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minkieater · 9 months ago

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carousel – choi san ☄. *. ⋆

♫ – tear you apart, she wants revenge “it's only just a crush, it'll go away, it's just like all the others it'll go away or maybe this is danger and he just don't know”

cycle (sī-kel) noun a course or series of events or operations that recur regularly and usually lead back to the starting point

choi san regularly bounced between two moods.

the first being a state of contentment, the second being complete and utter destruction. when he was content, the two of you were usually on good terms, and he felt good enough that he could keep his life on track. he could get his work done, he could go to classes, he could socialize with his peers with a smile on his face.

when that peace was disturbed, more often than not by you, he was an absolute train wreck. all he could think about was you you you and when the two of you would fix things, if the two of you were really done this time, if he could reconcile the situation. sitting in class, remembering choreography at practice, being behind the bar at work… he couldn’t do a damn thing right. it wouldn’t be surprising if he forgot his own name when you were on bad terms.

san has never been a fighter. when arguments arise he’s usually never the one that starts them, he’s the one begging to end them, opting for a peaceful compromise instead. despite the way he looks, san is a softie, something that took you by surprise and kept you by his side for almost a year.

you know him. you know his favorite color, his favorite show, his favorite album, his parents’ names, where he grew up, why he’s in school, who’s putting him through school, his biggest fear, his dream in life. you see how he looks at you, how he drops everything for you in a second, how he talks about you when you aren’t around to defend yourself. you know him better than you know yourself sometimes — you’ve been two peas in a pod since the beginning of your sophomore year, but yet the same question remains. one he’s asked you hundreds of times, one you could never find an answer to without breaking his heart.

so instead you pick fights, argue to your heart’s content, damn near terrorize him on the regular just for the same fact to be true: choi san also knows everything about you.

he knows exactly why you aren’t together, why you beat around the bush every time he asks you that same question, the sole reason why you freak the fuck out every time he asks you to give him just a little bit more. choi san knows very well that his love is unrequited, and he understands even the things you won’t tell him. he knows who you really love, he knows you’ve loved him since the summer before your freshman year, when you met at that concert. he notices when your eyes are the brightest, who you’re looking at when he wished you were looking at him, when you laugh the loudest. he notices everything.

if he’s anything, it’s observant. he’s been hanging out with you and your friends since way before he was your little secret, he’s been on your friends’ rooftop for parties more times than he can count. the first time the two of you slept together he couldn’t believe it was actually happening, the second you looked at him with lowered eyes and glossy lips he thought his eyes had been deceiving him for months prior. you looked at him like he was your last meal, your prey that you caught with your bare hands, you needed to have him or you’d die of starvation. he let you take the reins, took it all in with open arms, he wasn’t going to question a thing. for how long you had been obsessed with chan, he’d been obsessed with you.

you’d met early in your freshman year, when chan had first gotten his apartment shared with three others, when they first started throwing their legendary parties that had been the talk of campus for ages to follow. san had gotten the invite through wooyoung, his best friend, whose close friend has dated chan’s roommate since freshman year. the moment he first saw you was nothing short of a movie scene, you were on the dance floor, definitely one too many drinks deep. you were dancing with felix, holding his hand, twirling your hair as he spun you in a circle. your smile, your eyes that were shut so delicately, your body that moved with such a fluidity, you were the embodiment of freedom. you looked like you couldn’t care less about anything, like the moon went down and the sun came up just so you could breathe another day. the world revolved around you. it was like everything he had ever done in his life leading up to this moment, each decision he made was to get him on this rooftop at this moment in the middle of soho.

san had a few drinks himself and found himself on the dance floor right beside you. minho was with him, a close friend from his dance class, and then felix beside you. he couldn’t help but steal you for himself. he brought out the dancer inside of him but still followed your lead, spun you himself just as felix had, let your backside dance across his front one too many times for comfort. you picked up on how he was holding back, letting himself match you instead of taking the lead, and you couldn’t ignore how it sparked your interest. anyone besides felix that wasn’t in your group of close friends would be mindlessly grinding against you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk, but not him.

for a moment you let yourself think the bar is deep in hell, then you introduced yourself (more like screamed your name at him) over the pounding music that could be heard two blocks down. the first thing you noticed were his broad shoulders before you took in the rest of his clearly strong build. complex, fox-like eyes that held too much power in them and a sweet smile that contrasted his hard demeanor, it all vexed you, but intrigued you so much more.

