#stick figure adjacent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

puckinghischier · 1 month

Text

Jersey Talk

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader finds herself engaging in a lot of jersey talk

notes: part 3 of my lil unnamed nico series!! i loved writing this part and hope you enjoy it as much as i do 🥹 also, i didn’t really proofread so ignore any mistakes. and just a disclaimer, i don’t claim to know everything there is to know about any of the players mentioned in my writing, so if there’s inaccuracies on timelines or personality traits, just ignore them and assume it’s for the plot 😌

p.s.!! i’m thinking about starting a tag list for this/any of my writing i post so if you want to be a part of that, let me know!!

part 1, part 2, part 4

[6.4k]

You absolutely love how foot travel friendly New Jersey is. Coming from an area where foot travel is virtually nonexistent, the change is a welcomed one. You appreciate being able to simply grab your favorite totes, your headphones, and make the fifteen-minute walk to the small corner store. Surely in the winter you’ll feel differently about the five-block trek, but hopefully you’ll have your car by then. For now, the comfortable Autumn air makes the walk enjoyable. The fresh air, the beautiful buildings, and the surprising friendliness of the strangers you pass on the street make you feel like you made the right decision in relocating your life to the garden state.

Luckily this grocery run was fairly light, only needing to pick up some essentials until one of the boys gives you a ride to the larger chain grocery store on one of their upcoming off days. You really just needed the ingredients to make dinner tonight, making good on your promise to be their personal shopper and occasional chef in exchange for a place to live. You even stopped in a small bakery about a block from your apartment and picked up a few assorted pastries for a sweet treat later, knowing how much Luke loves his dessert.

As you walk into the apartment, courtesy of your shiny new key Jack gave you last week, you see both him and Luke on the couch, each with one hand on an iPad held out so both could view the contents on the screen. You assume they’re watching game film, preparing for their game later in the week against the Rangers. Your assumption is confirmed when you hear the unmistakable sound of sticks slapping against pucks and ice coming from the iPad in question.

They’re both so engrossed in the game film on the screen that they have no clue that you’ve even walked through the door. You make your way to the kitchen to unload what’s in your hands, putting away what little groceries you bought. Once you’re finished in the kitchen, you make your way back out into the living room, wanting to catch up with your roommates on how their midday practice had gone. As you walk towards the living area, rounding the loveseat adjacent to the sectional where the boys sit, Luke catches your moving figure from the corner of his eye. His body jerks slightly, clearly startled until he notices its only you.

“Oh my god you just scared the shit out of me,” you hear him exhale, holding his hand to his chest.

You just chuckle as you see Jack whip his head up, confused as to what Luke was referring to until he saw you sitting down, tucking your feet up under your legs to get comfortable.

“When did you get home? Have you been here the whole time?” Jack asks, pausing the game film and sitting the iPad on the small coffee table in the center of the room.

“No, you two were just lost in hockey land when I came in. I went to the corner mart a few blocks down to get stuff to make dinner, then put it all away before coming in here. Thought I’d give you guys a few more minutes before I came in here and interrupted,” you replied, resting your chin on your hands that are placed on the arm of the loveseat.

“Well, you have our full attention now. What’s up?” Jack leans back into the couch once again, stretching his arms above his head.

“Just wanted to talk to my boys. See how practice went today. Figure out how you guys are going to fare against the Rags,” you throw in a small dig at their biggest rival team.

“The Rags? Since when do you participate in hockey talk?” Luke chimes into the conversation, laughing slightly at your attempt to assimilate into the world of hockey.

“Since I overheard a conversation at this cute little bakery down the street. While I was waiting in line there was a man in front of me with a Devils hat on and the guy working the counter was asking him about his thoughts on the game this week. He was talking about how much he wishes ‘the boys can pull their heads out of their asses and beat the damn Rags’ and I thought it was funny. Figured I should probably adopt the local vernacular if I want to fit in around here. You know, participate in the Jersey talk,” you recall with a shrug of your shoulders.

The two brothers let out a little chuckle at your story, amused at your attempt to insert yourself into their world. The two of them and Quinn taught you a lot about how hockey is played and the rules over the years, but their hope of you fully getting involved in all of the aspects of hockey and the fanbase quickly dissolved. They would sit and force you to watch reruns of games with them over the summer at the lake, and you would sit there and whine because of how badly you wanted to go out on the boat or drive the golf cart down to the local ice cream shop, not listening to a single word the trio would say to you. Once you made the decision to move in with the two youngest brothers, you figured you should probably put a little more effort into the whole hockey fan experience, considering you would likely be attending games on a regular basis.

“Well, we’ve been preparing for the Rags, so that old man in the bakery can rest easy knowing we’re working our asses off, which our heads aren’t in, by the way,” Jack speaks, correcting the stranger’s statement.

“Yeah, we’re doing really well, actually. We keep splitting the team up and forcing one half to mimic the Rangers and some of their techniques, so we’re actually getting really good at stopping them from getting the puck into our zone. Plus, our goalies are putting out some insane stops during practice, so I really think we’ve got this in the bag,” Luke adds, excited to showcase their hard work.

You’ve noticed that practices must have been hard for the boys this week. A lot of naps and ibuprofen consumed. You haven’t really seen much of them, if you’re being honest. They’re usually gone by the time you wake up in the mornings and so tired by the time they come home that they go straight to the couch or their bedrooms and fall asleep. By the time they wake up from their naps you’re usually already cooking dinner, at least getting to chat a bit while you cook. After finishing dinner they’re back to the couch, watching game film or heading back to the arena for various events and strategy meetings. They go to bed fairly early, considering all of their early morning starts, so evenings are usually spent in your room by yourself watching tv or catching up with your friends back home. You suppose you should get used to spending time by yourself, though, knowing you’ll be here by yourself more often than not during the season.

They had a game in Boston a few days prior, leaving you with your apartment to yourself for the first time in the two weeks you’ve lived with them. They were only gone for one night, but it was definitely lonely. You really haven’t been here long enough to have an abundance of people to call up anytime Jack and Luke were unavailable, so you had passed the time by exploring the area around your apartment complex a little, finding the perfect park to go sit at to soak up some much-needed sunshine. You couldn’t hide your excitement when the two brothers returned home the next evening, though. You got up from the couch and ran over to the door, ready to greet them and ask them all about the game (you had watched it on tv, but you really just wanted to talk to someone after a full day with no one’s company but your own), but you were greeted with tired eyes and frowns, despite their win the previous night. You simply gave each of them a hug and then sent them off to bed, knowing once they got some sleep they would be up for conversation.

This is why, right now, even though you have zero knowledge of what preparing for a rival hockey game consists of, you’re taking in every word the two have to offer about the subject. You’re just happy to have a few uninterrupted minutes to sit and talk with them.

“Good! That’s great! Really…good,” you say, giving a thumbs up and awkward smile after failing to come up with a better response to Luke’s statements.

Luke just laughs, appreciating your attempts at interest in their jobs.

“You’re coming to the game, right? We put back a ticket for you, but if you can’t make it that’s okay, too. Got you a pretty sick seat, though. Glass seat, right beside the net,” Jack reveals, raising his eyebrows a bit, as if trying to convince you.

“Of course I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you exclaim, a little offended at the mere thought you’d skip out on such a big game for them.

“You won’t be disappointed, I swear. We’re gonna kick some major Rags ass,” Luke adds, excitement showing at the idea of you being in the crowd.

“The real question here shouldn’t be if I’m coming to the game or not. It’s whose jersey am I going to wear?” you throw out, poking fun at the two.

“Pshh, c’mon that one’s a no brainer. You’ll obviously wear mine, I’m your favorite,” Jack waves off your words, fully confident that you’ll agree with him.

“I don’t know, Rowdy. I feel like plenty of people will have 86 jerseys on. It is Moose’s rookie season, maybe I should wear his so he feels included.”

“Yeah, dickhead. You have a whole arena full of people wearing your number, she should wear mine. We all know it’s the better number anyways,” Luke retorts.

Jack rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to fire back an insult at Luke, but he’s cut off by a knock at the door. You look over at the two boys to see if they know who might be at the door, but both of their faces mirror your confused look. So much for your uninterrupted time with them.

“Did you guys invite someone over? Or should I be worried that there’s a murderer standing on the other side of our door right now,” you ask.

“Well first of all I don’t think a murderer would knock on the door. They would probably pick the lock or something. Isn’t the whole point of murdering someone to do it when they don’t see it coming?” Jack responds, standing up. “Second of all, it’s probably just Nico. I had mentioned watching game film together at practice earlier and he told me he’d see how he was feeling later. Kinda forgot about it, if I’m being honest, but this is around the time he wakes up from his post-practice nap.”

You sit up a little straighter when Jack mentions his teammate and captain. You hadn’t seen him since your first night in town about two weeks ago. You’d caught little bits of information about him in passing from both Jack and Luke, but tried to keep your questions about him to a minimum. The two of you were still practically strangers, not having had any reason to communicate after that night. You assume he’s been as busy as Jack and Luke, coming and going far more than you. Still, you’re surprised you haven’t even run into him once. You figure his captain duties keep him far busier than even Luke and Jack.

You hear the front door open and then two sets of voices making their way down the short hallway. You look over to see Nico in a hoodie and sweats, a hat hiding his long hair. You think back to that night at the bar when his hair was uncovered and he was having to push it out of his eyes for most of the night, wishing you could catch a glimpse of the brown locks right now. The two were continuing their short conversation from the door, so Nico had yet to acknowledge you or Luke yet. You look away, starting to pick at a loose thread on your socks, knowing you needed to avert your eyes before you were caught staring.

Unknown to you, Luke had already noticed your stare, observing how fixated you were on his captain. You look over to find Luke staring at you, an undecipherable expression on his face. You give him a puzzled look, as if to say ‘what?’ and he responds by simply shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“Oh, hey you two. How’s it going?” Nico’s voice pulls you from your silent conversation with Luke, noticing Jack was no longer next to him.

“Hey, man. How was your nap? Your shoulder okay?” Luke asks him, adjusting his body slightly on the couch to make room for Nico to sit down.

You turn your head to look at Nico once again, a small hint of worry surfacing. He doesn’t look injured? His arm isn’t in a sling or anything, and he’s not holding it in pain. You watch as he sits down to see if even the smallest wince makes its way across his face as his back comes to rest against the plush cushions. If he’s in any sort of pain, he’s not letting it show in his actions.

“Yeah, perfectly fine. Don’t give yourself that much credit, kid. You don’t hit nearly as hard as you think you do,” Nico chuckles, taking his hand and tapping Luke on the knee a few times.

“Trying to hurt your captain before a huge game, Luke?” you speak for the first time since Nico entered the apartment. “Maybe I should wear Jack’s jersey on Saturday.”

“I knew it! See, my jersey is clearly the better choice, Moose. Sucks to suck, huh?” Jack interjects with a grin, walking from the direction of the kitchen, glass of water in hand.

“Now c’mon, Y/N, that isn’t even fair. It was an accident!” Luke cries out. “We were running drills and I was trying to stop, but I misjudged and ran into Nico. He didn’t even hit the glass that hard, you heard him!”he argues, looking between you and his brother.

“All I’m saying is, it won’t look good if the rookie is the reason the captain can’t play against public enemy number one. Then you’ll become public enemy number one, and I can’t be caught at a game wearing the new public enemy’s jersey. I’m already a newcomer, I can’t tarnish my reputation this early,” you hold your hands up in defense.

“What have I just walked into?” Nico asks, eyes darting between the three of you.

“Well, right before you walked in, we were talking about which jersey Y/N was going to wear to the game on Saturday. I told her the obvious choice was mine, but she decided to spew some bullshit about there being too many 86 jerseys already, so she should wear Luke’s since he’s new and needs to feel included,” Jack uses finger quotes around the last part of his sentence.

“Well, she has a point.”

“See! Even Cap thinks so! That’s it, you’re wearing my jersey, Y/N. Cap’s word is final,” Luke leans back, taking in his assumed victory.

Your mind wanders back to Nico’s words he spoke to you at the bar a couple of weeks ago, wondering if Luke’s statement includes those words, too.

“Maybe I should be fair and not wear either jersey. Just go down the roster and pick a random name and then buy it,” you joke, watching the brothers widen their eyes like you just told them you ran over their childhood pet.

“That’s…not even funny. How dare you even joke about something so important,” Jack stares at you, seriousness painted on his features.

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s just…that’s just cruel,” Luke emphasizes the last word dramatically.

“I think you should do it. In fact, I have a spare jersey I think you can wear,” Nico adds, looking at you with mischievous eyes.

“Oh, well that actually sounds lovely, Nico, thank you! What better way to show my support at my first Devils game than sporting the captain’s jersey?”

Jack and Luke both turn their heads to glare at their captain sitting between them. If looks could kill, the poor Swiss man would be six feet under right now. The Hughes brothers don’t play around when it comes to their jerseys. You remember when you had gone to one of Luke’s games while he was playing for Michigan, wanting to buy a Michigan jersey in support, but the gift shop had run out of Luke’s number once he announced his contract with the Devils. You knew you could have simply asked him for a jersey, knowing he had several lying around his dorm room, but the trip was supposed to be a surprise.

You were forced to buy a random jersey with some lesser known last name on it, because you still wanted to show up in Michigan attire. You don’t even remember whose name and number it was, but you remember the look on Luke’s face when he saw you during warm ups, going from pure joy to disgust in seconds. He skated off, going to the locker room briefly before returning with a yellow Jersey that he then threw over the glass to your seat, motioning for you to put it on. You just laughed and did as you were told. You’ve had similar arguments with both Jack and Quinn over threatening to wear a teammates jersey over the years, but you just like to poke fun at how protective the three are over you. Jack explained to you that they want you to wear their jersey’s because it shows their teammates that you’re to be left alone, knowing the reputations of their fellow players.

“Cap, please don’t make me kick you out of this apartment right now,” Jack looks at Nico with complete seriousness.

“Maybe I need to work on my body checks in practice tomorrow, Cap,” Luke tries to threaten.

Nico simply laughs, shaking his head at the sudden unity between the two bickering brothers.

“Alright, chill out you two, all jokes. Unless…” You trail off, standing up.

“No, no unless. You’re wearing one of our jerseys, preferably mine. Hey! Where are you going, this is serious!” Jack yells after you as you walk towards the kitchen.

“Unless you want to starve tonight, someone has to start making dinner. Plus, I have some jersey shopping to do,” you say, hearing Nico’s laughter ringing out once more as you enter the kitchen.

———————————————————————————

“Hey, Nico! Are you staying for dinner? I need to know how much pasta to make!” you shout from your spot by the stove, having just sat down a large pot of water on the hot eye.

