#pat looks dead inside | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pucksandpower · 2 months

Text

Blackmail Material

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you love your boyfriend more than life itself but who can blame you for keeping a folder of all the blackmail material he has given you over the years … just in case

You hear a bloodcurdling scream from the other room. “Y/N! Come quick!” Charles yells.

You rush over to find him standing on top of the couch, a look of sheer terror on his face. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

He points a shaky finger at the floor. “Sp-spider!”

You look down to see a tiny little spider no bigger than a blueberry crawling across the hardwood. You have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of your brave Formula 1 driver boyfriend absolutely losing it over this tiny critter.

“Really? That’s what all the fuss is about?” You don’t bother to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Don’t laugh!” He says indignantly. “It’s a monster! Kill it, please!”

You kneel down and take a closer look at the offending arachnid. “Aww, it’s just a little jumping spider,” you say. “It’s actually kind of cute.”

Charles makes a strangled sound of disbelief. “Cute? It’s a beast from the depths of hell! I want it gone!”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “You race cars at over 300 kilometers per hour, but you’re scared of a little spider barely bigger than a piece of lint?”

“Yes! Spiders are my worst fear. Now stop teasing me and get rid of it!” He gives you his best pleading look from his perch on top of the couch.

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, grabbing an empty glass from the coffee table. You gently trap the spider under it and slide a piece of cardstock underneath, trapping the spider safely.

“Is it dead? Please tell me you killed it,” Charles asks hopefully.

“Of course not, I’m just going to let it go outside. Spiders are good, they eat other bugs.”

Charles visibly shudders. “Well get it out of here! I don’t want to see it ever again.”

You carry the spider carefully to the sliding door and release it on the balcony. When you come back inside, Charles is still standing on the couch looking suspiciously around at the floor.

“The horrible beast has been banished, you can come down now,” you say.

He hesitantly steps back down onto the floor. “Are you sure it’s gone? You didn’t just give it free reign to run wild in the apartment?”

You try and fail to hold back a laugh. “Yes, I’m sure. Your life is no longer in peril.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “This isn’t funny! Spiders are evil creatures with too many legs and eyes. They should not exist.”

You go over and wrap your arms around him comfortingly, though you’re still struggling not to giggle. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But you have to admit, it’s kind of silly that someone who races cars at death-defying speeds could be so terrified of a tiny spider.”

He huffs indignantly. “It’s a completely rational fear. They’re all legs and eyes and they move so fast and erratically and some of them can be venomous. Absolutely horrifying.”

You smile indulgently and kiss his cheek. “Okay, I get it. I promise I’ll protect you if any more evil spiders invade our home.”

“Thank you,” he says, finally relaxing into your arms now that the threat has passed.

But you just can’t resist teasing him a little more. “It was just so small!”

He pulls back and gives you an unamused look. “You’re not going to let this go anytime soon, are you?”

You grin impishly. “Letting my big macho boyfriend stand on the couch and scream because of a teeny tiny spider? Yeah, probably not gonna let you live this one down for a while.”

Charles groans. “This is so unfair. The guys will never let me hear the end of it if they find out.”

You pat his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that Charles Leclerc is terrified of itsy bitsy spiders.”

And if you happened to save evidence of his freak out just in case? Well … it’s not technically telling anyone unless you share the video.

***

You can’t help but grin as Charles paces back and forth in your New York hotel room, running his hands through his hair in distress.

“Chill out babe, I’m sure the airline will find your luggage soon,” you try to soothe him.

Charles whips around, eyes wide. “Chill out? How can I chill out when my La Mer is missing? Do you have any idea how long it took me to perfect my skincare routine?”

You stifle a laugh at his dramatics. “I mean, it’s just skincare products. Not the end of the world.”

“Just skincare products?” Charles looks at you in horror. “That’s like saying a Ferrari is just a car! La Mer is the cream of the crop, the holy grail of skin care! My face needs it to survive!”

You can’t hold back your grin anymore. “Wow, didn’t realize I was dating such a high maintenance diva,” you tease.

Charles huffs, crossing his arms. “I am not high maintenance, I just have discerning taste and an appreciation for quality.”

“Uh huh, sure,” you say. “Is that why you made us stop at three different Whole Foods on the way here from the airport until you found your favorite protein shake?”

“That is completely different,” Charles protests. “My skin is very sensitive, I can’t just use any old drugstore products.”

You laugh and pull Charles onto the couch next to you. “You’re cute when you pout.”

He tries to keep a straight face but ends up cracking a smile. “I can’t help it, I’m freaking out! Do you know how dry airplanes are? My skin is going to be a flaky desert by tomorrow.”

You run a hand through his hair. “Aww poor baby. However will you cope without your six hundred dollar moisturizer?”

Charles narrows his eyes at you. “You joke, but this is serious stuff. Do you want a boyfriend with wrinkles and acne?”

“I mean, a few wrinkles never hurt anyone,” you say, kissing his cheek.

He gasps dramatically. “Don’t even joke about that! I’ll be twenty seven soon, wrinkle prevention needs to start now.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Most twenty seven year olds aren’t this worried about wrinkles. But I guess Formula 1 drivers really are high maintenance.”

“With good reason! We can’t have crows feet interfering with our vision,” Charles says matter-of-factly.

You give him a look. “You’re just making things up now.”

Charles holds your hands, looking deeply into your eyes. “Mon amour, you must understand. Athletes age in dog years. We need anti-aging products just to keep up.”

You burst out laughing, shoving him playfully. “You’re so full of it!”

Charles grins cheekily. “But you love me anyway.”

You lean in and give him a soft kiss. “Yeah I do. Even if you are a high maintenance diva.”

Charles puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I thought girlfriends were supposed to be supportive! My skincare is obviously very important to me.”

You snuggle up next to him, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Tell me all about this super special moisturizer.”

His eyes light up. “Well first of all it contains like crushed up diamonds or something. And they freeze each jar before shipping it to keep the ingredients ultra fresh.”

You make a mental note to Google this later, since it sounds completely absurd that diamonds would be an effective skincare ingredient. Though with Charles, you can never be too sure.

“Uh huh, diamonds. That’s totally normal,” you say, playing along.

“Exactly! And the founder makes sure each jar charges under the energy of a full moon before it’s sold. It’s really an intricate artisanal process.” Charles sighs longingly.

You smile and kiss his pouting lips. “You’re cute. I promise your skin will survive one night without magic moon diamonds.”

Charles snuggles against your shoulder. “I know, I know. Skincare is just part of my routine, it makes me feel relaxed and put together. And smelling like citrus blossoms is an added bonus.”

You kiss the top of his head. “I get that. Hopefully the airline finds your stuff soon. But in the meantime, want me to see if anyone sells La Mer nearby?”

Charles perks up. “Ooh yes, let’s check! I saw they have a Dior down the block too.”

You laugh and take his hand. “Of course they do. Come on, let’s go spoil you with new overpriced skincare products until yours turn up.”

***

You walk into the kitchen and see your boyfriend standing at the counter, a pile of uncooked spaghetti next to him. He takes a portion in his hand … which he proceeds to snap in half before dropping it into the pot of boiling water on the stove.

“Charles! What are you doing?” You exclaim in shock.

He turns to you, confused. “What do you mean? I’m just making sure the pasta will fit better in the pot.”

“But you can’t break spaghetti before cooking it!” You say incredulously. “That’s like a cardinal sin in Italy!”

Charles laughs. “Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal. The pasta will cook just fine this way.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Il Predestinato is out here breaking pasta. Do you have any idea how offensive Italians would find this?”

“I’m sure they will survive the absolute tragedy of some broken spaghetti,” he jokes.

You nod to your phone. “It’s a good thing I’m recording this for posterity then. The whole country needs to know about this travesty.”

Charles’ eyes go wide. “What? No, don’t record me!” He reaches for your phone but you spin away, giggling.

“The people of Italy deserve to know the truth about their hero!” You declare dramatically.

“Mon ange, please give me the phone,” he pleads, trying to grab your arm. You dance out of reach.

“Truth and justice will prevail!” You continue recording as Charles chases you around the kitchen island.

“Come on, delete it! This could start an international incident if it gets out!”

You pause to catch your breath, phone held high. “An international inchident? Wow, look at you being all dramatic now. I thought it wasn’t a big deal?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I didn’t think you’d actually record it as blackmail material! Please, mon amour, I’m begging you, delete the video.”

You pretend to think about it. “Hmm I don’t know … this seems like prime viral video content. Scuderia Ferrari Driver Destroys Pasta, Enrages Italy. Can you imagine the views it would get?”

“Y/N!” Charles lunges forward and tackles you onto the living room couch. You shriek with laughter as he tries to pry the phone from your grip.

“Noooo my video!” You yell dramatically.

Charles pins your arms above your head with one hand and reaches for the phone with the other. “Give it to me!”

You squirm underneath him. “Never!”

He leans down until his face is just inches from yours. “What’s it going to take for you to delete that video, huh?” His voice is low and gravelly.

You catch your breath, hyper aware of his body pressing against yours. “I don’t know, what are you offering?” You ask cheekily.

Charles brushes his nose against yours. “What if I made you your favorite dinner tomorrow night?”

You tilt your chin up in defiance. “That’s all I get for deleting potential internet gold? I don’t think so.”

He moves even closer, his lips just barely grazing your cheek. “Okay, what if I take you out for a nice date too? Dinner and a show at the opera, your choice.” His breath is warm against your skin.

You close your eyes for a second, affected by his closeness but not ready to give in yet. “Tempting, but I think this video is worth even more than that.”

Charles makes a small noise of frustration before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You melt into it for a blissful moment before pulling back slightly.

“Well that’s certainly a start,” you murmur, your heart racing.

Charles lets go of your hands to cradle your face tenderly. “Mon cœur, please delete the video. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything.”

You search his eyes intently. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he confirms fervently before kissing you again, deeper this time.

You wrap your arms around his neck and give yourself over to the kiss. After several heated moments, you gently break away.

“Okay fine, I’ll delete the video on one condition.”

Charles looks at you warily. “Name it.”

“You have to let me drive your Ferrari.”

Charles groans and drops his head against your shoulder. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

You laugh and pat his head consolingly. “Those are my terms.”

He lifts his head to grin ruefully at you. “You drive a hard bargain. But for the sake of Italian nonnas everywhere, I accept your deal.”