out of everything, his hands give you the most whiplash. where they were long and limber they felt soft and warm, even the calluses on his palms somehow felt softer than every man you’ve ever come in contact with. compared to his chest which felt hard and strong, the contradicting features forced your mind straight in the gutter. there’s no doubt he’s beautiful, anyone could see that from first glance, but in that deep, hypnotizing voice he has, you could hear what kept itself hidden. it was a facade, that build and sexy voice, you could tell just from a few words that he’s not what he appears to be.

at first glance you’d assume he was just like any typical guy, buff and egotistical and harsh. but looking for a moment in those eyes, listening to that soft voice, you could hear what he wasn’t saying, like his thoughts were being displayed for you on a silver platter. they enticed you to dig deeper, peel him open layer by layer, find out what no one else knows. beyond warm hands and a sturdy build, there was a softness to him that wasn’t inside of any other man on that rooftop. except one other.

by the end of the night, minho had led san to the notorious smoking corner, where he’d come to learn the same people tend to gather and hangout towards the end of the night. thankfully, one of those people was you, and the rest of your little group of friends that he’d later come more than acquainted with. none of you really smoke, which was the weird part, the smokers would come and go around your seating area, but it was still named the smoking corner despite it.

“you said your name was san, right?” you asked, an inviting smile on your face as he sat down right next to you on one of the cushioned chairs. it happened to be the only one open and had him thanking a god he didn’t believe in for the small favor.

he nodded quickly, tight lipped smile on his face, dimples on display. even with the liquor he was nervous, he wasn’t one to spark up conversation, especially at a party like this. “you’re a dancer?”

“how’d you know?” your smile somehow got bigger, eyes widening with surprise, “i’ve danced my whole life.”

he shrugs, “one dancer to another.”

“you go to NYU?” you asked, turning your body to face him in your own chair.

“dance program, i’m in the same hip hop class as minho,” he pointed to minho who was standing somewhere to the side of the two of you.

“ah,” you nod with a smile, “that makes sense, i’m in the theater program, i originally wanted to be in the dance program, though.”

“hey guys,” the two of you looked up at the same time, another pair of broad shoulders, massive biceps, and a beautiful smile staring straight at you. you could feel your heart rate pick up, your breath get caught in your throat, a heat cascading over you like the rooftop had suddenly raised fifteen degrees.

san could feel his smile leave his face as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. the way your eyes lit up, the pink that raised to your cheeks, how you slightly stumbled over your words when you first spoke to him, he tried not to let his expression drop to a scowl. he knows you like him, maybe even love him, he couldn’t decide from the short interaction between the three of you. not that he wanted to know, anyways.

san decided then and there that chan was his enemy, a one sided war he was willing to put up the good fight for. from a quick dance and a conversation, he had decided you were worth the fight, you were worth the long game, you were worth whatever it took to get you. he thinks it shouldn’t be too hard to win you over, with some effort and consistency, he should be the one you look at the way he desperately wants you to in no time. he knew he was good looking, he sees how women fawn over him left and right at parties, only sometimes letting them get any further then silly attempts to take him home. that ping of jealousy only jumpstarts his motivation, begs him to tap into whatever is making these women throw themselves at him.

five parties and three months later, you made him feel like he was in the lead. small conversations here and there, longer dances that with each party turned more and more scandalous, once or twice you clearly felt him behind you on the dance floor and you didn’t pull away, you kept going until you made it so evident he couldn’t hide it in his jeans. moments of hands brushing and stolen glances across the smoking corner, he waited long enough, but he’d wait however long it took for you.

the night when you gave him that look that he knew meant you were taking him home, he couldn’t contain his excitement, he couldn’t hide anything from you already. you could see it all over his face, he could tell from the smirk you wore on your own lips and the cocky laugh you let out. you were playing with fire, and his specialty was water.

you knew he wanted you from the first time you met. whether he knew it about himself or not, despite his easygoing words and soft hands, you knew there was a side to him you desperately needed to unveil, you needed to experience, you needed to know like the back of your hand. it felt like tainting his innocence the more you got to know him, his personality reflected the opposite of what he portrayed on the outside. from that hard, chiseled look he has to the soft, tender persona, you wanted to tear him apart. you wanted to know what made him tick, what pissed him off, what got under his skin, how he acted when it did.

you had him exactly where you wanted him, and he was letting it happen, fully aware of the attraction that was finally being returned. you looked at him differently that night, and unbeknownst to him, it was deliberate.