You walk over to the cabinet to grab the box of pasta and a couple jars of sauce, waiting for an answer from the living room. You decided to go with just simple spaghetti and salad tonight, not really in the mood for having to prep a ton of food and spend an hour and a half cooking. Jack will probably complain about the amount of carbs he’s consuming, but he’ll get over it. As if he doesn’t burn enough calories from practice and his personal workouts he does on a daily basis. Luke will just be happy to have something that isn’t chicken, seeing as that’s all you made for the first few days of your new living arrangement, trying to stick to the meal plan Jack had the nutritionist send you.

After the third night of some form of chicken and vegetables, Luke was quick to inform you that no one on the team follows the meal plan so strictly. You also learned that Jack is going through some phase of eating nothing but chicken or steak and brown rice, Luke revealing that’s what the two mostly lived on during the weeks leading up to your move. You had told Luke he should learn to cook for himself, and then he wouldn’t be forced to eat what Jack or you decide to make if he doesn’t like it, but he had rolled his eyes and told you “this was the agreement, right? We won’t let you pay rent, so you told us you would contribute by cooking. So really, I’m just helping you fulfill your roommate duties.”

You still don’t have an answer from the three in the living room. You figure they’re too busy with game film to hear you, so you decide to just make enough for Nico, too. You can always pack up the leftovers and have them for lunch the next few days if needed. You dump what you think to be the proper amount of pasta for four people into the pot once it reaches a boil, then work on pouring the sauce into a pan to let it heat up. You cheated on the salad, too, deciding to just buy two bags of salad mix, dumping the bag into a large bowl and adding the small packets of toppings. You’ve just dumped the now done pasta into the colander in the sink, turning to put the pot back onto the stove to cool off a bit when a voice causes you to nearly drop the hot pot in your hands.

“It smells delicious in here,” Nico announces his presence, walking through the doorway towards the fridge.

You settle yourself before setting the pot down safely on the stovetop before speaking. “You know, I really need to get on ordering those squeaky shoes if I want to avoid a heart attack by 25.”

Turning your body, you see Nico hunched over looking in the fridge, arm reaching towards a water bottle before raising up, flashing you a smile.

“Nah, even if you buy them I wouldn’t wear them. This is like, our thing now. Me sneaking up on you, you getting mad, me getting a good laugh out of it,” he stands back at his full height now.

“How comforting that you find enjoyment out of my jumpiness. Such an admirable trait to have,” you grumble, taking the pasta from the sink and transfer it into the pan filled with sauce. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner, seeing as it looks like I made enough to feed the entire team, but I think I’ll just leave you to fend for yourself. See how funny that is.”

This earns another laugh, Nico moving to lean against the counter opposite of you, watching you try to combine the sauce and the pasta without making a giant mess.

“Why don’t you just put it back in the pot you cooked the pasta in. You’ll be able to mix it easier.”

“Because apparently that would have been too easy,” you step back and huff, wondering why you didn’t think of that before you created an overflowing mess of sauce and noodles.

Nico makes his way over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders to move you out of the way. He picks up the pan and dumps the contents into the pot sitting next to it, not spilling a single drop.

“There, now you can mix it easier and it won’t spill out over the sides and cause an even bigger mess,” he states, placing the dirty pan in the sink behind you.

“Okay, captain chef, next time you’re cooking dinner, since you clearly have more kitchen skills than me,” you tell him, making your way across the kitchen to collect plates to sit on the table.

Nico just chuckles as he watches you grab the plates, sitting one in front of each chair around the small dining table that sits in the kitchen.

“It smells so good in here, please tell me its almost done,” Jack enters the kitchen, Luke trailing behind him.

“It is, just finished actually,” you look up, Nico carrying the pot of steaming pasta from the stove to the table, careful not to drop it.

“Rowdy, grab the salad over there by the sink for me while I grab some forks for everyone,” you move towards the silverware drawer, walking around the Swiss man in your kitchen, having to turn your body slightly as he steps back from the table.

“Well, I better get going, my leftovers aren’t going to heat themselves up,” Nico announces, starting to make his way out of the kitchen.

“Cap, are you crazy? Do you not see how much food Bouy made?” Jack places the bowl of salad next to the pot of pasta, taking his seat at the table.

“Jack, I’m being so serious right now, if you keep using that stupid nickname for me I will sneak laxatives into your protein shakes.” You take the seat across from Jack, Luke falling into the seat to your left.

“Well, as long as it’s okay with Bouy, I’d love to stay.” Nico walks back over to the table, taking the seat next to Jack, smirking while avoiding eye contact with you.

“I know where you live, so the threat extends to you too, Cap” you glare at Nico.

The rest of the meal is mostly filled with talk between the three hockey players, you chiming in here and there, until Jack shifts the topic of conversation to you.

“So, what’s the update with your new job? You have everything lined up and ready to go?”

“Yeah, talked to them earlier today, actually. They said they’d have my office ready in about a week, so I should be starting not long after that.” You shrug, not wanting to bore them with the details of the corporate scene in New Jersey.

“Where are you going to be working?” Nico asks, genuine interest present in his tone, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“I got offered a position with a small publishing company not too far from here, actually. Mostly independent, up and coming authors, but still exciting,” you reveal, perking up a bit at the opportunity to talk about your passion.

“Was super worried I wasn’t going to be able to use my degree after college, seeing as the market for English lit degrees isn’t too wide unless you want to teach. At least, that’s how it is back home. After I graduated and Jack offered the spare room here, I applied to a few positions here in Jersey and a few in New York, willing to make the commute if needed. Only heard back from one place, though. And it just so happened to be a thirty-minute drive from here, so I accepted and started packing,” you explained.

“It was meant to be. The gang back together once again,” Jack beams.

“Well, the gang minus Quinn. The fucker just had to end up in Vancouver of all places,” Luke grumbles, still upset the oldest Hughes is so far away.

“Lucky for us I can work remotely if I ever need or want to, so this summer at the lake we can all be together again,” you try to cheer Luke up, knowing how much he wishes the three brothers could have played on the same team while making their dreams come true.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack celebrates. “This is going to be the best summer at the lake house yet. We’re all grown, most of us legal drinking age, but don’t worry, we won’t tell if you won’t, Lukey,” Jack winks over at Luke, knowing the underage drinking rule has never really applied in the sacred space of the lake houses, “and we’ll all finally be there together again after, what, like 6 years?”

“It’s been awhile, at least that long,” you try to think back to the last time everyone was there together.

It was the summer before Quinn got drafted. Quinn had signed to play hockey at Michigan a few months before everyone was set to arrive at the summer oasis. You remember being so proud of him. You couldn’t wait to finally see him and congratulate him in person, knowing how hard he had worked for it. You figured things would stay the same for a few more years, expecting him to come home every summer for the next four years before moving on to the NHL. You had no clue that he would be drafted only a summer later and that it would be the beginning of the end for the summers of fun at the lake house.

“Nico, you should come up this summer! It’s always such a good time!” Jack pulls you from your reminiscing.

“I mean, maybe. I’ve been talking to my parents about flying home during the off season this year, since I didn’t make it over there last year. But I could probably come for a few days, at least,” he shrugs his shoulders.

You try to picture Nico at the lake house, hat covering his hair, swim trunks and a t-shirt covering his body. You picture him lounging on the boat in the sun while Jack takes everyone out for a midday ride, finding a secluded spot somewhere on the lake to stop and swim for a while. You picture him trying to wake surf, wondering if he’d be instantly good at it or if he would end up wiping out in the water. You picture him sitting around the fire at night, a light hoodie on to the mask the chill that never fails to make an appearance on Michigan summer nights, the glow from the fire illuminating his face just enough for you to admire him. You picture him with a slight sunburn on his nose, tan skin glowing from being in the sun so often.

You must have been lost in your thoughts for longer than you realized, because you came back to the conversation with several calls of your name from the seat next to you.

“Are you even listening to us anymore? Or do you really not want Cap coming to the lake house?” Luke looks over at you, slightly waving his hand in front of your face.

“What? No,” you say, looking around at the expectant faces surrounding you. “I mean, no I don’t care if he comes. It would be fun, yeah. If he can make it, of course. You heard him, I’m sure he’s excited to see his family.”

“I’m sure I can work something out. Have the best of both worlds. These two have talked about the infamous lake house so much I’m curious to see if it really lives up to all the hype,” Nico leans back, nodding his head towards both Jack and Luke.

“Then its settled! Cap is coming to Michigan this summer!” Jack cheers, throwing his arms up in celebration.

You laugh in response to Jack’s excitement, noticing that everyone seems to be done eating, plates clean and glasses empty. You stand up and start to take some of the dishes to the sink, setting them in there before walking back over to the table.

“Since you’re in such a good mood, I think now would be the best time to tell you that you and Luke have dish duty tonight.” You clear the last of the dishes off the table.

You watch Jack’s face fall, while Luke’s does a sharp turn in your direction. You turn your back to them to walk back over to the counter, opening the cabinet below you to find Tupperware to store the leftovers in.

“On that note, I better get going. Have some laundry I need to get done before practice in the morning,” Nico stands, bringing over a few stray pieces of silverware you seemed to have missed.

“Oh, no you don’t, Cap. You heard her, she cooked, we clean,” Jack turns to look at his captain as he makes his way to the sink.

“No, I said you and Luke have dish duty tonight. Nico’s name was never mentioned. Guests don’t do the dishes, Jack. I know Ellen raised you better than that.”

“Nico is hardly a guest. He’s over here all the time!” Luke chimes in, opening one of the drawers by the sink, grabbing a towel to dry dishes with.

“He doesn’t pay any rent for the apartment, therefore he’s a guest. Just accept your fate, you two. You’ll survive, I promise.” You hand the pot you just emptied to Jack, taking the food in your hands to the fridge a few steps away.

“You don’t pay any rent, and you’re not a guest,” Jack mumbles, hands covered in soapy suds.

“Exactly! That means I don’t do the dishes, either. I knew you’d catch on eventually! And they say you’re just a pretty face,” you shut the fridge door, looking over at Jack with an amused grin.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Jack whines.

“C’mon, man, you walked right into that one,” Nico adds, laughing at his teammate.

Jack glares at the taller man. “I thought you said you were leaving, that you had laundry to do or some shit.”

“I am, I am,” Nico throws his hands up in defense.

“I’ll walk you out, Nico. Leave the children to pout while doing their chores,” you jest, walking toward the kitchen’s exit.

“Thanks for dinner, Y/N. Ten times better than whatever I would’ve found in my fridge,” Nico says as you pass through the living room.

“Anytime, Cap,” you use his title, blaming Jack and Luke for the new habit. “After all, I owed you for rescuing me from sleeping in the hallway.”

This earns another one of those laughs you love to hear fall from his mouth, smiling to yourself as he follows you down the small hallway towards the front door.

“I feel like you definitely had to put in more effort on your end of that deal,” he steps through the door you’re holding open.

“I’ll just wait until you owe me a favor, then I’ll make sure to cash in some extravagant request,” you joke, leaning against the door as he stands in the hallway.

“I’ll be eagerly awaiting the day.”

Nico takes his apartment key from his pocket and unlocks his door, opening it and stepping inside, turning around to face you once again, his stance mirroring your own in his own doorway.

“So, I’ll see you at the game on Saturday, then?” He stalls a goodbye.

“Yep, I’ll be there. Still deciding which brother I’m going to piss off,” you reference the earlier argument over whose jersey you’ll wear.

“Oh, that reminds me-“ Nico says before propping his door open, leaving you alone in your doorway, confused as to where he could’ve gone.

After about a minute of you standing there, wondering if he was going to come back, he returns, holding a red jersey in his hand.

“Here, figured there’s no sense in you going out and buying one if you really wanted to mess with their heads.”

He hands you the jersey, stepping back into his doorway. You unfold the jersey and notice the big black C on the upper left corner of the jersey. It was a solid red jersey, the team’s symbol in the middle, two black stripes on the forearms of each sleeve, more black accents on the shoulders of the jersey. You look up at him, a little surprised.

“I- I can’t take one of your jerseys, Nico. What if I mess it up, or spill something on it? I’ll just wear one of the ones I have. This looks too nice to risk it,” you attempt to hand the jersey back across the hallway.

“No, I insist. I think it’ll be fun to mess around with them a little. Especially Jack, since he seemed so convinced you were going to wear his. They’ll never even see it coming,” Nico refuses.

You run the idea through your head for a second, thinking about how it would be a funny little dig at the boys. You also think about the implications of wearing a jersey that doesn’t belong to one of Hughes brothers. It’s harmless, though, right? Nico said it was just a fun way to get under their skin. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Y/N’ you think to yourself, trying to kick your habit of creative narratives in your head.

“Okay, but if I end up getting kicked out of my apartment I’m knocking on your door to sleep on your couch,” you finally agree.

“My door’s always open for you.”

You look back down to the jersey in your hands to hide the blush that appears on your face at his words. You know you’ve only known him for a short period of time, tonight being the first real chunk of time you’ve spent in his presence, but Nico is making it really hard for you to keep your feelings for him casual. You’ve always had a habit of getting a case of the heart eyes fast, but you’re trying to be normal, for once.

He’s likely just being his normal, personable self and you’re letting every smile and joke go to your head, placing more meaning on them than is warranted. There’s just something about him, though. He’s extremely attractive, for one. But it’s more than that. From all that you’ve learned about him through Jack and Luke, and the easy conversation that has flowed between the two of you from the moment you first spoke to him in the hallway, you can’t lie to yourself and say you’re not drawn to the Swiss captain.

Your mind circles back to the idea of wearing his jersey this weekend and what Jack and Luke will think. What if you seriously hurt their feelings? What if it affects how they play because they’re mad at you? What if they ignore you the whole game? You know the two brothers love you, but you also know how petty they can both be when mad.

“Stop overthinking it. I can see you getting lost up in that head of yours. It’s a harmless joke. They’re not going to freak out on the ice or anything. And if they do, I’m in more danger than you are,” Nico reassures you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You better at least score a goal if I’m risking being homeless for you,” you tell him, looking back up at his face.

“How about I do you one better. If you promise to wear my jersey, I’ll score a hatty for your first ever New Jersey Devils hockey experience,” Nico offers, his eyes flashing with something you assume is delight at a challenge.

“Well then you better work on your slapshot tomorrow morning, Captain. I’ll be holding you to that Saturday night,” you take the bait, knowing how difficult a hat trick is to pull off.

“No need, I know I’ll have the right motivation night of to get it done,” he winks at you, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. “And if I don’t, consider it your IOU for that extravagant request you might need one day,” He responds, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders, the nonchalance of his body language making you hope for his failure, just so you can think of some ridiculous task for him to perform.