You lift up your phone and pretend to wipe away a tear. “The souls of broken spaghetti can finally rest easy.”

Charles just shakes his head before leaning down to silence you with another deep kiss. As you lose yourself in the feeling of his body against yours, you quietly move the video into an encrypted folder. After all, you never know when it might come in handy.

***

You raise an eyebrow as you watch Charles carefully pour Red Bull into his Ferrari water bottle. “Do you buy those in bulk?” You ask with a laugh.

Charles gasps in exaggerated outrage. “Buy from the enemy? Never!” He screws the cap on tightly and gives you a sly grin. “Max and I have an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” You echo in surprise. This is news to you.

Charles nods, looking pleased with himself. “Yes, a secret trade deal. I provide him cappuccinos from the Ferrari cafe and Max supplies me with as much Red Bull as I need.”

You burst out laughing. “Are you serious? You and Max smuggle each other contraband caffeinated drinks?”

“Shh, not so loud!” Charles glances around furtively, but the motorhome is empty except for the two of you. “It must remain a secret.”

Still chuckling, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “So the great Charles Leclerc betrays his team for energy drinks. The Tifosi would riot if they knew!”

Charles winces dramatically. “Do not say such things! It is not betrayal, merely … creative problem solving.” He takes a long swig of Red Bull and grins. “The taste of the enemy is sweet.”

“I can’t believe you drink that stuff. And I can’t believe Max is your supplier!” You shake your head in amusement. “Does anyone else know about this arrangement of yours?”

“Only Lando. We needed a neutral third party to broker the deal and make the exchanges.” Charles leans in with a playful smile. “So do not be getting any ideas about exposing our scheme, yes?”

You mimic zipping your lips. “My lips are sealed … as long as you share some of that!”

Charles pretends to think about it for a second before breaking into a grin and handing you the bottle. The carbonated liquid fizzes pleasantly on your tongue, the familiar flavor mingling with the surrealness of drinking Red Bull from a Ferrari bottle. You take one more sip then hand it back to Charles.

“Just don’t let Fred or Christian find out,” you warn teasingly. “Pretty sure this counts as treason.”

Charles just laughs. “They turn a blind eye. The team knows I perform best when properly caffeinated.” He caps the bottle and adds, “But no more for you, ma belle. I only have a limited supply!”

You pout dramatically. “Fine, keep your precious Red Bull. I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone what’s really in your water bottle!”

The can of Red Bull that Charles rushes to give you tastes even sweeter than usual.

2K notes · View notes

verstappen-cult · 2 months

Note

Having an argument with Max, sounds exhausting. Especially when both of you are stubborn, but guess what? He'd willingly beg for forgiveness if you are still upset with him and avoiding him as a result of the argument

“I can’t do this anymore.” You whisper, shaking your head and taking a step back.

That is what finally makes Max stop dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open with whatever he was going to say next.

You’re tired. You woke up less than an hour ago and the first thing you and Max did was argue. And you really didn’t want to start the day this way, but neither of you backed away. Things escalated quickly and you just can’t do it anymore.

“What are you talking about?” He sounds desperate, his chest heaving. Max clenches his fists by his side, like he wants to reach out.

You turn your head away, eyes filled with tears. “I’m gonna go see my mother. We’ll talk later.”

Max feels paralyzed, he can’t seem to do anything but watch you leave.

It’s past eight when you get home.

The first thing you notice is that the house is lit only by candles. A lot of candles throughout the house.

Max is nowhere to be seen, Jimmy and Sassy are the ones greeting you by passing between your legs. You bend over to pat their heads and give them a few ear scratches.

The more you walk into the house, the more your heart breaks. There on the table is a big bouquet of your favorite flowers along with a small card with the word ‘sorry’ written in Max’s handwriting waiting for you. The table is also set with the chinaware you only use on special occasions, and a few more candles.

When you turn around you see Max curled up on the sofa, your favorite weighted blanket —the one you use when you’re feeling down and Max is away for work— around his shoulders. He looks so cozy, you want to curl up next to him, but you are still a little hurt and angry from the argument you two had in the morning. You’re thinking about what you both said to each other when Max stirs, eyes trying to adjust to seeing in the dim light.

“Hey,” You say as a greeting, trying not to scare him.

Max turns around immediately, surprise crossing his features. “You’re home.”

“Yes? Sorry I didn’t say anything but mom wanted me to help her with gardening.” You shrug, leaving your bag and keys on the table next to the couch.

“I didn’t think you’d come back.” His voice is barely a whisper, but you hear him anyway. Max exhales deeply, clutching the blanket tightly around his shoulders.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry.” He blurts out, shoulders slumped. Max shuts his eyes tightly, like he’s in so much pain he can barely have them open. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I should’ve listened to you—I’m really sorry. I don’t want us to argue like that again, I felt horrible because I love you and I promised myself I would never do something like this.” You let him talk, to spill everything he has inside of him. “After you left—I wanted to go after you but I knew you needed time. But it made me remember how my dad used to talk to my mom, how they would yell at each other while Vic and I hid in our rooms.” You are already moving towards him, even before you hear how his voice breaks.

You sit by his side, leaving some space between you two, hands itching to reach out and touch him, to draw him closer to you and hold him.

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“You’re nothing like him,” You move closer, taking his hands with yours, thumb caressing the back of them. “Don’t you ever dare to go there, okay? You will never be like him, Max. Do you understand?”

But he doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t say anything.

“Max, this is not the first and it’s definitely not going to be the last argument we have. But if we talk about it, if we give ourselves some time to think things through like we did today—this doesn’t mean you are a bad person, or that you are turning into your dad.” You cup his cheek with one of your hands, caressing his cheekbone as you look into his stormy blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” He says again, tears in the corners of his eyes. You smile softly at him when he begs for your forgiveness again.

“Can you forgive me too?”

“Darling, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Well, you’re wrong there.” You sniff, already feeling the tears wanting to stream down your face. “We were both wrong, don’t take all the blame.” Max opens his mouth to refute, but you shut him up with a kiss. It’s chaste, full of promises, and leaves you with blood pounding in your ears.

“Do you forgive me?”

Max nods, gaze fixed on your lips. “Yes,” He directs his gaze back to your eyes, and you can see so much regret in them. “Do you forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” You tease him by pretending to think about it. “it depends on what you made for dinner.”

A grin spreads across his face and he’s standing up in a second, tugging on your sleeve. “It’s definitely gonna make you forgive me.” He says, pulling the chair out for you to sit. “And if this doesn’t work, I have many other ways to make you forgive me.”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x you

1K notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 5 months

Text

Meet Me In the Afterglow

Pairing: Peeta Mellark X Reader

Synopsis: you’re the one who gets taken by the Capital and Peeta isn’t used to who you are when you return

Masterlist

The day finally came when you and the others taken by the Capital were brought to District 13. Peeta raced down to the infirmary as soon as he heard you were back and bumped into Haymitch.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you. Are they back?” Peeta asked.

“They’re back. But before you go in there-“

“Where is she?” Peeta cut him off and jumped in excitement. Haymitch did not share in his excitement and kept a stone cold face as he stared at Peeta.

“Kid, there’s something you should know.” Haymitch said. Peeta’s smile dropped and he felt himself get sick to his stomach.

“No.” He croaked out. “They said they found her alive.”

“No, not that. She’s not dead.” Haymitch said with a frustrated sigh.

“Well then is she hurt?”

“She’s not hurt. She’s just…she’s not doing well, okay? We’re not exactly sure what the Capital did to her but she’s not herself. I think you should give her a few days before you see her. Just until we figure out what’s going on and if it’s permanent.”

“Permanent?” Peeta repeated. “What happened to her? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Why don’t you go get something to eat and we can discuss it later?” Haymitch said and patted Peeta’s shoulder.

“No. I’m not waiting a few days to see her. I’ve waited 8 weeks. I need to see her now.” Peeta stated and pushed past Haymitch.

“Peeta.” Haymitch said warningly. Peeta ran through the infirmity and looked around for you. He made eye contact with Finnick, who solumly pointed to a room with the curtains drawn. Peeta nodded and swiftly made his way to the room. He burst inside with a huge smile and sighed in relief when he saw you sitting on a medical table with your back to him.

“You’re here.” He said breathlessly. You tensed when you heard his voice and slowly turned to face Peeta. Under the harsh florescent lighting, Peeta could see the extent of your physical injuries.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He said softly as he slowly circled around you. Your emaciated face was covered in bruises in every stage of healing. Your bloodshot eyes stared into his with an ice cold store. Peeta covered his mouth with one hand and reached for you with the other.

“What did they do to my girl?” He whispered and tried to touch your face. You smacked his hand away and as he reacted, you lunged for his neck. You slammed Peeta into a glass cabinet before throwing him onto the floor.

“What are you doing? It’s me!” He protested when you climbed on top of him.

“I know.” You said through gritted teeth and tried to strangle him again. You were quickly sedated and pulled off of him, but not before Peeta caught a glimpse of the look in your eyes. Even though he had known you for years, he didn’t recognize who he saw now. One of the attendants picked Peeta off the ground and quickly ushered him out of the room. He turned his head to look at you before the attendant pushed him out and saw you being strapped to a table. He tried to fight the people pulling him to go help you but they overpowered him. Peeta was quickly taken out of the infirmary and brought back to where Haymitch was.

“What was that? What’s wrong with her?” Peeta asked desperately. Haymitch rubbed his eyes and let out a loud sigh.

“We’re not entirely sure. The doctor said it’s called hijacking. The Capital showed her real memories and altered memories to confuse her. And they somehow made her believe that you are trying to kill her. She doesn’t know what’s real right now. Thats why I wanted you to wait.”

“Kill her? I love her. She knows that. I told her.” Peeta said through a shaky voice.

“She doesn’t know anything anymore. They completely rewired her mind. For all we know, she fully believes we’re all out to get her and the Capital is the only people she can trust.” Haymitch told him.

“What? She would never think that. How could they possibly get her to believe that?”

“They tortured her. Everyday. For 8 weeks. That’s how.”

“I told you to get her out. I told you to save her over me. You promised.” Peeta shouted at him as his sadness melted into rage.