chan was out of sight, off with some dark haired girl he met hours prior. you watched the scene unfold in front of you, from when they exchanged names and phone numbers down to the moment when chan took her hand and led her inside his apartment. you watched them over heads through the dance floor, keeping your vision focused on the two of them like some fucked up form of tunnel vision. like what they say about trainwrecks, you should look away, but for some reason you can’t. your skin was burning, you were beyond angry, feeling an emotion that laid somewhere outside of what you’d ever experienced toward him. betrayal? abandonment? treachery?

none of your feelings were valid, chan had no idea how you felt, you never told him. he was more than allowed to take whatever dark haired bitch he wanted into his own damn apartment that seungmin’s dad pays for, that’s more than permissible. you have an apartment too, one that you and your roommate pay for yourselves, one that you could also take someone back to. your life didn’t revolve around him, his actions would not determine how your night would go, despite the feelings you have for him.

that’s when choi san caught your eye, across the crowd with his gorgeous face and incredible body. you felt the light bulb flash above your head, you knew exactly what would take the edge off, what would mend the heart chan had just broken in two.

“you know, we always hangout here, but we never see each other outside of these parties,” you flipped your hair over your shoulder, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“never thought you wanted to,” he shrugs, lowered eyes watching your every move like he was waiting for the switch to flip.

“and why wouldn’t i want to? have you looked in a mirror recently?” it felt lame when it left your mouth, he didn’t seem to agree as a faint blush crept onto his cheeks. he turned away from you, a low chuckle leaving his lips.

“every morning at the gym, gotta make sure my form is right,” his shy smile turned into a faint smirk, and your own grows, hints of mischief creeping at the corners. you knew exactly what he was doing, mentioning the gym. like a moth to a flame, your eyes glazed over his biceps, which he flexed the moment your eyes left his.

“every morning? very disciplined, aren’t you?” you ask, smile turning lopsided and nothing short of flirty.

“very,” he nodded his head, “you should come with me sometime, get you some discipline, too.”

“and what about me makes you think i’m not disciplined?” your eyebrows furrow, tilting your head.

with that question his smile grows, dimples showing themselves once more. “brats always need discipline, and that’s exactly what you are. a little tease.”

your smile displays all of your teeth, exactly the answer you were hoping for. the side you knew he had in him, that version of him not many get to see, excitement flooded through you like a tidal wave. you were on a power trip, your plan worked with ease, you wanted to pat yourself on the back.

“do something about it,” you sipped your drink through your tiny straw, staring at him through your lashes once again.

within thirty minutes you were back at your place in manhattan, your roommate still at the party, you didn’t even let her know you left. in that one conversation you’d forgotten all about chan, the girl with the dark hair, and why you were in this situation in the first place. all you could think about was san, with his dark chocolate eyes and honeyed skin and arms strong enough to flip you around. you were overflowing with adrenaline, excitement, and greed. you wanted all of him, needed all of him, a need that has been lying dormant for months. you’d been curious about him, wanted to know what he kept hidden inside, too focused on chan to dig deeper into him.

san couldn’t fucking believe it. couldn’t believe he was in your bed, your walls that were covered in posters of rock bands and singers from the 80s, some faces he’s seen before and plenty of others he hasn’t. records cover one wall, soundtracks from different musicals, little trinkets filling every inch of open space on your bookshelves. your room was so undeniably you, from the smell to the color scheme, he took every inch of it and burned it to memory. he tried not to stare too much in his learning, telling himself to focus on you instead, he’d he back, this isn’t a one time thing. he couldn’t be more right.

the moment his lips touched yours he couldn’t believe he’d gone so long without tasting you. a kiss so sweet, so rushed, so hungry, he’d never felt anything like it. he knew you'd wreck him, become too important to him, become a valued person in his life, for a moment he thought maybe he should stop – this was all too good to be true.

when you whimpered in his mouth after a light grind to his crotch, he took all of his thoughts back. there was no stopping this, no hands could pry him off of you, he needed to see every bit of you. he needed to kiss every inch of your skin, inhale the scent of your sweat, he yearned to worship you. he wanted all of you, he needed to rein himself in, not get too excited so he could last.

you fought for dominance on his lap, tongues in a rushed wrestle, strong thighs wrapped around his hips. as those soft hands of his squeezed the fat of your ass, you let out a yelp, grinding yourself into him. you wanted to hear any kind of noise, any harsh breath he might release. you wanted control, he didn’t want to give it up, at least not without a fight.

he scooped your waist with one arm, flipping you over, pressing you flat against the mattress. you mustered out a hushed fuck as the realization finally hit you: his biceps aren’t just for aesthetics, the sheer strength of one is enough to throw you around, and it’s strength he will use to his advantage.

