.

You gripped tightly onto the bookshelves in front of you, your knuckles turning white as you tried to stabilize yourself. "S-sen-sei~," you panted, your words half coherent as Satoru ruthlessly pounded into you from behind. His hand crawled around your neck and pressed against your mouth, silencing you. "Sshh," he whispered directly into your ear and you could hear the amusement in his tone, you knew he was smiling, "you don't want anyone to hear you, do you?"

You didn’t, but how could you help it when he was abusing your cunt so well. You hummed, gritting your teeth to shut yourself up as he fucked his way right into your soul. Gojo watched with pride as you took him whole, the sound of skin slapping echoing in between shelves and the way your ass jiggled at the impact of his body colliding with yours made him go feral. You could feel yourself crumbling under the sheer power he had over you, your knees barely kept you standing, and if it wasn't for the supporting grip he had on your hip, you would have surely fallen over, defeated by the towering body that loomed over your own.

It became too much, he felt the warmth rushing through his veins and he leaned into you, burying every breathless groan into your shoulder and you could hear how fucked out he was, you felt him throbbing inside you and the dangerous wave of your release was approaching fast. The rhythmic squeezing of your pussy brought him to the edge and he babbled the most obscene praises against your neck. You felt like the temperature in the library raised, burning your skin with lust and satisfaction as you came undone, creaming around his cock and he followed closely, unable to resist the delightful twitches of your walls. Spilling his load, he filled you completely and you felt his thrusts becoming sloppier, uneven as he ride out the blissful haze and he laughed softly, his head buried in the skin between your neck and shoulder. He was overjoyed, ecstatic, he sounded almost high as he pulled out and turned you over so he could scoop you into his chest before you collapse.

Your knees were weak and you clung to him for dear life, focusing on the drumming of his heart beneath your ear. The library fell quiet, only your mingled breaths bounced off the bookshelves, quickly being absorbed by the countless pages of old literature.

You felt him pull away, smoothing your clothes back into place before zipping up his pants.

"You've been such a good girl," he praised, catching the drop running down your thigh with his fingers and then lifting it to your face. "Open," Satoru commanded and you complied, taking the digits into your mouth and licking them clean. "My favorite student."

When he finally removed the blindfold from your head, you felt the cold air hitting the damp skin underneath your eyes, Satoru smiled gently, wipes away the teary residue with his thumb and leaning in to plant a soft, tender kiss on your lips.

“I can’t wait until you graduate,” he muttered against your mouth.

“Gradua… fuck, I need to go see Shoko.”

“First you need to clean up. We’ve made quite a mess.”

“But-“

“I’ll explain you.”

“If you say so, sensei.”

2K notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 9 months

Note

Omg omg could we get a story about how Miguel and wife/reader first meet? Like maybe they both meet from high school or reader was watching Miguel play soccer with his friends in college!

Had this one sitting for a while cause I didn't know what to do. UNTIL, hehehe >:D Carneadas. (Mexican style bbq)

Pt 2

If someone would have told you that you'd find your future husband in a friend's of a friend gathering you would've just laugh it off.

Jessica and you were fresh out of college, and to celebrate it, she decided to take you on one of her outings. A suburban area, nice houses loitering around in every corner your eyes turned, a lot of parked cars and of course, people that clumped in the decored entrance.

Lights and loud spanish music were just the spark to create ambience, the true star of the night was brewing in two enormous pots. The smell of food lingered in the air the more Jessica pulled you within the crowd.

"Remind me again, who are these people?

"Friends of friends. Never been in a carneada before?"

"My family does these once a month, just don't get why is there so much people."

"We'll, everyone's for the food, so... yeah. Just have fun."

You greeted the people as your feet took you to the drinks. Beers, sodas, more beers and pitchers of horchata, Jamaica, and some lemonades were placed on the coolers.

Reaching for the horchata, you grabbed a plastic vase and poured yourself some. To your surprise a man, the biggest one you have seen in your whole life, stood next to you, his eyes focused in the different brands of canned beers submerged in ice.

Your hand reached for a Modelo and popped the lid out with one of your rings. The man eyed you with amusement. He grabbed a Corona but frowned upon not finding the lid popper. He was going to take the lid to his mouth and you gasped

"Wait! No. Don't do that."

"I can open them, thanks" His voice deep.

"Mano, si que eres terco." (Man, you're stubborn)

He blinked at your voice and handed you the beer, you just popped the lid with the corner of the table.

"Don't mess up your teeth."

The man seized you, a lax smile on his lips.

"Too late for that" He smirked, revealing a longer than average canine. Your eyes went up in surprise.

"Oh."

The music changed and you took the drinks to then sit next to Jessica. You gave her the beer. Some people danced, others were lining up for the food.

"What were you doing?"

"Just met Dracula."

Jessica tilted her head in confusion and laughed.

"I'm not joking, the man had big ass fangs."

"Didn't know you were into that sort of things, but we don't kink shame."

"Jessica!" Her boyfriend had swooped off her feet and took her to dance. Great. You were ditched.

At first, you refused to dance, but as the music changed, your feet were itching to do so. Another man was brave enough to approach you and ask you for a dance, then another, you danced with Jess and clapped once the song was over.

You went to the drinks again to refresh yourself, this time you got a Corona and took a long swig of it.

"My, that was so fun."

-----

Even though your evening had been fun, you needed a break from the party. The host, Peter, seemed like a very easygoing person. Jessica was his acquaintance.

You went to the kitchen in search for another glass of horchata, even though beers were tasty and reminded you a bit of home, the horchata was simply delicious. There was no glasses, but spotted a pack of plastic cups ontop. Problem, was that the fridge was a bit too high for your likings.

You pulled up a chair, ready to climb ontop when the same large hand reached over and pulled a couple of cups down.

"Thanks."

"Who said it was for you?"

The man from before teased, you rolled your eyes and climbed ontop of the chair to reach for a cup yourself.

"No te vayas a caer, Pitufina." (You'll fall down, Smurfette)

"Cállate, Drácula." (Shut up)

He shook his head with a chuckle.

What a douche

"Lemme"

"No, I can do it."

"Te vas a caer con esos tacones." (You'll fall down with those heels)

"It's not a big deal!"

"-Ta madre, lo que tienes de bonita lo tienes de terca. Bájate" (Your stubbornness only matches your beauty. Get down.)

Your lips pouted, a mild flush sweeping your face. You took his hand and he helped you to get down the chair. Even in your heels, you still looked small.

"You are supposed to say thanks."

"For doing something myself?"

His smile went a bit wider.

"Food's done. Let's go"

"Wait." You poured another glass of horchata

"Didn't know my recipe would have a fan."

"Meh, my mom's better"

Your smile smug as he deadpanned.

"Just bit more of sugar. And blend the rice well. There are some little pieces of it in the bottom."

He was about to protest when a man, similar to him spoke. His brother you supposed.

"Miguel?" He looked between him and you, "Ya está la carne, hay que servir" (Meats done, we gotta serve up)

He then left

"Wanna go critique my food as well?"

"Ohh, I'd love to yeah."

----

He'd serve the food along his younger brother, you were one of the last ones in getting your portion. He prepped your plate with a little more care, the Birria's consomé (broth) in a side, another little container for the sauces and of course two big loaded quesabirrias and a bunch of different roasted meats.

"Hope it's from your likings, chaparrita"

"We'll see about that, Dracula" You smirked and took the dish, fingers brushing for a moment.

"Provecho" (Bon Appetite)

------

"How was it?" He sat across you once more upon seeing you alone. Jessica had ditched you again. Oh she so owed you this one.

You shrugged with a smile.

"Good? Bad?"

"I'm teasing. It was great. Specially the broth. Thanks for cooking."

He took a swig of his beer.

"De nada." (You're welcome)

"Miguel! Hay que limpiar" (We gotta clean up)

Gabriel's voice boomed behind him.

"Need help with it?"

His eyes stared at you for a moment and pursed his lips, trying to hide a smile.

"Si quieres" (If you want to.)

-----

You had waved your goodbyes and hopped in with Jessica in her car and left. He just then realized that he never asked your name.

Dumbass.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#t writes✨#miguel atsv #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel fluff

741 notes · View notes

ghostssweetgirl · 1 year

Text

jealousy simon 'ghost' riley x reader (smut)

Pairing: fem reader x simon 'ghost' riley [smut]

CW: fem reader, fem pronouns used, slight dom ghost, jealousy, alcohol intake, possessive/jealous/makeup sex, p in v sex

nsfw under the cut ! minors , do not interact !! 18 ++ !!

alternate version here

word count: 2.6k~

Always being close to your Lieutenant Ghost, it wasn't ordinarily weird when you went out to pubs, bars, or the combined, such as where you'll be tonight - a busy bar/restaurant downtown. Except for this time, you had been in your feelings and discovered your own towards your superior. You contemplated telling him, but to be safe, you wanted to wait until you had a few drinks in, in case he doesn't accept it, you can blame it on the alcohol. (lmao blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a alcohol 🤪 I'm so funny guys... LAUGH OR ELSE😈)

You ordered your first drink and found a table to sit at while waiting for him. Of course, it would be hard not to notice him, as big of a man as he was. So, you busied yourself on your phone in the meantime.

15 minutes go by and you sigh, looking up to the entrance at the right time when he walked in. Your face instinctually lit up, waving at him. He returned the wave before gathering a bartender's attention and being handed a bottle of whiskey as he made his way over to you, grunting as he sat down.

"What's up, Lieutenant?" fuck you were already being awkward.

He tilted his head, noticing you acting strange but not pushing it. "Hello to you, too."

You grabbed the menus and handed him one before barely skimming through it, closing it, and setting it back. None of their entrees looked appetizing, so you're going with safe food.

"I don't know why you grab a menu. Y'always get the same thing," he joked. "Tenders and chips."

"And you always get a steak. Medium rare with scalloped potatoes and mac n' cheese," you played along. You knew him well, if not better than he knew you. Who were you kidding, he was a very observant man. You wouldn't be surprised if he knew more about you than you thought.

"Guess you do pay attention," he chuckled as he closed his menu. He lifted his mask and took a long swig of whiskey.

After you enjoy your meals, you drink about 6 [or however many cups/shots you want, idc] more cups while Ghost's on his second bottle, you're filled with laughter, and feel very giddy. Your body jolted as you remembered what you wanted to tell him tonight, and by gauging his mood, it really wouldn't be a bad idea, especially at this point.

"Need another one. Be back," he told you, getting up to the bar. It was pretty busy now, a bunch of women gathered at the front.

You tried to keep your eyes off of him, and you even picked up your phone to attempt to distract yourself, but it stayed in your hand, falling to the table as you watched what was happening. A woman, a very attractive one honestly, peeked at Ghost, checking him out and smiling ear to ear as she approached him. You figured of course he would look, she's showing off her whole body in that damn outfit she was wearing. You couldn't read her lips because of that damned big smile, but it was very obvious she was flirting.

You watched as her hand bravely snaked up his forearm. He turned his head slowly, and his eyes scanned over her body. Oh, how your heart sank. But you pursed your lips, nearly fighting back tears as you watched the interaction. He shifted in his step, still waiting for his bottle. His head bobbed as he spoke, and you only hoped he wasn't reciprocating her intentions.

And if that wasn't bad enough, soon as two barstools cleared up, they sat next to each other. Your breath fastened as you kept trying to pry your eyes away. His hand lay on the small of her back while she sat up on the stool. You're finally able to look away, rage filling your head as you pick up your wallet and pull enough cash to cover the bill and then some, with a hefty tip.

What the fuck was taking so long for the drinks, and why the fuck was he touching her? At this point, you didn't want to know. You were ready to confess your feelings, to hope that you could call him yours, but of course, some slut would pull him away - ruin your chance. You almost saw red as you huffed, picking up your stuff and storming out the door, walking a good while to where you parked, damn the busy city.

She'll keep him busy, y/n, don't worry. He won't notice you're gone, and sure as hell won't care - you told yourself.

You were about 10 feet from your car when you surprisingly heard a deep voice calling your name, getting closer every second.

"Y/N!" he called.

You ignored him, booking it into your car, and fiddling with the keys to unlock it. Goddamn, if he wasn't as fast as he was, you barely got your key into the door when he took your keys away from the door, grabbed your wrist, turning you to face him.

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you, y/n?" he asked in a stern voice, concerned. "You've been acting weird all night, talk to me."

You rolled your eyes. You bit your tongue as you didn't want to say anything too mean, but fuck if you weren't livid with him. It wasn't his fault, you knew that. You know he didn't know and couldn't read your damn mind, but for some reason you expected him to. You huffed, not being able to help your venomous tone as you replied, "Nothing! Nothing is wrong! I'm going home!"

You once again try to open the door, hurriedly trying to escape.

He slammed the car door shut, towering over you, almost raising his voice. "What the fuck is your problem, y/n? Fuckin' tell me. I'm not going back and forth with you and I'm not fucking chasing you. Tell me what the fuck is wrong."

Tears pricked your eyes, finally falling as you stammered, trying to find the words. You gave up, looking at the ground. Very careful with his words, he gently cupped your chin. "Hey, hey. Come on," he sighed. "Don't give me a hard time. Just tell me."

"I-I just wish you would notice how I feel for you, Ghost! I've had a fucking crush on you for... I don't know how long now! And seeing you flirt with that... that bitch! I just... I got so mad, I was..." you sniffled, stopping yourself from going on a ramble and trying not to be disrespectful towards some random girl who honestly didn't deserve it as you knew it wasn't right to hate on people.

"Flirtin'? I was flirtin' with her? Sweetie, no..." He wiped your tears away with his thumbs, carefully not to smudge your eyeliner. "Fuckin' hell, I'm sorry. That was nothing, y/n. It meant nothing."

"Yeah, right," you scoff, finding it hard to believe him, remembering how he was looking at her. "I'm sorry. I should have never said anything. Please, just let me go home."

"Y/n... Let me get us an Uber... We've been drinkin' luv," his voice softened, showing genuine concern for you. While it was somehow convincing, you still felt anger. "Will you let me come home with you? Please."

You don't think you've ever heard him say 'please' like this before. You fought with yourself mentally, until of course, you caved in.

"Whatever," you replied.

You didn't talk to him on the drive home, making it obvious you were mad at him as you faced yourself against the window. He tried to touch your shoulder in comfort but you pushed him away. When the car finally came to a stop, you got out in a hurry, and for no reason, sped walk to your door even though you know full and damn well you invited him back here with you.

You locked yourself in the bathroom as you needed a moment to straighten up and change into pajamas.

Finally calming down, you walk to your hallway. Looking back and forth between your bedroom and the living room, your body moved on its own to where he was.

You both make eye contact as you come and sit down. You sit down, hugging your thighs to your chest. "So..."

"So. You have feelings for me, yeah?"

"Yeah... I guess I do, so now what? I ruined our friendship?" you shrugged, trying to find any bit of discomfort in his face - eyes - that damn mask.

"No," he shook his head, leaning into his knees, keeping eye contact. "Not at all."

"Well," you look down. "Now what, Lieutenant?"

"Quit callin' me that."

As you find his eyes again, they seem more relaxed as they look you up and down. "Simon."

"Okay... Simon," you repeated his name.

Awkward fucking silence. Fuck it, you were going to sleep.

"Since we're fine, I'm going to sleep."

"Not yet you are," he softly groaned, getting up, listening to his knees crack before he knelt before you, a sight you must admit was heavenly. Knees spread on the ground, still at face level. His hands rested on his thick, muscular thighs. "Y/n... I do like you. Have for a long time."

You have to shake your head to look away from his bottom half. "Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that?"

He looked at your hands, softly pulling them away. Your thighs spread as they fell on the couch. His thumbs rubbed the top of your hands. "Mean that, truly." He pulled away from one hand, lifting his mask above his soft, pink lips before he planted a loving kiss on your hand, before turning it over to kiss at your palm, letting you cradle his face.