“Getting angry at me isn’t going to fix this.” Haymitch warned. “If we want her back, we need to work with her. That means going in there and trying to remind her what’s real and what’s not.”

Peeta calmed and nodded his head. He didn’t understand what was happening so he put his trust in what Haymitch said would bring you back. The medical attendants induced you in a coma for a few days while your injuries healed and Peeta stayed with you the whole time. Even though you were unconscious and didn’t know he was there, he stayed and held your hand all day. He felt tremendous guilt for leaving you behind the first time so he wasn’t gonna leave you again. When you finally woke after a couple days, they brought Peeta to your room.

“Is this a good idea? She tried to kill me last time.” Peeta asked Haymitch.

“She’s strapped to the bed. And there will be a guard in there with you. She can’t hurt you.” Haynitch assured him.

“Okay.” Peeta nodded. The attendant opened your door for him and Peeta walked inside. When you made eye contact, you tugged on your worst restraints in an attempt to get away from Peeta. Peeta noticed this and as much as it hurt him, he didn’t mention it.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He said kindly but kept his distance.

“Why do you think you get to call me that?” You replied coldly.

“I don’t really know. I guess I’m just trying to get back to something familiar. I used to call you that in the arena sometimes. You didn’t really like it then either.” He said with a half hearted laugh. You didn’t return the laugh and instead turned your attention back to your TV. Peeta followed your gaze and realize you were watching his first interview with Cesar Flickerman.

“My interview?” He asked in surprised. You were surprised as well and looked at him skeptically.

“You remember this?”

“Yeah. That was the first time I told you I liked you. I just wish I didn’t make it so public. I should’ve told you how I felt way before the reaping. You didn’t deserve to find out that way.” Peeta said with regret as he stared at himself from a year ago on the screen. You’d been struggling to pinpoint which memories were real so to have him confirm that what he said in his interview was real made you feel slightly better.

“I wish you had told me privately too.” You said quietly.

“You do?” Peeta smiled with just an ounce of hope as he looked at you.

“Yeah. Because then Snow wouldn’t have tortured me just to hurt you.” You snapped. Peeta’s hope disappeared and he nodded in understanding.

“He tortured you because he knows I love you. Everyone knows. I was never shy about it.” Peeta said without looking at you.

“You’re just a mutt.” You sneered. “You don’t love me. You don’t love anyone.”

“That’s not true. I do love you. I always have.” Peeta said calmly. When you didn’t get the reaction you wanted from him, you disengaged.

“I watched the other interview too. From before the second games.” You said instead.

“What did you think?”

“I don’t know. Are we really married?”

“No.” Peeta shook his head. You looked confused and a little panicked to hear his answer.

“But I remember you proposing. That memory was fake?” You asked, sounding vulnerable now instead of cold. Peeta realized you were just desperate to find a few real memories to hold on to for your sanity.

“The memory was real because we staged a fake proposal for the cameras. We were never actually engaged. Or, I guess we were. But not because we wanted to be. It was a fake engagement for Snow.” He said with a tight smile.

“So there’s no baby either?”

“No. No baby. We never…” He trailed off and blushed all the way to his ears. You raised your eyebrows in surprise and then laughed meanly.

“Really? Never?”

“No.” Peeta said quietly and felt his whole face go red now.

“Wow. Whats the matter? Lover boy was too shy to get it up? Or were you just too busy making it known to everyone about how much you love me to actually take me like a man?” You asked with a condescending pout. Peeta blinked in surprise at how mean you were being and tried to remember that it wasn’t really you. It was whatever the Capital had done to you.

“That’s not nice.” He said quietly.

“Nice? I’ve been tortured everyday for the last 8 weeks because of you. So I’m sorry if I’m not nice anymore.” Your voice gradually got louder and by the end of your sentence, you tried to lunge for his neck again. Yoru restraints held you back but Peeta never flinched.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” You genuinely wondered as you sank back into your bed.

“Because I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Yes I would.” You scoffed.

“Okay.” Peeta shrugged and walked over to your bed. You watched him closely as he undid the restraints on both your arms.

“Hurt me, then.” He said simply. Your eyes darkened and you raised your fist to swing at him, then lowered it.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” You asked quietly.

“You didn’t swing.”

“Not now. Yesterday. When I attacked you. You’re twice my size. I’ve seen you throw bags of flour one your head. I know you’re strong. You could’ve easily overpowered me. Why didn’t you?”

“Because I’d never hurt you.” Peeta stated. “Ever. I couldn’t.”

“Snow said you would. He said you’d sell me out in a second to save your own life.”

“Well that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’d do anything to keep you safe. Ask Haymitch. I nearly killed him when he first told me he didn’t get you out of the arena. We had a deal that he’d save you before me.”

“Why would you make that deal?” You asked skeptically.

“Because I’d rather die than lose you.” Peeta said simply.

“Why?”

“I have nothing if I don’t have you. No one else I care about.”

“But I thought we weren’t actually together? You said it was just for the cameras.”

“We weren’t together. But I’ve loved you since I was a kid.”

“That’s just puppy love. A childhood crush doesn’t equate to love.” You pointed out.

“It was a crush at first.” He agreed. “But then I got to really know you. We became really close during training for the first games. You probably don’t remember that.”

“I do.” You admitted.

“You do?”

“On the train. We used to talk on the rooftop.” You recalled and Peeta could see the faintest trace of a smile.

“Yeah. We did.” He smiled too.

“That was before you became a soulless mutt who’s trying to get everyone in the districts killed in this rebellion.” You switched up on him and returned to your vengeful state.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do. All I care about is getting you back to normal.” Peeta told you. Something in your eyes changed and for a second, Peeta could see the real you. You looked scared and confused and most of all, trapped. Your eyes went back to your cold stare and you leaned towards him.

“Get out. Get out before I hurt you.”

“I’m not gonna leave you. I’m not gonna do that.” Peeta insisted.

“I don’t want you here. GET OUT.” You screamed at him and threw a pillow. The attendant burst in and ushered Peeta out of the room before he had a chance to react. He watched you thrashing in your bed through the window and wondered why you chose to throw a pillow and not your fists.

After another week in extensive therapy, your doctor deemed you fit to interact with the rest of the district in short increments. You were allowed into the food hall and stuck close by Johanna for a sense of familiarity. She helped you get some food and then brought you over to the table were Gale, Finnick, Annie, and Peeta were sitting. Peeta smiled in surprise when he saw you sit down but you didn’t smile back. You didn’t say anything the whole time you were sitting until Finnick and Annie got up to leave.

“Careful, Annie. If you don’t treat him right, I might try to steal him from you.” You said jokingly. No one took it as a joke because no one knew that it was one. You’d been quiet ever since being brought home minus the spiteful remark every now and then. So your joke fell flat but you weren’t looking for laughs anyway. You said it to get a rise out of Peeta and it worked because his face burned red with jealousy.

“Why would you say that?” He asked you.

“Why do you care?” You shrugged. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

“She’s right. You’re not.” Gale added. You narrowed your eyes at him when you heard this and then checked on Peeta. You could be mean to Peeta but you didn’t want anyone else to be.

“You should watch what you say to me right now.” Peeta said lowly as he glared at Gale. You smiled in delight over the drama you caused.

“Why? Give it up already. She didn’t want you before all this shit went down. Do you honestly think there’s any chance she’ll want you now? Her brain is fried. She punched a mirror this morning because she didn’t recognize her reflection. She’s just a vegetable. Let her go.” Gale said, making your smile drop. You had been told Gale was a close friend of yours so to hear him talk about you with zero regard for your feelings made you sad.

“Maybe that’s how you feel but it’s not how I feel. I know she’s in there. And I’ve loved her for years so no, I’m not just going to let her go.“ Peeta snapped and got up from the table. He was about to walk away when he turned to Gale one last time.

“She would’ve never given up on you if you were the one the Capital took.” He reminded Gale.

“I know that.” Gale said quietly with guilt in his eyes. With that, Peeta left the food hall and went to his room. He laid on his bed for a few hours and got deep into his thoughts. He went down for dinner that night and was actually relieved that he didn’t see you anywhere. When he returned to his room, you were sitting on his bed.

“Oh. Hi. I wasn’t expecting you.” He said awkwardly and stayed by the door. You had Peeta’s sketchbook open on your lap and tears in your eyes. Every page was filled with drawing after drawing of you that Peeta had made. Peeta blushed in embarrassment when he realized what you were looking at. He was even more embarrassed when you found the one he had drawn of you that morning.

“Did I love you?” You asked as you looked up at him.

“What?”

“I know you loved me, but did I love you?” You repeated. Your tone was gentle this time so he didn’t correct you for using love in the past tense.

“Honestly, I was really sure.” He admitted. “I don’t think you knew either.”

“But did it seem like I was?”

“When cameras were on us, yes. And sometimes when it was just you and me. Those were my favorite moments, actually. The ones that were just between us. I felt more love in our private conversations than in our public confessions.” He told you. You nodded as if that’s exactly what you thought he would say. You flipped through a few more drawings and touched one that was of the two of you.

“I’m sorry I was mean to you.” You said quietly. Peeta couldn’t help but laugh at that and felt himself relax.

“What?” You wondered.

“Sorry. It’s just so you to call throwing me into a glass cabinet “mean”.”

“That’s something I would say?” You smiled slightly and allowed yourself some hope.

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “You’re very smart but you have a way of getting that across in as few words as possible.”

“That’s good I guess. That I sound like me.”

“It is good. I means you’re still in there somewhere.” He smiled softly. You stared at him for a moment and then patted the space next to you. Peeta practically ran to sit next to you on the bed and gave you his full attention.

“I’m having a hard time figuring out what’s real and what’s fake. But I’m realizing that the altered memories have this shiny film over them. My real ones don’t.”

“What’s in the shiny memories?” He asked you.

“You hurting me. Leading the careers to me in the first games. Abandoning me in the area as it burnt down. Throwing bread at me.”

“That last one’s real. That was to feed you.”

“Oh. Thank you, then. For that.” You said stiffly.

“You’re very welcome. So how many real memories have you figured out?”

“I remember making a book with you.”

“Yes.” He smiled in surprise. “We made a book about all the plants in district 12. That was when you hurt your ankle.”

“Because I always hopped over the fence instead of crawling under.” You recalled, making Peeta’s smile grow.

“That’s right! You did. I never understood why.”