“as much as i want to be thrown around,” you broke the kiss for a moment, “save it for the next time.”

you wrapped your legs around his waist and lunged yourself forward with your hands, hips on top of his once more, your bodies sitting upright. as much as you wanted to revel in the gain of dominance, you knew he just willingly allowed you to do that, he could’ve stopped you with ease if he wanted to.

“see what i mean? brat,” he broke the kiss again with a huff, a smirk painting his own lips for a moment before returning them to yours.

your right hand moved up to grip his throat, pushing him an inch away from you. on his lap you were taller, staring down at him, he looked up at you with a spark in his eyes you haven't seen yet. his eyebrows furrowed, not in confusion or hurt, but want. need. he liked this, he wanted this, and you couldn’t help the wicked smile that touched every feature on your face.

“watch your mouth,” you tilted your chin up, looking down at him at a harsher angle, the act itself a display of dominance. in combination with the harsh tone to your words, he nearly quivered in your grasp. a strangled groan left his lips as your grip tightened for a moment, blocking his airway, before releasing him completely. you reached for the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head with ease.

“look at you, so fucking sexy,” you said as the cotton hit the floor, examining his exposed upper half in awe. chiseled abs, even sitting down, and a chest you’re sure could knock you out if it came in contact with your head. he was beautiful, perfect even, not an inch of him unsculpted.

his breath turned heavy under your stare, eyes lowering into a different version of himself, a submission of sorts. he had no fight left in them, he gave up control, let you take it, and you were going to run with it.

you brought your lips to his jaw, kissing down his neck, hands running over every inch of bare skin. he tugged at your top at the same time, tugging it over your head, unclasping your bra with just one hand.

“done that before?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a playful smile, and he chuckled.

“once or twice,” his reply was mindless as you fumbled with his belt buckle beneath you, slipping it out of the loops, throwing it to the floor.

“hungry?” you asked and his eyes quickly met yours, confusion crossing them before realization set in. you didn’t wait for an answer as you pushed him back on the bed with your index finger to his chest, not having to muster up any force at all.

you quickly sat up and slipped off your jeans and underwear, leaving yourself bare in front of him. he leaned up on his elbows for just a moment before you crawled back on top of him, further up his body until you sat right over his face.

“no touching unless i tell you to,” your voice was stern, he nodded in understanding and you took that as the green light to plant yourself on his awaiting face.

you moaned the moment his tongue came in contact with your soaked center, lapping up everything you had to offer. you stilled for a moment, letting him work himself on you, his tongue gliding through your wetness.

“fuck, sannie, so fucking good,” you moaned out, a hand reaching down to tug at his styled black hair. he groaned in response, hands lifting off of the bed, but they didn’t touch you, didn’t even come close.

you started riding his face and he stuck his tongue out in response to your movements, letting you have your way with him, grinding back and forth to use him for your own release. if you weren’t gone in your own pleasure you would’ve smiled at the eagerness, the willingness to please you.

“fingers, please baby,” you gasped out, babbling your words, “need you to make me cum. you wanna make me cum, don’t you? all over your face?”

his right hand came between your legs to slip two fingers inside of you, mouth moving up to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves. he curved his fingers toward himself immediately, hitting that one spot inside of you that made you see stars, you started babbling and whining praise like you’d been doing this together for years.

“so fucking good sannie, fuck,” you cried out, grinding yourself against him, the knot in your stomach tightening with every harsh suck to your clit. he brought his other hand up to smack your ass and you moaned out, the dam bursting, your release coating his fingers, past his knuckles. you rode out your high, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to get you through it before overstimulation set in.

“mm, taste so fucking good baby, could eat you all night,” he announced the second you lifted yourself off of him, his voice octaves lower than earlier. you watched as he licked his lips so erotically, the action making you want to sit yourself back on his face and ride him until he couldn’t breathe.

you sat next to him on the bed after climbing off of him instead, your orgasm took the need for control right out of you, you had your fill. you wanted to be taken care of, filled up, you didn’t want to think about anything other than your own pleasure. always observant san picked up in your change of energy, letting his own switch to another before continuing.

“need to be inside you,” he said as he sat up, taking his jeans and boxers off in one go, “you have a condom?”

you shimmied yourself down the bed, head hitting the pillow before you shook it, “‘m on the pill.”

“dirty girl, where did that energy from earlier go? hm?” that dangerous smirk returned to his face, his dominance returning in just one sentence, “did i eat it all out of you? wanna be a good girl for me now?”

he leaned himself over you, strong arms beside your head caging you in. you lifted your knees up to your elbows, spreading yourself for him.