You relaxed into his touch, a breath you've been holding for a while finally releasing. His soft eyes met yours for a moment, you saw the universe. Time stopped as you both leaned into a passionate kiss, he cups both sides of your face as he takes in all your mouth had to offer, every taste lingering from your fruity drinks mixed with his tobacco and whiskey combination.

It wasn't long before he hoisted you up, letting your legs wrap around his torso while he blindly walked in the direction where your bedroom would be. The kiss only broke when he asked you which door to go into.

He hovered over you as he set you on your bed, the bed sinking in where his hands held himself up. He moved on from your lips to your jaw, sucking down into your neck, licking a stripe up your pulse. His knee maneuvered between your thighs, grinding into your heat, surely already sopping wet. Finally feeling how he touches you, kisses you, handles you - you could orgasm alone from just this.

He lifted his hands, brushing over your lips which greedily took his index finger in, sucking on it, swirling your tongue around it, earning a sinful groan from Simon. He fixed his position, hiking his knees up next to your hips as he took his fingers out of your mouth with a pop of your lips, switching to another pair.

His hand glides over your breast, sliding over your perked nipple, reaching underneath the band of your pajama pants, to the hem of your underwear. "You sure you want this, luv? Don't know that I can hold back if you say 'yes', doll..." he warned.

"Yes, yes, I want this," you breathed. With your consent, two thick, wet fingers found your throbbing clit, rubbing it in slow circles. Your body tensed as you gasped in pleasure, biting your lip as you looked into his dark, lustful eyes.

"So fuckin' wet f'me. All for me, right, lovie?" he cooed.

"All- Oh! Only for you, Simon~!" you back bowed off the bed as you swear you were already approaching your first orgasm. His fingers spread your folds before finding your clenched hole. The squelch nearly bounced off the walls of your pussy as he slowly and eagerly pushed two fingers in, carefully pistoning his fingers inside of your spongy walls.

"Fuck~, so fuckin' tight and wet. Can't wait to fuck you silly. Make you feel so damn good, baby..."

"Simon!" you whined as he hit that spot, your pussy clenched relentlessly, making it harder for him to thrust in and out as your orgasm washed over you, gushing all over his fingers, slick and thickly coating his fingers.

"What a good girl, yeah? You did so well, baby," he leaned forward, pressing his lips to your sweaty forehead as you caught your breath. He smirked as he cleaned off his fingers, and you embarrassingly watched, blushing as you saw his eyes roll back at the taste of you - your cum. "Ready for my cock, luv? Yeah?"

Oh, how you nodded before he even finished the sentence. He swiftly pulled your pants off before taking his off. He slapped your clothed pussy, watching your body shiver at the impact and chuckling at your state.

You look down to see his cock, and your eyes widened. How you were going to take him, you didn't know but you knew it would ruin you~.

He kissed at your naval before slowly pulling your underwear down. "Can you take all of me, lovie?"

"Mhm!" you were eager to please him, even though you were unsure if he would fit.

He teased his tip between your folds, gathering the remaining slick from your orgasm before pushing his thick head into you slowly.

"Fuck! S-so big, Simon..." Your legs quivered but readied to lock around his hips.

"Too tight, fuckin' hell..." he strained, having to physically hold back from slamming into you all at once.

As he inched in deeper, your back arched higher and higher, eager to fully take him into you. He stretched you out nicely until his tip kissed your cervix, and he bottomed out. Your eyes squeezed shut as you gripped his shoulders, he leaned down to suckle at your neck, deafening his groans into your skin.

"Don't stop, please... please," you begged. You needed more, needed him to ruin you and show you that he's yours and you his.

"Fuckin' hell..." his eyes rolled back at your pleas, obliging instantly as he picked up the pace. Your tightness was surely going to milk him of all that he had, but he didn't think he could last too much longer due to the sweet, sweet melody he was creating from your moans that echoed off the walls.

"Right there, Simon~! Oh my god!" your legs shook even as they were tightly locked around his waist. Your nails clutched at the back of his neck, so focused on the pleasure you didn't notice the wetness that was blood that was pooling around your nails from your scratches into him; he didn't care, he was getting off to pleasing you.

"Cum with me, lovie..." he demanded softly.

White heat licked the back of your eyes before you saw stars, nearly blacking out. He falls on top of you as he paints your insides white, the heavy weight of his body was in fact very comforting, and you found yourself slipping off to sleep.

He allowed you a moment before he woke you, wanting to help you clean yourself off before heading to bed.

"You with me, darlin'?" he chuckled as he rubbed your cheek, lovingly staring into your eyes, looking over each feature of your face.

You smile. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. That was... so good."

He smirked, deeply chuckling. "Right, let's get you washed up, babe."

He helped you up, leading you to the bathroom, and that's mostly all you remembered of this night.

As you lay in bed, you smile yourself to sleep with Simon next to you. Before dozing off, you wondered...

Why was I mad again?

1K notes · View notes

theelastword · 9 months

Text

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

So I’ve been seeing a lot of people talk about how big of a mistake Aziraphale made in the finale and how badly they feel for Crowley (instead of feeling bad for BOTH of them). And honestly? I don’t understand the perspective that Crowley getting his heart broken in episode 6 has to mean that Aziraphale was totally naive and wrong and that it’ll take Crowley a lot of time to forgive him, or that Aziraphale’s ending in season 2 wasn’t just as heartbreaking as Crowley’s.

Think about everything we know about Aziraphale, who has never once been power-hungry and— following season 1— no longer cares what Heaven thinks (he even told the Metratron that he didn’t want to go back to Heaven when first approached). Aziraphale only left because he sees angels like Muriel, who definitively have good in them despite everything, or even Gabriel who somehow figured out how to fall in love and find something that mattered more to him than the supposed ‘morality’ of Heaven. Aziraphale sees that spark, that potential of Heaven to be turned into what it should have always been, and he thinks that he can do it because he’s seen proof of angels who can get away from Heaven’s influence, a list that includes himself.

Not to mention THAT look he gave Metatron after he brought up the Second Coming, a look that (at least from where I’m sitting) was a definite steeling of nerves and his own way of saying “Okay, time to take this thing down from the inside”. He was NOT saying that Crowley should reform himself for Heaven, or even that they should go back because he missed Heaven. He was asking Crowley to go with him because he loves him and wants him by his side— and because he knows that Crowley has experience in being there for angels who slowly deviate from Heaven.

Aziraphale wants what he’s always wanted— to keep helping everyone he possibly can, without stopping to do what he really wants and just stay in his beloved bookshop with the love of his life. Because he never prioritizes what it is he wants when he could be helping others instead. That’s just who he is, which is what makes him so selfless and wonderful but also so sad in that he never just…lets himself be happy. And the Crowley that we all know would never hate or have lingering fury toward him for that. What Aziraphale is doing, although heartbreaking to people like me who just want the Husbands to have their little cottage in the South Downs, is actually really brave, AND just as worthy of the sympathy and heartbreak that many fans are feeling for Crowley.

EDIT: Also, as sad/problematic it may be to abandon your life and partner, it’s just as problematic to turn a blind eye to the oppression and injustice of Heaven that, by all means, you have the ability and voice to try to do something about in pursuit of prioritizing what you want. So if we’re going to be mad at Aziraphale, we have to be mad at Crowley, too (and I’ll be disappointed if hypothetical-season-3 paints the narrative that Aziraphale is the only one in the wrong here). Personally, I’m all for not being mad at anybody. I completely understand both of their choices, and I just want them to reconcile and be compassionate to what the other is going through.

527 notes · View notes

atelierlili · 1 month

Text

In-Panem/Not Reaped Everlark AUs

Got asked to give some fanfic recommendations for In-Panem/Not Reaped Everlark AUs so here we are. Most of them (if not all of them) are gonna be fluffy and happy tbh because i can't take my pookies being hurt ):

Completed:

A New Path (138k words) by Endlessnightlock

The day after aging out of the Reaping, Katniss crosses paths with Peeta. She thanks him for the bread and to her surprise, a tentative friendship begins.

One of my favourites. I love the direction the author took with this story. Always made me want more!

Go Slow, Peeta (20k words) by Oakfarmer

The era of the Hunger Games has come to an end. How Everlark slowly happened anyway.

This was the one that started it all for me. Short, simple and to the point! A classic in my opinion.

Nothing Owed for a Gift (10k words) by orphaned account

Lately, Merchants have taken to flirting with unwitting Seam folk as a joke, sometimes going so far as to ask them out on a date. I've even heard of a couple instances of a Merchant asking someone from the Seam to marry them, and then laughing hysterically when the poor recipient says 'yes'. So, when Peeta Mellark approaches me after the reaping, red with nerves and pushing his lips together as if he's trying very hard not to do something like laugh, I'm immediately wary. Peeta can't possibly be asking me to marry him for real. ... right?

Urgh. Literally one of my favourite one-shots.

Inevitability (44k words) by Xerxia

What if? What if Peeta and Prim hadn't been reaped?

Definitely not the fluffiest fics in the list, but Katniss absolutely SHINES here. And Peeta stays very true to his character as well. Absolutely worth the read.

It Takes A District (55k words) by MTK4FUN

Thinking her mother is dying, Katniss Everdeen marries Peeta Mellark to keep her sister out of the Community Home.

I love this fic. I don't know what it is, but there's something about it that makes it standout on its own.

Katniss Everdeen Is Not A Stalker (241k words) by MegaAuLover

Katniss as a little problem, she can't stop looking through Peeta's window, trying to find a way to pay her boy with the bread back but as time goes on she realizes she wants more. But there is a problem the District is flooded with Peacekeepers and everyone faces danger as the Capitol tightens its reigns on the district. Can love bloom in the middle of adversity? Or will it shrivel in the face of surmounting danger?

This is the one. Easily one of the bestest AUs imo. Very long read- but I will be naming my first born after the squirrel. The Everlark relationship here is A+++.

Incomplete/Ongoing:

( I know its weird to recommend incomplete fics, some these ones are legitimately my favourite fics and think are still worth the read.)

Cavedweller (79k words) by Jennajuicebox (last update: 2021-01-25)

Her mother once told her she was brave. A word Katniss wouldn't have chosen for herself. Brave implies that you run headlong into the scary unknown. Brave implies you face the things that want you dead. It dredges up thoughts of conquering armies and swords raised over head. Katniss isn't brave. As much as she would never admit it to herself she is scared out of her wits. She is staring into a gaping chasm, waiting for it to swallow her whole.

I love AUs that explore Katniss otherside of the family so much. As always, the Everlark development here is absolutely heartwarming and delicious. 10/10

On the Threshold ( 97k words) by ghtlovesthg (last update: 2020-06-26)

Nineteen and free from the Reapings forever, Katniss finds a token on her doorstep commemorating her passage over the threshold of adulthood. Discovering the identity of the sender will start Katniss on a road that leads toward life's other milestones.

This is exactly how I envisioned Everlark would get together had it not been for the Reapings. So so so so good. There is just enough here to be satisfied that the fic is unfinished ; w;

hope you find something you like! I always have more if you want more to sink your teeth into <3 Happy readings!

@heartforeyes @the-tiny-fangirl

#everlark #the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #these are just a few I have sitting around in my bookmarks.#I know I have a few that I haven't added because I forgot ;Q:

149 notes · View notes

vinvantae · 10 months

Text

Unmasked

Part 12/16

<<< previous part

Word count: 3.7k

*******

You sat in the cockpit for a moment longer than someone who just got a podium should have, but you got third. It had felt like a kick in the teeth because had your team given you a chance, you could have won. You would have. You had got the fastest lap and your pace was unmatched but the team had favoured Charles - better strategy paired with team orders meant he had got P2 to your P3, moving him even further ahead of you in the championship.

Part of you didn’t want to face Charles, he’d undoubtedly have your outburst thrown back at his face - telling him just how unreasonable you were, what a bad teammate he had. That you were too emotional. When in reality, if any other driver had been told to hold position when they had more pace - they’d be just as frustrated. You sighed and climbed out of the car, throwing the crowds a thumbs up before going over to be weighed. Charles was standing across parc ferme, nodding as he was being Maxsplained to, his back to you.

You took off your helmet and placed it on its stand before approaching your boyfriend, placing a hand on the small of his back to get his attention. As his green eyes fell to you, all of your guilt melted away - sure he didn’t know about your radio message but this was Charles, he wouldn’t care. He grinned and pulled you into a hug, squeezing you with all his might.

“I’m proud of you, Charles.” You whispered, nuzzling your face into his neck.

You felt his arms tighten around your middle, his voice low - his words were for your ears only. “I’m sorry, this should’ve been your win.”

You frowned and pulled back a little - just enough to lock eyes with him, his gaze was soft. “I… what do you mean?”

“My pace was shit come the end, my tires were gone, they told me you weren’t going to attack. You could’ve won this if they let you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before stepping away to do his post race interview.

Your cheeks flushed dark, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly as Max approached you to give you a congratulatory hug. “What a race, happy to be sharing the podium with you for real.”

“First ever post-race interview before then, wish me luck.” You couldn’t help but cringe as you slowly approached Charles, being handed a microphone ready to speak to the crowd for the very first time since your interview. You took a moment to collect yourself as the interviewer thanked your boyfriend - this was a big step, you’d never spoken to the masses like this before and before you knew it, your name was being called so you stepped up to face them.

As loud as cheers were, you couldn’t help but hear the boos hidden beneath - the dissonant harmony rang through your ears as you put on a smile and waved to the crowds, doing your best to ignore them. “Congratulations on your first podium as you, y/n! How does it feel?”

“Unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced.” You laughed, trying to put on your best brave face as you spoke. “Finally being able to put my name to my achievements is something I’ve always wanted to do and now I’m doing it.”

“Team orders meant you couldn’t race your teammate, you didn’t sound too pleased about it - any more to say now?”

You shook your head. “I understand why they gave the orders and we ended up with a double podium - Charles’ tires were vulnerable and if I had gotten past who knows who else might have.”

“Thank you for your time, I hope to see a lot more of you.”

After one more thumbs up to the crowd you dipped into the cool down room to join Charles and Max who were seemingly engrossed in conversation - you placed your things on your pedestal and grabbed your third place cap, sitting it atop your head. Eyes flickering up to the screen as they replayed clips of the race and you couldn’t help but wince when your radio message popped up at the edge of the screen, ending the conversation in the room in a moment.

“...awkward.”

You narrowed your eyes at Max, not wanting to look at your boyfriend as you willed them to hurry up and take the comms off of the screen. It felt like an eternity before someone spoke again, and you felt Charles’ hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “We’re good, I already told you how I feel. Okay?”

The breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped your lips as you nodded, as you opened your mouth to apologise he simply smiled and shook his head - the three of you being summoned to the podium. This time around, Charles heard the crowd when you stepped out in front of them. After his interview he had gone pretty quickly into the cool down room but there was no denying the chorus of boos that were, despite being quieter, threatening to cover up the cheers. There was something about that horrible sound that seemed to overpower its counterpart.

He wanted to cover your ears, cheer louder than he ever had before to cover it up but once the champagne was in his hand - he opted to distract you by pouring the cold liquid down the neck of your race suit. “Fuck, that’s cold!”

Charles grinned as you laughed, returning the favour by spraying the contents of your bottle over him before taking a big swig. It took everything he had not to wrap you up in his arms and kiss you - but he knew the press of it would be too intense so instead for the podium photo, he pulled you tight into his side.

He was going to have your back, no matter what.

***

You chewed nervously at the skin around your thumb as you stood in the media pen with your PR manager, waiting for an interviewer to be free. This was your first time in the pen and you could see just why all of the other drivers hated it - you felt like you were in some weird petting zoo. Before you could quietly protest, saying they’ve never interviewed you before, why start now, you were ushered over towards a very excited looking lady - she was the first to get a post race interview with you. After a final deep breath you stepped up to the barricade and gave her a smile.