“It was a few seconds faster and I got less dirt on my pants. My mom wouldn’t have to wash them as much so I told myself I was less of a burden if I jumped over instead of go under.” You said without even thinking about it. You didn’t realized you had that memory in you and smiled when you heard it come out of your mouth.

“That’s good. Thats a solid memory.”Peeta encouraged you.

“I remember you taking care of me when I had to stay off my foot. And feeing me that weird soup.”

“The hazelnut soup.” He chuckled. “I never liked it either. I’m pretty sure I was feeding you that because my mother made it and I didn’t want it.”

You cracked up laughing at how honest he was. Peeta laughed as well, then felt himself tear up.

“I haven’t heard your laugh in over a month.” He said in a wavering voice.

“Me either.” You realized. You were both quiet for a moment and avoided making eye contact as you stared down at his sketchbook.

“I’m scared I’m never gonna get back to who I was.” You said quietly.

“I’m honestly scared of that too.” Peeta admitted. To his surprise, you smiled a little at his answer. You expected him to lie to you and give you the same sugar coated answers the medical attendants had been giving you about what your future held, but Peeta didn’t do that.

“You know what’s been making it hard to decipher what’s real?” You asked him.

“What?”

“If these memories of you and me are real, I don’t understand why I wasn’t in love with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean half my memories of you, the ones they didn’t alter, are just you existing. I have memories of you sitting. Or looking out a window. Or focused on your eyelashes or hands or crooked smile. We’re not even interacting in some of them. I guess I was just always looking at you. Always memorizing you. And they couldn’t touch those memories. They didn’t know they were in there.”

“Neither did it.” Peeta said in a soft voice. You looked into his eyes and this time, he saw someone he recognized.

And you did too.

Peeta taglist 🥖

@ilovetoomanymen

#peeta mellark whump #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark angst #peeta x reader #peeta mellark fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

wynnyfryd · 7 months

Text

There’s a dead rat on the doorstep.

Steve’s running late for school and his hair is limp and lifeless because his hair dryer shorted out the shitty circuit in their shitty shoebox of a trailer, and now there’s a dead rat turning to sludge on his front porch. If you can call the rickety steps leading up to the flimsy front door a porch.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters — spares himself one brief moment of panic to remember the last time he started seeing dead rats around town, reminds himself that it’s over it’s over it’s over, that this is probably a housewarming gift from one of the stray cats in the park — then he shouts into the house, “Ma, stay inside!”

“Everything okay over there?”

Their neighbor gives him a wary look as he shuts the door of his truck. Must have just gotten home from a night shift, by the looks of it; Steve can see the bags under his eyes from all the way over here.

“Yes, Sir, all good. Just, uh— got a little surprise on the…”

Steve glances down at his feet, scrubs a hand through his limp hair. There’s a dark puddle spreading beneath the matted, mangled fur. Its neck is snapped in half.

Steve’s gonna hurl.

“Ah,” is all he says as he approaches their yard, spots the gore oozing over the first rung of the stairs. “That’ll be Misty’s doing. She’s harmless, really, just likes to leave treats.”

His eyes rake over Steve’s pale face, the white-knuckle grip on his backpack strap, and he gives Steve a pat on the shoulder. Warm, reassuring; smelling faintly of sweat and menthol. “Listen, kid,” he says, nodding at his own trailer, “do me a favor and make sure my nephew gets his ass to school, would you? I’ll take care of this for you.”

Great, Steve thinks. More babysitting.

Whatever. What’s one more little shithead to wrangle? Beats getting blood under his fingernails. His stomach rolls at the thought. “Sure thing, Mr…?”

“Munson. But you can call me Wayne.”

“Sure thing, Wayne.”

He rushes down the steps, grateful to put distance between himself and the fresh horror that’s gonna live behind his eyelids for the next month, and he doesn’t even register the name until it’s already too late. The neighbor’s door bursts open before Steve can even get a proper knock going, and oh. God.

“What the fuck?”

Steve’s standing chest to chest with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, and the freak looks pissed about it.

…Well, shit.

part 2

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #wayne munson #an au where steve and his mom move in across the street instead of the mayfields

2K notes · View notes

chigirizzz · 7 months

Text

❝𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲❞

synopsis: how your fist kiss with him is like

characters: gojo, yuji, megumi

tags: gn! reader, not proofread as always (it's 3am for crying out loud)

— GOJO SATORU

gojo is a tease and that’s no news for you, it’s not new to anyone. this man’s actions and words either make someone respect him or desire to kill him.

yet, it surprised you how much he could tease you before and during your first kiss.

gojo fucking satoru made sure to make your life hard as hell after finding out how you, even past your mid twenties, never had a kiss.

“never?”

“never,” you responded by repeating the word in a cold tone of voice, arms crossed and sending him a dead glare. however, he did not felt intimidated by you—

—instead, he just burst out laughing and looked at you like you were a middle schooler still finding out about life.

that’s how your memory can recall that day. god, you hate him!

and you hate how you never got to experience such a magical moment yet!

but patience is a virtue, right? that’s what people say. and that’s what you’re thinking right now as gojo’s big hand imprisons your head movement by holding your chin firmly. his hold isn’t too strong and neither too loose—perfect to give his lips the chance to dominate yours and perfect for you to free yourself and slap him if that’s what you wish to do.

but you don’t do that, so his lips curve into a malicious smirk, which gives an electrical shock to a certain corner of your brain—which makes your mouth let it escape a satisfying sound to his ears.

he’s enjoying this. he’s enjoying this so much and so are you.

today was like any normal day, including the newest jokes and teases from gojo satoru about how no one ever felt attracted to you enough to kiss you. although you know the white haired male never wanted to hurt you and it was just teasing, the comment he told you today really hurt you, making you sad and defending yourself to gojo (and calling him stupid).

he listened quietly to your rant. his blindfold made it difficult for you to understand how sorry he was, though.

gojo moves his hand from your chin to the back of your neck, his body language now a bit more rough—his lips more angry for yours by the way he tilts his head slightly to side, guiding you on your make out session, occasionally leaving a chuckle when you desperately try to follow his movements.

you are so cute and he feels so superior in this exact moment.

one of your hands moves by itself to grab the cloth's fabric that covers his chest when you suddenly feel his teeth on your neck. he wasn’t doing anything special yet, just mouth slightly open with his teeth ready to give you a hickey.

“satoru…”

“hm.” despite him answering your call, gojo didn’t pay attention very much; instead, he chose to snuggle into the warm skin of your neck, searching for comfort. wanting to be close with you.

the hand that was close to his chest is now on his back, patting awkwardly but softly. “i…” you cleared your throat. you’re pretty sure he could feel your nervousness. “i hate how you make me feel.”

— ITADORI YUJI

no words to describe how adorable he is.

this sweet boy took you on a date to the oceanarium with a full plan inside his pants’ pocket:

take a shower

after shower, use the best perfume/deodorant (not axe!!)

go to y/n’s house to take them to the oceanarium

look for the best train seat available for y/n (has to be next to the window!!)

pay for the tickets

tell y/n lots of fun facts

kiss y/n

kiss y/n… kiss you…

now that’s a hard task.

in the three months you and itadori yuji were dating, no one had any complaints. the two of you were going at their specific pace, but still able to get out of your comfort zones, just for each other.

kissing you is an example of yuji getting out of his comfort zone—that, and he just loves you very much; the boy just wants to express himself. he cringes at how he stepped away from you awkwardly when you tried to kiss him on the day he confessed to you.

“that’s so cool!” you hugged the jellyfish plushie you bought in the oceanarium gift store tighter, its scent bringing you a feeling of peace. the both of you are currently outside, sitting on a bench at a nearby park, just speaking about today and listening to yuji’s fun facts about the aquarium animals. “tell me more.”

“uh, well… just a second!,” he excuses himself before searching for a piece of paper inside his pants’ pockets… he took one out of the pocket, read it, and realized it wasn’t the one he wanted. “just…—just a second! sorry!

your boyfriend is acting strange today—you noticed, anyone can notice—, but you opted to not say anything. however, you’re starting to become extremely curious.

the wrong piece of paper is roughly and badly stuffed back into his pocket, only for the panic to torment him again when said paper falls from the pocket to the ground.

“what’s this?” you ask no one in particular when you caught the paper before your boyfriend could do it.

“shit, no! give me that!”

“calm down, yuji, i’m trying to read it.”

the boy watches in horror as you slowly read the paper—the paper with the list.

that’s it, his life is over. he feels the pain of the embarrassment crushing him, getting more painful each millisecond. he can imagine how you’re gonna make fun of him, destroying his heart—

“you could’ve just told me, itadori,” your voice soothes his thoughts as you stare at him lovingly. “i would never judge you or anything.”

“after how i denied your kiss the day i confessed to you? me? denying your kiss? on the day i confessed? i’m a moron—”

the palms of your hands hold his cheeks gently. “you’re not a moron, my love—well, you are, but not in this context.”

all yuji got to say was an offended ‘hey!’ before you pulled him towards you, making him able to cross ‘kiss y/n’ out of his silly and now crumpled list.

even if there isn’t much experience between you both, you manage to work it out. it’s a simple but long-lasting kiss—at least that’s what you assume when you start to feel the need to breathe some new fresh air. but you don’t want to worry about oxygen, not when the feeling of his lips in touch with yours makes the blood vessels on your face dilate, making your blood warmer, making your heart beat faster.

you let go of him and breathe heavily, however, you do not get a proper pause because yuji starts kissing all over your face, while tickling your body too. the both of you turn into a mess of laughter and tiny kisses, completely enjoying the moment.

and perhaps you get the privilege to live something that resembles a cinematic masterpiece, as you both stop laughing and rest your foreheads against each other.

— MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

the scenario is really simple: one minute you’re sitting side by side on the sofa while watching a terrible coming of age movie, pizza slice on your hand, all your worries forgotten thanks to the comfy blanket covering your laps, and the next minute you and the dark haired male are sitting in front of each other on the sofa, faces really close trying to mimic the stupid kissing scene at the end of the stupid movie.

“her hand was like this.”