“shut up,” you mumbled, feeling the tinge of embarrassment, “fuck me already.”

“that wasn’t very polite, thought you were ready to behave,” he shook his head, “only girls with manners get fucked. should i put my pants back on, go back home?”

“no! no, don’t go,” your arms came up to grab onto his, your eyes widening, “i’m sorry, i’ll be good. please, san, i need you.”

a wicked smile crossed his face before he leaned down to plant a kiss on your own, “good, i hoped so. breathe for me, okay?”

you glanced down between your legs, realizing you hadn’t even seen him. you nearly gasped at the size of him, eyes widening, his length was perfect but the girth of him was more than intimidating. he spit into his hand, stroking himself, lubing himself up to slide into you easier. you nearly drooled at the sight, mouth agape, pussy clenching around nothing.

the whole act felt so sinful, so carnal, you so easily opened up to him with a side of yourself you don’t show until you’re fully comfortable. you blame your adrenaline, your hormones, how horny you were when you arrived, ignoring the real fact of how comfortable he made you feel to show so much of yourself to him.

as he lined himself up you couldn’t ignore how it all felt right, you’ve had undeniable attraction to him for months now, but this… this was something entirely different. this was a beginning, the prologue chapter of a novel, the first episode to seasons spent with him. when he pushed himself into you and you had to physically remind yourself to breathe, you had to acknowledge that he fit so perfectly with you, his body felt like it was meant to be above yours. these weren’t feelings of a quick fuck, feelings from a one night stand, this was raw, intimate, unique. special.

“so fucking big,” you huffed out, voice strained, eyes squeezed shut, fingers clawing at his biceps.

“breathe, baby, you got it,” he praised you, encouraged you, and it did what it needed to. you breathed in and out, let him sheathe himself inside of you. as he bottomed out he groaned, a beautiful noise, one that could lure you to sleep if you heard it enough. he stayed there for a moment, letting you get used to the stretch, letting you relax around him.

“so fuckin’ tight, baby, breathe,” he instructed, leaning down on his elbows to kiss you, distract you, take your mind off of the stretch. you tried your best to relax your muscles, unclench yourself from around him.

“there you go,” his praises were a sweet song, easing you out of discomfort, “tell me when i can move.”

you waited a few moments, returning your lips to his before grinding yourself against him. you felt your slick coating him, helping you glide up and down, and he let you for a moment — just a moment before he knew for sure you were comfortable.

he pulled all the way out before bottoming out once more, and you yelped into his mouth, breaking the kiss to let your head lean back into the pillow.

“there it is, there we fucking go,” he mumbled as he started on a rhythm, “good fucking girl.”

a string of moans left your lips, your hands still clawing at his biceps, body reacting to him without your brain allowing it. “so fucking good sannie.”

“thought you were so fucking badass earlier, huh? ordering me around like i’m your bitch?” that smirk returned to his lips again and all you could do was moan, staring at him through half lidded eyes, “look at you now, baby. all lifeless and limp, all for this dick?”

“yes, san, all for you. just for you,” you mumble, words jumbling together, not knowing if your words even sounded clear.

“yeah, baby, just as i thought, all for me,” he pistols himself into you, grabbing your hips, making you meet his thrusts. you were losing your strength, letting him have his way with you, just an incoherent mess beneath him.

he reaches forward and grabs your jaw, “don’t go anywhere, eyes on me.”

you look up to him, eyes wide, that fuzzy space you were slipping into locked away for now, “you can go there eventually, not yet, not this time.”

your eyes started to roll back as he shifted his hips upward, the mushroom tip of him rolling against that one spot so deliciously. with how quickly that knot formed once more in your stomach, you were surprised that drool wasn’t slipping down your chin.

“right there, please don’t stop, gonna make me cum,” you can’t even hear yourself, so drunk on his dick, his assertiveness, you loved it. you’d never had your energy matched like this, never had a fuck like this, never had someone know you so quickly and easily.

“hold it,” he ordered, and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. how could he expect you to hold it, when he was hitting that spot too perfectly, doing everything in his power to get you there?

“i swear, do not fucking cum,” he smacked your hip and tears formed in your eyes trying to hold it, fighting every nerve in your body to not release around him.

“i can’t! i can’t,” you babble, tears falling down your cheeks, and he released a long fuck, his voice dropping even lower.

“cum for me, want you to cum around me, please,” his orders turned to begs quickly after he saw your tears. he leaned forward to wipe them off your face, bringing his fingers up to his lips. the string snapped and you gushed around him, legs shaking, a loud cry leaving your lips, probably heard in queens from the sheer volume of it.