“Hi y/n, thank you for speaking with me. Great race today.”

“Thank you, it’s a really good result for the team and keeps us in the game for the WCC, we’re ahead right now and we’d like to keep it that way.” You said with confidence, hopefully trying to explain the team orders without shitting on the strategists - as much as you disagreed with it, you wanted to come across as the team player.

She scribbled something down in her notepad before glancing at you through her mascara coated lashes. “Reckon you would’ve won without those orders? You had better pace than Charles and you sounded irritated in your radio message.”

You shrugged a little. “Maybe but there’s no point speculating what could have been. I just need to focus on the next race and hopefully get back on that top step.”

“Thank you, good luck.”

From then on you were ushered from interviewer to interviewer - barely getting a second to breathe before you were asked again and again about the team orders. For the most part they were respectful and you could throw up your media trained answer but as you approached a woman, her carved brow raised and her painted lips curved into an almost evil smirk. You didn’t like where this was going, that was for sure.

“Afternoon, y/n, disappointed by the result?” She went straight in, offering the first jab - which you shook your head at.

“A double podium at this point in the season is key. I’m very proud of the team today.” You refused to break eye contact, the blues of her eyes were intense - like she could read every thought that crossed your mind.

She held up her voice recorder and pressed play - your radio message playing loud over the speaker before she popped it back into the small handbag tucked under her arm. “You didn’t sound too pleased during the race. Don’t you think that after Charles’ performances this season, he deserves to be prioritised by the team? That perhaps you were being a little ungrateful.”

You held your tongue for a moment, the burn of your PR manager’s eyes bore into the side of your head. “In the heat of the moment, I was frustrated, yes. But I understand and respect the team’s decision.”

“You’ve been beaten by Charles in practically every race so far this season - does this mean that you will be second driver from here on out? He is the best shot of winning the championship for the team.” You could almost taste the venom on her words as she taunted you - challenging you to break, so there was proof that you were just this emotional, bitchy woman.

“I will continue to try my hardest in this championship battle, it's not lost yet. We’re barely a third of the way into the season, there’s no telling what’s gonna happen. Thanks.”

You stepped away from her before it got ugly, you knew no matter how calm you were - people were still going to find ways to tear you down. You hadn’t won. You’d complained about Charles. The people who didn’t like you never would - it was hard to accept, especially when they were so damn loud. You felt trapped in your head, their cruel words caging you in as you walked back to the ferrari motorhome for the end of the day.

And as soon as you were alone, you did the worst thing you could have possibly done… and went online.

Charles had already seen some of the responses to your radio message and post-race interviews, for the most part people were on your side but he just knew that for the hundreds of nice comments - there were 10 negative ones that would catch your eye. He got caught up in the media pen longer than he would’ve liked, protecting you from the snark reporters were tossing in your direction, trying to get him to bite back at you. But he was frustrated for you. You were right in your message, you could’ve beat Max and as much as he wanted to win the championship, he didn’t want to do it at your expense.

He lightly rapped his knuckles on the door of your driver’s room, hearing a soft shuffling from inside before the lock unclicked and you peered around. “Hey, been waiting for you… come on in.”

“My interviews dragged on a little more than I would have liked. How are you doing?” Your teammate hummed, stepping into the room - allowing you to lock the door behind him. He crossed over to the couch, draping his arm across the back as you sat beside him.

“...They really don’t like me, Charles.” You mumbled, leaning into his side. “I feel like no matter what I do they’re going to criticise me.”

“Baby, they criticise all of-”

You narrowed your eyes at him, shrugging his arm off of your shoulder - and standing. “Don’t you dare compare criticisms you get to how they talk about me. You don’t get it. You’ll never get it.”

“Then talk to me, y/n!” Charles finally snapped. “How am I supposed to be there for you if you won’t tell me what’s going on in your head! You’re shutting me out. I’m your boyfriend, your teammate… if you can’t talk to me then who can you talk to?”

“I don’t know! Okay?! None of you get it. Lewis maybe but none of you have never and will never be a woman in this community. And I get why now. It’s not because we’re not talented enough because there’s some girls out there with more talent than half this grid in their pinkies but because no one will ever see us the way they see you.” You really didn’t mean to take all of this out on Charles, you knew his intentions were good but he’d opened the can of worms and now he was dealing with the mess. “It doesn’t even matter if I had won the race today, they would’ve accused me of stealing it from you.”

Your teammate stood up and approached you, taking your shoulders in his hands. “I know I won’t ever understand… I’m very aware of how privileged I am. But, I am your number one supporter y/n. I know it’s hard to ignore but we’ll get through this… you’ll get through this. You’re bigger and brighter than they’ll ever be.”

He watched as a tear rolled down your cheek. “I’m… I’m just not sure if I will get through this. I knew there’d be backlash but this? Physical violence… boos everytime I get in front of a crowd? It hurts so much.”

Charles wished he had the right words to say at that moment but instead he wrapped you up in his arms, burying his face into your neck and just holding you close. He felt your arms rest against him weakly, your chin hooking over his shoulder. It was hard for him, you were right - he’d never get what you were being put through. All he could do was defend you, but he was scared it wasn’t enough as you extracted yourself from his hold and started gathering up your things to head home for the day. The spark of hope you had about being revealed had been fully extinguished and he wasn’t sure what to do.

But he knew he had to do something.

***

“So what’s this all about?”

Charles stood in front of the grid, Lewis and Sebastian either side of him, Seb had somehow managed to pull everyone together for a briefing without you finding out and now 16 pairs of eyes were staring him down.

“It’s about y/n.” He said, fiddling with the edge of the table he was perched against. “All of this criticism is getting too much and we need to back her.”

“All of us get criticism, I don’t see why you need to waste our time with a meeting about this.” Fernando rose from his chair. “I’m sorry, but I am not interested in whatever you have planned… she needs to learn to deal with it herself.”

He shook his head and left the room, muttering to himself in Spanish. Charles stood there quietly for a moment, waiting to see if anyone would follow the driver out of the room but thankfully the rest remained in their seats - he wasn’t sure if it was Lewis and Seb's gazes from behind him keeping them in their seats or if they genuinely wanted to help.

“Look, the criticism we get is nothing compared to the backlash that y/n has been getting…” Lewis said, pushing himself off of the wall to stand beside the younger driver. “I like to think we’ve all stood together before for one of our own. You all stand or kneel with me when I’ve asked before, so I hope this cause is as important.”

“Just because she’s a woman, it doesn’t mean that what she’s achieved is any less.” Seb spoke next. “You all know that. We’re not asking for you to set the FIA on fire, we just want you to stand with her.”

Max leant back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I mean… I’ve got a lighter somewhere.”

Lando shoved his friend’s shoulder lightly. “Idiot. What did you guys have in mind?”

“Just a simple shared statement posted onto our instagrams.” Charles tried to make eye contact with each of his rivals, in an attempt to gauge what they were thinking. “Just saying how we won’t tolerate the bullying and actual violence.”

The Dutchman frowned. “That’s it? She was attacked, Charles… I’m in but you’ve got to have a better plan than that.”

“What did you have in mind?” Lewis said. “We didn’t want to go guns ablaze and scare you guys off.”

“I think a blanket statement is sensible.” George spoke up next, leaning forward in his chair a little - Max still didn’t look impressed. “I think a message like that from all of us will go a long way.”

Max scoffed. “Yeah sure, it won’t come across as a PR move at all. You guys can do whatever you want but I’m not just going to sit here whilst there are people out there who think they can hurt her and get away with it.”

The room fell into a stunned silence as he stood up, he stopped in front of Charles - eyes flickering across his childhood friend’s face. “I’m disappointed in you. She deserves better than this.”

The Monegasque was lost for words as the current champion left the room, the door shutting behind him the only sound in the room. He had no idea how vehemently Max felt about what you were going through.

What surprised him next was Esteban, despite his publicly tumultuous relationship with Max, he didn’t even hesitate to follow him out of the room - muttering something in French about fighting for you. He had never really considered that your other childhood karting rivals would be just as passionate as Max about standing up for you - especially as, unlike the Dutchman, he hadn’t known your secret prior to your reveal. Esteban was never one for bold statements either so the fact he was willing to do something like this surprised most of the drivers in the room.

“Uhm, anyone else?” Charles asked quietly, eyes flickering across the room. He could see a couple drivers looking a little fidgety, like they wanted to go but not knowing what Max had planned - Charles’ idea seemed like a safer bet.

He barely noticed Lewis’ strong hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “Are you still happy doing it like this? We can do something else if you don’t feel like it’s enough.”

Charles frowned a little but nodded. “Yeah. I mean, people can customise things as they see fit but I feel like the more of us they hear from the better. If you’re interested can you leave us a place to send the blanket message to? Thanks.”

He gave handshakes and bro-hugs to each of the drivers as they left the room, not noticing the way that Pierre was hanging back - still sat in his chair. The Frenchman had a feeling in his stomach that Max was right, that this wasn’t enough. He was as guilty as anyone for assuming that Thirty was a man and just like some of the others, he’d known you since you were a kid, he knew what you were capable of but has always taken your story as gospel, never questioned it. The fact he hadn’t recognised you when he joined F1 was just the final nail in the coffin, he’d ignored you more than he cared to admit- even objectifying you like many other women in the paddock.

“Pierre, you okay, man?” The Ferrari driver sat beside him. “Looking a little spaced out.”

“Max is right. I don’t… mate, I don’t have a fucking leg to stand on here.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t exactly an advocate for women, for her, being in the sport.”

“C’mon, you didn’t know.”

Pierre’s frown deepened. “That’s not an excuse. I grew up with her and since we stopped racing together I spent more time staring at her fucking tits and ass than taking a second to use my brain.”

Charles went to speak but his childhood companion rose suddenly from his seat. Pierre walked over to the door before stopping with his hand wrapped around the handle.

“Do you not remember before her reveal when you were coming out of that team thirty meeting and I didn’t even consider her? I have to find Max. I’m sorry.”

The Monegasque sat there for a little while longer as he thought about what Max and Pierre had both said. They were right, you did deserve more than just some statement but he was nervous. He was the Tifosi’s golden boy - meanwhile, he was sure Max could get away with anything and well Pierre was a nuisance so he did what he wanted regardless.

And he loved you, he did but his reputation mattered too right? He just had to figure out the best way to do it without putting up the picket signs and actively tearing down the FIA HQ to get them to protect you. His eyes flickered to the door where the grid had since left him to his thoughts. Should he have followed Max, Pierre and Esteban? Or should he stick to Sebastian and Lewis’ sage advice?

He knew you were the only person who would know exactly what to do right now - that you would give him the perfect answer. But he also knew that if you knew what he was up to, you’d say that you weren’t worth all this fuss.

But you were worth it, more than.

As his phone buzzed in his pocket he fished it out, a text from you bringing a smile to his face. The public didn’t need to love you like he did - he wasn’t sure they ever would - but you deserved as much respect as the rest of your rivals. And if meant blindly following Max, Pierre and Esteban as they acted out whatever craziness they had planned…

He was going to do it.

***

Next part >>>

Thank you all for being patient!! Last weekend was so good 🏎️ hope you enjoy!!

Want to be notified when I post? Join our discord, head over to #reaction-roles and click the sunflower 🌻

#unmasked fic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #formula one #x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc x you

549 notes · View notes

urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites · 7 days

Note

ok like my last ask but opposite

f!greaser who looks all pretty, haunted and scared and the gang + Tim and Curly being attracted to her. She has big doll eyes, low haunting voice- you have fun

Heck yeah I’m thinking like pretty dead girl aesthetic kinda vibes

Ponyboy Curtis

-thinks you’re super intriguing

-liked just watching you and seeing what you do

-he draws and paints you fr

-he just finds you hauntingly beautiful and fascinating

-you immediately stood out to him as a person

-you have super deep conversations with him at night

-looking at the stars with him while he softly kisses your cheek

-has written poetry about you and never showed you

Johnny Cade

-you both met at the lot

-he saw you sitting there, just looking at the fire you’d created

-he saw something in your eyes… sad and beautiful

-you reminded him of himself

-he tentatively walked over to you, and got the strongest urge to hold your hand

-which he resisted, silently sitting next to you as you turned your attention towards him

-with your big doll eyes

-they reminded him of Two Bits sisters only doll growing up, an antique porcelain one, a bit creepy

-you both have a silent understanding of each other that no one else quite understands

Sodapop Curtis

-sun and moon istg

-you were in the gas station, stopping by to grab something quick to drink

-as soon as he laid eyes on you he was pretty much in love

-he loved the way you looked

-people often told him his eyes were something you could get lost in

-but man, they didn’t meet you

-he immediately started hitting on you

-and when you reacted a bit startled and unsure of what to do

-he was like okayyyyy won’t do that again

-but over time his comments made you smile more and more

-until you somehow managed to say yes to a date with him

Darry Curtis

-he was walking to the store to pick up things for breakfast

-when you walked past

-no one else was out this early in the morning, everyone was inside having breakfast or sleeping in late

-but you were strolling through for whatever reason

-and you turned his head

-he noticed the subtle way you flinched

-when he tried calling you for your attention

-and when he finally looked at you he thought you were surely one of the most pretty broads he had ever seen

-something so mysterious yet beautiful, scared yet brave

-he does most of the talking for you, and yall are very cute together

-he’s so overprotective

Dallas Winston

-he was smoking in an alleyway when he saw you

-he whistled at you, and you flinched as he continued with some remarks

-“Well that’s a damn fine broad if I ever saw one”

-you seem uncomfortable

-“C-can you please stop?”

-you say, not much louder than a mouse, flashing him those big, scared, haunting eyes of yours

-it hit him like a bus

-and he did stop

-less out of respect and more out of shock but whatever

-later he approached you still with a cocky grin, but a less… asshole attitude

-you didn’t like him at first

-but he learned to have a soft spot for you just like Johnny

-you guys are so cute, and he’s super protective over you like Darry and Tim

Two Bit Mathews

-when he first met you

-he made a shit ton of jokes what do you expect

-“Damn, Dolly, how do you fit those eyes on your face?”

-“I bet you have some 20/20 vision with those telescopes.”

-“My sister has a porcelain doll just like you.”

-and at first you were a bit uncomfortable

-but shyly started cracking a small grin at his quips

-which boosted his fucking ego my guy

-made it skyscraper high

-you guys are cute together tho

-you always be there to silently giggle at his jokes

Steve Randle

-it was his shift at the gas station instead of sodapops

-and when he saw you he was like whoa

-he would pretend not to care and secretly memorized lots of things about you

-he notices the small behaviors everyone misses

-your flinching, your quiet nature, the way you always paid in only coins for everything

-your pretty brown bag you carry everywhere with you

-one day he asks you out, and you say yes

-you liked Steve quite a bit

-such an awesome couple

Tim Shepard

-ok so yk how you and soda are opposites like sun and moon?

-well you and Tim are opposites like fire and ice

-he saw you whenever he was in the middle of jumping a Soc

-you looked terrified and ran away at the mere sight

-he dropped the soc and instantly ran after you

-which you noticed and silently picked up your pace

-eventually he caught up and asked you to slow down

-you hesitantly did

-you looked up at him with those big doll eyes and he knew he was in love

-you flinched when he tried to grab your hand and he instantly felt bad

-he explained that was only someone who didn’t pay him back for something and he’d never hurt you

-you’re quite wary of him

-but the moment you kinda realized you liked him back was whenever he defended you

-from some creeps saying vulgar things

-you help ground him and calm him and he helps you be a bit braver

Curly Shepard

-you met in detention

-you were getting in trouble for something that wasn’t your fault because you couldn’t speak up for yourself

-and he was in there for lord knows what

-he’s never seen you around before or noticed you

-but now that he does…. Wow

-you look like you belong in a poem

-one of those fancy worded ones he’ll never understand

-you start playing with the paper on your desk, folding it as he kicks your chair you jump up

-“Sorry. Didn’t know you were so… uh- jumpy.”