“shut up, why do you want to make things so difficult.”

this was your idea, of course, a perfect excuse to kiss him. in months of dating, you never had the first kiss as a couple and you decided to tease him into doing it, saying how you wished to be kissed like in the ending scene of the movie and complaining how megumi could never do like the male protagonist did.

he knew you were just teasing him, but he felt the need to show you the opposite anyway.

first you were trying to position your heads and hands like the actors and sharing short kisses, until he got tired of the challenge and just pulled you for a kiss without you expecting it.

it was definitely way better than the one from the movie. it was rough at first but eventually it got softer and more romantic. he paid attention to your body language, to how you reacted to the kiss, and when his lips let go of yours so you both could breathe, he stared at you so lovingly you almost felt like melting, especially when his hand made contact with your cheek to caress it.

minutes passed and you were now cuddling each other, you laying on top of him and listening to his heartbeat and him giving you a small back massage, making sure that you felt loved (and that you didn’t say anything stupid again).

2K notes · View notes

godsandmonsters505 · 1 year

Text

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

#negan fic #negan x reader #negan twd #negan smut #negan smith #the walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan #negan smith smut

3K notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 1 year

Note

May I request the boys of Jujutsu Kaisen getting a lap pillow from their s/o?

No problem Anon! Enjoy them resting on your lap.

Pairing: Yuuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna, Fushiguro Megumi, Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Mahito, Junpei Yoshino, Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, cuddles, kissing, marks, teasing, overworking, slightly suggestive

A/N: If you lay your head on my thighs I guarantee they will make for a good pillow.

Yuuji can't keep his goofy smile off his face when you pat your thighs and tell him to put his head down. He's careful where he puts his hands, he doesn't want to make you move on accident. The smile is permanently plastered on his face, even after he dozes off from how comfy and soft your thighs feel.

Sukuna demands your lap as his pillow. He shoots you a pointed look and scowls until you sit down so he can lay his head there. Now, no matter what he does, don't you dare move. When he turns his head he first lets his fangs scrape the soft flesh before slowly kissing his way up the inside of your thighs, avoiding where you want him most. This is supposed to be relaxation time after all, sexy time will come later.

Megumi isn't one to lay his head on your lap on his own, he's happy with just cuddles where he holds you against his chest. Had no idea thighs could be so comfortable. Knew yours were soft but he didn't think to sleep on them. What makes it funnier is that his Divine Dogs see this and then start nudging him away to make room for themselves.

Gojo says that he's tired but the moment you allow him to place his head on your lap he hooks his hands under them and spreads them apart. He lifts his blindfold to wink at you before he starts kissing you, leaving hickyes on your skin. You squirm to no avail against his grip. Once he's happy with the results he does actually lay his head on your, marked, thighs.

Nanami gets tired from work but he never asks for your lap. You know by now that he's always home on time so you're already waiting for him, taking off his suit jacked and giving him a kiss before you push your head on your lap. He doesn't say anything about your actions, he just lets you dote on him for a change, allowing the smallest smile on his face.

Geto just plops his dead on your lap and waits for you to bend down and give him a kiss. Takes every bit of self control he's got not to turn around and bury his head between your thighs right now. There will be time for that later, now he wants to enjoy a nice, relaxing head massage.

Mahito only lays his head in your lap after he's already eaten you up. Your thighs are still shaking from the aftershocks but he doesn't really mind that. He's using his tongue to clean you up, which only makes you more sensitive. Hold still, or he'll have to tie you up. There are already marks on your thighs, do you want to add more?

Junpei is too shy to even ask for something like a lap pillow. He's stiff for a while, unable to will himself to relax until you start running your fingers through his hair and over his cheek, brushing the hair off his eye. He lets out a yelp of surprise when you lean down to kiss his cheek, only then relaxing against your touches.

Toji keeps trying to kiss your thighs only for you to hold his head down, and cooing at him to take a break. He doesn't want one, he wants you. He knows you'll let him have his way eventually but he will also do the same, charge his batteries beforehand and maybe have a few nice dreams along the way.

4K notes · View notes

itsfuntobeavampiree · 1 year

Text

Slashers when their s/o is REALLY touchy.

Contains: Thomas hewitt,brahms heelshire, Billy lenz, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair & Lester sinclair

Thomas hewitt

Tommy adores it when you just wanna latch onto him and never let go but he does have things to do and so do you!

He's always in bed after you so you as soon as he sits on the bed you surprise hug him from behind and he just accepts it lol. You stay like that for a bit before you realise he's actually dosing off.

One time when it was a stressful day and the texas heat was getting to Tommy. You wanted to just smother him with hugs but when you went in for one he snapped and shrugged you off, huffing. I mean you were hurt but you let it go and went back inside , Tommy realised what he had done and went after you and for the rest of the day you were hand in hand

He likes it when at the dinner table your hand finds it way onto his thigh and you look up into his eyes with a smile full of love. He loves you so much!!!!

Brahms heelshire

Well isn't that fantastic because he's also extremely touchy!!

Your going back and fourth, your hands on his hair? Well his hands are on your waist! There is never a moment when you two arent touching

One time you yelled at him for being so childish and he sulked into the walls and didn't come out. You layed in bed hugging a pillow trying to picture it as him but you just couldn't so you gave up. You found yourself walking into the kitchen to find brahms sat at the table eating some toast. "Brahms can you come to bed with me? I can't sleep without you..." you sheepishly said. He stood abruptly and walkedover to you hugging you tightly. You both said sorry and cuddle eachother up in bed. Getting tangled in each other.

So basically what I'm saying is that you two are glued by the hip.

Billy lenz

He appreciates the physical affection. Like EXTREMELY, for example if you pat his shoulder he would cream is pants..... that's how touch starved my man is.

He's pretty aggressive and doesn't realise he's squeezing you instead of just a nice hug. You have to show him the ways and hekk soon get it.

When the sorority girls are out and your the only one left inside the house you listen carefully for the attic to open and a giggly man to appear at your door. He's like a cat,he'll curl up in your lap and lays there while you pet him.

He does unfortunately makes everything sexual, if your on your bed ontop of him he will thrust up into you trying to get some sort of relief.

Bo sinclair

He does tense when he is touched. He just doesn't know when your being genuine. You can understand why he reacts badly to physical touch.

He likes it when he's sitting on the couch and you plant yourself on his lap and start to play with his hair. He leans into you while your doing this.

He's not as touchy so when you start climbing all over him he does get frustrated. He's his own person and needs space too.

But at night he does enjoy being the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you and chuckling to himself when he feels you fidgeting with his hands. He just can't deny your cuteness.

Vincent sinclair

Similar to his brother. He needs space especially when he's working. He doesn't want hot wax to spill onto his partners soft delicate skin! But when he isn't doing anything he's busy holding your hand and letting you drag him along.

When you can't help yourself and just want to stick to him while he's working he does allow it only if your behind him. He does shrug you off when he's got to focus on something or when your getting too touchy.

I mean hes a bit brain dead, he doesn't know what's the difference between just wanting a hug and wanting to do more than that but when your hands start pressing against certain parts of his body he starts to catch on and drops everything.

He won't really admit it but he really enjoys being little spoon he likes it when you press yourself against him and sit your head on top of his. Plus it's a bonus for you! Because he can't escape your grasp at night and go over work himself.

Lester sinclair

Bros a pretty princess, he loves your hands on him. When he's luring talking to some city folks your next to him holding his hand tightly, hiding yourself into his side.

You and Jonesy shower this handsome boy with kisses and you continue doing this for the rest of day.

He doesn't like it when your near the roadkill pit. He doesn't want you slipping and going in!

At night he lovessss cuddles, he likes digging his face into your chest. Ofc jonesy is included x

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pls request! I do appreciate it and it gives me a challenge:)

#brahms x reader #slasher x reader #brahms headcanons #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair headcanons #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt headcanons #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz headcanons #Vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair headcanons #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair headcanons #house of wax #texas chainsaw massacre #the boy #black christmas

5K notes · View notes

chaethewriter · 1 year

Text

You're dead to me [7]

dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3,3k

previous chapter

next chapter

You babbled to yourself as you ran through the park, well, if you could call it a park. What should be green and full of life looked so dead and sad. But that didn't stop you from visiting with your daddy. You loved the park. You had enough space to run all about and you played on the little amount of grass it still had. With luck, you could find a flower or any other interesting things you could take home with you. You loved exploring, you were a curious kid. Jake wheeled after you with your bag resting in his lap. You were fast, insanely fast and he had a hard time keeping up, "princess, wait for daddy." You turned around at the sound of his voice as you babbled his name, "daddy! Daddy fast." Your babbling made him laugh. It was something you developed as a kid, whenever you were excited about something or concentrating, you babbled. You ran towards him and stood behind the wheelchair, trying your best to push him forward with all your might. The gesture made him chuckle, "baby this won't do, go up ahead, but stay close to me. Got it?" You ran up in front of him as he put his hand on your head, patting your head before leaning in and giving you a small kiss on your lips. You giggled at his peck and nodded your head in agreement, "yes daddy!" And off you went. He wheeled after you as he enjoyed the sight of you. So carefree, so happy. It was a reminder of how he didn't deserve you. You crouched down as you dug your finger into the mossy grass.

"Baby, what are you up to?" This was the time he could catch up with you, now that you weren't moving so fast. When he finally stopped next to you, he removed his hands from the wheels to move one to your head, rubbing your head as you still crouched down, "what's wrong baby?" You removed your fingers from the mossy grass before he saw that you were holding something in your fingertips. "I have this?" You kept it up for him to see. It was a leaf, a dead one that is. It was slowly withering away with each touch, but that didn't matter to you. You liked it. A chuckle leaves Jake's lips as he opened your cute little bag on his lap, digging his hands into it as he took your purple-decorated map out. It was covered in purple stickers and your messy handwriting, with a picture of you and Jake on the cover. The map was filled with transparent file folders, some filled with interesting things you found in the outside world while others were empty, waiting to be filled. He opened it and flipped to an empty page. You gave him the leaf to him at its stim and he carefully slit it inside an empty folder. You watched in excitement as he did so, getting on your tiny feet as you held onto his leg. Once the leaf was secured into your map, he turned it around for you to see and you jumped in the air, clapping in your hands.