“Thanks for the heads up, I’ll get right to brainstorming,” you respond, trying to prevent your thoughts from spiraling yet again.

Nico lets out a small laugh, standing up straight and placing his hand on the handle of his door. “Think hard. Let me know what you come up with. Have a good night, Bouy, see you Saturday.” He shuts the door before you can berate him for using the nickname you hate.

You walk back into your apartment, door shutting behind you, going straight to your room to hide the jersey before either of the boys see it. You think back on the entire interaction, a smile on your face at the possibility of being able to have Nico do anything you ask him. As you’re walking past the kitchen you hear Jack’s voice.

“Luke, am I stupid or did Y/N call me stupid earlier?” he recalls your earlier comment about him being ‘just a pretty face’.

“Think about how you worded the first part of your question and you’ll have your answer,” you hear Luke respond as you make it past the kitchen unnoticed, making you stifle a giggle so you won’t be discovered.

Oh how you loved being back with your boys.

500 notes · View notes

laenordeservedbetter · 1 year

Note

For Sam x reader.

Ghostface is back and had followed the Carpenters, the twins, and Amber's older sister, Reader, to New York. No one trusting her because of the fact that her little sister was Ghostface, Reader is in disbelief, and Sam breaks up with her on the spot. Fast forward to the end, where Ghostface is dead, everyone's being treated by paramedics, Reader is seen walking away from the scene alone. Kirby asks where she is, Sam then sees her walking away, holding her broken arm to her body, and runs after her and apologies for not trusting and believing her. (Reader saying it's too late for sam to apologize. She then walks away from her friends, from Sam.)

You're Somebody Else

Words: 1.4k

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Freeman!Reader

Synopsis: You were told that the biggest betrayal comes from the people you care about the most, but never did you expect it to hurt so much.

Warnings: scream vi spoilers, violence, spitting, cussing, angst, no happy ending. lmk if I missed any.

A/N: I wrote this at a coffee shop. I'm still here rn, so we'll see how many fics I can post before I go home. (This will probably be the only one)

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

You stood before Amber’s Ghostface outfit, reaching out to touch the fabric before you remembered where you were -- who you’re with. The glares given to you by the rest of the group burned at the back of your skull. You can practically sense their judgments. Since the first Ghostface attack in New York, they pointed their fingers at you. You understood, given what you've all been through. Can't be too careful. You didn’t care that you saw the contempt on your own girlfriend’s face. You stayed by her side, understanding where she was coming from.

Being related to a previous Ghostface was something you and Sam had in common. When you are linked to a person with that track record, it sticks with you even if you are different from them. Trust becomes hard to give. And out of everyone, you figured your girlfriend is the one who understood the most about what it’s like. However, it looks like the sentiment isn’t shared.

She approaches you, getting the courage to ask, “Can we talk?”

You can tell what’s about to happen before Sam can utter what she wants to say to you.

Nothing good ever comes out of conversations like these.

“I’m sorry.” Sam stares, her gaze cold, nothing like the Sam you fell in love with. With each deafening step she takes away from you, your heart shatters just a little bit more. You are wounded by the way she’s looking at you. Any wound or injury you might sustain in the next few minutes will not compare to the poison laced in the invisible knife held against your throat by the woman you love. “I can’t take any more chances. I can’t trust you. We’re done.”

You scoff, glancing towards the group in hopes that they would back up your claim. “Sam, you know me. I would never hurt you or Tara or. . . Anika.”

Mindy flinches at the mention of her girlfriend’s name. Her stare hardens. “You have no right to say her name. We know you did it. You killed her.”

“Mindy…” Your voice breaks as your throat feels like it’s closing up. You can’t do anything to convince them, letting the stream of tears flow from your eyes. No one came to your rescue to prove your innocence. None of them trusted you. You felt pathetic, humiliated, embarrassed. Your eyes settle on Sam again. “Really? After everything we’ve been through together, you-”

Sam glowers. “It’s over, Y/n. Please, stay away from us.”

“Fuck you.” You turn your back, the hurt in your tone clear as day. “I don’t know you at all.”

“Maybe we didn’t know each other as well as we thought.”

It was one thing for you to walk away and another knowing that Sam would not be going after you.

“It was easy luring you away from the group. Guess we really can’t choose our family, huh?” Ghostface makes a tsk sound, the voice changer turned off.

He takes a step forward, but you stay positioned adjacent to the wall. That voice…

“Ethan?”

Ethan removes his mask, holding the voice changer to his lips, “Didn’t expect that?”

Of course it was him. Little by little, the pieces fall into place. The apartment attack -- that was probably Ethan. He wasn’t with the group. Not even the skeptic Mindy questioned his whereabouts. Your tears haven’t dried yet and you were as sure as hell they weren’t going to stop now. You bring your hands together in a slow clap. “Oh, wow, that’s… Fucking brilliant, actually.” Clutching your stomach, you let out what sounded like a painful cackle. “This is the part where I die.” You say. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Oh no, no, no. See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Ethan smirks, gripping your left arm, applying pressure to where you had been previously injured a couple nights prior. “You are our scapegoat. I must give credit to Mindy for the idea. You have the perfect motive to be Ghostface! It was just gonna be Sam, but… The press would go crazier if it was a Bonnie & Clyde situation. Not that I care about that sorta stuff. It just works.”

You collect the saliva from your mouth, spitting in his eye. “Jokes on you ‘cause we’re not together anymore.”

“But they wouldn’t know that because by the time you get ‘caught’, all of your friends will be dead and you would look like the asshole trying to save yourself if you attempt to say the truth.”

Ethan places his free hand on your shoulder, pulling your arm with more force than necessary to guarantee that it would break. You stand there, biting your lip in order to hide the pain. If I screamed, it wouldn’t make a difference anyway, you said to yourself bitterly. There’s not a single person who’d give me the benefit of the doubt. In fact, they’d make me suffer worse, believing that Ethan did the right thing. Who knows what creative scenarios he came up with already.

The paramedics found you slumped down beside a row of chairs after Sam and the rest of the group defeated the three Ghostfaces. They wondered why you weren’t with the others, but with a quick word from Kirby, they left you alone, guiding you outside to treat your broken arm. One of the paramedics - Theo (that’s what you heard Kirby call him) asked if you wanted a ride to the hospital. You declined, insisting that you could get there yourself without anyone’s help.

You spare Sam a glance, observing her interact with Mindy, Chad, and Tara. Core Four. Good for them. Although you were glad that they are are still extant, you can’t stop the rancor that you feel as you stare at the four. You want nothing more than for this day to be over, move to someplace else, maybe change your name. Anywhere is better than here. It’s become clear to you how unwanted you are in New York. A change of scenery might do you good.

Kirby (the only person who hasn’t treated you like scum) situates herself in front of Sam, “Hey, where’s Y/n?”

Sam only notices your absence when Kirby pointed it out. “Shit. I…” She scans the area in search of your familiar eyes, guilt eating at her knowing that she accused you of being a killer. Because of that, you got hurt. She’d never forgive herself for it. “I'll be right back.”

The blonde detective nods in understanding. “I’ll stay with Tara.”

“Thank you.”

You were on your way to the hospital when a hand grasps your injured arm. Recoiling from the touch, you look back to curse the one responsible for hurting your limb only to meet Sam’s pleading gaze. “What do you want, Samantha?”

“Y/n, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for being careless, for not trusting or believing you. If I had, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” Sam touches your good shoulder this time, expressing her genuine apology.

But no matter how many ‘I’m sorry’s’ she will direct at you, it won’t take away what’s been done. “It’s too late, Sam.”

“What? No. We can try again.” She pleads desperately.

You couldn’t bite back the words the words that are on the tip of your tongue, feeling the last ounce of self control fray away. “Try again? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? You broke up with me because you didn’t trust me. You didn’t even try to understand my side!” The news reporters turned their heads at your outburst. They point their cameras to you, but you don’t make an effort to cut off your ebullition short. “All of you pointed your hands at me because what? I’m the sister of a killer?! If we’re basing our suspicions of all the Ghostface’s relatives, you should’ve been on the top of the list. The only thing I asked was for you to stand by me and you failed. So, no, we can’t try again. We’ll only end up worse than where we left off.” You finish, walking away from everything (not for the first time). “I’ll get my things out of your apartment tonight. After that, you won’t have to see me again.”

Sam stays still while you leave, clutching your arm in the process. That limb will heal, but the words that Sam has spoken won’t. There will remain a constant reminder of how you were betrayed by those you would give everything for.

So much for trust.

#samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream 6 #scream #mindy meeks martin #anika kayoko #ethan landry

1K notes · View notes

mistydeyes · 9 months

Note

Hit the showers with Soap? 👀👀 he’d 100% do something like that! He’d definitely get chewed out by price or ghost lol

YES ANON 100% he is literally such a shithead this was so written for him

link to the prompt list and 1k celebration!

prompt: hit the showers (18+) - a prank ends with you getting your clothes and towel stolen

pairing: Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, mild nudity, sexual depictions

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

"Alright I'm gonna hit the showers," you called as you exited the sparring and training room, "put some ice on that Garrick." You turned and smiled as you saw Gaz flipping you off in the corner of your eye. Another successful training session where you kicked Gas's ass and then were absolutely taken out by Ghost. Your body ached as you walked into the locker room. The gym showers were practically empty so you walked to your locker and grabbed a fresh change of clothes and your shower caddy. You placed your clothes on a bench adjacent to the stall and peeled off your issued shirt and threw your shorts to the side. You rolled your sweaty shoulders before turning on the warm water and savoring the sensation. You were accustomed to quick showers or lack thereof on the field but you always took your time when back on base.

As you shampooed your hair and faced the shower head, you could hear the thud of feet entering. You knew it was a public space so you were unbothered by the interruption. "Water's hot today," you called out to the other soldier but they didn't reply. You shrugged as you continued your routine, tying your hair up after you conditioned and using the bar soap to clean your bruised body. Eventually, after 10 minutes, you turned off the shower and cracked the curtain to reach for your towel. As your damp hands felt only the cold tile instead of the fluffy object, you assumed in your haste you might have left it on the bench. However as you exited with a cloud of steam, your eyes fell on the bench with no clothes or towel in sight. "What the fuck?" you said aloud and walked towards your locker leaving a trail of wet footprints. After angrily throwing it open, you found that it was empty. Now you know someone was really fucking with you and you had your suspicions. You angrily grabbed a damp towel from the laundry bin and stormed off to the men's barracks.

Your first arrival was to Soap and Gaz's room. You pounded on the door as you heard Gaz yell that he was coming. The minute he opened the door, you shoved past him and stood with your towel wrapped around your body. "Who the fuck took them?" you yelled as your angry gaze shifted from him and Soap who was leisurely sitting on his bed. "What are you talking about?" Gaz asked as you felt his gaze on you. "Can it, Garrick," you commanded, "where the hell are my things?" Soap couldn't deny how hot you looked at the moment, clad in a small towel, dripping wet, and absolutely fuming. "You fucker," you whispered as you saw your gym clothes haphazardly sticking out underneath his bed. You ran over and bent down to grab them, not caring that your towel slowly dipped as you reached under the bed. As you looked up, you couldn't help but notice something new growing in his shorts. Now, you were extra pissed. You then proceeded to hold your clothes in one arm and smack Soap with the other. As he yelped in pain, two more individuals joined to see what the commotion was about.

"What's going on here?" you heard Price shout as you stopped your attack. You turned around as you held your towel around your figure tighter. "Mactavish thought it was a brilliant idea to take my shit while I was in the shower," you fumed as you could feel his eyes stare at your ass. You took the opportunity to turn around quickly and plant a slap on his cheek. There was an audible groan following that. "You and me, tomorrow, in the ring," you spat before you walked towards the door. "Now if you excuse me, I'm going to take another shower," you said politely and walked past the staring eyes of your team.

As you walked down the hallway, you could hear the lashing the Sergeant was getting. First, it was Price reprimanding him for sneaking into the female quarters and stealing your clothes. Then it was Ghost who yelled about the fact you had to walk through the halls in a dirty towel. In between the loud voices, you could hear Gaz laugh and reply. You couldn't help but smile when he said, "She should've slapped you harder after that."

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mctavish #soap mctavish x you #mw2 #izzie is writing #izzie celebrates 1k

432 notes · View notes

starlessnightsblog · 4 months

Text

daryl x reader

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

MDNI 18+ | wordcount: 3k | smutt ⭑ fluff

daryl to the rescue

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Daryl decided we'd go out for a run. The prison could always use more supplies and he figured he could try to bring home dinner too.

I watched as he packed the trunk of the Prius with supplies we would need, n'case we would stay overnight. The sun was shining, it was a pretty day, the grass still glistening from the morning fog. It had rained on and off here at the prison these last few days. Daryl was eager to get back out there, I knew he liked providing for the group and he liked when I could tag along, he'd grown to not like being apart from each other for long.

I walked up to him, placing my hands on my hips as I watched him slam the trunk door down, "We all set?" I smiled up at him.

He grabbed his bow that was leaning against the car and swung it over his shoulder, "Yes ma'am," He squinted his eyes as the sun beamed in his face. With a raspy voice, "you driving?"

He tossed me the keys before I could answer, I caught them, and rolled my eyes playfully, "This time, but you're driving us home." He hummed paired with a nod.

Daryl opened the driver's side for me, and I looked up at him, my eyes asking him to kiss me. He caught on and leaned down to meet my lips, but in that moment, I saw Carol walking up to us and pulled away. Daryl noticed my gaze shift and he turned around to meet her. She hugged Daryl briefly and then me. "You two be safe, ...and behave." Her tone was stern yet hinted with sarcasm. Daryl let his head fall and his hair cover his face, trying not to smirk too much.

"We behave?" I questioned, pretending to be offended by her statement; though Carol never meant any harm.

Daryl walked to the passenger side and sunk in. "See you soon.' He reassured Carol and she nodded. I closed my door and started the car and waited for Carol and Carl to open the gate, they waved us off. I watched them grow tiny in the rear view.

Me and Daryl parked the car on the side of the road a few miles out from the prison, we ended up in the woods before midday. Stumbling through the forest on foot, I treaded right behind Daryl, as we stayed silent amidst the trees, getting a feel of the surrounding area, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to ourselves. I watched as he led the way, looking at sticks and piles of brushed up leaves, observing them. I watched his back as he was distracted by the prints in front of him, we hadn't encountered any walkers yet and I really didn't want too. My aim was still off sometimes, walkers made me freeze up. I hated having to encounter them, at all.

"We need to find an abandoned cabin or somethin'." He mumbled. "I think I remember seeing one out this way." He pointed and began walking adjacent to the direction we were going in, I just went along with it, trusting his every intention. "Okay."