-“Please don’t do that again.” You say softly, giving him earnest eyes

-he nods, not really paying too much attention to what you said and more focused on your eyes

-when you sit back down, he realizes how much he’s intrigued by you

-he moved to sit next to you, smirking

-over a bit of him trying to get to know you and you ignoring him

-you finally tell him your name

-“Y/n.”

-“Y/n, huh? I like that. It fits you”

#urlocalnonbinarybastardwritesanswers #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #johnny cade #dallas winston #steve randle #two bit mathews #curly shepard #tim shepard

110 notes · View notes

torukmaktoskxawng · 4 months

Text

run away with me

Pairing: Nor/Sarentu!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Avatar Frontiers of Pandora, fluff, angst, mentions of brainwashing and residential school trauma

Taglist: @mooniequeen

A/N: No one has requested me to write for AFoP so I decided to take matters into my own hands *cracks knuckles* Let's get to work.

This is basically my rendition of the cutscene you see when playing the game, after the title card. I made it lean more toward the angsty, romance play that we were robbed of when the game finally came out XD Enjoy!

Part 2

When So'lek told you that Nor had left Resistance HQ to have some time to think, you knew you needed to seek him out.

Using your new abilities and talents to track him down, it didn't shock you when you found Nor on one of the highest cliffs near the base of their new home. You remember he made a comment earlier about how there were more colors on Pandora than he remembered and how he had no names for them. You suspected he'd be all the way out here, admiring those colors and maybe trying to invent new names for them.

He didn't react when you approached the small fire he made, likely expecting you to come find him. He turned to face you with lowered ears and a forlorn look in his eyes, "What must our ancestors think of us? Do you think they pity us? Sad to see what we've become?"

"We're still Sarentu."

"Teylan barely speaks our tongue, but then... he always preferred human words."

"Alma says we all need time to adjust."

"Alma is not Na'vi." He growled lowly, turning away to kneel down in front of the fire.

You weren't deterred by his attitude, knowing Nor better than you sometimes knew yourself. He felt things stronger than most. He was passionate about what or how he felt and he wasn't afraid to admit it, hence why he didn't shy away when he proudly proclaimed his feelings toward you. It was years ago now, just the night before Alma snuck you and your friends into cryosleep to wait out the war. All that time you could've been with Nor... lost to cryosleep.

Nor felt the same loss as well, and that is why he wasn't wasting any more time. When neither of you are out on missions, you're with each other, safe at HQ, making up for lost time. Your relationship is technically still new and can easily be chalked up to young love, but Nor didn't see it that way. He claimed that was the way only Sky People saw it, but not the Na'vi. He wanted to do this right, and in his mind, the only right way was the Na'vi way.

So he asked So'lek for advice, on standard Na'vi customs and what the older man might know about the Sarentu ways to court someone. Nor was determined and straightforward about what he wanted to make sure you only got the best treatment. The Na'vi treatment, something that you deserved to have when you were younger but it was taken from you.

That's what you loved about him, growing up beside him. He reminded you so much of your sister at times with their shared determination as kids, though you refused to continue making that comparison after she died... afraid that if Nor acted too much like Aha'ri, then he would die just like her. You couldn't bear to lose him, too, not after everything Mercer and TAP have done to you.

Even now, as you two stood on top of that cliff, you were afraid of losing him, either to death or to life, should life and fate decide to tear you two apart. You wished you could vocalize your fear to him, but you were never as brave or as straightforward as Nor. You were grateful he had approached you about his feelings first, or else neither of you would've ever known.

Although you were not one with words, you were one with actions, and even Nor knew that you communicated with deeds.

Walking up to him, you slide your hand over his shoulder, and while he doesn't say a word, trapped with the demons in his head, he places his own hand on top of yours, a gesture of gratitude. He was thankful for your comfort, knowing that your way of communicating stems from being touch-starved and you would rather voice your thoughts through your actions instead of just saying them because, to you, that means so much more.

You keep your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his palm bleeding into your skin while you look up and over the cliffside, admiring the scenery with a sad tone in your voice, "Why did the RDA come back?"

"They wanted more of Pandora," he responds with defeat, "They always do."

"Then we'll need to fight," you express with determination, squeezing his shoulder, "Aha'ri would have wanted us to fight."

You try to pull away, but Nor is suddenly too fast. He grasps your hand, gently, and you pause in your movement. He stands to his full height to gaze into your eyes, trying to relay what he's thinking without saying a word. But he wasn't like you. He wasn't good at sharing his thoughts through actions. He was better at it by talking, so that is what he did.

"Or we could run," he suggests and is quick to continue when the expression on your face falls, "Leave this place. Find somewhere else to call home."

"We've talked about this, Nor," you sigh tiredly, recalling not long ago when you, him, Ri'nela and Teylan were all sitting around a fire as Nor suggested they could all run away together. You express the same thing you said back then, too, "Alma brought us here for a reason. She believes in us."

He snarls, though there isn't much heat behind it, "Alma just wants to control us."

Not even you believed what he was saying, lowering your voice to a comforting whisper, "Alma is not Mercer. She actually cares about us as People."

"She left us."

"She thought we were gone."

He steps closer until he's nearly pressed against your chest, his hands sliding up to gently grasp both sides of your face, entwined in your hair. His voice wavered, desperate eyes staring back into yours, "If it were me instead of her, I would've clawed through the rubble of TAP, and I would've looked forever. Un... until I knew for sure if I lost you or not."

You wanted to be touched by the statement, your heart fluttering in your chest while Nor could no doubt feel your heartbeat, pumping through his hands as they rested near both sides of your neck. You shake your head slightly, "That is different. What Alma feels for us is not the same as... as what you feel for me. For all of us."

He shivered, almost proud that you managed to admit your confidence in his feelings toward you. He leans his forehead against yours, breathing in the same air as you while he matches the intimate moment with a whisper, "Exactly. I can't trust Alma with my family. I can only trust myself or you to take care of the four of us, to ensure we stick together."

You wet your lips when they felt dry, deciding to play into his dream for a little bit, "Suppose we did run away... where would we go?"

'Wherever we want! All of us,' he wanted to say the same thing he told Teylan down by the campfire, but he says it differently with you, "Anywhere, far away from here."

"Just the four of us?"

"The four of us," he confirms with a nod, thinking that he had you convinced, "We'll start our own clan. We'll renew the Sarentu."

"And what will happen when the war eventually finds us?"

Your question drives Nor to freeze, and so you continue, "Either Mercer, RDA, or TAP, it won't matter. They'll find us. You know they will."

He unfroze finally, huffing with determination, "Then we will fight."

"But if we fight now, and we win, then we can leave and we will never have to worry about the Sky People again," your hands moved until they were wrapped around Nor's waist, a bold move to match his own, his fingers still wrapped up in the hair on the back of your neck,

"We would never have to keep running or look over our shoulders ever again," you continue, "If we can end this sooner than later, I will go with you. I'll go wherever you want. But... But I can't leave now knowing what the Sky People are capable of. I can't leave knowing that there would be another child out there whose clan was wiped out and I wasn't brave enough to stop it from happening. I would never forgive myself."

Your words stun him into silence, and the intensity of his gaze causes you to feel shy and embarrassed, lowering your head to avoid him until his hands pause your movement. He gently uses his thumbs to push your chin to tilt back up, and when your eyes meet, he pauses for a moment, his intense eyes scanning your expression before his lips twitch up into a small, fond smile, "Heh."

"What?" You tilt your head, hesitant but smiling as well.

"Nothing. It's just... Aha'ri would be proud of you."

He says it so confidently that you know you believe him, and his words make your heart swell with pride and grief, missing your sister. Nor leans back and digs in the pocket of his pants, "I have something for you."

"What is it?"

He provides a carved stone, bearing the mark you both have on your face to signify your long-lost clan, "It's something to remind you of me, whenever you leave HQ and I cannot follow you. It's also a promise."

"What promise?"

"That if I ever leave, it will only be when you are ready to come with me," he leans back into your space, pressing your foreheads together once more as he closes his eyes, taking in your scent, "This time, my love, I go wherever you go."

You clutch the stone in your hand, wanting the carved mark to brand into your skin as you close your eyes as well. You already plan to tie Nor's stone into the songcord So'lek had given you, and you hope that in time, the songcord will grow, and there will be many more milestones to signify. Milestones that you hope that Nor and your friends will share with you, as Sarentu and as your family.

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS

RULES

TAGLISTS

254 notes · View notes

princessbellecerise · 10 months

Text

Touch The Skies

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | In which Aemond finally takes you flying on Vhagar

warnings | None

this is a work of fiction. i do not own these characters

divider by @princessbellecerise

You know you shouldn’t be scared, but you were.

The nerves that pooled in your stomach almost made you sick, but you hid them from Aemond as he lead you up the hill, not wanting to making your dear husband upset.

After all, you know how much of an honor this is. For him to even consider showing you Vhagar was one thing, but for him to propose that you ride her?

That was an entirely different story. A true honor, seeing as Aemond had never let anyone ride on Vhagar’s back expect for himself. When you got married, you always assumed that he wouldn’t even let you get close to the dragon he had fought to claim.

But alas, here you were. Ascending the cliff that the gigantic beast rested on, for she was too big for the Dragonpit the ancient Targaryens had designed. A monster in her own right, and utterly terrifying to see in person.

Your stomach churned a little more but you tried your best to keep a brave face. The warnings your dear husband still rang through your head:

Do not ever let a dragon sense your fear. They will deem you weak, and the weak are treated as prey.

Those words nearly paralyzed you; reminding you over and over you could not fault. You had to be as strong as your husband was, fearlessly walking up the dragon as if he was the bigger monster.

Aemond’s back was straight, gaze strong as he first approached the dragon. You lingered back a little bit further way at his command; the Targaryen needing to speak to his dragon before you approached.

Curiously, you watched as words of old Valyria flew from his tongue, prompting the gigantic beast to turn it’s head to your husband.

Yellow eyes stared into lilac ones, and for a moment, all was still. You held your breath as Aemond repeated his commands and Vhagar grumbled. The hefty dragon looked as if she were barely listening to your husband, but you soon found that it was quite the opposite.

Vhagar did heed his commands, and underneath you the ground shook as she moved around. Almost like she was positioning herself, getting herself into the right angle so that Aemond could comfortably mount her.

So that you could mount her.

“Come, my love. She has granted my wish for you to join me.”

You gulped as Aemond held out his hand for you, nerves eating you alive as he awaited for you to join him by the dragon’s side. You hadn’t been this nervous ever since your wedding day—and even then you were sure you didn’t sweat half as much as you were right now.

Clammy hands are what met your husband’s, Aemond giving you a look as you slowly allowed him to pull you towards the beast’s side. You could barely contain your beating heart but the soft tugs and gentle touches from your husband are enough to calm you down a little. At least enough for you finally get close without collapsing all together, Aemond taking your bare hand and lacing it with his before gently setting it on top of Vhagar’s rough hide.

Like you expected, the dragon felt hot and her thick scales had been softened by age. By all means, she was exactly what you pictured a dragon being like. But you had to admit—she was eerily calm as your fingers ghosted over her. Something you weren’t expecting but clearly Aemond was by the way he smiled a bit.

“See?” Aemond’s eye glinted as Vhagar softly growled but still allowed you to touch her. “I told you there was nothing to worry about, sweet wife. She clearly likes you; probably even more than she does me.”

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t be the first time, dear husband,” You laughed shakily, earning a sharp, playfully glare from Aemond. He stood by closely and allowed you to keep stroking Vhagar’s hide before eventually taking your hand again.

Clasping your fingers together, you shared a look and you knew what that meant. Gulping, you let out a breath as Aemond nudged you forward and encouraged you to take the first step towards riding; placing your feet in the ladder and climbing onto the back of the dragon.

Since Vhagar was so large, it was impossible to mount her without doing this. And so, steadily your feet ascended, one after the other as Aemond followed closely behind.

You could feel the encouraging hands of you husband nudging your thighs as you aimed to reach Vhagar’s saddle, ensuring that you would not fall backwards as you climbed. Grateful for this small act of affection, you briefly smiled and then when you finally reached the top, you paused.

You examined the reins which were worn by the various riders of Vhagar and the sheer size of the mount. If that did not help put into perspective how large this dragon was, you didn’t know what would. Of course, you knew that she was huge but staring at the added space of the saddle had your jaw dropped.

Easily, Vhagar could have carried at least twenty people on her own. Maybe even more.

If it was not for the fact that Dragons only bonded with one rider, you had no doubts she could be used as a very useful mode of transportation.

Luckily though, your husband was the only one that held any sort of claims to her. And now you—sort of—as you settled between Aemond and the reigns of the saddle.

Behind you, you felt your husband shifting as he gathered the ropes and all the proper measure before the two of you took flight. He took extra care doing this, making sure that every precaution was met so that no danger would be presented to you.

You found that most of the safety ropes were wrapped around your waist which left Aemond vulnerable a little. If something were to happen or if Vhagar turned upside down, he would not be as protected as you.

Briefly, this caused you to frown but then you chastised yourself for not believing in your husband. Of course—he had done this plenty of times, ever since the age of ten. Now nine and ten, Aemond was sure to know what he was doing and how to control his own dragon.

You did not need to fear for your husband, only seek his warmth as your back pressed to his.

“Are you almost ready, ñuha jorrāelagon?” My love. You smiled briefly as Aemond purred in your ear, turning your body slightly so that you could look him in the eye. Already finding him staring at you with a soft expression, you nodded and then pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, dōna valzȳrys,” You sighed, the organs in your stomach beginning to twist and turn with anxiety.

You hadn’t even taken flight yet but you were already nervous. As one should be when riding a literal dragon for the first time, but deep down you knew that you had nothing to fear.

Not when you had your sweet husband with you.

Aemond would never let anything happen to you, and it was this thought that calmed you enough to stay still as Vhagar shook and groaned.

After a few commands from your Lord Husband, she was ready to take flight. And you gulped as your body began swaying along with her, holding on for dear life as she walked towards the edge of the cliff and then made her descent.

A scream—no perhaps a shout of caution got stuck in your throat as she dived downhill, not even being able to release it due to the backlash of the wind. The very particles seemed to nip at your face and all but rendered you breathless, your body going limp as Aemond laughed behind you.

Out of everything, you weren’t expecting your husband to laugh at your misfortune. But alas, while his beast was busy trying to take flight, he leaned forward and caught a glimpse of your face. Priceless—you were sure it had to be. Yours cheeks all but molded by the wind and your mouth open with a silent scream.

Aemond shook behind you, and you breathed like you had never done so before as Vhagar finally straightened out. Her wings spread, and finally you were granted the pleasure of sanity as she flew through the skies.

“See? That was not so bad, my love,” Aemond teased.

You had some not so nice words your husband but you decided to hold your tongue since he was being nice today. Letting you ride Vhagar, which slowly became a more pleasant experience the further you got into your venture.

Eventually, you had stopped holding your breath and allowed yourself to really and truly enjoy the experience of riding a dragon, opting to keep your eyes open to ogle at the sights below you.

It was like Vhagar was touching the skies and you saw everything from mountains, to lakes, to people in boats that ogled you as you shook the water.

Everything that you could possibly imagine, right there under your fingertips. The beautiful sights and land on display only for you; and your husband as he leaned into you.

Eventually, Aemond had taken to relaxing as well once he was sure Vhagar was at a steady pace. This allowed him start pointing certain things out, filling you in on all the things he had seen while you nodded.

You loved hearing him talk about his ventures, especially during a time where you were both so relaxed. It was rare to see your husband look so peaceful, carefree in a way he was not on land. That’s because up in the skies, there existed no worries, no duties. Just the two of you and the soft lulling of Vhagar’s wings.

It made you hum, and it let you savior this moment like it was going to be your last one earth. Your last memory would be of the heavens opening up to you.