"wan find another one! Is us!" You babbled and immediately ran off to find another treasure to add to your collection. He chuckled in amusement as you just compared the two of you to a pair of dead leaves. He put the map back into your bag as he took something else out, your favorite drink. He took the straw off the side as he pushed the sharp end into the foil-covered circle on top. He quickly once took a sip of your drink before he again wheeled after you, "baby come here. You have to drink something." But you were yet again in your own world, crouched down as your hands were in the grass. He came up to you and stroked your cheek with his index finger, "baby?" You flinched at the touch, but leaned in once you felt the familiar warmth, "mhh?" You hummed as you tried to take something out of the grass. "Come drink something, I also brought you a snack." He tapped on his lap, indicating that you should rest up right on his lap. "Daddy help take flower safe if I rest?" You pointed at the small flower tangled in the grass. He nodded his head, "yes I will get that for you, alright baby?" He hung your bag on his armchair and took you in his arms to put you down on his lap. He passed you your favorite drink, which you took in your grabby hands with a satisfied grin. You took a few sips as you watched your dad going through your bag, "ah there it is." He pulled out a small bag of fruit cookies for you to eat. Your eyes sparkled as he opened the plastic for you and held it in his hands. You positioned yourself, sitting sideways now as your legs were dangling onto his right thigh. "Thank you, daddy," and you dug in: with one hand popping your fruit cookies in your mouth while the other was holding onto your drink. With his free hand, Jake repositioned the wheelchair, now sitting next to the place you were digging in. He put his hands around you to secure you while still making it easy for you to grab your snacks, as he leaned to his side.

His claw dug into the mossy ground as he touched and searched for the flower you were talking about. He relied on his touch as he couldn't see what he was touching, because of his current position. It all felt the same, mossy rough grass until his fingertip brushed against a texture he didn't feel before. Gentle, soft. He carefully wiggled it around and once it came to loose, Jake sat back up straight and held the tiny flower into his palm, showing it off to you, "is this what you meant?" You nodded in excitement, "thank you papa love you!!" He chuckled and pressed his nose into your hair, taking in your scent before pressing a kiss against your ear, "I love you too princess." Your findings of the day were ironic in his eyes. A dead leaf and a pretty flower. He thought back about your words.

This us daddy.

He smiled at the accuracy.

It was them, the dead leaf that found his flower.

Your mind felt foggy as you tried to wake up from your slumber. The last thing you remembered before dozing off was munching on the fruits Kiri gifted you. You must have eaten a lot, considering you needed to take your mask off every time you wanted to pop a piece in your mouth. Did you pass out because of the lack of oxygen? You didn't know. A groan left your lips as you slowly opened your eyes. A bright light shone into your eyes, making you squint your eyes to block as much light as possible. For living in a cave, it sure was bright. Is this what a healthy planet was like? You didn't complain. "Babygirl? Are you awake?" You felt one of your hands getting caressed. It actually felt nice, warm, and comforting even. You decided to bathe in the warmth against your skin until it dawned on you. That familiar voice, that familiar touch. Your eyes shot open in surprise as you looked to your right. Much to your dismay, you met the gaze of Jake Sully who was staring deep into your soul as he held your hand into both of his, his lips pressed against your skin. You hissed at him, like you learned during your classes, as you harshly pulled your hand away from his, earning a sad expression in return, "that is very inappropriate to do to your acquaintances, Jake Sully." You spoke through gritted teeth, venom laced in your tone. You wanted to get up and walk out, but you couldn't get up against the height and size of Toruk Makto, since he was most definitely stopping you from exiting the tent and he definitely wasn't planning to let you go anytime soon. You were responding calmer than usual, probably because you already cried, screamed and punched your feelings out to him, now barely anything left to show him. What he saw in front of you wasn't his daughter crying because he left, but a warrior trained to fight. Your gaze was hardened and almost expressionless. He didn't like this, not one bit. He wanted to get punch, insulted, anything, but this hurt so much more. His lips are pursed before he spoke up, "I know I wasn't a great father, but I promise you, I will show you that I cared, and still care, about you." A low chuckle left your lips, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Sully." The sentence had so much more meaning, to both you and him. You believed his promises as a child, the promise that he would stay with you forever. Now that you're older you knew promises were just empty sayings. The guilt resurfaced in his body once again as he thought of the many promises he broke. "I'll show you, no, I'm determined to show you that I always cared for my little girl." He held your hand again. You tried to pull away, now getting more aggressive because of the touch. He squeezed your hand one more time before he finally let go of your warmth, heading towards the exit of the tent. The loss of warmth made you as you looked after him, now back in your laying position, "You were always good enough of a father to me, if you thought you weren't." His back was turned to you as his eyes widened at the confession. He looked back at you as you spoke the words of reassurance he always needed. When he looked back, he didn't meet your gaze. Instead, you laid there as you watched the ceiling, not paying a mind to Jake Sully at all.

He wanted to speak up again, but then someone entered the room. "Sissy, good morning." He chirped, but when his gaze locked with his father his happy expression soon faltered into a neutral one. The two of them stared at each other, one with a sad expression. Jake wondered, how did he know you? "Good morning, baby bro." You immediately sat up with a bright smile at the sight of Neteyam, who was carrying a lot of stuff in his arms. From food, to fresh clothes and a hair brush. He beamed at you as he put the stuff down next to you. "Lo'ak went to visit the lab once it got light outside and brought you a fresh set of your outfit." He said as sat down to take his hunter's knife out, taking a fruit and cutting the skin off. "Thank you so much Teyam, you shouldn't have." You scratch behind his ears like you would do to a cat, earning a purr from him. You chuckled as he embarrassingly pushed your arm away from him. Jake watched the entire scene unfold in front of him, a hint of jealousy in his body. He felt so jealous of his son, for having a great relationship with you in such a short amount of time. "You can leave now, you know. She's taken care of," Neteyam spoke up as his gaze was focused on the fruits in front of him. He looked right at you, you already staring at him before you turned your focus to Neteyam. Defeated, he left the tent, knowing that him being there won't make anything better.

But he won't give up.

"Ma yawne, what do I do?" Jake was pacing around the pod as Neytiri was folding some laundry, just their different pieces of loincloths. "It's something you should figure out on your own, ma Jake." Neytiri spoke as a matter of fact, her gaze never leaving the task in front of her. "She doesn't want to acknowledge me anymore, do I just give up?" Give up? "Since when does the great Toruk Makto give up?" That nickname made him wince in embarrassment. "You tamed the mighty Toruk, and brought our clan to victory, but you tend to give up because of this?" That was the harsh reality. He was thinking about giving up once again when he thought about his daughter. Now finally having you in his reach again, he can't just sit back and do nothing. He thought about Loak's words. Actions. He had to show you. But how? You weren't his little girl anymore. You probably didn't like adventurous walks anymore. He didn't know you, so how could he possibly do something? "Spend time with her, be around her. You have a great chance for that today. We are getting to work out our plans against the sky demons. Use this chance." and he knew that she was right.

"Are you okay?" Even without eyebrows, you could see the frown on his face as he focused on your fruits. He cut the piece in a size for you to pop in your mouth. "Yes, I guess? Thank you." You ate the piece he put on your palms as you zoned out, "what do you think I should do, Teyam?" You wanted your happily ever after with your father, his wife and your siblings. But was it fair to you? "Are you going to forgive him?" He continued wondering as he asked you these questions, cutting up the last piece of fruit and putting it in a wooden bowl for you to eat. He cleaned his knife with a cloth and put it back against his hip. "I mean, I am sure I will do it eventually. But for now I want him to work for my trust rather than me believing him right away. All he can do is talk, you know how he is." You chuckled softly and threw your arm around your younger brother. You saw how his tail swung from left to right. Was it because he felt happy? He buried his forehead in the crook of your neck as his ears twitched, "yeah.. I know exactly what you mean." His ears drooped to his head as he spoke and you raised your eyebrows. "Do you need to talk about something? Teyam what's wrong?" You wiped your fingers clean to your pants as you brought it to his head, rubbing his braids. His ears twitched again.

"Dad expects the best of me, as I am the mighty warrior and future clan head. He wants me to train from day til night, but at the same time he expects me to take care of my three siblings. And on top of that they will choose my mate, the future Tsahik, but what if I want to find happiness? I never complained about anything before, but I just can't take it anymore. He keeps talking and talking about my future, but I just want to be a kid..." Neteyam spilled his heart out to you, his ear twitching against your cheek as he did so. Your expression turned into a sad one, disappointed in the way your father treats his own kid. "Please stay sissy. I'm never this selfish, but please stay. I need you." Your lips pursed. Founding your family right here on Pandora, you wanted to stay here forever so badly. But what about everyone else back at home? Your lieutenant was probably waiting for your return, as well as other people from the resistance. Seb and Raja will eventually return as well, but what about you? Lost in thought as you rubbed Neteyam's head you realized something. Was this the struggle dad was in as well as he chose between Pandora and earth?

When Neteyam left to prepare himself for the meeting, you did the same. You changed into the fresh clothes Lo'ak brought you. You were so thankful he did, now you felt fresh and ready for the hunt. Eventually Mo'at also returned to her tent, as you were staying there the entire night. You greeted her respectfully, as she did the same to you in return. "How are you feeling, child? Did Jake Sully speak to you?" She always was straight to the point, just like her daughter. You could appreciate that. "Yes, he did. I'm in conflict with myself. As I realized I was upset at him to leave me, yet I am in the same position right now." You explained everything to her in detail: from the moment you woke up to holding your dad's hand to the conversation with Neteyam and the dilemma you were in. "So now I feel guilty, but I have a right to feel what I feel right?" Tsahik knew best after all. She walked up towards you and grabbed your hand, holding it with both of hers. "You absolutely have the right for that, 'eveng. But try to give him a chance once you notice how much energy he puts into this and how much he loves you. You can only feel his love through here" she put your hand on your chest, right where your heart is, "listen to your gut, don't let your brain work against your feelings, my child. Don't let the revenge overcome your mind."