“where do you want me?” he quickly asked, his own words sounding shaky, slurring together.

“inside, inside,” you begged, reaching up to cup his cheeks. he leaned down to kiss you as he released himself inside you, filling you up, thrusts slowing as he worked himself through it.

he stayed there for a moment, forehead pressed against yours, heavy breaths being poured into each other’s mouths. he sighed as his forearms began to shake, finally pulling out of you, laying next to you.

“you okay?” he turned his head at the same time as you turned yours, eyes sharing too much of something yet saying nothing of it.

“‘m great, you?” you cracked a smile, the both of you still somewhere that wasn’t here, slowly coming back from two completely different headspaces. he nodded, returning the smile, and the two of you laid there for what felt like ages.

sleeping with san was something outside of anything you’ve ever done. you’d slept with plenty of people, had plenty of experiences, explored what you liked and didn’t through many trials and errors. to have such an incredible first experience with someone, to have it flow so easily, to match each other so perfectly… it was almost unbelievable, it set unrealistic expectations for anyone you’d ever sleep with again.

you needed him that night, needed that experience, needed whatever was going to distract you from whatever the hell chan was doing – and it worked. you needed that distraction for months to follow as chan continued to see the dark haired girl, who’s name you came to find out was eden, always hanging around on the rooftop, following him wherever he went. like a roach, never wanted, yet never went away.

months you spent cooped up in your room, anger flowing through your blood as you watched his instagram stories, cute pictures of her posted every day. posed pictures together in times square, clubs on the weekends, clips of them getting drinks together on a random weekday afternoon. you couldn’t help but pick everything apart – what they were doing was touristy, corny, nothing you would do with him, nothing you would enjoy. you knew chan didn’t enjoy any of that, either.

every time you pictured dates with him or fantasized about any time spent with him alone was always private, intimate, enriching – you’d be painting together, drinking wine in your living room as you played your favorite board game, watching a tv show from start to finish together. you were in the same major, maybe even studying together, bouncing ideas off of one another for assignments or projects, but nothing so flashy. chan hates time square, hates drinking in the middle of the day, and especially hates clubs unless there was a special occasion. you knew all of these things, you knew him, you felt the same way as him. yet he was still doing all of those things with her, playing in her garden, wasting his time when he should be focused on school, his career, his future, you.

in those months there was only one thing that could make you forget about chan, forget about eden, forget about the situation altogether. during class you were frustrated, in auditions, rehearsals, you couldn’t even study without the tv on and music playing simultaneously. if you had a singular moment of silence your brain took you back to him, took you back to what you could’ve had, what you never tried for in the first place. it was debilitating not being able to get anything done, being so one track minded, the only thing that could make you focus was san. you’d text him daily, always asking him to come over, always ending the night between his thighs.

he always came, he always said yes, he never once said no to you. he didn’t ask any questions, didn’t make you explain your frustrations, only listened when you did speak about trivial things like school or rehearsal. you didn’t want his opinion, didn’t want his advice, only his company and the pleasure he never had any difficulty in giving you. it was perfect for those months, in your own world, the sanctuary you created in your bedroom with choi san.

the moment when your relationship changed, you didn’t notice. there was no light bulb, no moment where you consciously started looking at him differently, yet it changed without your knowing or consent. you didn’t acknowledge it when you did notice, you didn’t want to, your heart was saved for another. yet you still talked about everything together, did all of those little things you dreamed of doing with chan. your fears, your dreams, your childhood, your favorite things, you began to know him so intimately without being aware of it. you watched grey’s anatomy with him, you played video games, you drew funky little doodles of each other on your notebooks.

you started to crave him when he wasn’t around, and not just because he was your distraction, but a friend. he was good for you, he encouraged you to be consistent with school, you practiced lines with him, sang duets from different musicals with him. your relationship was raw, it was truth, it was naked, it was everything you wished for, it was everything you needed at that time.

san fell for you. he fell so fucking hard, so headfirst, it was a bottomless pit with no end in sight and he couldn’t stop himself from digging further. everything he saw in you that first night was still there, only amplified into something he couldn’t hide anymore. he was at your beck and call, anything you needed, any time of day. he knew why you were so attached to him, he figured it out the second he went to the rooftop with wooyoung again, high off of his night spent with you, ready to see you again. when you were nowhere to be seen and he caught chan with his arm around the girl from his contemporary class, he put the pieces together quick. he knew you must be heartbroken, knew you needed support, a friend who knew nothing about the situation. it quickly made him realize his place in your relationship.

he fought through the horrific realization with optimism, the returning thought that with time you’d see, you’d realize he was better for you than chan could ever be. as he spent more time with you and got to know you better, it only made his feelings deepen. your laugh, your thoughts, your competitive side, the way you’re so quick to fight back and assert your dominance, but give it up even faster… it was like an addiction, it wasn’t good for him, he knew it wasn’t, he knew it when his grades first started to slip. when he wasn’t on point at practice, too sleep deprived to remember choreography. minho read it all over him, knew something was wrong, knew san had gotten into something he shouldn’t have.