As she flew, that’s exactly what it felt like. And perhaps now you understood why people always claimed that Targaryen’s were closer to Gods than men; for now you knew that no man, not even yourself, could ever replicate this kind of serenity without the likes of dragons.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x reader #aemond fluff #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon

461 notes · View notes

iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 4 months

Note

not sure if I've already requested this so sorry if I have haha,

but how would the m6 react to a mc with sh scars? if it's not too heavy of a topic for you, if it is, I completely understand that :)

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC has SH scars

~ not too heavy at all, anon, I'd actually been hoping to write this at some point and your request gave me that excuse! to anyone else who relates a little too much: you're not alone, your pain is valid, and there is hope for you even when it doesn't feel like it - brainrot ~

CW for: references to scarring and self-harm. I can remember points in my life when this would have been triggering for me to read. If this would be triggering for you too, please prioritize your health.

Julian

He noticed early on that you'd get a strange look on your face when he mentioned being comfortable with experiencing pain, and he's been curious about why for some time

You generally found a way to hide them - whether with your clothes or in the low lighting - until after you defeated the Devil, which was when Julian was less distracted enough to notice more details

Like the unusual textures that appeared when your clothes shifted as you moved around your daily tasks, and how hellbent you seemed on immediately adjusting them

He waits to approach the subject until he knows you're both in a calm headspace, after the day is done as the two of you lounge in front of the fire with your dinner

He wants to hear your side of things, but the first thing he's going to ask is to let him look at them. He's a doctor, he loves you, and he wants to know the extent of the damage and how he can help your healing

Might cry a little, but hides it and refuses to make it about himself by pulling you into the biggest hug instead

It throws him into some serious self reflection, which leads to lots of late-night talks about self-destructive habits and how you two can best support each other in a way that's loving and not enabling

Will get a matching tattoo if you choose to cover them that way

Asra

The first time they saw them was right after your resurrection, and their heart sank right down into their feet

Here he felt like he'd just saved you, only to find that you'd not only woken up in a miserable state, but that the life you'd had before had been far more painful for you than he had been aware of

Which is when they became determined to give you such a good life and so much platonic love and support that the scars on your body would truly belong to a past life

The first time you asked him about why you had them, he said they were leftover from an old battle that you had fought very bravely. Going into any more detail only made your headaches worse

They did watch your behavior and mood closely, though, in case you started to fight that battle again. They never judged you for them or offered to smooth them over

After you defeated the Devil together, he told you the truth about them and what they meant, even though he didn't know the details of why you had them

It was also their chance to give you an apology for not noticing before you died, when they were still your friend and cared about you. They know it's not their fault, but the guilt was still there

He kisses them every morning and night

Nadia

She's heard vague stories from her family members about people who were in so much pain that they would self harm, but she'd never seen such a strong example in person

Which is why she initially assumed they were the result of some fierce battle or tragedy, and planned to ask you later

She first noticed them when she was fitting you for a new outfit, and saw how hesitant you were to let her look at them. Everything she's made for you since covers them completely

She finally asks about them several months into your relationship, expecting you to either not remember or to hear a moving story of conquering some fierce enemy or fighting for a loved one

To say that she doesn't expect your answer is an understatement. It surprises her so much that her only response is "oh," in an unusually small voice, before moving on to the next topic

She's able to process it the next time she's alone, when she's struck both by her awe at your capacity to fight something so dark and by her grief that you've been doing it without her all this time

Clears her next evening to have a private dinner with you, first so she can apologize for her initial response and second so she can invite you to tell her more about it and offer her support

Likes to dress you herself so you know you're not alone or unseen

Muriel

Knew exactly what they were as soon as he saw them, which was less than half a day into your travels South with Morga

And promptly refused to talk about it because he can relate to those dark impulses more than he'd like to and because he didn't see it as being any of his business. But he does start to watch you

He watches for any sign of pain, he watches how you fix your clothes, he watches how your gaze falls on any sharp object, because even if it isn't his business he cares more than he expects

He becomes less and less discreet about how closely he's observing you until you finally notice it one evening, how the firelight falls on your scars and how his eyes fixate on them

At this point the reciprocated staring is so awkward that he'll do anything to fix the tension, so he shuffles and mumbles something along the lines of "You can talk about it if you want to. I don't mind."

So you do, and he gets hit square in the chest with how much he's come to care about you over the course of the trip

He's especially frustrated because he empathizes so deeply, and since he doesn't know how to fix himself, he's worried he'll only mess you up further

In the end, he learns to apply the kindness he feels towards you to himself as well, and sees your scars as valid as he sees his own

Portia

She's still very embarrassed (and slightly ashamed) for how things went the first time she saw them

She'd noticed something peeking out from your clothes, and how you seemed focused on covering them, and falsely assumed that it was some cool magical tattoo

Which only piqued her curiosity. This has to be juicy, and she's determined to get a closer look. Which is why, as soon as you'd become friends, she took her first chance to snatch a look

And then froze. And then dropped you, and then burst into tears. How could this happen, MC? Why would you do this to yourself? It looks like it must have hurt so much -

It's unfortunate but you're going to have to comfort her first while she works her way through the five stages of grief. She loves you, and she's heartbroken and confused about why this would happen

She needs time to process how she feels about it before she can listen to you without having a meltdown. Her normal response to self-destruction is a fist to the gut (Ilya) and that wouldn't do

Ends up following your cues when it comes to how she talks to you about it. If it's in the past, it's in the past. If it's a current struggle, then she's your partner. She'll be right next to you

She does think your fighting spirit makes you badass, though

Lucio

He's not great at noticing details unless they directly correspond to physical strengths and weaknesses. Any kind of scarring from a wound is (from his experience) a totally normal thing to see

When he starts to notice how you cover yours or get weird about them being touched, he asks about it right away

You've got such cool scars, MC, why are you hiding them? You should show them off so everyone knows how battle-tested you are! Here, he'll show his off too! *cue him stripping off his shirt*

It's a little difficult to know how best to respond to this. You're each other's life partners by now, he should probably know the truth, but you don't know how to burst his bubble

You do end up telling him later, once you're settling into your inn for the night, and watching the realization and hurt dawn across his face is anything but easy

MC, why? You deserve the best, you are the best, you're his best, you're telling him that you treated someone like yourself this poorly when you were showing him so much forgiveness?

He's not trying to guilt you at all, but it comes close to having that effect. The only thing he can think to do is hug you really really tight and hope it convinces you that you deserve better

Still refers to them as your battle scars, because to him they are

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

239 notes · View notes

heartpascal · 1 year

Note

Re: drabbles, my favorite stories are I’ll be brave, so far from it, and all my faith but I don’t have any scenarios off the top of my head 🤨 a drabble à la the crooked kind would be so fun to read!!

but honestly anything and everything you put out, I will read. I eat it up every time.

▹— pre-outbreak!joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: drabble from the crooked kind universe! • the time joel realised what your home life is like.

▹— a/n: my first ever drabble pls go easy on me D: (also if you have any situations you’d like written for this universe or others just send in a request!)

▹— warnings: abusive & neglectful family, almost father figure joel, sarah is your best friend, mention of argument with parents

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Perhaps, he thinks now, Joel should have been suspicious of what you and Sarah had been hiding the third time you were sleeping over during the week. After all, most parents had a no-school-nights rule, and you were always quite skittish around him when he asked you questions. You also never responded well to him asking to speak to your parents, insisting that he didn’t.

But in his defence, he didn’t have a no-school-nights rule, so he figured that maybe, your parents didn’t either. It wasn’t a terrible assumption to make, although he’d given up on speaking to your parents pretty easily.

You and Sarah always got up on time for school, and you didn’t cause much trouble. Besides stocking up on some of your preferred snacks, you hadn’t had much of an impact on the Miller household, you actually blended in so well that it was like you were always there.

It was on the now sixth time of you staying at the Miller residence during the week that Joel was really starting to get suspicious. Over the course of the past three weeks, you had spent days and nights at his and Sarah’s, without so much of a word from your parents. Joel knew that he wouldn’t be all too happy if his daughter was out of the house for so long, but what could he do? Hell, even Sarah got defensive over him trying to talk about your parents.

The seventh time, he couldn’t keep quiet.

“Hey, kids?” He called up the stairs, having seen your shoes stored away neatly by the door. It was usually around dinner that Sarah begged for you to be allowed to stay the night, and that time was fast approaching. Joel figured it was best to nip this in the bud.

“What is it, dad?” Sarah yelled back, and Joel rolled his eyes at the attitude she was already showing. He resisted the urge to do that annoying parent thing, where they just didn’t answer your reply after they yelled you first.

“Come on down here, the both of you!” He responded after a moment of hesitation, hearing the vague sound of the two of you sharing hushed whispers. Joel moved on into the living room when he heard the steps coming down the hallway, the two of you finally descending the stairs when he had taken a seat on the sofa.

Sarah looked nervous, though you looked far more so, with trembling hands that you wrapped tightly around the straps of your backpack, already worn on your back. “Dad?” Sarah asked, after he hadn’t spoken for more than a moment of the two girls standing in the room.

Joel sighed, nodding his head to the couch and waiting for you both to sit down before he spoke again. “Listen, I think we need to have a talk.” He began, frowning when Sarah immediately cut him off from saying anything else.

“Dad, are you being serious?” She asked, eyes wide and defensive, and her sudden alarm wasn’t improving your nerves, either, and you were looking more anxious by the second. The last thing you wanted was for Sarah to get into trouble for you. “You’re being unreasonable! She needs to stay over here—”

Joel decided to play at Sarah’s own game, holding a stern look on his face as he cut her off. “Sarah, that’s enough. I ain’t said a word, just yet, calm yourself down.” He told her, not liking the frown she held on her expression. Joel turned his gaze to you, softening his expression when you shrunk under his gaze. “Now you two listen to me, alright? I don’t mind you stayin’ here. Can stay as many nights as you please, but god, kiddo, are your parents really alright with that?”

Sarah moved as if she was going to jump in, save you from speaking, but Joel fixed her with the strict dad-look, and she sat back, looking towards you with an apologetic gaze.

“Yeah, they’re—they don’t mind it, one bit. But I can go back, I don’t mean to be overstayin’ my welcome.” You rambled on, giving Sarah an urgent look as she opened her mouth to oppose your words, causing her to move her glare over to her dad.

“And the reason you have to stay here?” Joel asked after a moment, almost hesitantly. But if there was something more going on, he had to know about it. He was the parent here, and it was his job to look after the people under his roof.

You practically withered under the combination of his look and his question, clutching your bag straps tightly, like you were ready to head off with a moment’s notice.

“It’s nothin’, Mr. Miller, we just like hangin’ over here. Your place is much nicer than mine, right Sarah?” You looked to her pleadingly, and Joel’s suspicion only grew when Sarah nodded painfully quickly, confirming your words.

He didn’t believe you, not for a second, but decided to let the two of you off the hook.

It was the eighth time that Joel knew.

He felt sick to his stomach for not picking up on it before, for not actively trying to find out what was wrong when he knew something wasn’t quite right. For a moment, he also became angry with his own daughter, for not telling him.

The incessant knocking on the door came late that night, and given it was close to 9PM and dark out, Joel wondered who the hell would be coming to his house. It couldn’t have been Tommy — he would never knock, so Joel truly had no idea.

When he opened the door, he certainly didn’t expect to be met with you, backpack slung over your shoulders, your eyes squinting through the rain that was coming down heavy.

“Hi, Mr. Miller.” You greeted, shakily, and he didn’t miss the tremor in your tone as he ushered you inside out of the cold rain. You tried not to look too nervous under his scrutiny, tried to remain brave and nonchalant as he closed the door after you. “I’m really sorry, but could I stay over here tonight?” You asked him then, and Joel could’ve sworn he heard his own heart break at your voice.

“Jesus Christ,” He said, eyes wide as he took you in, soaked to the bone, your eyes shining with something that wasn’t from the weather. “Of course you can, kiddo, c’mon, let’s get you dried off.”

Whilst you took your shoes off, aiming not to traipse wet footsteps all throughout their house, Joel shouted up to Sarah to bring some towels. She didn’t hesitate given the urgency in his tone.

“What happened?” Sarah asked desperately as Joel took the towels from her hands to wrap them around you as you shivered, turning to look at Sarah with a nervous smile.

Joel didn’t miss the way you nervously looked in his direction, and busied himself taking the school bag from your hand and placing it down in the hallway. “Just got into a fight with my parents, ‘s’all.” You said, clearly downplaying whatever had gone on in your household. Joel’s attention was caught, that was for certain, and now he regretted every letting you go back to your own house, especially when you so often looked reluctant to leave.

Sarah looked towards Joel, much like you had, before she turned back to you, where you held the towel around your shoulders tighter. “Was it about you stayin’ over?”

You shook your head. “No, didn’t make my bed this morning.” You told her, not seeing the way Joel’s face fell. He couldn’t imagine telling Sarah off for something so badly that she left home late evening, in the pouring rain, let alone over an unmade bed.

“Kiddo,” Joel sighed, placing a hand against your shoulder, a look of slight anguish on his expression. “The two of you should’ve told me what was really goin’ on. You could’ve stayed as long as you liked.”

You frowned, your eyes still teary as you looked at your best friend’s dad, “Didn’t wanna keep botherin’ you.”

“You’re not a bother,” He said firmly, “Now c’mon, let’s get you into some dry clothes. You eaten?” At the shake of your head, his frown deepened further, but he nodded. “Then we’ll get you some food, alright?”

He let Sarah take you upstairs, off to borrow some spare clothes, and he cooked whilst you changed, just hearing the faint sounds of your quiet conversation with Sarah. He felt bad, not being the greatest cook, but he figured even shitty pre-packaged macaroni cheese would be alright with you. In fact, he often found that when you and Sarah had sleepovers, his supply of mac n’ cheese depleted.

You sat on the couch when Joel brought you a bowl of macaroni cheese, something unsettled in your eyes, but you smiled faintly at him.

“Now, you listen to me, alright? Anythin’ happens, and I mean anything, you can come here. Don’t even need to ask.” He said to you firmly, pretending he didn’t see the wobble to your lip that you hid behind your bowl.

“Thanks, dad.” Sarah said softly, responding for you, because she knew you better than you knew yourself. She sat between you and her dad, leaning her head against your shoulder.

“‘Course. But hey, if you’re gonna be stayin’ more often, you drink coffee in the morning?” Joel asked, bringing some lightness back to the conversation, his chosen topic coaxing a snicker from you as Sarah groaned, sick of her dad’s coffee addiction.

“That stuff’s gonna give you a heart attack, you know.” She said matter-of-factly, raising her eyebrows at her dad.

“Milk and two sugars,” You responded, the tremble in your voice replaced with a tinge of amusement, and Joel laughed with you at the sigh of annoyance Sarah let out.

— taglist: @auggiesolovey, @just-kaylaa, @evyiione, @lemonlaides, @fariylixie0915, @erensloveinterest, @dazedshoon, @faceache111, @randomhoex, @canpillowscry, @sleepygraves, @pedropascalsrealgf, @star-wars-lover, @coolchick333, @soobsdior, @ilybbg, @rvjaa

please let me know if you want your tag added/removed !!!

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x platonic!reader #platonic joel miller x reader #joel miller platonic #father figure joel miller #sarah miller tlou #joel miller drabble #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #heartpascal drabbles

592 notes · View notes

jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 1 year

Text

What if... the CEOs were hybrids? Part three | BTS OT7 AU

Its been a long while my lovelies and I apologise, hopefully making up for it with the third instalment of the what if series, starting us off with some 7.7K words about hybrid CEOs.

Trigger warnings: Possessive/obsessive behaviour, jealousy, scenting, usual hybrid trope things, swearing, testosterone, I don't know if being mean is a trigger warning but here it is. Angst.