"Least somewhere we can hold up for a night." He looked back at me, his eyes met mine.

oh, I thought. He side smirked and raised a brow. chewing his bottom lip, "Let's keep moving." He hummed and I nodded.

The day was growing dark and grey clouds had infused the sky; the wind picking up in waves. The ambiance of crickets and cicadas filled the swampy air. My feet would've been killing me if I wasn't already use to it, walking, running all day.

Daryl had managed to snag a few rabbits and now we were looking for somewhere we could build a fire. Though I think he was growing weary of the weather just as I was, and we were having zero luck with finding the cabin.

Instead, we happened apon a little homemade, car, junk yard. Though the cars were either stripped of everything that made them useful or already pieces of scrap metal, maybe even from before the world went to shit. Still, it looked untouched enough. There was a chained-up storage container sitting on the far side of the yard, almost blocked by two cars mangled on top of each other. I pointed it out to Daryl. "That might be good place to sleep tonight." I whispered.

"It'll have to be," He looked up at the ever-darkening sky, "come on." he ushered me, his hand hovering the small of my back.

We approached the fenced-in plot, finding a good spot spot to sneak in through. Daryl made a hole in the fence with his bolt cutters. He pulled the chain link down as quietly as he could, though it still made noise.

With caution, we began inspecting the yard. staying close to one another. After assuming it was fine, Daryl began opening a few of the hoods of the cars, inspecting the engines for anything useful. I held my knife out in front me, in case I needed it as I kept walking ahead, wanting to get to the storage building.

I wandered up to what seemed like an untouched mini-van. It had no tires, from what I could see, but all the windows were intact, looked promising. I tried peeking through the caked-on dust and dirt, maybe even guts or blood, I failed to make anything out, so I tried wiping the window with my fist. I wiggled the handle, it was locked, weird. I yanked the handle one more time, and then CLAP.

A pale, skinny hand from inside the car hit the window hard, I flinched, it scratched and bit at the glass so hard it was making its fingertips bleed. It was loud now, and I jumped back, wanting to evacuate the scene and maybe it'd magically shut up? I took a step back into the grasp of a walker suddenly appearing from under the same mini-van, I lost my balance, and stumbled back, hitting the ground fast and hard.

I slammed my foot against the rotter over and over, but was failing to do any real damage, I heard groans coming from behind me. I glanced back quickly. Another walker was crawling out the thick grass, it appeared to have no legs and half an arm, t was close but struggling at the very least, tangling itself in the weeds. My focus shot back to the walker beneath me, it was chomping and hadn't even reached my foot yet. I began to frantically search the ground for my knife, I must've dropped it when I fell. I cursed, wanting this to end but not knowing how.

Another wandering walker's attention snapped to me and this one wasn't stuck; it started limping quickly, it's one good arm shooting out, preparing to grab me at first chance. My heart was racing faster than ever, I pleaded with myself to do something, to move. I screamed as the walker beneath me bit at my shoe, I kicked it off before it could bite through, I scrambled away in the dirt, the moans and groans from the biters around me filled my ears and all I could think of was Daryl and how I couldn't leave him, not like this.

I closed my eyes, shielding myself as the walker that was stumbling towards me got hauntingly closer. Then, in an instant the air was silenced. I watched the walker collapse on the group in front of me, A bloody arrow had pierced straight through its skull. Then another arrow went straight through the eye socket of the walker holding onto my foot. Blood leaked from both the heads in front of me, though the weak walker behind me was still struggling, but still too close for comfort. I stared at the vicious corpse, still in shock from the last few minutes.

I didn't see Daryl till he was on top the corpse in front of me, he shoved his knife down and through the walker's brain, and stabbed again and again till the head was blood and mush. Dark blood splashed his face as he did so.

I took a deep breath in, and Daryl's full attention locked on me, he snapped out of it and rushed to kneel beside me, pulling me up gently. "You okay? You're okay right? They didn't-," His breath trembled, and he looked scared; he scanned my face up and down.

My eyes locked to his as they trained my face. "I'm okay, I'm good," my words wearier than my breathing, my body slightly shaking in the rush of it all, "they didn't- I'm okay." Tears formed in my eyes. I cupped the side of his face with my hand as I shook my head in reassurance. "I'm okay." He touched his forehead to mine and then wrapped his arm around my whole body, holding me tight. We lingered in the embrace, I wanted him to never let me go, and then it began to thunder. Daryl broke away first and looked around. "Let's get inside."

We hadn't even scoped out the container due to my little damsel in distress moment. but it didn't matter anymore, we were sleeping in that thing no matter what.

Rain began to poor, the dirt on our skin rinsing off, our hair dripping onto our faces; we hurried over to the storage container. Daryl puller out his bolt cutters swiftly and broke through the chains with ease, that, or he just made it look easy. He slid the door open slowly and it was dark inside but not so much so we couldn't see in it. I stepped forward but his arm shot in front of me, holding me back. He looked me up and down, "Uhh uh, No way." He murmured.

I didn't say anything. He grabbed a flashlight out his bag and stepped inside. It beamed through the shadows. He peaked around and made sure no dead would pop out the corners. He signaled for me that it was safe, and I stepped inside. He came to close the door behind me, shoving a metal rod through the handles.

I think it was safe to say we hit the jackpot. The container had shelves on either side, it was partially stocked with a decent amount of can goods, we found a first aid kit, and even a few boxes of ammo. I noticed some cardboard boxes that looked straight out of somebody's Saturday morning garage sale.

They were filled with ghosts of the past. I found someone's family photos, baby clothes and even toys. I stuffed my bag with anything I could fit in it. Some of these things would be useful to Judith and this helped me feel useful.

The place had a box full of beeswax candles, the kind you use when the power goes out. Daryl had a lighter handy, so we lit some and put them on the shelves to lighten the place up so we wouldn't trip on ourselves.

I then lay out us out a cot with a double sleeping bag, I tossed my favorite blanket I tote with me on every run as a finishing touch. It looked good enough. Daryl had opened a few of the cans and that's what we ate for dinner. No fire for the rabbits, what a bummer. (I was not bummed.)

We ate quietly. The groans coming from outside disappeared, though the rain only got harder and maybe that's why. We were closed in, nothing was getting in.

We huddled around our one lantern, and each ate a can of green peas. I finished the can and set it on the shelve just above my head. I looked over at Daryl who was also finishing up. He set his can down, away from the sleeping bed.

"Thank you, for earlier," I whispered, "I dunno why, I just froze." I started, wanting to make an excuse for my helplessness. "I shouldn't of-"

"Don't do that." He cut me off, shaking his head. "Nothing happened, and you're okay."

"I put us in danger." I retorted. I never wanted to put Daryl in danger, and he was so much better at the whole apocalypse thing than me.

"Hey, hey, look at me," He hummed, his tone smooth. I met his longing gaze. "we're in danger just by being out here, so it doesn't matter." He took my hand in his, our fingers intertwined. "I would never let anythin' happen to you... no matter what. It's you over everything, over everyone. You know that, right?" The look on his face was coated with sincerity, the flickering lights from the candles bounced on his skin. He was emulating complete and utter warmth.

If it wasn't for Daryl today, I might've ended up walker food. I replayed the moment in my head, the guilt still eating at me, "I never want anything to happen to you." I managed to choke out. I rested my forehead on his shoulder. he took me into his embrace, I squeezed him, and he squeezed back, tighter.

I thought about the man beside me, how he defended me and loved me. He'd take a bullet for me, and we both knew that. But did he know I would do the same for him though?

"I'm not going anywhere." He whispered. I glanced back up at him and pulled his face down to kiss me, brushing my lips to his, he placed his hand on my hip. I broke away for a moment, our eyes pulled together. Wanting to top that, but he crashed his lips to mine.

My hands snaked around his neck, and as our kiss grew more heated, he pulled me on top of him. His hands roamed my body, trying to make skin to skin contact. I ripped my jacket off, not even daring to break the kiss, my hands found their way back around his neck. He tried pulling me closer, grinding my hips below his torso. I ripped right through his vest, leaving him exposed. He smirked, trying to catch his breath, he pulled at my shirt, wanting it gone. He got it over my head and threw it away. He started kissing my neck and biting me softly. I loved when he did that. But I wanted his mouth on mine, and I tilted my head with his, he let my lips touch his and they moved in sync.

Our mouths stayed glued together as I fiddled with his belt and zipper. It didn't take long for me to find his hard-on, I rubbed him gently through his briefs, he groaned. I lifted up off him and removed my shorts, He moved my underwear to the side, and his own down, his cock shot up and his fingers grazed my warmth making sure I was wet. He hummed when he touched me, growing more eager to stick it in. He held his cock in place as I eased onto it. Letting out a breath of pleasure as I felt him enter me.

he started guiding my hips, rocking me back and forth, Daryl loved being in control, even if I was the one on top. He bit his lip, trying not to moan. His dick pushed deeper into me, and I couldn't help but make noise. I brought my lips to his, thinking it would mask my cries. It got harder as we sunk into each other. Whimpers leaving my throat, moans escaping through our kiss. He pushed me down, bucking his hips, I straddled him, and he wrapped his arms around my back, switching our position. He was on top now and I was floating below him. My shoulders barely touching the ground, He rested on his knees, his hands clinging to my waist, he began pounding into me. I whined as I felt his tip hit my cervix over and over again.

His breathing was heavy, and he cursed under his breath, He leaned in, my whole body on the ground now, my legs wrapped around his torso as he wrapped his arms around me. All I could do was plead with my whines. We were so passionate, yet making love with such haste like we didn't have all night. Daryl just knew what he was doing; and no one, not even before, could make me feel this good. I cursed under my breath as my body began to fill with pleasure, my nails digging into his skin, he knew I was close and sped up, with every thrust I could feel my climax getting closer. I bit his shoulder, if I made any more noise, I might attract walkers. his rapid breathing heavy in my ear, he sucked on my neck and left kisses in-between.

In the midst of our passion, Daryl pulled out and released onto my stomach, my release following, my chest was heaving up and down as I laid there on the cot. Daryl whipped the sweat from his brow and stood up, grabbing my shirt and shorts for me. He kissed me slowly as he handed me my things, and then kissed my forehead.

I put my clothes back on and he buttoned his vest back up, he laid down beside me, his head resting on his arms. and I followed, resting my head on his bicep, he pulled me in, I could still feel the heat steaming off his skin, he still had a few breaths to catch, I smiled at him, "I've been thinking about doing that all damn day." He admitted. He wrapped his body around mine and we just laid there, listening to the heavy rain on the metal roof. We started drifting off and fell asleep in each other's arms.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

wp: thewriterdoll

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x female reader #the walking dead

192 notes · View notes

teyamskxawng · 11 months

Text

What Once Was [I]

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Neteyam Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Part II here

The rundown: The once unbreakable bond between you and Lo'ak is tested as a newfound connection develops between you and Neteyam

Warnings: language, love triangle, jealousy, miscommunication, angst (i think?), Lo'ak can't handle change, Lo'ak is emotionally immature, everyone is kind of oblivious, characters are aged up

WC: 5.0k

A/N: love triangle fic bc i was feeling messy but i'm kind of struggling to write this... i have absolutely no idea how it's going to end, but we're sticking with it i guess

For as long as you can remember, you and Lo'ak have always been inseparable. Born just days apart, it's like you were destined to grow up side by side, practically attached at the hip. From your most embarrassing moments to your proudest achievements, there was, and still is, rarely a time when the two of you aren't together.

Once a wide-eyed, lanky little girl, you've blossomed into a strong and capable young woman. And it's no different for Lo'ak. The wayward and reckless boy from your childhood has matured both physically and emotionally (sort of) into a man. Neither of you are children anymore. You've outgrown those naive days, stepping into the world of adulthood.

It's all still new and bizarre to you—your sudden awareness of the terrifying looming task of finding a mate, the unexpected influx of second glances and prolonged conversations with the other guys in your clan, the near-constant gossip that there's more to your relationship with Lo'ak than meets the eye. But you figure these little sprinklings of oddities are simply part of the ever-changing journey of growing up.

And throughout all the confusing changes and inexplicable hormones, Lo'ak continues to be your rock. His enormous smile and infectious laughter remain the same; they still possess the power to brighten even your gloomiest days.

To many, he's the olo'eyktan's son; a direct descendant of the esteemed Toruk Makto; the antithesis of his older brother; some four-fingered anomaly to stare at and whisper about. But to you? You've never defined him by any titles or labels. In your eyes, he's simply Lo'ak: the first person you ever called a friend. Stupidly reckless yet fiercely loyal, easily the most annoying person on Pandora yet the one soul you could never live without—you wouldn't have him any other way.

You're forever intertwined through idyllic shared moments: climbing your way up towering trees until your palms were raw with blisters and hurt like hell, egging each other on to reach risky new speeds and daring new heights while soaring through the sky atop your ikran, spending nights wide awake in adjacent hammocks while trying to hold in your childish giggles over idiotic jokes that no one else could possibly understand. The friendship between you and Lo’ak is steadfast and unwavering; nothing can shake the bond you share.

At least, that's what you thought until Neteyam entered the picture.

In all fairness, Neteyam has always been around. He's like a constant presence, just sort of hovering on the periphery of your life. With him being a year older, it used to seem like an entire lifetime separated you during your childhood years. He bore so much responsibility on his shoulders at such a young age yet still held so much respect and admiration from everyone around him. Destined to become the olo'eyktan of your clan and recognized throughout Pandora as an extraordinary hunter, Neteyam grew up as a literal prodigy in every sense of the word.

And despite growing up alongside him and his siblings, Neteyam's awe-inspiring reputation often still makes him seem larger than life—like an ethereal figure rather than someone deeply connected to so many of your childhood memories.

You and Neteyam have always been on friendly terms, but you never reached the same level of closeness as you did with Lo'ak, Kiri, or even Tuk. Your interactions with him typically consist of simple hellos whenever you pass each other in the Sully tent, aimless lighthearted conversations during your joint training sessions, or joining forces to playfully (not really) gang up on Lo'ak in a mutual spirit of camaraderie. Even though these moments are undoubtedly positive and enjoyable, they're also few and far between compared to your experiences with the other Sully kids.

Neteyam always has so much shit to do, so many things to train for, so many duties to obey. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feed into Lo'ak's 'perfect little warrior' quip about Neteyam behind his back.

And when Jake decides to send all of the warriors in your training group on paired week-long hunting trips to put your acquired skills to the test, he doesn't even think twice before shooting down your and Lo'ak's mutual request to team up because he's a heartless, cruel old man he has first-hand experience of the way you and Lo'ak seem to revert back to children in each other's presence.