“what’s up with you, man? this isn’t like you,” it was a rough practice that day. san was sat on the floor with his knees hugged tight to his chest, rubbing his eyes to force the exhaustion out of them.

“just an off day,” is all san mumbled before he stood up slowly, grabbing his bag to sling over his shoulder.

“off day? you’ve been fucking up for the past week, san, you’re center,” minho put his hand on san’s shoulder, stopping him before he walked away, “they’re gonna put someone else there if you don’t get your shit together.”

“i get it, minho,” san turned his back, and minho’s grip only got tighter.

“what the hell is going on?” he asked, turning san to face him, “you can talk to me, we’re friends, you know.”

san’s hand returned to his face, trying to rub off his discomfort, this feeling that he should keep everything to himself, “it’s a lot.”

“is it a girl?” minho was quick with the question, eyes lowered, seeming to read san before he could get any words out. he started to walk, keeping his hand on san’s shoulder, encouraging him to walk alongside him.

san answered with a coy nod, the answer seeming too taboo to say out loud. minho was a direct link to chan, he should be happy to talk about the fact that you were sleeping together. what he couldn’t shake off was the fear that you’d be angry at him for telling anyone.

“did you get her pregnant or something?” humor was laced in minho’s tone, trying to ease up the straightforwardness of the question, but he was genuinely worried by how san had been acting.

san gasped, “preg- no! god, no,” he shook his head, “i hope not.”

minho laughed, “that doesn’t sound convincing. if she’s not pregnant then there’s no reason to be so torn up, why are you?”

they walked out of the building into the wet humidity of the city air, “like i said, it’s a lot. it’s my fault, though.”

“quit beating around the bush and tell me,” minho stood still, staring at san expectantly, “you can trust me.”

“if i’m going to tell you, i need a beer.”

an hour later they were seated at prince, not a popular dive bar in the city, but popular amongst your group of friends and whoever they introduced to it. san nursed his beer, barely getting two sips in before he was spilling everything about the last six months to one of his best friends.

“i can’t wrap my head around why you keep fucking her if she loves another guy,” minho shrugs, “especially chan, at that. she’s been close with him since he moved to the city.”

“it’s not about fucking her,” san sighed, “i’m in too deep, i think i love her. even if i didn’t, and it was just about sex, it’s too good to stop.”

minho’s jaw physically drops, mouth hanging agape for a moment before he snaps it shut, straightening his left hand to start counting on his fingers, “so you love her, she doesn't know you love her, she loves someone else who’s in a relationship, and you spend every free moment with her. and you have so much sex you don’t sleep.”

san’s lips pull into a tight line, giving minho one long nod in response.

“there’s no way she doesn’t love you back if you’ve spent that much time together in six months, i can’t believe you kept all of this shit hidden for so long. you need to talk shit out, man.”

it was music to his ears, san’s entire body filled with a joy he’d never felt before when no way she doesn’t love you back left minho’s lips. he felt like he was putting a puzzle together in his brain, that actually made perfect sense, how could you not return anything he felt for you? you also experienced all your time together, got just as close to him as he did you.

he barely gave minho another half hour before he was barreling out of prince and on his way to your apartment.

“hey baby, how was practi-”

“i need to ask you a question.”

your head whipped to your front door, never hearing san sound so desperate outside of the bedroom. his eyes were blown, his eyebrows raised, fully out of breath from running up the flights of steps to your apartment. your blood ran cold, you knew this question was coming eventually, you were savoring every moment he didn't ask it. you stood slowly, facing him from the couch, eyes expectant.

“i’ll give you an answer,” you replied casually, keeping your voice steady.

“do you want to be with me?” his words felt empty, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say them, yet he still sounded like he’d been dying to ask the question for months. he didn’t blink, kept his shoulders back, dance bag dangling from his fingertips.

“san,” you said calmly, taking a step towards him.