Prev / Next

Playlist : Fire Escape - Matthew Mayfield, Delicate - Damien Rice

Hybrids: KNJ - Wolf, KSJ - Bear, MYG - Panther, JHS - Lion, PJM - Arctic fox, KTH - Tiger, JJK - Bunny.

You smelled like him, that was the first thing the trio noticed on their first day back to work when you passed them by. That's why the hyungs looked so sullen at home, why they were no longer coming home with your scent lingering on their clothes. And why Yoongi and Namjoon could barely stand to be in the same room for longer than a minute without tearing into each other about something stupid, all while avoiding the topic of you.

The miasmic cloud of misery seemed to be hanging over all of their heads, following them without mercy from its downpour. You were avoiding their gazes, the maknaes watched you across the office longingly, waiting for you to greet them, to make the first move they were too afraid to make.

“This is stupid, we’ve known her longer than the human oaf,” Jimin mutters under his breath to the other two. “My angel isn’t one to hold a grudge, let’s just go and say hello.”

As brave as his words sounded, he could feel his heart in his throat, choking back any greeting he wanted to give you.

“What if she’s still upset with us?” Jungkook’s bunny ears flopped, his own sadness weighing them down as he nervously struggled to keep his eyes on you. How did it get like this? He told you only a week ago you were part of their pack, now they were terrified to talk to you.

“She doesn’t want to speak to us,” Taehyung states bluntly, while Jungkook could barely look at you, the tiger’s eyes never left you. He could read you like a book, you were ignoring them, and he hated it. All for that stupid human, the anger and jealousy burned inside of him. You never paid anyone else any interest all this time, to the point where he really believed you had feelings for them, and now another’s scent lingered on you, taunting him. How did he get it so wrong?

He turns away first, walking out of the working space leaving Jungkook and Jimin to reluctantly follow, once last longing look your way, lingering there for as long as possible as they pleaded silently with you to meet them halfway.

—

You take a deep breath as you approach his private office, bracing yourself for whatever the hell reason it was today he demanded you come to see him. All week there was a new reason, a new mundane task, more workload, more grumpy attitude from the CEO as he stared daggers into you like he was reverting back to who he was when he met you, when he didn’t trust you. But you could see through it, to an extent, the panther was punishing you and you were letting him .

You exhale, it sounds almost like a sigh before you knock on the door, a gruff voice replying.

“Depyunim, you asked for me?” You greet him politely when you open the door.

“Take a seat,” he responds without looking up from the paperwork in front of him.

You hesitate, this was how it always started, you sitting there in silence fidgeting for however long he decided before he actually addresses you again. Only today the workload was catching up with you, you couldn’t afford to waste your time with his antics.

Your reluctance to follow instruction makes him look up at you, not a single emotion on his face, his eyes almost black, void of the man you once knew.

“Is there a problem Miss L/n?”

Ah. That was the other thing he started doing, he didn’t call you kitten anymore. It shouldn’t still cut you like this, and honestly you thought you had gotten used to it after a whole week, but every time it knocked the wind out of you like a punch to the gut. You were too terrified to call him by his name or question him over it, something told you his bite would be worse than his bark. Even now, where you would normally challenge his behaviour, you couldn’t muster the courage to.

You shake your head, taking your seat like you had the previous days before. He returns to his paperwork without a word. The atmosphere between you was unbearable, every time you sat in this chair you wanted to bawl your eyes out, and every day you forced yourself to hold the tears back.

“Depyunim…” you couldn’t take it anymore, you watch the pen in Yoongi’s hand pause at the sound of your voice. “I don’t want to rush you, but I have to get the Enhyphen contracts done by 4.”

You tried to say it calmly, softly, politely, but the stone in your throat made it difficult to speak. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, bracing yourself nervously. He exhales loudly out of his nose, as if you were testing his patience, resuming his writing without a verbal response.

In all honesty, you were misreading his behaviour. Yoongi was angry at himself. What was he trying to do? Push you away? Keep you close? Make you waste an entire day with him, so you’d be forced to stay late to catch up and then you wouldn’t go to see that human he could smell on you? What exactly was he trying to achieve? He was just so angry all the time since that day. That stench that didn’t belong on you was frying his brain cells, making him act like a possessive panther, enraging him even when he couldn’t smell it. He was desperately trying to keep you as close to him as possible whenever he could, keeping you in his office, his personal den, away from the thing that was taking you from him.

He hears you sniff, it's small but audible, it stuns him frozen, scared that tears would follow, that he was the one to cause them. As hurt as he was, as miserable, the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. The grip on his pen tightens. He owes you an explanation for his behaviour, his abuse of his power, he knows it, but how does he start?

“Did I do something?” Your small voice makes him finally look up at you, almost snapping his neck in the process of how quick his attention turned.

His hard expression melts into one of shock, jaw dropping an inch as he takes in the way you’re trying to smile despite the sadness coming off of you in waves.

“No.” Is it a lie? It sounded firm, something that left no room for questions, but he can’t convince himself that it was true.

In your mind you’ve already come to conclusions about the change in atmosphere, observing their attitude towards you and knowing it coincided with Eric coming into your life. You’re not stupid, you know they saw you as a packmate, so a new foreign scent was going to drive them over the edge. You just thought it would have settled by now, that they would’ve gotten used to it.

But how could you act hurt when you were the one to instigate the change, to pull away for your own peace of mind. You put up walls and boundaries, knowing what the consequences would be. You couldn’t complain now, even if your whole body ached with missing them, despite working with them almost every day. Distance didn’t have to be physical, you could prove that.

“Okay,” you accept it, plastering on a patient content smile on your face that didn’t feel right. Yoongi doesn’t like it, he knows it’s fake, but he turns back to his paperwork like a coward, unable to confront you or let you go.

—

“What’s this?” Namjoon’s eyes are aflame as he shows you the email on his laptop, his eyes unbreaking from staring down your small figure in front of his desk.

“I-it’s a request for a job reference,” you state the obvious, trying not to tremble in front of his heated glare.

“I can see that babygirl,” he sounds almost condescending, the fire in his chest unable to remain contained in front of you. “Is there a problem here working in this company?”

You gulp a little, shaking your head since you couldn’t trust your voice to stay steady.

“Then why would you even think about applying elsewhere?” He almost growls, almost.

He sucks in his cheeks, trying to calm himself down, knowing what a hypocrite he was being. He told the others to keep their distance, to stop with this mating nonsense especially since you were obviously interested in someone else. All those times he told the others to respect your choices, and here he was eating his own words. Employees come and go, it’s a given in any business, but you, over his dead body was he ready or willing to let you leave. He didn’t even consider it an option.

“What is it, Y/n?” he pushes, “Is it the pay? The workload? What would make you decide to leave when all you have to do to fix anything is speak to me.”

He was seething, but his anger wasn’t directed at you, it was the fear he was hiding in the flames speaking for him.

“I was just exploring my options,” you can’t meet his eyes when you say it, your focus aimed at the edge of his desk. You knew logically you didn’t have to answer a thing, didn’t have to justify your actions, but you felt compelled to. This wasn’t just your boss, this was the man you had been in love with for years. You respected him far too much.

“Anything any company can offer you I can match or double,” he still sounds so angry, but he can’t help it. “You want a pay rise? Done. Promotion? Whatever position babygirl, it’s yours. Anything you want.” Just don’t leave.

The corner of your lip rises an inch, a humourless sad smile on your face as you hold back a scoff. Your eyes start to water, you don’t want to say a word. He couldn’t give you what you wanted, you wanted him, you wanted the others, and if he ever knew he would throw you out of the company himself. You were doing him a favour by removing yourself, but you couldn’t tell him, because regardless of what you thought were noble actions, you knew you wouldn’t be able to take the look of hate or disgust in his eyes if it was directed at you.

“You’re the biggest asset this company has ever had,” he explains, needing to cover his outburst before you read between the lines. It wasn’t a lie, but it sure wasn’t the reason why he was so desperate for you to stay. “I’m not letting you go without putting up a fight.”

You wanted him to stop. It wasn’t fair how he made your heart sway and burn when he didn’t feel the same way. You hear him sigh, collecting his words, the hesitation makes you finally glance at him.

“Does this have anything to do with why you were crying last week?” He asks cautiously, his gaze inspecting your every reaction and movement.

“No,” you lie, “I told you, I was just overwhelmed with the workload.”

You sounded so flat, it made him ache. He fights the instinct to wrap you in his arms, smothering the voice in his head that was telling him something was wrong with his mate, reminding that incessant voice that you chose someone else. It was happening more and more frequently recently, he was arguing with himself all the time. The same conversation with himself repeating everyday whenever he saw you.

She chose someone else, he says to himself firmly, shutting down any chance of a counter argument. He doesn’t notice the grip on his pen is deadly until it cracks under the pressure, ink spilling all over his hands.

“Joonie!” Maybe it was instinct that tore away all the boundaries you were building, but you race to his hand in worry as if he had injured himself. He felt the tug in his chest again the second you said his name, finding himself gazing at you softly. There’s a frown forming as you take his hand, looking it over in case he cut himself. He doesn’t pull away, even though he knows he should. You had him wrapped around your little finger, and although he didn’t mind, it was starting to hurt.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, glancing up at his face to ensure he wasn’t in pain before returning to inspect his soiled hands.

He knew he was pretending nothing had changed since you started dating, but his whole world turned upside down and he had to grit his teeth through it. He had to lead the others by example, but doing what was right rather than what he wanted was getting harder each time he saw you. Each time he could smell that disgusting odour on you it flared his jealousy, it had only been a week, how often were you seeing this boy in a week that his scent was always on you?

“I don’t think you’re bleeding,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, that frown of concern still cemented on your face as if you refused to trust the evidence he was unscathed.

He hates it when you pull away, your own hand stained with ink from holding his. You glance down at them, lips turning up an inch as if you found it humorous for reasons unknown to him. You were laughing at yourself, all that progress you thought you were making away from them was bullshit, the state of your hands were proof enough of that.

“I think I need to go wash my hands,” you chuckle, moving away from him.

He fights back the instinct to grab your hand in a desperate attempt of keeping you with him, words lodged in his throat. He controls himself as you walk out of the office, feeling like a hopeless puppy rather than a wolf.

—

“Did you hear, Y/n got herself a boyfriend!”

“No way, for sure thought she was courting the CEOs.”

“She obviously tried and failed.”

Jin sighs, closing his eyes trying to contain the disappointment he felt in his employees as they gossiped about you, not realising he was within earshot. He tries not to listen, tries not to focus on the details of your new relationship, but gossip spreads like wildfire in the company, the details getting warped as they were whispered.

He scoffs. What did they know? They were all wrong about your affection for them, it was the other way round, they were courting you. It was plain and obvious for anyone to see but in the eyes of your jealous and spiteful colleagues, you were the instigator. Perhaps it was a blessing you unknowingly rejected them, he hated to think of what rumours would try to taint you if they were successful. He says it to himself so convincingly he can almost pretend it doesn’t taste bitter. Why was everyone so blind? Why were you so clueless? Why was everything so complicated?

He sighs to himself as he makes his way to the meeting room, half an hour early. Some habits die hard, some don’t die at all. Just as he expected you were already there setting up, he would’ve smiled if it wasn’t for the smell that hits him, the reminder. He could pretend nothing was changing, but the truth was hard to deny.

“Need any help, beautiful girl?” he says, his sudden presence making you jump out of your skin. He grins at that at least.

“I’m almost done,” you laugh lightly, hand on your heart as it raced, refusing to calm down even when you knew there was no threat. You don’t know why but you were becoming increasingly nervous around Jin, a paranoid part of you thought he could see right through what you were doing, and you were afraid he would call you out.

He hums in acknowledgement, approaching you slowly, his eyes boring into you as if you would disappear from sight if he so much as blinked.

“You’re early,” you comment, trying to focus on anything other than his stare.

“I wanted to spend time with my beautiful girl,” he confesses against his better judgement. He didn’t want things to change, so what if you were dating a moron, you were still his mate.

Your pulse was beating faster the closer he got. Jin refused to let you pull away, it was why you thought he knew what you were doing. He didn’t let anything change. Boundaries? Fine, he’d respect them, but you trying to create a distance from him? It would kill him.

“I-I, umm…” You can’t find an excuse to leave the room, and when he stands in front of you only inches away you lose your train of thought all together. His eyes implore down to your own, the softest smile admiring you without attempting to hide it at all.

“Hmmm?” he hums again, asking you to go on with a slight smirk, reading the effect he had on you, proof that you liked him too.

You’re sure you look like a fish out of water to the amused bear in front of you playing with his food.

“What’s wrong honey?”

You gulp, his eyes turning dangerous and knowing underneath the light expression he held. Maybe you liked that new term of endearment a little too much, Jin swore he could hear your heartbeat flatline for a second. He takes a step closer, basking in the warmth radiating from your heated form, just more evidence, more reassurance that he hadn’t gotten it wrong. You loved them too, the only issue was Namjoon’s inability to see it, and whatever the hell you were doing with that boy he could smell on you.

The urge to get rid of it with his own scent was driving him up the wall. It would be so easy, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Crossing boundaries was how you all got into the predicament, he wasn’t about to make it worse.

Your mouth opens and closes, repeatedly without words like the proverbial fish. Didn’t you ask the maknaes what hybrid you would be? Well you know the answer now.

“Are you ill honey?” He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. He can’t help it, just something small, something that can be brushed off as concern. “You’re burning up.”

By the look on his face you can tell he knows exactly why that is. The smirk is gone, his face unusually serious with a challenge in his eyes to prove him wrong.

“I-I’m fine,” you don’t sound it when you push his hand away from your face, but you force yourself to brush it off. “Honestly Jin, I’m fine.”

Before he can investigate any further, you turn away from him, feeling his stare on your back as you finish setting up for the meeting. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him that you repeat certain things, or take your time, obviously trying to avoid any more interactions with him. He laughs to himself in pity, maybe he did get it all wrong.

—

It's silent in their office, it has been all week. No one seemed to muster the energy to talk, not even the maknaes now they were back. Namjoon half expected them to whine or complain openly about the situation, but they were too deflated to speak. A burning guilt seared right down his centre, realising his punishment was part of the reason they wouldn’t be open about their feelings, he was their alpha and he lost their trust. But they couldn’t see he was just trying to protect everyone, that was his burden.

Hoseok walked in, doom and gloom written all over his face, a visible sigh through his lips, his eyes concentrated on the ground as he walked. A part of him wanted to hide in Yoongi’s office, not really wanting to be alone but not wanting company either, but he couldn't impose and the panther had been a bit volatile recently. He can’t remember the last time Yoongi willingly came into the main office since his argument with Namjoon. The two were avoiding each other thinking that was the best way to avoid conflict, in reality it was just making things ten times worse.

“I think I’m going to transfer to another floor,” he says nonchalantly as he stands at his desk, the others gawping at his words.

“Hyung,” Jimin sounds equal parts outraged and upset. “You can’t.”

“Floor seven needs better management,” he says, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“And the real reason Hyung?” Taehyung scoffs.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, wanting to keep it repressed inside, but this was his pack, his family, they knew him better than anyone else.

“I can’t take the smell,” he confesses quietly. “Everytime I look at her all I can see is someone else's hands on her, I-”

He cuts himself off, taking a breath. His emotions were spilling, overwhelmingly so inside of his chest, the only way out was through his mouth as words, but he locks it shut.

“We won’t let a girl come between us or the company,” Namjoon states after minutes of silence, his voice quiet but firm. “We’ve worked together since the start, we’ve had problems before and we’ve gotten through them every time, this is no different.”

It was like he was brushing the situation off, that’s what made them stare at the leader of their pack aghast. A girl? A problem? Did he seriously just say that?

“But she’s not just a girl Namjoon,” Hoseok sounds so heartbroken that he even implied it, not holding back his words even though he knew it wasn’t a subject to approach the lead CEO with. “She’s our mate.”