Lo'ak gets paired with some stony old head who's over twice his age, while you get paired with Neteyam, which actually is alright with you. Neteyam sends you a warm smile when his father points you his way, and you, in turn, shoot a massive grin back at Lo'ak's sad little face.

The hunting trip goes even better than you could've imagined. Throughout the week-long journey, not only do you make a handful of clean kills, but you also manage to break through some of the emotional barriers that Neteyam has always maintained around himself. Behind his protective walls, when he lets his guard down, he's just like any other Na'vi your age—he's witty, charming, and endearing in his own distinctive way.

He's also objectively nice to look at.

So it's really no one's business if you find yourself mesmerized by the muscles rippling across his back as he draws his bowstring, aiming at a fish you should be helping him track. Or if you're too busy admiring the way his tanhì glow in the moonlight to register that he's called your name three times in a row without receiving your response. You're an adult; you’re allowed to admire other men. Besides, Neteyam seems to be blissfully unaware of the fact that he's a heartthrob. He's kind of introverted and shy, yet arguably one of Pandora's most genuine and kind-hearted souls. And honestly? You feel kind of stupid for not taking the time to peel back each layer of his carefully crafted facade and build a deeper friendship with him sooner. It's an unexpected companionship that blossoms during those days spent side by side with Neteyam in Pandora's mesmerizing beauty, and it'll forever be a treasured part of your shared memories.

Upon returning from your week-long hunting trip, it's apparent to just about everyone that something has changed between you and Neteyam. Your bond has deepened, and every moment spent together is more meaningful than before. Your laughter booms louder; your conversations last longer; your shared glances become more playful. To say the experience has brought you closer would be the understatement of the century.

Lo'ak quickly picks up on the not-so-subtle changes in your friendship with his brother.

The shift in dynamics has left him feeling a confusing mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and maybe even (definitely) a tinge of envy. As he watches his brother grow closer to you, he can't help but feel like he's losing the one stable thing in his life—the one person who never mocked him for his avatar blood, never made him feel like an outcast, never picked his brother over him.

Not until now.

It's bullshit. It's like Neteyam doesn't have enough blessings already, like he doesn't have his choice of any other person on Pandora. It just had to be you. With each passing day, Lo'ak feels himself becoming more distant from you and his brother, unsure how to navigate those choppy waters.

Which brings him to today.

The three of you are together, riding your ikran to scout out an uncharted waterfall that you stumbled across while on a solo hunt earlier that week. You practically begged Lo'ak to go back to the waterfall with you, and despite all the emotional commotion clouding Lo'ak's mind, he still decides to join you, hoping that maybe things will return to normal. Just you and him. What he doesn’t know, however, is that you also invited Neteyam to tag along. It’s a surprise Lo'ak discovers only when he arrives at your meeting spot and finds his brother already there, leaning on his ikran and chatting away with you like the two of you are best friends. Neteyam has a stupid smile plastered on his face as he holds your attention, completely oblivious to his brother’s arrival.

He never intended on slipping into this role—the one left behind. But here he is, grappling with feelings he can't totally name or understand; vulnerability mixed with longing, anger chased by guilt.

Childishly, Lo'ak stands there in silence for a good ten seconds before either of you notice his arrival and finally make room for him in your little group.

"Hey," you greet him, a wide grin spreading across your face. But it goes entirely unnoticed by Lo’ak, whose eyes are dead set on his brother. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he can telepathically tell Neteyam to go away.

"You didn't say he was coming," Lo'ak mutters, finally glancing in your direction. Because you didn't. He doesn’t even need to say his name; it’s obvious. The two of you never include his brother in your outings.

Your enthused expression falters at Lo'ak's noticeable lack of excitement or even a simple 'hello' in response to your greeting.

"No…" you begin hesitantly, your eyes darting back and forth between the two brothers before settling once more on Lo'ak. "But Jake got called to High Camp and canceled Neteyam's training session, so I figured he could join us instead."

It must be obvious that your words haven't exactly won Lo'ak over because, at his continued silence, you add, "You know he never gets a break."

Lo'ak's jaw clenches as he just stands there, motionless and marinating in his stubborn silence. In his head, he's cussing out his dad and Max and Norm and everyone else in High Camp for ruining his afternoon. Lo'ak frustratedly bites the inside of his cheek to keep the expletives in before calling out to his ikran. As he waits for his ride, he's still silent and brooding and completely ignoring both you and his brother.

The high-pitched shriek of his banshee echoes off the trees as it approaches from a nearby cliff. It swoops down and lands gracefully in front of Lo'ak, and he reaches out to scratch it behind the ear without a word. Only then does he finally lift his gaze to find you and Neteyam staring at him in bewildered silence.

Neteyam's previously wide eyes squint in confusion when Lo'ak locks eyes with him. Struggling to find the right words, Neteyam asks carefully, "Is that okay with you?" His voice is slow and cautious, as if one wrong move might set Lo'ak off.

Lo'ak responds with a deep sigh that echoes through the air, not even bothering to hide his irritation. Reaching over his shoulder for his queue, he connects to and mounts his ikran in a flash of silent, swift movements. After settling on its back and letting the tense silence steep for a few moments, Lo'ak answers his brother's inquiry with an annoyed shrug of his shoulders and an uptight "Sure."

So, to say that Lo'ak was pissed would be an understatement.

A bubbling cauldron of jealousy and resentment brewed inside him throughout the entire flight to the waterfall. And as all three of you land your ikran onto a nearby patch of grass, his blood continues to seethe with envy. Lo’ak grabs his queue and separates the connection between himself and his ikran. Immediately after doing so, the ikran emits a sharp hiss directly in his face. The creature then abruptly shifts its gaze, evidently fed up about sharing Lo'ak's unnerving emotions through their bond. Lo'ak knows it's immature to be so upset over something so seemingly insignificant, but it still gnaws at him relentlessly. So much so that the prospect of seeing the waterfall doesn't even excite him anymore. The entire outing feels overshadowed by the looming presence of his brother.

Clearly though, you feel the complete opposite way. You're practically vibrating in anticipation, each beat of your ikran's wings drawing you closer to the ground. As soon as you land, you hurriedly shower your ikran in affection with a few loving pats on its flank before quickly dismounting and happily leading the way toward the waterfall.

Lo'ak and Neteyam have to jog a little to keep up with your enthusiastic pace as you navigate through the dense forest landscape. You're a good ten steps ahead of them, deftly bobbing and weaving beneath low-hanging branches while simultaneously working to untie the armband from around your bicep. Your figure keeps disappearing from Lo'ak's view—vanishing behind veils of cascading leaves one moment and leaping over boulders the next as you determinedly forge ahead. It’s like you’ve never been outside before.

Finally, he catches sight of you, standing triumphantly at the base of a colossal rocky wall. Rising above you is a mind-blowing waterfall that makes Lo'ak pause in his tracks. It stands so tall and roars so loud that he momentarily forgets all about his shitty mood. No amount of grumbling or sarcasm can compete with, or diminish, the raw power of the wonder that lies before him. A thick mist envelops the base where the water comes crashing down, blurring the boundary between the waterfall and the pool below. Beams of daylight pierce through the airborne water droplets, casting vibrant spectrums of color that seem almost alive as they dance across the expanse of the creek.

Using both hands, you gather your braids away from your face and retrieve the armband from its position clenched firmly between your teeth. Your back faces Lo'ak as you drink in the mesmerizing sight before you, and your excitement is practically bubbling over as you shout over the roar of the waterfall, "Isn't it amazing? I told you, I've never seen anything so beautiful."

The blend of mist, light, and color casts a glowing halo around your figure as you secure your hair with the band, and Lo'ak is momentarily entranced. His breaths are a little shallow as he nods wordlessly at your back, not really processing your words, but fully convinced of them nonetheless.

Your head tilts back as you crane your neck to further examine the sprawling wall of rock. "It's kind of a climb to get to the top," you warn. Lo'ak can practically see the gears turning in your head as you map out the best route up, the strategic warrior in you taking over. When your focused attention finally returns to Lo'ak and Neteyam, there's a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. "We should race," you challenge them with a grin.

The rugged, nearly vertical incline is intimidating but definitely doable. Lo'ak knows you're a skilled climber; the two of you spent your childhood scaling trees together. He fondly recalls days spent scrambling up trees and challenging each other to reach the highest branches. It felt like the biggest accomplishment in the world when you'd both reach the summit of Hometree. You'd bask in the view of the forest from the canopy until your parents inevitably tracked you down and scolded you for your reckless behavior.

You practically made climbing trees your entire personalities until Lo'ak's dumbass had to go and fall out of one. It left him with a nasty purple bruise that was way too big to hide, and when he went to his grandmother for healing, you were both unceremoniously banned from your cherished little hobby. It wasn't even that high up, but you've never let him live it down—constantly (and only half-jokingly) claiming that the accident is the sole reason he's a little off in the head.

The memory makes Lo'ak's lips twitch into a grin, and he's about to remind you of that nostalgic day when Neteyam speaks up.

"I guess it's good we didn’t invite monkey boy," Neteyam says, entirely serious. He's gazing up at the rocky enclosure in determination, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh daylight before turning back to face you.

Your face scrunches up in confusion as you ask, “Who?”

Neteyam just nods at you before clarifying, “Spider.”

Lo'ak watches as you're silent for a few beats before you break out into a slow, wide grin and let out a loud snort of laughter.

Lo'ak has to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes, because nothing that Neteyam said warranted that kind of reaction. The remark wasn't even supposed to be funny; their whole family has been calling Spider by that nickname ever since he was little. But of course, the first time you hear that piece of information, it has to come from none other than Neteyam. And Lo'ak just has to stand there in silence like a third wheel for the umpteenth time that day.

You’re barely able to string together words through your uncontrollable bubbles of laughter. "My Eywa," you gasp out, your eyes squeezed shut as you shake your head in disbelief. Finally catching your breath, you implore him lightheartedly, "You need to tell jokes more often, Neteyam. I’m serious."

Lo'ak knows that you're probably being a little sarcastic and a little serious at the same time, but either way, it's not like Neteyam knows that. He's just beaming back at you with that same dopey look on his face as he basks in your amusement.

"I will…?" comes Neteyam's response, almost as if it were a question or a statement requiring some kind of validation. Lo'ak watches as you extend an arm to playfully nudge the back of his brother's head. This time, Lo'ak does roll his eyes as the two of you fall into a cycle of tugging on each other's braids and tails like a pair of five-year-olds.

And it's been like this more and more often lately: Neteyam showering you with attention, you grinning from ear to ear and laughing at every single word that leaves his lips. It's irritating. And it gets even worse.

You finally manage to sneak out of Neteyam's reach, refocusing your sight on the towering wall ahead.

"I'll go first," you declare confidently, surveying the wall from top to bottom as you adjust the bow and arrows securely fastened to your back. You locate a small protrusion in the rock's rough surface and firmly position your foot into the crevice, your fingers searching for a higher ledge to grip. Finding one, you propel your entire body upwards with a determined leap.

Lo'ak, unable to suppress his competitive inner child, is soon hot on your heels. From the moment you both mastered your bow and arrow, taking down your prey with clean precision, to the day you tamed and forged a bond with each of your ikran, your combined spirit of friendly competition has fueled a relentless desire to outdo each other.

And today is no different.

"Bro, wait up!" Lo'ak shouts, his voice cutting through the cool mountain air. "I thought you said we were racing!" He scrambles onto the wall beside you, his eyes locked on your every move. Your quick hands and feet expertly navigate the rough, uneven surface of the rock wall, leading the way up.

"We are," you retort, not even sparing a glance at him as you carefully calculate each handhold and foothold. You keep your focus on the task at hand, stretching your arm out to grab a rock to your far left.

Lo'ak extends his arm to grip the same rock you just occupied. He's well aware and not at all ashamed of the fact that he's blatantly copying your every move now—anything to keep up with your quick pace.

"Then why'd you start without us?" he manages to ask, a little bit out of breath.

"So you can watch and learn," you reply confidently, a smug smile playing at the corners of your lips. Your outstretched foot reaches over just enough to give Lo'ak's shoulder a teasing little nudge.

"Txanfwìngtu," Lo'ak mutters under his breath, but clearly not quiet enough. The unmistakable sound of his brother's disapproving "Lo'ak" reverberates through the air behind him. You whip your head in Lo'ak's direction before half-heartedly hissing at him. Your attempt at intimidation quickly dissolves into barely-contained laughter as you revel in the look of pure irritation on Lo'ak's face.

You're still laughing as you resume climbing, but as you take your next step, you miscalculate your foot's placement on the rugged surface and momentarily lose your balance, whispering a soft "shit." But before you even have a chance to panic, you quickly catch yourself and regain your footing like it's nothing. Because it isn't.

But Neteyam, the picture-perfect angel that he is, doesn't hesitate to reach out and steady you from his spot standing right behind you, even though you're barely as high off the ground as Tuk's height and it's obvious you're not going to fall.

Lo'ak’s brows furrow as he watches your entire body tense up the instant Neteyam's hands wrap around your waist.

Something ugly swirls in Lo'ak's stomach as he notices the way his brother's eyes are practically glued to your waist, his fingers lingering on you for a few beats too long for it to feel friendly anymore. It's not until you turn your head over your shoulder to meet Neteyam's gaze that he actually has the presence of mind to shift his eyes up toward yours and let go of your middle.

"Sorry," he mumbles, so quiet and timid that you'd think he was lying if he told you he was the future leader of the entire clan.

"No, no, it's okay. Thank you," you say with a smile, clearly trying to brush it off and diffuse any lingering awkwardness from the situation. You turn back around and resume your ascent like nothing, but it doesn't escape Lo'ak's notice that he can detect the distinct scent of your arousal in the air, as clear as day.

It's a natural reaction, something Lo'ak has noticed before in various situations without any cause for concern. He'd usually just tease you about it, and that would be that. But today is different. Seeing his brother so close to you and knowing how easily those kinds of emotions can rise to the surface because of his presence makes something ugly swirl in Lo'ak's stomach.

Lo'ak has become increasingly agitated by your budding friendship with his brother ever since that week-long hunting trip you shared with him. And now? Now he's just confused. Everything feels so different. He's almost positive that there's something more going on between you and Neteyam—something deeper than just a normal, platonic friendship. The nagging feeling inside him refuses to go away, and he can't understand why it hurts so much.

You and Lo'ak have always been best friends—nothing more and nothing less. He's watched you talk to other men in the clan. There were countless instances where guys would boldly make a pass at you, even with Lo'ak standing right there by your side. But he'd always just laugh it off or poke fun at you. Because deep down, he's confident none of them are truly worthy of you, and nothing serious will ever come out of those flirtations.