Neteyam and Lo'ak picked you up from the tent as it was time for the meeting. You readjusted your katana on your hip as they lead you to the entrance of high camp, right where the speeches and strategies happened. "Soooo, did you talk to grandmother?" Lo'ak started out of curiosity, earning a smack on the back of the head from his brother, "Don't be so oblivious, you skxwang!" You chuckled at the brothers, shaking your head. "Don't worry about it Teyam," you told the Na'vi before you gazed at your other brother, "yeah I talked to the Tsahik, she told me to not let revenge overcome my mind." Lo'ak gave you a look, telling you to continue, "but I don't mind playing with him a bit. He deserves it after all." He smiled brightly at you and ruffled your hair, earning a groan from you, "stop that my hair will go fuzzy!!" Neteyam shook his head at your antics, but a smile couldn't help but slip out. When you got there you heard your name getting called, "(Y/N)!" Seb and Raja ran towards you, bright smiles on their faces. You knew you couldn't hug since this was a professional meeting. Yet you couldn't help but hold their hands with a smile. They looked behind you with curious glances. Behind you stood Neteyam and Lo'ak, awkwardly waiting for you to introduce them. "Seb, Raja these are my baby brothers. Neteyam and Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan. Brothers, these are my friends. Seb and Raja." You pointed your fingers as you introduced them to one another. Seb and Raja brought their hand to their forehead, "Oel Ngati Kameie." Neteyam and Lo'ak smiled at their respectful introduction, before doing the same.

"Everyone, welcome. Gather please." A voice rang through the cave. It was one of your colonels. The rest was honestly all a blur for you. You only knew that this was about raiding some transport from the RDA. Meetings like these were so boring to you, you couldn't take it. You dug into the ground with the tip of your shoe and drew a few circles with your heels. "Sully! We need you on the front, right at the direct attack. I expect you to follow the Olo'eyktan's direct orders from there?" Jake almost wanted to answer upon the call of his last name, just like he used to do in the military. But then his daughter answered and the realization hit him.

You're on his team.

This was his chance.

Thank, Eywa.

This was a good thing after all,

right?

A/N: ty for reading! Lmk what you thought. Thank you for all the support. <3

Taglist in the comments!! (Might have forgotten you cause there is a lot of people.)

#dad!jake sully #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully #jake sully x daughter!reader #neteyam #sully family #sully family x reader #dad! jake sully #dad!jake x daughter!reader #jake sully x human!reader #jake sully x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader

3K notes · View notes

stevesbipanic · 2 months

Text

@steddielovemonth Day 24: Love is the only thing we can take with us.

@thefreakandthehair

Steve looked around his room, it would be the last time he did. He could hear his parents still arguing downstairs. He knew he didn't have a lot of time, soon he'd hear his father's footsteps coming up the stairs.

"You're no son of mine!"

Steve hadn't felt like his son in a long time anyway. When he thought of dads he thought of Hopper at his graduation or Wayne watching the game with him. He'd called Hopper, Dad, when he woke up in the hospital and saw the previously dead police chief at his bedside. No, Steve Harrington hadn't been Richard Harrington's son in a long time.

He knew he didn't have much time, but he'd been planning for this moment, the day they would find out. It was inevitable, small town, nosy neighbours. Steve kept his room impersonal for a reason, it wouldn't last forever. Kneeling quickly he grabbed his box, it was all he would need.

The clothes he actually liked wearing weren't in this closet anymore, the beemer had always been in his name. Nothing else in the house mattered but this box. The last piece of Steve in these four walls.

"Steven?"

He'd asked her to call him Steve all his life, she didn't.

"Can't you see what you're doing to your mother?"

Maria Harrington hadn't been Steve's mother in a long time. Mothers were there for their kids when they woke up from nightmares. Claudia never judged when he woke up screaming on the couch. A true mother looked after their son when he was sick in bed, soup and comfort and love. Joyce brought him soup last winter, when the flu had him stuck in bed, he didn't even call, she just knew.

"I know, I'm leaving now."

"Please, Steven, there are places we can go to fix you," she cried. Mothers don't think their kid's heart needs fixing.

"You were supposed to be a real man!" Richard yelled as he passed him down the stairs. Fathers are proud of their sons growing into protectors and carers.

"This will never be your home again!" Was the last thing Steve heard as he closed his car door and placed the small box on the passenger seat. Parents always have a home waiting for you, even when they think you're wrong.

"Steve?"

Wayne is the first one to spot him as he arrives at the trailer. It's sunday, family dinner at the rotating family table. Tonight was meant to be at the Munsons.

"Steve, honey? You ok?" Joyce is the first one to touch him, worry in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, son." Hopper is the first one to read his teary eyes like a book. They all knew where he'd been.

Claudia gingerly took the box from him, "I'll put this in your room, sweetheart, let Eddie know you're back home."

Steve could hear the kids yelling around the picnic table outside; could smell dinner cooking. Robins laughter piercing though the air and Eddie's boombox playing loudly.

"Baby?"

There he was.

"Hey, Eds, think we'll have to move up that moving date, if it's ok?"

Eddie's features softened from worry to sympathy, "Course, sunshine, although I'm still surprised Joyce and Hop didn't kidnap you months ago.

Later, when he'd given everyone hugs goodbye, some were a bit tighter than others, he sat on the bed with his box.

"You wanna unpack that alone, or want help?"

"You can look, it's not a secret, just special," Steve replied, patting the space next to him. Eddie plopped himself down beside his boyfriend, lifting the lid.

Inside was a mess of bits and pieces. Eddie reached in and took out a stack of photos. Steve at his graduation, a big smile with Hopper's arm around his shoulders, Dustin beaming beside him. Robin putting Steve in a headlock at the quarry last summer, he refuses to say he let her win. Eddie at his first show back, scars on full display. And countless other memories.

There were also little toys from the arcade and pebbles and ticket stubs and letters and a full life story of one Steve Harrington told through the love of his family.

"This was all I went back to get, all I needed. Wasn't expecting them to know about you already, but I knew they'd find out one day. Couldn't let them have this, not after they spent so long trying to take my heart from me."

"I think it's high time we clear some space around here for all this, Stevie, time to let your love be out on full display."

When Steve fell asleep that night, wrapped in the arms of a boy who went to hell from him and staring at the new photos on the wall, he truly felt home.

#i hope u enjoyed lex #this got away from me #half these love month prompts is me character studying steve #and i will not be shamed for it #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve has bad parents #but he has great parents elsewhere #ficlet #steddielovemonth

530 notes · View notes

lucidreamer-uwu · 1 year

Text

Things that make them fall deeper in love with you | Brothers Edition

Lucifer

Sticking your tongue out in mischief, or when you feel silly, at him.

Poking his shoulder to get his attention and quickly moving out of sight when he looks, only to find you smiling at him on the opposite side.

Making him coffee.

Reminding him about tasks he has to do like meetings, paperwork, or student council things.

Asking him about small details about himself.

Your cute puppy dog eyes when you beg him for something.

Your focused face.

Mammon

Idly smiling at him. Even more so if you stare.

Genuinely complimenting him.

Recognizing that he isn't what everyone thinks he is.

Booping his nose when you're face to face with each other.

Seeing your reactions when you receive his gifts.

Making mischief with him.

Reading magazines he's in together.

Surprising him at his modelling gigs.

Your laugh.

Leviathan

Cheering for him in games, school work, or anything in general.

Surprise hugs from behind.

Whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Head pats.

Insisting on making a very elaborate otaku secret handshake.

Holding onto him when you watch or play something scary.

Rare moments when you make an embarrassed face.

Seeing you dance and/or sing anything anime related.

Being clumsy.

Satan

Sneezing softly. It reminds him of how cats sneeze. He thinks it's absolutely adorable.

Talking about your favorite books, which parts you liked the most, what you thought about the plot and characters.

Rambling about anything and everything that pops into your mind to him.

Combing your fingers through his hair as he reads a book and drinks his tea.

Kissing his forehead.

Taking his hand in yours.

Pouting.

Choosing him. When you tell anyone else that you're busy being with him to hang out.

Asmodeus

Volunteering to help him with his various self-care routines.

Telling him that he's even more beautiful on the inside.

Being there when those rare insecure times roll in on him.

Cupping his face, smiling, and telling him you love him.

Your "angry" face.

Intertwining your fingers with his and swinging your hands as you walk.

Sleeping in his bed.

Touching your noses and foreheads together.

Asking him to wear matching outfits.

When you touch/poke his nails one by one and hum a cute tune like a kid.

Beelzebub

The way your eyes turn into hearts as you watch him do anything.

When you try to challenge him in a determined way.

Using his arm as a pillow.

Wiping crumbs off his face.

Bringing him snacks at his practice.

Secretly handing him food after Lucifer confiscates his during a student council meeting.

When you work out.

When you're lazy.

That face you make when you enjoy your food.

When you cook.

Belphegor

Your blushy face.

Your sleeping face.

Your worried face. But only if you're worried about him.

Your panicking face.

Any silly face you make when you try to cheer him up or make him laugh.

How determined you are to motivate him.

The way you slide your hand under his bangs when you check him for a fever.

The rhythm of your heartbeat and the sound of your breathing.

Poking his cheek.

Feeding him when he's too tired to feed himself.

HI EVERYONE I'M BACK!! After not posting or updating the blog for about 2 months I'm actually glad that you legends still follow me uwu. Sorry to disappoint, I'm not dead yet >:3

Anyways, thank you thank you thank you for all the continuous support and love that you give me despite my sudden disappearance lol. I appreciate every single one of you 💕

UPDATE: I will do my very best to answer all the pending asks in my inbox and the ones that I've already started working on and are in my drafts ; w ; so look forward to it because I didn't forget about them <;3

ANNOUNCEMENT: As of the writing of this post, asks are currently closed. HOWEVER I will be reopening my asks when I reach 600 followers ^ ^ ! We are currently at 550 ♡(⁠ ⁠˶⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ꁞ⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠˶⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

I hope everyone has a wonderful day/night!! Love you all, stay awesome 💫

7K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 2 months

Text

Dead Disco / Chapter 13

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ brief sexual content. This fic contains mature themes. Simon POV. Established throuple, relationship issues, fighting. Feelings of anxiety, despair. Crying. Johnny comes home

The holster is snug.

Simon pats it affectionately, swallowing roaring nausea, trying to stay limber on his feet.

He’s fine. He’s probably just at the gym, or the down the street. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself, he's working himself up for nothing.

He sends another text, just in case.

>Getting worried now. Where are you?

It’s not like him, not responding. Not like him to vanish when he said he was staying in, not like him to not text with an update about where he’s going and how long he’ll be.

He knows Simon. Knows he he’ll get twisted up, get caught up in a vicious cycle of memory and fear, knows he’ll be worried.

Doesn’t he know?