Namjoon sighs, ready to have the conversation again for the hundredth time but Hobi doesn’t let him.

“You can deny it to yourself and the rest of us,” he says. “That doesn’t make it any less true.”

He doesn’t want to hear the lectures today, doesn’t want to sit through another spiel about how it would never work, so he left the office before the wolf could start. It was just his bad luck that he ran into you as he walked out, your form colliding into his chest.

“Woah-” It’s instinct the way his arms wrap around you to hold you steady, and he blames instinct as to why he's so reluctant to let you leave. Your palms are on his chest, burning through the fabric of his shirt, finally giving him some of the warmth he had been craving for a while.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, pulling away, but he doesn’t release you. You look up at him in confusion. “Are you okay?”

No, I'm not okay sunshine. He’s missed you, the confession almost leaves his lips. But instead he smiles through the gut wrenching pain of letting you go, carrying on as if nothing had happened.

—

Twice in one day? What had you done to deserve it? You march over to Yoongi’s office this time, the pile of work starting to stack itself into the leaning tower of pisa on your desk. You don’t even knock, opening the door to greet the panther.

“Depyunim you calle-”

“You need to rewrite this,” he cuts you off without looking at you, holding the files you dropped off earlier before they slammed on his desk.

“What’s wrong with it?” you challenge quietly, knowing that you checked it over ten times before giving it to him.

“You need to change the font,” he states matter of factly. What the- was he kidding?

“This again?” you groan, rolling your eyes in without thinking, patience wearing thin. “There’s nothing wrong with the font!”

Yoongi stands up so quickly his chair almost falls back, he strides over to you, eyes pinning you down where you stood just outside his office. The doorway between you shouldn’t symbolise so much, but when he looks down at you with an anger simmering in his eyes, you can’t ignore that it does.

“I’m a CEO of this company,” his voice is quiet, dangerously so. “If I tell you that it needs changing, there shouldn’t be any questions about it kitten.”

The pet name slips before he can stop it, but he can see your eyes soften at the term despite the way you were trying to challenge him. Your hands ball into fists by your side, trying to stop the ache that came with hearing him call you that again. Trying to pretend you didn’t miss the sound with your whole being.

“I’m not changing the font Min Yoongi,” you keep your voice and gaze steady, ready to win this battle between you both.

He almost smirks, it was instinct when his kitten got out her claws, he couldn’t help it.

“I’m telling you to.”

“Fine, if you’re going to be stubborn about it let’s take it to Namjoon and he can tell us if you’re being unreasonable or not,” you argue back not realising that was the wrong button to press, but how were you to know of the ruins of their relationship.

“This isn’t Namjoon’s project,” he can hear the growl in his words, taking a heavy step towards you.

The way his eyes turned black in a second made a shiver go down your spine, goosebumps jumping out of your skin, warning you that you pushed the panther too far. The next step he takes has you gulp, survival instinct taking over as you take a step back, keeping the distance between you the same, moving into the corridor.

“It's mine,” he looks so disgusted at you, hate pouring out in his words and his glare, aimed far away from you but unfortunately you were on the receiving end. Kim Namjoon was not a name to be uttered in his presence. “So if I tell you, to change the font Miss L/n, you change it.”

His words are final, you can see it. It doesn’t falter, his stare so intense you have trouble finding your own words.

“Okay,” you give in, ready to drop the subject and run away from his demeanour, but he wasn’t having it.

“How dare you try to question my rank in this deal Y/n,” the way he says your first name makes you realise it's not just anger there, you hurt him. “But I guess you don’t respect me a much as you respect him.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he walks back into his office, slamming the door behind him, leaving you alone on the other side. You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath until your lungs filled with air again shakily. No, you were not going to leave it like this.

For the second time that day you don’t knock, walking in to find his back to you as he stood in the middle of the office, Shoulders rising and falling with each angry breath he took. You close the door behind you, staring at him until he turns around.

“Get out of my office,” he’s not joking, the tone of voice he was using with you, you had never heard aimed at you before. You force your bottom lip to not quiver.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. He lets out a breath of laughter, humorlessly, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation.

“Fine. Now leave.”

In his current state, the stink on you was only fuelling the fire. It filled his office, his safe space and he wanted it out even if it meant kicking you out.

“Yoongi,” he curses the way you look up at him with watering eyes. “Why are you so mad at me?”

“That smell is off putting,” it’s spit out before he can reign it in. Part of you expected that to be the answer but you still look surprised.

“But this is irrational…” you shake your head, you want to create boundaries not be exiled. “I know Eric isn’t part of your pack but neither are most of the people you work with every day and you’ve never behaved like this before. Not with me.”

His jaw clenches at the name, the way you said it sounded too familiar for a guy you only met a week ago. Humans were more like animals than they thought, if you met your mate time was irrelevant, he really thought that was you for them, he didn’t want to believe anything else.

“I can’t stand their stench either kitten,” he bites back, sounding spiteful, tail flickering behind him dangerously. “Why do you think I have a private office that no one’s allowed into?”

You reel back, hating the way he was speaking to you. You both bickered and argued all the time, but this felt different, this felt real.

“And right now, you’re filling it with that disgusting smell,” you could almost see smoke coming out of his head, like a volcano about to erupt. “So please, Y/n, leave.”

You stare at him silently for a second, unable to hide the hurt on your face anymore. He doesn’t budge, he can’t, and you can see it your efforts to get through to him would be fruitless. When you close the door behind you, walking out without another word, he can feel the guilt drop like a pill inside of him, regretting letting his jealousy speak for him.

—

You can hear the tap running in the kitchen when you walk into your apartment after work. Sighing with emotional exhaustion as you take off your shoes, you really wanted to be alone.

“Hey!” His voice shouldn’t aggravate you, but it pulls at a chord. “How was work?”

You try to smile, but it feels awful.

“Busy as always,” you don’t elaborate, and Eric is smart enough to know not to push.

“Well I made you one last dinner… without burning the kitchen down this time,” he chuckles sheepishly.

“You really didn’t have to,” you didn’t have the stomach for food today.

“I just wanted to thank you Y/n,” he says sincerely. “For letting me stay with you this week, I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

If you told any of your friends you let the guy that took you on one date stay with you when he accidentally burned down his apartment, you’re pretty sure they’d kill you before giving you the lecture of ‘you don’t know him’, ‘he could be a serial killer’. But you knew Eric through a mutual friend, and if they vouched for him, you’d believe it. Plus you couldn’t lie that his presence was useful in your badly executed plan of getting over your bosses or at least not letting them find out you were in love with them.

“Sure you’re not going to let me take you out on another date to make up for it?” he tries cheekily, reminding you of his presence when you space out thinking about them.

“I thought dinner was your way of making up for it,” you say with a look on your face that roughly translated to, nice try.

“No, that's my way of saying thank you,” he chuckles but again doesn’t push it.

As much as you wanted to be distracted from your current dilemma, you wouldn’t use anyone that way. It wasn’t fair, you were hung up on them, and you didn’t believe that stupid saying of getting under someone else. Honestly, you didn’t know what you were doing, you wanted something impossible. Did you honestly believe that a little distance was going to erase the past few years of getting to know them, of falling in love with them? How did you think you could have it both ways? Love them from afar, but still keep them close. You really were a mess.

—

His scent was stronger on you this morning. It was all they could think about through the meeting all seven of them had to attend, but they didn’t know that was because you hugged Eric goodbye this morning when he finally left with his stuff. More from the relief of getting your space back than anything else. The time-old saying was wrong, what they didn’t know would definitely kill them.

Did he spend the night? Was that why the once lingering smell on you was now punching them in the face with its pungence? Jin glances briefly at the way Yoongi was tapping his pen irritatedly on the surface of the desk. Hobi looking distraught beside him, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

The maknaes were fairing no better. Jimin's stare was as cold as ice, threatening to freeze anyone cold that dared to approach him… perhaps it was quite fitting for an arctic fox. Jin could hear the way Jungkook’s leg was restless under the desk, the strength of the smell too much for the bunny as his face contorted into pain. And Taehyung… well the tiger looked at you with such an intensity, the oldest CEO didn’t know how you were ignoring it, surely you felt the burn of his gaze.

Jin wondered how Namjoon was leading the meeting with such faux ease. If Jin didn’t know him any better, he would have believed it, but he noticed the subtle clench of his jaw, the way he couldn’t help glancing at you at any given moment, the heartbreak and questions in his gaze every time it fell on you.

“We’ve only just managed to reach our target for this year’s quarterly,” Namjoon states, trying not to wince at the way the smell was giving him a headache. “I want project leaders to reassess their team's work for any pitfalls or areas for improvement.”

You frown in concern when he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes with his fingers, closing them in pain before resuming the meeting. You want to question it, stay late when he finishes his speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and letting your colleagues leave the room. You want to stay, you want to check he's okay, but you remind yourself of what you’re trying to achieve and force yourself out without looking back at any of them. That didn’t mean you didn’t feel each of their stares as you left.

—

You can see Jungkook and Jimin wandering around the office floor, trying to look busy, striking up conversations with almost every employee, asking them mundane questions about different projects, all while sneaking not so subtle glances your way. You’d laugh under any other circumstance. You hadn’t said a word to them since that night, and now because of the lack of communication the atmosphere festered into something awkward. Each party was afraid to approach the other, you were scared to talk to them, they had a way of bringing down your defences, and you knew it would take them seconds to break down the wall of boundaries you were building.

The pair notice you ignoring their presence, making their way through the sea of employees, inching closer and closer to you as naturally as they can fake.

“Hyung I don’t think this is going to work,” Jungkook mutters under his breath for only the arctic fox to hear.

“Why won’t it work?” Jimin challenges in a hushed breath. “We’re the CEO’s of the company checking on our employees, Angel is also an employee, this is the perfect way to start a conversation again.”

“But hyung-”

“I miss her,” Jimin looks earnestly at the bunny, his heart in his eyes for him to see. “I can’t take this anymore.”

Jungkook bites his lips nervously as Jimin talks to Seulgi, the next desk they would approach would be yours. You seemed engrossed in your work but he kept his eye on you, scared you would figure out what they were doing and run away before they had the chance to talk to you.

You, however, were so wrapped up in your own thoughts you didn’t question their motives. That is until they make their way to your desk.

“Angel,” Jimin greets you as if nothing happened.

Your eyes widen as you stare at him in shock, realising this was their plan the whole time.

“Jimin,” you breathe back, and he has to stop himself pouncing on you. Fuck, he missed you? Why was that word not enough to explain the pain of being away from you for so long?

“Hi Noona,” Jungkook saves his hyung by sacrificing himself, the older CEO malfunctioning after hearing his name. “W-we w-wanted to see how everyone was doing.”

He chews at his lips, cursing himself for stuttering, but thankfully Jimin finds his tongue.

“The hyungs sent us,” he lies hastily, “to check on everyone, I mean…”

You just nod in reply, feeling a little on the spot with both their gazes burning into you like you would fade from sight. You kind of wish you could fade from sight.

“How are you?” Jimin asks softly, the words sounding light but holding more weight than anyone would ever know.

“I-I’m okay,” you smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just falling behind.”

Your hands grip onto the arm rests of your chair, as if you were physically trying to hold yourself back from leaping into their arms. You missed them, you missed them so much you didn’t care about that stupid night and the stupid boundaries. You just wanted to go back to normal, but you couldn’t, you had feeling for them, it was wrong.

“Anything we can help with?” Jungkook asks, hoping you’d let them. All he wanted to do was bury his nose in your hair, after scenting you so hard that you only smelled of him and the pack. His fingers fidget, entangling around each other, can’t he at least touch your hair? Or your cheek, or something.

“I kind of need to not be distracted,” you say sheepishly, wincing at your own harsh words though you tried to say them as politely as you could. Both boys balk at the suggestion before Jimin composes himself.

“Understood.” His features turn to stone as he drags the bunny away, leaving you to your work. Your heart breaks more and more with each step they take, knowing you can’t take it back. You hurt them.

—

You thought their office was empty, it's why you didn’t knock. Knowing their schedules, knowing they were all at different meetings, you didn’t think twice to enter with the files you had to drop off, coming to an abrupt halt when you’re met with his red rimmed eyes. You both stare at each other, your face one of complete shock, while his was evident of his tears.

It's the sob that wrecks through his whole body that has you spring into action, flinging the files onto whoevers desk you didn't care, as you almost ran over to him, engulfing him in your arms nearly knocking you both over. If anything he cries harder, tail wrapping around your waist too as he holds onto you like a lifeline. You squeeze him hard, his head burying itself into your neck, trying to find the scent of you that wasn’t tainted with that awful stench.

You don’t smell like you. You don’t smell like them. He won’t pretend it's pure instinct as he rubs his head against you, sniffling as he moves your head under his chin, rubbing his scent glands on you roughly. It’s all over you, that fucking smell was everywhere.

“Tae,” you call his name airily, his ministrations already having an effect on you, but you had been so starved of him for so long.

He doesn’t respond, taking your arm in his hand, pressing it against his cheek, hiding his eyes from you when he decides it isn’t enough. You feel yourself stop breathing when he uses his lips instead, soft delicate kisses on the length of your arm, making his way slowly to your neck. You’re frozen, not wanting him to stop for a second, your skin searing at every touch he gives.

That is until you try to make sense of his behaviour. He was a hybrid, who saw you as part of his pack, and you denied them your presence for over a week. This was just his instincts on overdrive and you had to get yourself together before he went too far and regretted it. Or before you misread the signals and got your heart broken again.

“Tae, stop,” it sounds feeble even to your own ears, but you grab his wrists and push him back. His eyes meet yours, no tears left but his pupils are fully blown like he was on catnip.

“No,” his voice is hoarse but stubborn. “I don’t want to.”

It takes all your strength to hold him back when he tries to lean into you again, his heart aching at the way you're keeping him away when he so desperately needs you.

“Please,” he begs, whimpering, feeling like if you denied him it would crush him beyond repair. “Please flower.”

You breathe out slowly, long and calm, trying to keep yourself together, to not give in. It wasn’t fair, every brick you painstakingly spent building against them came down like a house of cards. Tears prickle the corner of your own eyes. This wasn’t fair.

He manages to rest his head on your shoulder, his nose sniffing against your neck. It’s still there, muted but he could still smell it. You hear the low hum of a growl in his throat.

“Taehyung, talk to me,” you say gently, needing him to verbalise his actions so you didn’t misread them.

“You’re not supposed to smell like him!” he cries, closing his eyes in pain. “You’re supposed to smell like us, you’re mine.”

Your heart leaps before it falls.

“Tae,” your bottom lip trembles, doesn’t he realise how cruel this was. “You can’t say shit like that.”

He hears you sniff, moving away enough to see the look of sadness on your face. But he doesn’t understand why it’s there. Did you really not feel the same way? No, that wasn’t it, the way you looked up at him, begging him to stop but they were soft on him, so loving.

“Why?” he dares to ask, it comes out a whisper, his heart pounding as he inspects you. You close your eyes, wanting to laugh at how pathetic you are. It causes tears to fall out of the corner of your eyes. You let go of his wrists to wipe them away, ready to answer him, ready to confess and leave him forever to save yourself from more pain.

A creak startles you both, the door opening to reveal the others making their way back from their respective meetings, all of them staring at the scene, completely taken back.

“Baby girl?” Namjoon is the first to step towards you both, his eyes flickering between you both. The concern on his face turns to one of anger, aimed at the tiger but you had already decided it was towards you.

You can’t deal with this. Turning away you try to make your leave, only to be held back, Taheyung grabbing your hand in his and making you face him.

“Why?’ he repeats, more adamantly. He needed to know, because whether he was right or wrong would change everything.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon growls warningly. His eyes fixed on your hands together.

“This is between me and flower,” he glares at his hyung, the threat in his eyes clear for the wolf not to get involved. He turns back to you, the others watching intently. “Why?”