But things are different now. Along came Neteyam—the perfect little warrior son who defies each and every one of those odds. Lo'ak can't ignore the fact that his brother is more than good enough for you. In fact, Neteyam is probably one of the few clan members who could actually be considered suitable for someone like you. This harsh truth strikes Lo'ak like a massive weight dropping on his chest.

Because of this, it's increasingly difficult for Lo'ak to shake off the nagging suspicion that something must've happened between the two of you. His mind is practically racing as thoughts of what could have transpired between you and Neteyam play over and over again inside his head like a dissonant, never-ending loop. Because what the fuck was that back at the bottom of the waterfall? Even now, your scent lingers in the air like a constant reminder of how Neteyam put his hands on you, cruelly etched into Lo'ak's memory.

He tries to focus on anything else but that moment: the lush forest surrounding the waterfall, the light filtering through the rustling leaves above, a stingbat hanging from a tree branch. He even tries taking deep breaths to calm himself down, but nothing works. It's like the soundtrack of his thoughts can't be silenced. He's a swirling vortex of anger, confusion, and betrayal, demanding an outlet to release all the pent-up turmoil.

So as soon as the little waterfall outing is all said and done and you all return to Hometree, Lo'ak swiftly grabs Neteyam's arm, pulling him aside. A puzzled expression sweeps across Neteyam's features, which only fuels Lo'ak's rising frustration over the entire situation. But the tense silence hanging in the air is cut short by your concerned voice.

"Is everything okay?" You inquire, your wide eyes dancing back and forth between the two brothers, searching for some kind of explanation.

Lo'ak's eyes, previously burning with rage, soften as they shift from his brother to your worried face. You just have that effect on him.

With a brief nod of his head and a forced grin, Lo'ak tries to casually address your concerns. "Yeah, don't worry about it. I just need to talk to Neteyam about something." Sensing the tension ebbing away, he loosens his previously iron grip on his brother's arm, finally allowing it to drop altogether. "We'll catch up with you later."

Lo'ak holds his breath as you narrow your eyes at him, your face a clear mask of suspicion given his not-at-all-reassuring response. Your eyes dart toward Neteyam, who only offers you a shrug and a half-hearted smile. But clearly, he doesn't fully understand what's happening either.

Lo'ak doesn't let out the breath he's holding until you give him a reluctant nod in agreement before walking away.

Lo'ak's eyes are glued to your retreating form as you walk away, pushing past a group of low-hanging vines and disappearing into the distance. He refuses to tear his gaze away until he feels confident that you're far enough from him and his brother. With his heart pounding in his chest, he turns to face Neteyam, his eyes filled with accusation.

Without bothering to offer any preamble or context, he bluntly demands to know: "Did you fuck her?" This question has consumed him for what feels like an eternity—days melting into weeks.

Neteyam just blinks at Lo'ak, caught off-guard by the explosive confrontation. His forehead wrinkles, and his eyes squint towards his younger brother, clearly puzzled by the unexpectedness of the question. As shock gives way to disbelief, all he can muster in response is an incredulous "Are you serious?"

Lo'ak shoots back with a sarcastic huff of laughter, but his expression is anything but amused. "Dead serious, bro," he confirms, punctuating the statement with a firm nod of his head.

Neteyam's hands reach up seemingly unconsciously as they rake through his braids in clear frustration before rubbing at the sides of his temples. His eyes squeeze shut as he takes a moment to process the incredulity of it all before shaking his head and sighing heavily in exasperation.

He finally opens his eyes again and answers with unwavering certainty. "No," he replies with conviction, locking eyes with his brother to drive home the sincerity of his words.

Although Lo'ak finally feels a hint of relief surge through him at Neteyam's denial, the rage he's been harboring toward the entire situation continues to seethe just beneath the surface.

"But you want to, right?" he questions, his voice laced with a touch of hysteria, his frustration boiling over. "You just can't help yourself from taking the one person in my life who actually cares about me? You're that fucking selfish?" Lo'ak's mind races as he rambles on, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. His fists clench tightly at his sides, just itching to find their way to his brother's face.

Neteyam seems genuinely taken aback by Lo'ak's sudden outburst. He actually has the nerve to look like he's in disbelief. "That's not fair, and you know it," Neteyam says, his voice carrying a hint of hurt.

Lo'ak scoffs at Neteyam's defense, shaking his head in frustration. "Not fair? You're so full of shit," Lo'ak fires back. Because Neteyam will never understand. His life is picture-perfect. He doesn't have to carry the burden of being the second-born son—always the second thought, always living in someone else's shadow. He'll never get it.

Neteyam tries to reason with Lo'ak, his voice calm and pleading as if he's carefully picking each word to tread lightly on volatile ground. "Look, Lo'ak," he begins, his words measured like he'd practiced them already. It wouldn't really shock Lo'ak if that was the case.

"Y/n and I appreciate each other's company, but it's never crossed the boundaries of friendship. Still, I don't see why that matters. You told me the two of you are just friends, right?"

Lo'ak's silence hangs heavy in the air, as if the weight of the truth is finally sinking in. Neteyam's words weren't untrue; Lo'ak can't deny them. There were rumors floating around about you and him supposedly courting each other, barely over a year ago. You and he just laughed about it before mutually shutting everything down because you weren't anything more than friends. Aren't anything more than friends. But now the memories of those rumored whispers haunt him, like they're laughing at how stupid and confused he is about everything concerning you all of a sudden.

Lo'ak hesitates for what seems like an eternity, drawing a knowing smile from Neteyam, who then places a firm hand on top of Lo'ak's head like he's a little kid. The gesture only serves to intensify the fire burning within Lo'ak. Neteyam doesn't know anything about his friendship with you.

Frustration and anger bubble up within Lo'ak as he forcefully wrenches his brother's arm away from him. "Get your hands off me," he mumbles, taking several steps back to put some distance between them. "And keep your hands off y/n," he adds as an afterthought, his voice bitter with resentment.

The air between the two brothers is thick with tension and unresolved emotions. It's like a storm, just waiting to break loose. Their bond has always been iffy, but at this moment, it feels like it could be severed altogether by the thin thread barely keeping them connected.

It's too much.

Without another word, Lo'ak turns and walks away, each of his footsteps heavy with the weight of his tormenting feelings.

A/N: This feels so dramatic?? Lmfao this is exactly why I don't write angst, but I do have a second part sitting in my drafts 😼

Next part here

413 notes · View notes

g0ry0re0 · 12 days

Text

"Two Sugars" - Part 2, Derek Danforth (The Beekeeper, 2024, Film) - Imagine

Description: As promised by Derek Danforth himself, an at-home coffee date takes a turn for the not-so-unexpected. / Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

General Notes: 18+, MDNI!!, Pure Smut, Some Plot (barely), Gender Neutral Reader (no use of Y/N, no mention of specific genitalia, "hole" and "entrance" are used), A Little Bit Of Nipple Play, Not-Sanitary Kitchen Sex, Oral Sex (reader and derek), Use Of Lube And Spit, Fingering (reader), Penetrative Sex (reader), No Use Of A Condom, Creampie (reader), Second Person POV, Use Of Pet Names ("sugar", "baby", "pretty thing"), Dirty Talk/Banter, Some Degradation (toward reader, "slut"), Some Praise (toward reader), Use Of Curse Words (derek says fuck a lot + others), A Little Bit Of Abuse Of Power, Reader Has A Little Internal Dialogue (italics)

Author's Note: Author's first smut! Lol. This took a lot, so I'm totally open to any critiques regarding this! This is also officially the longest thing I've ever written on Tumblr. Shoutout to @anal-spaghetti-monster for helping proofread this! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,712 Words

Part 1

This car was way too fancy for your taste. You nervously pull down on your top as you look around, fiddling with the edge of it and slightly fraying the ends. It's got practically an entire bar lined up behind the driver and a goddamn sunroof. You're almost tempted to stand out of it like you're straight out of a coming-of-age film. Are those all-around seat warmers? You continue to ogle at the intricacies of the vehicle currently taking you to a billionaire's house. Your boss's house. This was almost too much for you to handle.

Before you can spiral over the thought, the car pulls into an extremely lavish-looking mansion, completely glazing over any thoughts you have on the mode of transportation. The vehicle stops and the driver runs around the car to open the door for you, holding his hand out and almost bowing as you step out of the car.

"O-oh," you stutter out, not used to this sort of treatment. "Thank you."

You look up toward the large staircase leading to the mansion's front door and see a figure standing at the top. You can see smoke flowing from the figure briefly before dissipating. The wind blowing made you realize you forgot to bring a coat. You shiver as you walk up the stairs to meet the figure, which you can see clearer now. Mr. Danforth himself. He was smiling as he took another hit from his pen, blowing the smoke toward you with little remorse. Once the smoke clears, you take in his attire. He hadn't changed. Still wearing that ugly green print button-up and orange jacket. Still very tacky. He sticks his pen in his pocket and reaches his hand out to you, still smiling.

"Hey, sugar."

You roll your eyes playfully, smiling back as you reach your hand out toward his. He brings your hand up to his lips. Ever the charmer...

"Come on in." He gently pulls you closer to him and leads you inside his house, the door being opened by another one of his staff members.

Derek walks in first, taking you with him as he lets you look around. The inside was just as impressive as you imagined it'd be. It was more formal than you anticipated, but still expensive-looking nonetheless.

"Nice, right?" He smiles at you, looking you up and down.

"It is...really nice..." You trail off, still taking in your surroundings.

You're not sure if you've ever even been in a mansion before. He lets you admire for a few moments longer before breaking the silence.

"Well, I did promise you coffee, didn't I? Follow me."

He pulls you away, fixing your gaze back to him and leading you to an adjacent room. The kitchen, where a couple of his staff members are standing at attention, waiting for him to bark whatever orders he has at them. He shoos them away with a wave of his hand before turning back to you. Well, alright, I guess. You make a bit of a face, unintentionally, causing Derek to glance at you.

"Don't worry about them, baby."

He drops your hand and looks toward a large bar-looking wall in the kitchen, affixing your attention to it as well.

"This," he gestures to that section, "is my drink bar. Coffee, teas, cocktails, mocktails. You name it, I got it."

You stand there, gaze fixed on the counter in awe. He doesn't give you a chance to say anything before speaking again.

"I can make you anything you want. Flat white, matcha latte, piña colada..." He trails off before looking back at you. "A black coffee with two sugars." He adds teasingly.

You give him a knowing smile before moving closer. He lets you walk around it, observing its many details for a few minutes. A Jura double brew machine? A Simonelli espresso maker? Not to mention, a million different kinds of liquor and juices. How could someone even fathom owning this much stuff?

He looks you up and down without your knowledge, taking his time ogling at your curves. Both of you are in awe of different things. When you take a moment to lean on the counter, Derek makes a bold move of coming up behind you, pressing you against the edge with his hands on your hips. You gasp and try to look back at him, almost unsuccessfully because of the angle. He rubs his hands along your clothes waist.

Bringing his lips close to your ear, he purrs, "I think we all know why you're really here though, sugar."

You knew this was going to happen, he wasn't subtle about it even in the office. But it still took you by surprise, how quickly he got into it. You can feel him start to press kisses to the back of your neck, recapturing your attention. Derek begins lifting the slightly frayed edge of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin on his slightly cold hands. He leaves a few pecks behind your ear before speaking.

"This alright?" He asks, giving you a tender squeeze.

You nod your head, reveling in the feeling of his touch, which is visibly overwhelming your senses.

He makes a noise of disapproval. "Need to hear words, sugar, or we're not doing this."

"Y-yes. Please." You almost can't believe how eager you were already. You can only hope that having sex with your boss doesn't have that terrible of repercussions.

He hums in approval now. "There they are." He comments, almost to himself.

He lifts your top up higher, ghosting his fingers over your skin, his touch warmer now. You shiver for the second time that night. You allow him to pull your top over your head and toss it somewhere on the floor before you turn around. His hands slide further up your waist, getting closer to your chest as he looks up at you for permission.

"Wait." You pause as he looks at you with concern. "What if someone comes in?" You whisper and Derek chuckles.

"Trust me, no one will come in. I made sure of that."

You hesitantly let out a breathless, "Yeah, okay," before he brings his hand up, toying with both of your nipples. You release some soft noises as he lightly twists and runs his thumbs over your now stiff peaks. He brings his mouth down to one of them and moves his tongue, circling it. He gently bites down while pulling on the other and looks up at you.

You look back down at him as he starts kissing up your chest, making his way up to your neck where he leaves little love bites. He sucks on your skin in between soft bites, making his way up and down your chest, marking you as his. He makes his way back up, leaving kisses on your jaw before finally making his way to your lips, pausing briefly. You nod, his lips already practically pressed against yours, your breaths mingling.

He goes in for the kill, pressing his lips on yours fully. Your lips molded together feel like heaven, smacking against one another in the wettest, messiest way possible. His hands go from messing with your chest to groping your waist. To pushing on your hips. To fondling that fat of your thighs. Your hands weren't doing much different, one hand gripping and rubbing his shoulder. The other was tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging lightly, causing him to let out some groans into your mouth.

He pulls away enough to talk with his lips still pressed to yours. "You're driving me insane..." He breathes into you.

He bites your bottom lip to open your mouth up to his, shoving his tongue in unceremoniously. You're letting out soft noises of pleasure in his mouth, enjoying what little he's giving you, but you need more. You give his shoulder a squeeze, breaking away from one another after a few moments with a string of spit connecting you both. He maintains eye contact as he lowers his body, dropping to his knees in front of you, and running his hands along you as he goes. It feels almost surreal, to see the CEO of the company you work at submit to you, wanting to please you.

He begins to pull down your bottoms, still maintaining eye contact, taking your undergarments with them. You let him pull them down, stepping out of your shoes before kicking them away. He leaves a mix of sloppy kisses and harsher bites on your shins, calves, and thighs as he makes his way closer to your throbbing arousal. You wince every time he leaves a bite, but it feels undeniably so good.

The tension in the room was so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Derek looks up at you one last time before finally putting his mouth on you, causing you to let out a loud moan before you slap your hand over your mouth. He circles his tongue while he pinches your thigh, signaling that he wants you to uncover your mouth, which you do reluctantly. He alternates between sucking and licking before moving down to your entrance, wetting it in preparation.

He brings your leg up on his shoulder as he focuses on your hole, every once in a while sticking his tongue in, stretching you out just enough to keep you on the edge. Your core tightens as tears line your eyes and you bring a hand down to tangle in his bleached, curly hair again; the other gripping the counter for dear life. The air is filled with the wet sounds of Derek stroking your flesh with his tongue and your nearly pornographic-sounding moans. There's no way his staff can't hear you two right now. A rush of embarrassment runs through you before you realize that he probably does this enough to where they're used to it.