It’s not like him.

What if he’s hurt? What if someone snatched him, drugged him, loaded him into a box somewhere? What if someone is hurting him right now, and he’s scared, while all Simon is doing is pacing around in this godforsaken flat that’s too big for him to be comfortable in alone, what if he’s de-

A key clicks in the lock.

Simon is on his feet and in the hall before the door gets a chance to fully open.

He can hear his pulse, the hammer inside his skull, ticking away like a bomb, a new brand of fear: sickly and infectious, spreads from his heart, leeching into his body.

Johnny is crying.

“What’s wrong?” Simon keeps him at arm’s length for inspection, like he's looking him over in tac gear, triple checking his plates, his straps, his safety pieces. “Are you hurt? What’s happened?” Johnny doesn’t speak, raw, serrated breaths coming in and out too quickly, and Simon holds him steady, firm grip on his shoulders. “Johnny, love. Look at me.”

Control this. Contain it. Fix it.

“I-m- I-“ The words are stilted, too thick, getting caught in Johnny’s throat, and Simon repeats himself, switching gears, shifting. His tone is stronger, unaffected. Battle tested.

“Are you hurt?” It straightens Johnny. Snaps him to attention, and he blinks, still the beautiful, sweet boy with tears in his eyes, looking up in Simon’s face, wracked with despair.

“No. No, ‘m, not hurt, Si. Not hurt.”

Not hurt. But not okay.

He can save that for another moment. Another day if he has to. He’s okay. He came back. He’s here.

Johnny’s eyes dive a deeper shade of blue when he cries. They become shards of stained glass, a sea blue that holds a million miles worth of passion, of feeling, of love.

Their mouths touch. Seeking, hesitant longing, desperately trying to connect, and Simon jerks away, cradling his face, holding him still.

It’s dread that fills Simon now. Dread and fear, snaking together to form a hydra that never sleeps, never dies. You cut off one head, another two emerge, and he cannot control them. Cannot tamp them down.

“What’s happened, love? What’s wrong?”

“Si, I… I made a mistake.” Simon closes his eyes.

“What did you do?” It’s not a question, it’s a demand.

Confess your sins and be forgiven.

“I went to see her.”

It’s worse than what he was expecting. Far worse.

He splits in two.

“You what?” The words sound far less devastated than he feels. “You… what?”

“I went, I know I wasnae supposed to, but I had to see her.” Simon steps away. He releases his partner, the man he loves, and looks at him through the eyes of a stranger. “I havnae been sleepin’ I cannae eat, or focus, and I know ye’ve been havin’ an easier time-“

“Stop.” An easier time? Is he really that blind? “You think this has been easy for me?”

“N-no, I didnae mean-“

“You think I’m alright, when our girl…” He bites his tongue.

Control.

“I’m not having an easier time, Johnny.”

“I made a mistake.” He whispers to the floor, and sympathy, love, cracks Simon’s heart, just a little. He’s been having such a rough go, Simon knows. Struggling. Depressed. And nothing can fix it, not Simon or anything else in this world except… you.

He reaches, but Johnny steps out of his grasp, eyes wide.

“I… I made a mistake, Si.”

“I know, but it’s okay, we can-“

“We had sex.”

Everything changes. The floor disappears beneath his feet. His knees go weak, watery, and he steps away. A chainsaw tears through his diaphragm, blood and guts dropping to the floor.

“You what?”

“I didnae plan to, it just… it just happened.” Simon closes his eyes. He struggles for air, a thousand pounds sat on his chest. “She was cryin’ and then we just… we lost control. I didnae even realize what was happening at first, and then she asked me to kiss her and I couldnae say no, Si. Ye know I… it just-“

“Stop.”

“She needed me, needs us, wanted to, and I-“

“STOP!” He shouts, and Johnny jerks back, eyes wide.

“Simon.” He reaches, but it’s too late. Simon is already stepping out of reach. An ocean of despair, sadness, rage tosses him in a turbulent wave, knocking him side to side, stealing his breath. Agony wails between his ears.

“Don’t touch me right now.” How could he do this? Betray you like this? When you’re vulnerable?

He knows why. His next words are a poison barb, aimed straight at the heart of the man he loves.

“You’re weak.”

“Si.” Johnny’s voice cracks, face soaked with tears. He calls his name again and again, but Simon hears nothing, broken vibrato bouncing off his back as he turns away, locking himself in the bedroom.

“So, you want to do this. For real.” You’re so skeptical. Still. A battle never won but fought every day. You chew on your lip, hesitance heavy in your eyes. “With me.”

“Aye, darling. With ye.” Johnny sucks a mark into your neck, hands roaming across your chest. You wriggle between them, uneasily laughing, huffing and pushing at him, still overstimulated and coming down from too many orgasms to count. They pushed you to the limit tonight, twisted you between them and bent you under their bodies, filled you at the same time. He can still feel the clench of your cunt around his cock, your warmth engulfing him, setting him aflame. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“Yes.” Your answer is immediate, and Johnny rolls his eyes. You glance at Simon.

He wants to rip away all your layers. Burrow between your heart and ribs. Remake you in an image of love, help you feel confident in their affection, their near obsession with you.

“We know it will take time.” He murmurs, stroking a hand across the back of your neck when you push up onto your elbows. “We know this is a lot, and it won’t be easy, but we can make it work. If you give us a chance.” Tears line your lashes. You try to look away, but he holds you steady, refusing to let you hide.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

“I know.”

He thinks about calling you. What’s a phone call, in the face of such a boundary broken already? He wonders for a moment, if you’re okay, before his stomach tightens, realizing that Johnny left you there, alone.

Did you tell him to leave? Did he run home afterwards, worried? Did he hold you, make sure you’re okay, kiss you and tell you how much they love you?

He aches for violence. Wants to destroy this room, it’s walls, this place they tried to build around you.

The bed is too big now. The flat is empty. He feels the hollowness left in your wake everywhere, in the bathroom, missing your shampoo and toothbrush, the closet, lacking most of your clothes. The comforter has been replaced with a tired bedsheet and a blanket from the couch, a quarter of the pillows that are usually piled in the middle, missing.

It’s not his home. Not without you.

He eyes his phone.

He shouldn’t.

Why is he being punished, for doing the right thing? For listening to you, when you begged them to understand this is what you needed. Why is he the one in hell, when Johnny gets to drink his fill?

He doesn’t understand. How could he have gotten this so wrong?

Is this what you wanted all along? For them to come, pluck you from your escape back into their arms?

He looks at his phone again. The black screen taunts him, begs him, tells him it’s alright. It will be okay if he does it. If he breaks.

What kind of man is he, if he can’t respect what you need?

Johnny knocks on the door.

“Ye cannae shut me out.” It’s reminiscent of not too long ago, when Simon was on the other side of a different door, begging to see your face, dying to hear your voice.

“Johnny.” He croaks. His own cheeks are wet now, tears dripping down his jaw to his shirt.

“Simon, please.”

“I can’t see you right now.”

“I cannae let ye-“

“If you love me,” He raises his voice, not quite a shout, but something awful instead, a low pitch of anger. “You’ll leave me alone.” He can’t even look at him right now, can’t understand why he did this. Why he acted so callously, so selfishly. Simon hates himself, for thinking it, for allowing this anger to fester but he can’t feel anything else when he thinks about his sweet boy on the other side of that door, crying out for him. He’s so angry. He reaches for his phone. The impulse is too strong, the pain and want and the fear of not knowing if you’re okay eating away at him until he’s tapping your contact open.

The phone rings three times. On the fourth, the line clicks open, and he holds his breath.

“Simon?” You’re crying. It’s in your voice, thick with it, trembling across the connection with an intensity that could crack the earth.

“Darling.”

“It’s not ideal-“

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” You take a ragged breath, and Simon’s heart aches. “You just got home.”

“Ah know love, but we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.”

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” He has to stem this bleeding somehow, patch this wound. He wants to take you in his arms, bury his face in your hair and promise you a million things he knows he can’t.

“It’s fine.” It’s not. And neither are you. But you’re shoving it away, pushing it down where it will stay buried, building and building inside you like a storm, a wild thing that will drive you to the brink.

“Darling.” He tries to grab you, hold onto you, make you stay near him, where he can hold you, where he can try to fix it.

It’s not fair. None of it is. And never will be. Not for you.

“I’m fine.”

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” You focus on the dishwasher, but your hands tremble, small tremors that signify an earthquake on the horizon.

“I know. It’s fine.”

“Darling.” You ignore him, focusing on the silverware draw, tugging on the handle. “Darling, please.”

Johnny flinches when it crashes to the floor. There’s agony in your face, pain and disappointment, and he hates himself for it, hates this job, hates this life they brought you into.

You break with a sob.

“Fuck! Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You try to turn away, to run, but he meets you, pulling you into his chest, reaching for the back of your neck with a steady hand. You’re crying so hard he’s worried you can’t breathe.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” For now. We’re here for now. He can’t give you much more, even though he’d give you both the world. You and Johnny, tucked away in secret, forever his. To hold. To love. “It’s okay, darling.” You cry and cry, sobs shaking your shoulders.

It’s not going to end on its own. And why should it? They’re the ones who do this to you. They are the ones who have to fix it.

Control it.

“Bedroom lights.” He directs Johnny with a glance.

“Rog.”

“The mess.” You whimper, and he shakes his head, still holding you firmly.

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m calling.” He’s spiraling. Unmoored. Uncontrolled.

“It’s… it’s okay.” You stifle a sob, and he wants to rip his hair from his roots.

“Are you okay? That’s all…” He pulls away from the phone to take a short breath, trying to breathe through his nose. “That’s all I needed to know, if you’re okay.”

“I’m…” You go quiet, and he doesn’t push. Doesn’t want to. He goes at your pace, letting you control everything now, just as he has been for this last month. “I’m not okay.”

His heart freezes in his chest.

“Did you call your therapist?”

“No.” You cry, and he pinches his brow.

“What do you need?” The pattern on the carpet is a dizzying spiral, swirls of brown and tan spinning around him, drawing him down until he’s sitting with his back against the bed. When you don’t speak, he tries, just a little, to pull it from you. “Tell me darling.”

Y-you. I need… you.”

#dead disco #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #john mactavish #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #ghost x soap #soap x reader

653 notes · View notes