You feel defeat ripple through your chest, your face scrunching as you sniff back the sob working its way out.

“Because my stupid human brain is going to misunderstand,” you voice is heavy with tears, a few slipping out against your wishes. “Your actions mean something different for humans than they do for hybrids.”

He almost scoffs, this was what you always did. They were so obvious with their affection and love and you rationalised it wrong every time.

“What does it mean for humans, flower?” he almost sounds like he’s mocking you, a new stern and unforgiving look on his face as he moves closer to you.

“Taehyung stop,” you beg, not wanting to go through with this, to feel embarrassed about your feelings when he figured it out. “Please.”

“Taehyung maybe we shou-”

The glare he sends Hoseok’s way has the lion biting his tongue. They were all panicked, what if the tiger’s actions cost you them forever?

“What do kisses mean for humans?” he asks again, louder, more demanding, not letting the subject drop. “Or better yet… What do you think they mean for hybrids?”

“You kissed her?” Both of you ignore Namjoon’s outburst, Taehyung not caring if he misunderstood.

The corners of your lips pull down so far, your eyes welling ready for overspill as you implore him silently to let you go. Why was he being so cruel? You had never known him to be like this before, what did he want from you? You breathe shakily, feeling lost until it hits you, he’s figured it out. He knows.

Your worst fears come to surface and you pray it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t about to out your feelings to the others. He watches you struggle for words, deciding to take pity on you.

“Because last time I checked,” he breathes, his heart pounding in his chest hard as he takes a leap of faith. “They mean the same thing for us as they mean for you.”

It takes you a second, he can see the crease between your brows before your whole face goes slack with disbelief. He can see the puzzle pieces finally fit into place through your eyes, unable to help himself, smiling when he can feel your pulse match his.

He takes another step closer, the distance between you only a hair width. Final drops of tears fall out of your eyes as he watches your pupils dilate when he leans in. You don’t pull away when his lips press against yours, you pull him closer.

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

Taglist: @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld @halesandy @dreamamubarak @deepseavibez @mikymouse0729 @barnesrogerslover @itismochirice @mwitsmejk @minswife4life @agustverse @whtamidoingagain @missmoxxiesworld @itsjustwinter @midiplier @toriluvsfics @juju-227592 @galacticmei @mardduska @paymeinkash @blxssxmsposts @sweetestofchaos @aykxz98 @hannahdinse8 @canarystwin @blushyrawrz @roguesthetic @bex-tk1 @abrokenlink @thedarkwinterrose @ronynz @dont-believe-in-cheesus @matchat3a @ryomen-yn @1-800-punch-a-pimp @muffinminnie @demidevilangel @sugajinny @spiralingnino @yoongissmalltoe

1K notes · View notes

daenysx · 1 year

Text

my first daryl shot and i really wanna know what you think, please share your opinions with me!! this takes place in the CDC. hope you like it, requests are open!!

my masterlist

blame the alcohol

daryl dixon tries not to fall for you but you are there to wreck his plans with an empty wine glass in your hand.

he wants to save the image in front of him and stare at it for hours.

you are standing there, unaware of his presence. you are only wearing a shirt which is extra big for you and a pair of socks reaching your knees. your slightly wet hair frames your pretty face and you are holding a book in your hand, there is a wine glass on the table next to you.

daryl dixon loves watching you.

he is standing by the doorframe with a bottle in his hand. he is supposed to be resting but it feels impossible. there are things that keep his mind alive and the alcohol he consumes is not enough to shut it off.

here you are, looking clean and relaxed. you use the same shampoo and soaps with everyone, your little survival team that finally makes it to CDC, but he thinks you smell different. your scent is different and he is not dreaming about it, right? he wants to take a deep breath to fill his senses with you and it's perfectly real.

you are reading a book, he doesn't know if you like it. he is sure even if you don't like the context you like the act of reading. you told him that in his tent, the days feel like ages now but truly it wasn't that long ago. you have a passion for reading. you'd read anything you find, that he's sure about.

your wine glass is empty. he should approach you and offer you more wine, right? that's what he wants but he isn't sure if you want his company. actually there isn't a reason for him to think otherwise, he knows you enjoy spending time with him but he can't help his thoughts. this life isn't made for love stories and a man like daryl dixon can't afford to let himself fall for you.

then you turn to his side, finally noticing him as if you've felt his desperation. there is that smile again. your eyes sparkle and he can see it perfectly clear on your clean face. he doesn't even want to admit it to himself but he loves seeing you smile. it's like watching the sunrise, shiny and mesmerising.

"why are you standing there, dixon? come closer."

why does his last name sound so beautiful when it comes out of your lips? he comes closer to you with slow steps.

"are you drunk already? unbelievable, you surprise me."

he smiles. "nah, i ain't drunk."

you leave the book back to its place, take your empty glass and go to the couch across the wall. you point the bottle in his hand, "can i have some of that?"

he nods quickly, fills your glass, and sits next to you on the couch. you two share a few minutes of silence, sipping your drinks and staring at the wall. he wants to hear your voice, anything you tell him even if you think they are stupid, he wants to hear it. there are little moments between you and him. when it gets too much in his head, he finds a release with them.

"c'mon, tell me somethin'."

you raise an eyebrow. "like what?"

he shrugs, takes a sip of wine. "anythin'."

you curve your lips slightly, think of an answer. it feels like the right time for a deep conversation with the opportunity to blame it on alcohol if you say something you regret later. not to deep but you feel like you need to be the brave one.

"this apocalypse...sometimes i feel like-like i'm happy it happened you know? not happy, happy is not the right word to say but- just glad. for one reason."

he has a look on his face, questioning and curious. you have to explain what you mean. you have to start somewhere.

"we'd never know each other if it weren't for the apocalypse."

he doesn't know what to say. after he lost merle, he planned to be alone and alive in this new life and now you are here, wrecking all his plans with your sweet confessions and smiles. he shouldn't get attached for his own sake but then you look at him with big, teary eyes and he is gone.

"you ain't gonna cry for this sunshine."

you try to smile. "i'm not crying but- the possibility of never knowing you is terrible and- i feel like an awful person for saying that i'm grateful for the zombies somehow."

he chuckles softly. then he puts the bottle on the ground and brings his hand to your face. his movements aren't the most confident ones, he is hesitant but that doesn't stop him from brushing that one teardrop away from your face.

"ya can't ever be an awful person. i know what ya mean, okay? you're right. ya shouldn't ever cry for- fucks sake ya shouldn't cry for anythin'. you're too pretty for that."

he never fails to put a smile on your face. he smiles too, when he sees the little wrinkles on the corners of your mouth. he doesn't regret saying too much, if it's necessary to talk too much to make you smile for him, daryl dixon would turn into a fucking chatterbox.

"thank you, daryl. for everything. i know i'm not really suited for this kind of life but i'm trying...i really do."

his eyes are about to turn into little hearts with sparkles. fuck it. you can't possibly be that sweet, he thinks. he can't even believe himself for using the word sweet for someone but there you are, his sweet girl.

"you're a fast learner. you're fine and 'm with you."

you press a soft kiss to his cheek and put your head on his shoulder. he wishes to keep that promise until the end of everything. he doesn't even know if he'll be alive tomorrow but he can blame the alcohol for the bravery and your beautiful face for the romantic feelings, right? right.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #daryl dixon x you #twd daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine

434 notes · View notes

cod-dump · 1 year

Note

John “thinks he’s unlovable and people merely tolerate him” Soap Mactavish; is unconvinced when Gaz tells him that he is Ghost’s favorite on their team. Vehemently denies it. He’d love for it to be true, but knows in his heart that it isn’t.

Gotta love that sweet, sweet low self-esteem that makes that sweet angst

___

A Bit Too Much

Angst below the cut

___

Growing up Soap was described as “a bit too much”. By his parents, siblings, the kids at school— He just accepted that’s what he was. “A bit too much”. As he grew, he tried different things to deal with this. Not engaging with people was his first approach. Then when people started saying “too quiet” he changed things up.

“A bit too much”, “Too quiet”, “Tries too hard”, “Thinks he’s too good for us”, “Bipolar freak”—

So he gave up. He put up a front full of confidence. This became the persona everyone knew. This was Soap, that’s how he was. Brave, facing the world with a grin and a smug comment. But even though Soap lived the persona so long, he was constantly reminded that, well, he was too much. Too friendly, too arrogant. He talked back, stuck his neck out. And when he got those looks from everyone�� Well, it took everything he had to not let his mask crack.

When he joined 141 and met Ghost, he smiled and continued the act. The confidence, the know-it-all attitude. That glare from Ghost almost made him break. But he kept going. He proved himself to be a valuable member of 141. He earned his mark. When Ghost started to tone down the aggression, Soap simply told himself the man was trying to be nice considering they were going to be working together for the unforeseeable future. He had to be nice so they could work together smoothly.

The jokes were odd but considering how dark some were Soap took them as Ghost trying to remind him of Ghost’s reputation. Then the shoulder pats after a job well done— Those were always done in front of others. Ghost couldn’t show people his distaste for Soap.

One evening they were on a mission in a temperate forest. It’s been quite a bit since then so Soap couldn’t really remember why they were there. But they had to camp out there overnight. A fire burning between them, laying on their backs, looking through the trees staring at the stars. The others were passed out, and it was between either Soap or Ghost to keep watch.

“Get some rest, sergeant.”

“Me? You tell me that with those bags under your eyes?”

The chuckle that came from Ghost wasn’t like the dry, forced laughter that he had heard before. It was warm, genuine. Soap couldn’t remember the last time he heard someone laugh like that in response to something he said/done.

He’s tired, probably thinks a knock knock joke would be hilarious.

Soap insisted he would take watch and Ghost looked at him with unreadable eyes before agreeing. Probably didn’t want to bother arguing with him considering how stubborn and insufferable Soap could be. Soap knows how he is, he remembers his mother telling him that several times before he finally joined the military.

Since then, Soap would think about how Ghost looked that night. Though he was in gear, same skull mask and balaclava, faded black grease around the eyes. He looked so- so—

Soap had a bad habit of becoming obsessive when he finds a person that he likes. Someone who he genuinely loves to be around. Past girlfriends and boyfriends and friends in general called him “clingy” and some said he would stalk them. He never tried to make them uncomfortable, but when he finds that person who brightened his day just by him seeing them… He tried to be around them as much as possible. But he would be constantly reminded of how weirded out people were by that.

But Ghost didn’t give him the same signs that he was crossing the line like those in the past. Wasn’t told to back away, stop talking for moment, just leave him alone for fuck’s sake. Soap tried to give Ghost his space, watched what he said, and leave him alone as often as possible. He wasn’t sure why this man was so patient with him. His own parents never gave him this kind of tolerance. Soap wondered if Ghost, despite his reputation, was a lot nicer then what people made him out to be.

So after deeming that Ghost was too nice to tell him to fuck off, Soap decided to avoid him. The first couple of days, if Soap saw Ghost in the hall or in the room he entered, he had to remind himself to leave him alone. The man needed a break. After a week and a half he got used to the lack of companionship (though he knows Ghost was loving the change). After three weeks Soap found company elsewhere.

He would pick random recruits to annoy for a day then leave them alone. Sometimes he annoyed Price because the captain had some actually funny facial expressions and if Soap said something off putting, Price would let him know without any words. But he tried to leave Price alone as much as possible. He didn’t want to wear him out like he did Ghost.

So Gaz became his next target. After the first day of inserting himself into Gaz’s dad-to-day, he would talk about whatever with him. He could say things to Gaz that he couldn’t with recruits or with Price (his judging facial expressions were amusing but did have a impact after a bit). Gaz would engage back, which was a nice change to the hesitant replies from the recruits or the short replies from Price (who was usually working on something when Soap “graced” him with his presence).

He found Gaz in Price’s office filing things away for the man while he was away. He decided to join him, pulling a chair from the corner of the room and sitting next to Gaz. After a minute they started talking about random things. Then Gaz asked him a question.

“Soap, I have to know… did you and Ghost get into a fight or something?”

Soap was doodling on his arm with a marker when Gaz asked this. He looked up with a confused expression, “No?”

“Really? Everyone thought something happened between you two since you’re not hanging out anymore.”

“I left before something did happen,” Soap replied as he returned to doodling.

It was Gaz’s turn to be confused, “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Garrick. Man was bound to snap givin’ how much I bothered him!”

“Didn’t really look like you were bothering him. He’s been upset since you started avoiding him.”

Soap stops again, the felt tip of the marker presses into his skin. He’s been doing such a good job of avoiding Ghost and giving him his space that he hadn’t noticed how the man reacted to all of this.

“Upset? Sure it’s not been relief?”

He forced a laugh at the end of that statement but Gaz wasn’t laughing back.

“Soap, man is one wrong tone away from ripping someone’s head off. That’s why everyone thinks you two got into a fight. But you just left without any reason?”

Soap stares at Gaz, “What?”

“Soap… He’s been pissed at the world since his best friend just abandoned him!”

Best friend?

Those words shook Soap to his core. All his previous “best friends” were some poor sods who were a bit too friendly with him and Soap latched onto them, mistaking their tolerance for acceptance. He would notice after being dropped by someone he saw as his best friend that people would refer to them as his victim, not his friend. He never heard anyone referred to as his friend in general, let alone best friend.

“I’m-I’m not- He’s not my best friend. He could barely tolerate me…”

Gaz chose then to laugh, “You’re pulling my leg!”

When Gaz finally stopped laughing and noticed the incredibly confused look on Soap’s face. His smile drops and a grim look takes over.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

Soap shakes his head wordlessly.

“Seriously? You’re like his favorite person out of everyone anywhere. He likes you over Laswell!”

“No he doesn’t-“

“Man, yes he does! Where have you been where you think that you’re not Ghost’s favorite person?”

Soap stands abruptly, “Stop fucking with me, Gaz!”

Gaz flinches, “Soap-“

“Where have I been? Where have you been?! There is no way Ghost likes me- I’m just an annoying fly in his ear.”

Soap was nicknamed “Fly” as a kid by his dad, said he was as annoying and hard to get rid of as the actual insect. When he left for the military and eventually earned the callsign “Soap”, he never thought he would feel relief to be called a cleaning product before.

Soap storms off, leaving Gaz staring at him with concern written across his face. He all but ran out of the base, not caring how many people he almost ran into on his way out. He didn’t care that it was pouring rain or that he didn’t have a jacket on him, just a long sleeved shirt and some joggers on. He absentmindedly pushed his sleeve down on the arm he was doodling on as he walked. It was cold like hell froze over, which would have had to happen for Gaz, anyone, to think that Ghost liked him.

He came to a sewer pipe that they practiced crawling through with gear on to prepare for the field. But for now it was a place to hide. Soap crawled inside, finding it much roomier without twenty/thirty pounds of gear on. He curls up in a fetal position, every bit of his childhood, every moment that led up to him becoming who he was. To the mask that he wore every day. It all flooded over him.

His sisters complaining when he tried to play with them. His mother swatting him when he forgot to stop talking. His father forgetting to pick him up after school. His classmates talking about him behind his back. One of his teachers muttering “Something’s not right with him” as he walked away from her desk. His first boyfriend telling him that he was too clingy and that it was creeping him out. His first “best friend” telling him he was too weird and talked too much.

Once the dam broke he couldn’t stop the tears.

Out of all the cruel things that happened to him throughout the years, this was the cruelest of them all. That brief moment where he actually believed that Ghost liked him. That his laughs were genuine when Soap told a joke. That he actually paid attention when he told a story. That when Soap was excited about something he actually stopped to listen. But none of that was real.

Because Soap was a bit too much for anyone to handle.

#a bit too much #probably gonna post this to ao3 #cod mwii #call of duty #modern warfare ii #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #fic #fanfic #soapghost #ghostsoap #thanks for the ask <3 #ask #modern warfare

612 notes · View notes