Before you can let that thought spiral, you feel Derek groan in you before slowly removing your leg from his shoulder and rising back up to your level. Wordlessly, he brings a hand up to your face, almost tenderly ghosting his thumb over your chin. Before you can lean in for another kiss, he holds his middle and ring finger up to your lips. Knowing immediately what he wants, you take his fingers in your mouth. Derek bites back a groan as you seductively swirl your tongue around his fingers, lubing them up for what you're sure he's going to do.

"Good slut..." He says offhandedly, almost moaning it before pulling them out of your mouth with a wet-sounding pop.

He makes his way back down your body, still keeping eye contact as he puts your leg back over his shoulder. He brings his fingers to your entrance and delicately circles it, teasing you. Just as he pouts his mouth back on you, he slowly inserts his fingers, stretching you open slightly. As his fingers and mouth bring you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure, you focus on chasing it as his fingers scissor you open.

"Fuck...oh, Derek. God..."

Your stomach tightens again and your legs threaten to give out as you let out the loudest noises you think you've ever made. Derek can feel your hole fluttering around his fingers, which makes him groan into your flesh again. Before you can even think of reaching your peak, Derek pulls out his fingers and makes his way back up to you, getting face-to-face.

"How ya doin', pretty thing?" Derek inquires playfully, going back to toying with your nipples.

You take a moment to catch your breath, only egging Derek on even more.

"What's that? Cat got your tongue?" Cheeky bastard...

"You're good at that." You finally whisper, not able to say much.

He laughs a bit.

"I can think of a few other things I'm good at." He pinches one of your nipples.

"'M gonna fuck you so good you won't wanna sit down for long at the office tomorrow. Then I'll fuck you some more. How about that?"

"Please." You breathe out desperately.

He leans in to kiss you once more, even messier this time, teeth practically clashing from the eagerness on both of your parts. Feeling bolder, you bring your hand gripping the counter down to Derek's waistband, gently running your fingers across it, asking for permission. He smiles into the kiss and pulls away, only slightly.

"Go ahead, sugar, I'm all yours."

This gives you the confidence to reach into his pants and grasp at his dick, still concealed by his boxers. As you grope him, you realize just how underdressed you are in comparison and look up at him. He looks back at you, biting his lip to conceal his noises as you bring your hands to remove his jacket, dropping it to the ground. Then you bring your hands down to unbutton his shirt, going at a faster pace. He tears off his button-up and you run your hands over his now-exposed chest after throwing it somewhere in the kitchen.

You slowly get down on your knees as you pull down his pants and he rests his hand on your head. You look up at him as you pull down his boxers, his length slapping up to his stomach causing him to hiss. You start to tentatively run your fingertip up the side of his member, tracing a prominent vein; you didn't want to tease him for too long, though. Both of you were too excited for that. You grip him softly and run your tongue along his tip, smearing his precum around before finally wrapping your lips around the first few inches. Derek is having trouble stifling his noises now, as he has been letting out whimpers with every little touch you provide him. You rest one of your hands on his tensed stomach now, almost comfortingly, and your other hand is wrapped around the base of his shaft as you take most of him in your mouth.

"Your mouth feels so fuckin' perfect..." He trails off, nearly mumbling.

Looking up at his minuscule expressions, you start bobbing your head at a slow pace, using your hand on what you can’t fit in your mouth. Derek grips the back of your head harder, now freely letting out moans of pleasure as he moves your head to go faster. You pull off briefly to let a glob of spit drip down onto him, spreading it along the length with your hand before putting him back in your mouth. You can start to feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag lightly, even more drool dripping down the corners of your mouth. He looks down at you, bliss written all over his face, eyes drooping as he tries to look at the mess you’ve become underneath him. He begins thrusting into your mouth, gently at first, getting a feel for your mouth and your tolerance before he starts thrusting a bit harder, gripping your scalp.

“God, you look so fucking good choking on my cock.”

Before you can process it, he pulls you off of him, nearly yanking you up by your shoulders and stepping out of his black pants, kicking them off somewhere on the floor along with his shoes. He turns you around and bends you over the bar as he presses kisses to your lower back.

“You get off on this, baby? Sleeping with your boss?” He taunts. “You get off on fucking the CEO of the company you work at?” He mirrors his words from earlier that day as he runs his hands along your sides.

All you can let out is a meek moan as he laughs.

“Too fucked out already to talk?” He asks and moves his hand down to repeat the pinch of the skin on your thigh playfully.

You can feel him leave for a moment so you briefly turn around. You see him rifling through his pants pocket before finding what he wanted: a bottle of lube. This asshole… You raise an eyebrow at him as he smirks.

“Can never be too prepared, right, sugar?” He teases.

“So, you can have lube at the ready but not a condom?” You ask, jokingly, gaining your voice back.

He looks back at you, giving you a goofy smile. “Feels better without one, baby. You know that.”

You roll your eyes as he pours a more-than-generous amount on his middle fingers before moving them back to your entrance. He presses his free hand on your lower back to bend you further over the counter as he circles your hole. You whimper out of desperation and push yourself back, wanting more. He presses harder on your back to keep you still as he finally inserts his fingers, gently loosening you up and providing the stimulation you need. You can feel the excess lube dripping down your legs, making a mess on the kitchen floor. After a few blissful moments, he slowly pulls his fingers out, watching the way you clench around nothing as his fingers fully leave your body.

“Fuck, look at you, baby.” He slurs as he presses your face into the surface with his clean, dry hand.

Finally, he lines himself up with your lubed-up entrance. He doesn’t take the time to tease you before he slowly begins to ease himself in, inch by inch. The stretch almost burns as he slowly bottoms out. After a few moments, his hips are connected with yours and he stills for a minute, causing the burning feeling to only grow slightly.

Derek groans. “Jesus, fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbled, starting to ramble.

“So fucking good,” he repeats, starting to move inside of you, only a little bit at first; quite gentle as he was getting a feel for you. One of his hands was holding your hip, pushing it against the edge of the countertop, causing it to dig into your hip bone almost painfully. The other was still pressing your face on top of the surface roughly. The roughness didn’t stop there, as Derek began to thrust harder and with longer strokes, moving even faster after a few minutes.

The only sounds that could be heard in the kitchen were your meek whimpers, Derek’s groans, and the lewd slaps of wet skin on skin. You began to move your own body with his as much as you could under his grip, and he let you. Both of you move in unison, sounds of absolute sin filling the air making the scene an unruly picture for anyone who might walk in. Your eyes start to roll to the back of your head as you muttered nonsensical strings of curses along with some sobs and wails.

Derek runs the hand that was previously on your hip along your back, smearing it with lube as you are now fully moving with him. “You’re driving me insane. You look so fucking good like this. Bent over my bar, stuffed full of my cock, in my fucking mansion.”

“You’re mine.” He growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

The mix of lube, spit, and precum you could feel building up inside of you, slicking each little movement, was an intoxicating feeling for the both of you. Derek was letting out little whimpers now as your moans got louder.

“Been thinkin’ about this all day.” He mutters out, his pace growing even faster. “God, you’re such a whore. Fucking your boss like this. Bet you do this everywhere you’ve worked.”

His thrusts start to falter, the harshness rising in intensity as you ground your ass against him harder. Derek pulled you away from the counter roughly and reached around you, stroking your heat. You started grasping at nothing, your fingers curling on the cold marble surface as your back arched. Without warning, Derek hit a spot inside you that had you yelling, your screams and chants of his name being heard as you finally came. Both of you could feel your hole clenching hard around Derek’s length as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby.” Derek slurred as his body stuttered.

Your release covered Derek’s hand as his hips stilled, pumping hot ropes of cum inside of you. He only moved a little bit as he hits his peak, just to feel his own cum being pushed deeper into you. You both stay still after a few moments, catching your breath and coming down from your simultaneous orgasms. Derek stayed inside of you for longer than you expected, causing you to finally look back at him, eyebrows raised. He smirks back at you, rubbing his hands soothingly along your waist again.

“What? I like being inside you.” He slaps your ass playfully as he pulls out, both of you moaning at the loss as his release and lube run down your legs and drip onto the tiles below.

You turn around to face him for the first time in a while and look at one another. Derek brings his hand up to your chin for the second time that night, tenderly running his thumb along your lips as you maintain eye contact. He glanced at your lips before pressing them together, the softest he’d done all night, contrasting almost every move he’d made since you arrived at his place. Despite being taken by surprise at his softness, you kiss back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck as his other hand grips your hip. He pulls away and looks at you, an indescribable look in his eyes before smiling. He pulls away and walks over to the Jura machine, just beside you, and starts the coffee maker with the press of a button. He grabs two coffee mugs from the cupboard above you and places them down before glancing at you.

“Look like you need something to wake you up.” He turns to smirk at you for the millionth time that night, and definitely not the last time.

“Two sugars?” He inquires, holding up two fingers.

You smile back, turning your body towards him to the best of your ability, your legs shaking. “Two sugars.”

I have a little one-shot for this AU (?) planned, so keep an eye out because I'm pretty excited about it!

Masterlist Link

Divider: saradika and saradika-graphics on tumblr

Gif: mockingjaysnakes

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #derek danforth #derek danforth x reader #x reader #derek danforth x gn!reader #derek danforth smut #smut #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #x you #x you smut #imagine #derek danforth imagine #the beekeeper #katykat235 #g0ry0re0

132 notes · View notes

the-oracles-maw · 4 months

Text

headcanons: miguel o'hara x aroace/aspec! SO

me, an aspec writer when there's no aroace/aspec Miguel x reader bc it's all either smut or angst:

from my previous comments I got on the first time I wrote this, people have pointed out that Miguel could very much be Demi, and I am all over that.

I mean look at the man, analyze the man. Behold: a man. He's juggling protecting multiple realities and commanding spider people from said realities. Finding a partner is probably the last thing on his mind.

Look, you know the man is sculpted to perfection. He reminds you of Michelangelo's masterpieces walking from their mantles.

That didn't necessarily mean you wanted to stick him inside of you or vice versa.

This? This doesn't make Miguel feel insecure in the slightest.

I headcanon that Miguel knows how good-looking he is. He's long grown numb to the stares from men and women alike.

You think this man's never seen a mirror before

Some bold sumbitches have probably even come up to hit on him directly.

He noticed quickly you don't look at him like many people look at him. He noticed how innuendoes towards you went completely over your head. He noticed you didn't quite understand the subtle outrage from some of the spiders when you called him a "complete dick" once.

He knew that outrage wasn't over that he was a figure of authority.

You humble the hell out of him. One of his favorite things about you is that he has to work for you. You're not swayed by his sex appeal.

He finds that that makes you interesting. Very interesting.

It also make him fee.l.. human? Like he's not a prime cut of meat to be chewed up and spit out.

He loves that most about you.

Of course, at first, you're none the wiser to this.

Like all eventual emotions that arise in every relationship, you begin to have your doubts.

Is Miguel even satisfied with you? Are you... depriving him because of your orientation?

Plus, there's so many beautiful men and women in Nueva York.

Miguel is quick to assure you that you're more than enough for him.

Of course, eventually, someone does say something, and goes too far.

You return to your shared apartment, that is conveniently adjacent to the Spider Society headquarters. Miguel immediately notices your shift in mood, as the usual pep in your step isn't there. Knowing that you'll talk when you're ready, he lets it go.

You both settle in for a little movie night on the sofa. Snuggled against your man, you hardly pay attention to the movie, and then begin acting strange.

Rubbing against him, running your hands up and down his pectorals, attempting to straddle in his lap-

Miguel immediately knew something wasn't right.

Of course, Miguel wasn't one to protest your affections, but he could tell you were forcing it. The touches, the kisses, they weren't all there.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing, mi chulo/chula? What's-hey, hey, no more of that okay?" He pauses to push your hands away from him- "What's all this about? What's wrong?"

"Don't look at me like that, I know something's wrong. I know you're putting on an act." He takes both of your hands in his, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. "I know you, babe. I know when you walk different. I could tell something was wrong when you came home tonight."

"Well," you begin. "It's going to sound dumb," you're cut off by him. "It won't. It's bothering you." He leans over to place a kiss on your forehead. "Come on, baby. What's the matter? Is it me?"

"No! Not at all, actually, it's me."

Subtle outrage is scary. Miguel doesn't show it, but he's totally fuming over what your coworker had said to you. You were excited to introduce Miguel as your boyfriend.

"And you mean to tell me you and that... oh wow, supermodel haven't done it yet? Haven't you been together for, like what, two years?"

"That's pretty amazing. I don't know how I could ever stay in a sexless relationship, much less two years. I admire your self-control."

You weren't dumb. You caught that subtle jab. But couldn't help but wonder if they had a point. Miguel could have just about anyone he wanted. Why you? Why someone he could potentially never have sex with?

"Hey now, you listen to me, yeah?" Miguel withdraws his hands from yours and wraps your arms around you. "I, am, more than satisfied with you." "You," he emphasized his point by placing a finger on your chest. "Make me feel more than fulfilled. We don't have to have sex for me to love you as much as I do. We never had to. And still look at us."

He smiled down at you, "You think I'm gonna throw this beautiful thing we have between us away for a quick fuck? Be serious, mi amor."

You tighten your hug around your boyfriend, and suppressed giggles as he placed chaste little kisses on your collarbone. "We may get there, we may not. But none of that changes how I feel about you. How I love you. Got that?"

"Mn," you sighed. "I understand."

"Bien. Muy bien." Miguel placed a kiss on your forehead. "How's about we call it an early night, hm? Want me to carry you to bed?"

108 notes · View notes

niki-phoria · 7 months

Text

⋆｡°✩ celebrating spooky season with enha

includes: various halloween adjacent scenarios, lots of fluff lol, forgive me if some of these are a little repetitive

a/n: inspired by this prompt list by @novelbear !!

gn reader (no pronouns used)

⋆｡°✩ heeseung

heeseung startles beside you when a loud crack of thunder interrupts your previously quiet apartment. a soft chuckle escapes you as he presses himself against your side. “don’t be such a scaredy cat,” you tease, reaching over to reassuringly pat his thigh. “relax. it was just some lightning.”

“i’m not,” he whines, though you don’t miss the way he startles when yet another flash of lightning illuminates your previously dark apartment once more. “it’s just… i’m not a fan of thunderstorms.”

you gently tighten your hold around his body, tugging heeseung even closer to you. he leans back against your chest, curling even further into your side. your touch is gentle as you rub a comforting hand against his side. “i’m sure the storm will pass soon.”

“i know,” he nods. shifting slightly, you turn to look out the window. raindrops fall in waves, leaving long streaks as they roll down your windows.

you reach up to brush your hand through heeseung’s hair, tangling your fingers in the soft strands. he lets out a soft sigh at the comforting feeling, relaxing further into your touch. “why don’t we stick to horror comedies next year?”

“yeah,” heeseung sighs. his grip around your waist tightens slightly as yet another low rumble of thunder interrupts the previous silence. “that sounds like a great plan.”

⋆｡°✩ jay

your eyes remain fixated on your tv screen, watching intently as a figure steps out of the darkness. the score is foreboding as it slowly begins to pick up. anticipation slowly continues to build as the soundtrack continues picking up - growing louder and more intense with each passing moment.

the movie finally reaches a climax when the killer suddenly jumps out, accompanied by a scream as he slashes his knife into the main character’s arm. jay gasps at the intrusion; he instinctively placing a hand on top of his chest over his racing heartbeat.

you do your best to stifle a chuckle underneath your breath as you shift slightly to be closer to him. “are you okay?” you whisper.

“yeah,” jay nods. “it was just a stupid jumpscare.”

“come here,” you murmur, opening your arms in a gesture for him to join you. jay doesn’t waste a second, moving across the couch to lay his head against your chest. you smile as he relaxes his body against yours, letting you wrap your arms around him completely. “is this better?”

“much better,” jay hums. you lean down to press a kiss against the crown of his head before finally returning your attention to the still-ongoing movie playing on the screen.

⋆｡°✩ jake

your feet sink into the mulch as you wander throughout the pumpkin patch. the breeze blowing through the air is just cold enough to chill your bones, making you tuck yourself further into jake’s hoodie. the fleece - although comfortable - does little to warm you from the autumn air.

you eagerly scan through the various squash surrounding you in search of the perfect one. pumpkins of various shapes and sizes are littered around the field, though none of them catch your attention enough to make you pause in your hunt.

“babe,” jake calls from nearby. he’s kneeling down in front of a large, orange pumpkin sitting on the ground. it’s already been cut from the tangle of roots it had grown from. “what do you think of this one?”

jake shifts to the side to make room for you to kneel down beside him. rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie, you run your fingers against its smooth skin. small patches of dirt stick against the pumpkin’s skin; it’s shape is nearly perfectly spherical. “it looks good,” you nod, reaching over to pat its side. “it should be big enough to carve.”

“i thought so too.” he reaches around the pumpkin, lifting it up from the ground in one smooth motion. “come on,” he grins. “i can’t wait to get started.”

⋆｡°✩ sunghoon

sunghoon leans over your shoulder, silently observing each of your movements as you carefully drag the knife back and forth against the thick skin of the pumpkin. your countertops are all but completely covered in pumpkin innards; seeds scattered about decorate your kitchen.

you wrap your hand fully around the knife, gripping the covered blade tightly in your fist as you readjust your hands. but before you can continue your carving, sunghoon reaches out to catch his hand in your own. “careful,” he murmurs as he moves your fingers out of the way.

“this is harder than it looks,” you mutter. your fingers occasionally slip against the thick pumpkin skin, the innards making it difficult to keep your grip around the knife steady.

“i know,” sunghoon chuckles. you pause, taking a step back to check your progress. the pumpkin has been scraped as clean as possible and large chunks have been successfully cut out but the design is barely legible.

“here,” his hands feel soft against yours as sunghoon reaches around your waist. he places his hands over yours before he begins gently guiding your movements. “let me help you.”

⋆｡°✩ sunoo

“hey, look!” sunoo smiles, pointing towards a nearby field. “there’s a corn maze.”

“do you want to go check it out?”

he nods, gently tugging you along towards the attraction. “let’s go!”

your feet sink into the dirt with each step you take as you wander inside. stocks of corn surround you, openings leading towards various different directions. “let’s go this way,” you murmur, wandering down the left path. wind easily blows through the makeshift walls of the maze. shivers run down your spine, sending a chill through your entire body.

sunoo furrows his eyebrows in concern when he notices the goosebumps arising along your skin. “are you cold?”

“a little.”

“y/n,” sunoo pouts. he wraps his hands around yours, wrapping your freezing fingertips in the thick fabric of his sweater. “you’re so cold. why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“i’m fine,” you chuckle, though it doesn’t deter him from slipping his hoodie off of his own body and all but shoving it over your own. the fabric feels nice against your bare skin; it warms you almost immediately. “why don’t we finish the maze and then we can go home and cuddle, okay?”

“okay,” sunoo hums.

⋆｡°✩ jungwon

smudges of face paint decorate your fingertips and hands as you carefully swipe the paint across jungwon’s features to recreate charizard’s appearance. your hands slip when he poorly stifles a laugh underneath his breath, causing a small smudge of misplaced orange paint to stain a larger area of skin than you were expecting.

“stop moving,” you whisper. knees pressed against both sides of jungwon’s hips; your body hovers just on top of jungwon’s. you readjust your hold on his face, leaning back as you momentarily set your makeup brush aside.

“i’m sorry!” he chuckles as he pulls back slightly. “i can’t help it. it tickles.”

“you’re the one who wanted to have a couple’s costume and now you can’t even sit still long enough for me to put on the makeup,” you let out a faux exasperated sigh.

“i’m sorry, jagi.” jungwon moves to rest his hands against your hips, gently coaxing you closer once again. his fingertips slip underneath the fabric of your shirt just enough to brush against your bare skin. goosebumps arise in their wake sending shivers down your spine. “i’ll sit still. i promise.”

a soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you lean in once again. “you better.”

⋆｡°✩ niki

you’re pulled out of your dreams to the feeling of soft kisses being peppered all over your skin. first it’s your cheek. then your nose. forehead. lips. “ki?” you mumble, eyes blinking open as you shift to sleepily look up at him. “why are you still here? don’t you have practice today?”

a soft smile graces his face as he reaches up to push a stray strand of hair away from your eyes. “i asked for the day off a few weeks ago. i wanted to spend halloween with you.”

“really?”

niki chuckles as he nods. “really.”

you excitedly push yourself up to wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, tugging him down until your lips meet in a sweet kiss. smiles linger on both of your lips when you pull away. “how were you thinking of celebrating?”

“movie marathon?” he asks, reaching over to grab your tv remote.

“sounds perfect.” you curl yourself against his body, leaning your head against his chest. niki’s arms rest comfortably around your waist as he switches the tv on. “so, what are we watching?”

he hands the remote over to you, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple. “whatever you want, love.”

159 notes · View notes

mixelation · 3 months

Text

reborn au thoughts on..... oh no not power levels

"power levels" is a joke btw

but okay. the ANBU thing i've been poking at is right before the konoha chunin exams. so it's post-wave and post cave incident, so tori has been training with minato, probably on some sort of crazy inconsistent schedule because he has Other Things to do

so i think this is about where the narrative can pivot from "tori is scary because she will pull shit out you didn't know was possible (but her regular stats are average)" to like. her actually being scary in normal ways???

anyway, i was thinking about what training with minato even looks like. and i don't think he cares very about mentoring her in basically anything but hiraishin adjacent skills. so i think it's a lot of chakra theory and the occasional spar which she wanders out of like, "what the FUCK was that. i thought team 4 was bad????"

so actually. at this point, i think tori could reasonably take most rando ANBU agents. this is as surprising to her as it is to them. she's out here dodging all sorts of insane shit while she messes around with her stupid collapsible staff she can't figure out how to assemble (WHO DESIGNED THIS????). very tobi of her

but circling back around to hiraishin stuff. i decided there's two requirements for it: developing a marker that works with your chakra and the actual jutsu. tori figures out a marker in record time but the jutsu is actually stupid hard and at this point she can DO it but her aim is like. bad? it's really bad. she can't figure out how to tell markers apart. it's fine if she want to flee a fight immediately but then she has no control over where she ends up. she's not cleared to use it outside of training because if he uses it on a mission, there's like a 70% chance she'll end up in konoha with no way to go BACK

so she only has like 1-3 active markers at a time and minato insists on watching them himself because he KNOWS her he KNOWS she will be tempted to do dumb shit

i thought about ending the scene i just posted with her and itachi getting so into trying to hit each other with sticks that this happens

tori: (realizes she can't dodge) (teleports away) (ends up in the hokage's office)

tori: FUCK

minato: (sipping coffee) so what did i tell you about doing this

and then she ends up late to her actual practice u_u

#reborn au

82 notes · View notes

mlm-writer · 3 months

Text

Chocolate Milk (GN!Reader)

Pairing: Spock (AOS) x Gender Neutral Ensign Reader (platonic) Rating: General Audience Words: 1320 POV: Second Summary: Your childhood trauma left you near-emotionless. While most find it unsettling, there are some crew members appreciating you just the way you are. Note: Trauma not described, reader's physical traits also not described. I want to say ft. my OC, but he is deadass more present than Spock in this so ft. Spock I guess. Tags: mentioned trauma, platonic/professional appreciation, Ensign Michael Gabe the empath, alcohol mentions but no consumption, red alert and Kirk & Bones have a cameo

One moment the white hallways were too bright for the early hour and the next they were bathed in crimson. ‘Red Alert again?’ You wondered as you broke into a sprint. Red Alert happened at least once a month with captain Kirk looking for trouble left and right, but as far as times of crisis went, you had experienced far more distressing situations in your youth. At least, they felt more distressing as a child still figuring out who you are and why you were put into a world that was described as a utopia and yet so so full of suffering.

You arrived at your station not a moment too soon. You were gasping for air, just like your colleagues at the stations adjacent to you. Michael’s fingers trembled with every jolt of the ship. “Ensign Gabe, we need a read on their defences. Any weak spot would be appreciated,” the captain urged the man next to you. His blond hair started sticking to his forehead as he calibrated the scanners to adjust for the shields. You focused on your own task, but from the corners of your vision, you could see Michael making mistakes that were uncharacteristic to his intelligence.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Michael, deep breaths. You got this.” You spoke softly to him, trying to make sure he was the only one hearing your reassurance. You felt him inhale deeply, holding the air for a few seconds and then releasing it evenly. You were aware the empath could feel everyone's distress. With the physical contact you hoped your calmness stood out in the ocean of unease. The blond muttered a brief expression of gratitude. You occasionally touched his shoulder again, trying to focus his gifts on you so he could stay level-headed. Sure, you could die today, but you knew your task like the back of your hand and you knew Michael did as well, in spite of his nerves giving the wrong idea and his abilities nearly crippling him.

Things looked dire for a second, but hardly an hour later, you were at warp 4 en route to a space station for repairs. You stayed at your station monitoring repairs to the systems, while Michael left to get a ‘stiff drink’ as he called it. He could probably use it. You noticed how even lieutenant Chua seemed tense as he checked upon the injured on the bridge, calling over the CMO when he thought they might need a trip to sick bay. You watched how he carried the yeoman with a possible broken leg out to the turbolifts. “Ensign?” You realised you had been daydreaming a little. You whipped your head around, worried the SIC was about to scold you.

“Yes, commander?” Spock was the ever-intimidating presence on the bridge. Very little scared you, but the idea of disappointing your superiors and commander Spock particularly “All repairs are going as expected. We will make it to Sindku station in three hours at our current velocity.” You added your status report after a short pause, hoping that was what commander Spock wanted to hear.

He did not seem pleased with the answer. Some people would argue there was not a single expression to read on that half-Vulcan face, but you would disagree. You knew the subtle changes too well, have seen them in the mirror plenty of times to recognise them on another. You watched his thought progress, then breathed out a small sigh of relief when Spock seemed to have calculated his next words. “I am aware you have been called to duty during your leisure time. I will assign an on-duty officer to relieve you shortly.” You gave him a curt nod of comprehension. He then left.

And just as foretold, on-duty officers arrived to relieve the bridge staff that had their leisure time interrupted by the red alert. You decided to check on Michael. He was in the lounge, as expected. You had expected him to be drinking alcohol, but spotted him with a big glass of chocolate milk. “Is that your stiff drink?” You greeted him with those words when you stood next to him.

Michael looked up at you, a friendly smile plastered on his face. “What can I say? I prefer calories over alcohol.” He raised his half-empty glass as if he was toasting. “By the way, thanks for getting me through that red alert today. I…” he let out a breathy chuckle, “I really don’t get how you can always keep your cool, but I’m really glad to have someone like you around when all I am feeling from everyone else is the looming dread of death.” You gave him a nod and patted him on the back.

What you wanted to say was ‘you’re welcome, it’s the trauma’, but those jokes have not been funny since the early 21st century, so you opted for a more modern response. “We all have our virtues.” Michael raised his glass again, as if saying ‘I’ll drink to that’. You decided to join him with a chocolate milk of your own. Michael always knew how to get the small talk going. He started off with the latest gossip, then asked your opinion on a personal or a ship matter and after some time, you always ended up talking mathematics. You seemed like total opposites at the bar, one person emoting like a cartoon character, the other virtually a statue. If Michael was not an empath, he would probably assume you never felt a thing in your life, just like everyone else.

The doors behind you slid open and you noticed the surprise on Michael’s face. He tried to hide it, but was doing a piss poor job at it. You turned to see what got him worked up, only to see commander Spock waltz in. The man was only here when he wished to speak to someone privately and he was heading straight for your chocolate milk hang out. Michael whispered he was worried Spock noticed his small panic today, but then you were the one requested to follow him to a less populated corner of the lounge.

You had no idea what you did, but you left your chocolate milk at the bar and joined Spock near the windows. “I meant to say this on the bridge, but it seemed inappropriate with the company present,” Spock started. You hummed, eyes locked together like you were having a stare-down. “I would like to commemorate you for your attitude during crisis response, both on the bridge as we have seen today and in the field as we have seen last week on Unico IV. I will put in a request to have you promoted to lieutenant junior grade. Should you remain equally level headed with more responsibilities thrust upon you, I believe you will, in time, make an excellent captain.”

You were quiet for a moment, trying to take in the unexpected compliments. “Thank you, sir.” It was all you could really say. Spock responded with a polite nod and then made his leave. You blinked as you stood there momentarily. When you were ready, you returned to Michael at the bar. He was chatting up one of the red shirts again, the ever sucker for muscular men. When he saw you though, he slipped off his seat, taking the two glasses with him.

“What did he say?” Michael asked as soon as he was in front of you, handing you your leftover chocolate milk. You paraphrased Spock’s words, leaving Michael gasping and squealing. “That is so amazing! Slay mama!” He somehow managed to make air come out of your nose at a high velocity. You tapped your glasses together. He seemed happier than you, but you let him celebrate for you. Captain? You? You could hardly imagine it right now. Meanwhile Michael was already planning on being your SIC.

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

#star trek #gender neutral reader #male reader #star trek x reader #spock x reader #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #spock x male reader #spock x gender neutral reader #star trek x male reader #star trek x gender neutral reader #aos #aos x reader #aos x male reader #aos x gender neutral reader

79 notes · View notes