“i don’t want to freak you out, please don’t freak out, it’s just been six months and i really enjoy you and your company and i love being around you, i love spending nights with you, the sex is incredible, everything just seems right,” a smile graces his lips with a pause. when you stared back at him in disbelief he panicked, his heart in his throat, “i’m sorry if i freaked you out, this is too much, isn’t it?”

you took a breath, closing your eyes for a moment. the day you’d been dreading had come – the end of a perfect half year.

“i can’t be in a relationship right now,” you blurt the first thing that came to mind, and his face dropped immediately. “i enjoy you, i love our time spent together, i love that you’re around all the time, you’ve been a huge help to me these past six months. i couldn’t of done it without you.”

you’ve been told these words before, you’ve been in his position before, you’re spouting the same venom that’s been thrown at you. you felt as if you were shoved in a corner, not fully believing your own words, but you needed an excuse more than you wanted to say the truth.

a sad smile crosses his face, “i get it.”

“i don’t want to stop whatever this is,” you walk closer to him, grabbing his hand, “and it could grow into something really great. i’m just not in a position to open my heart to anyone right now.”

“i know, baby. the last six months have been rough on you,” his heart melted, even if he knew the reason why, he also knew that it really did hurt you. you needed time to heal, time to focus on yourself, time to get back into the dating scene. he’d be there, first in line when you were ready.

“i knew you’d understand, thank you,” you stood on your toes, attaching your lips to his. ten minutes later you were on your knees, right back to normal like that conversation didn’t even happen.

in just two weeks you’d started going out more regularly again, meeting your friends at prince, going to chan’s rooftop whenever felix told you to come. your friends that noticed, despite you keeping your appearances up, asked where you’d been, why you’re back, and you gave them the sophomore year bullshit of classes were hard and summer is here again! at your age, parties were a dime a dozen, you had plenty of excuses to be out of the house and away from your issues, stopping reality from hitting you that you were playing with fire once again.

you did have feelings for san, even if it was your own fucked up version. there was no way you couldn’t with how much time you spent together, how much you know about him, how much you care for him. but the other problem that you will never forget is still there, staring at you from across his own rooftop.

you care for san, but the love you feel for bang christopher chan is so much fucking more.

“hey! i feel like i haven’t seen you in ages!” his smile is huge as he crosses the crowd, clinking his drink with your own. you blushed, that was basically him saying i missed you.

“same here, how’s everything been? happy classes are over?” you asked, gripping your drink a little tighter.

“incredibly happy classes are over, even happier this terrible fucking year is over,” he chuckled, “me and eden broke up, i don’t know if you heard. she cheated on me with some columbia architect, whatever.”

broke up? he’s… single again?

your jaw dropped, and you fought to keep the excitement to a minimum, “no, i didn’t know, i’m so sorry, channie. fuck her and that architect!”

he laughed again, a belly laugh that made you want to jump his bones, “what about you, though? seeing anyone?”

his question took you by surprise, “i- uh, no, i’m not,” your giggle was nervous, wanting to change the subject immediately. san crossed your mind, a thought you quickly shut down.

“you’re never seeing anyone, dude, we have to set you up with somebody, can’t go through your whole college experience without a shitty boyfriend or two,” it was a joke, a bad one, but it still made heat rise to your whole upper half. why was he asking? he’s never asked about your love life before.

“i’m good off a shitty boyfriend, i’d rather be alone if that’s the case,” you shake your head, then sip through your tiny straw.

“suit yourself,” he palmed your shoulder with a hand that completely enveloped it, and you felt the skin underneath burn.

you felt eyes boring into your head from behind you, and you quickly turned, scanning the area. you saw your roommate and her boyfriend in the smoking corner, minho and han, then san, who was leaning against the concrete of the wall separating the rooftop from the drop to the ground below. like a hawk, he watched you through lowered eyes, taking in every move. you quickly turned back around, expecting chan to still be there, but he was gone, probably off being a good host to his party. you wiped the chill off of you, finishing off your drink, dismissing the guilty feeling creeping up your spine because chan is single again. determination washes over you, this time you’d be hell bent upon telling him how you feel, finally getting your chance to be with him. it was your turn this time.

san was beyond frustrated. watching you talk to chan after all of these months, even from afar, picking up your body language, he was sick to his stomach. the way you shifted from foot to foot, unconsciously leaned into his touch, flipped your hair behind your back to show off your décolletage, san could pick up on exactly what you were thinking and he hated it.

san wasn’t in the lead, he was forever the number two, your favorite best kept hidden secret. he was sick of it, sick of being with you behind closed doors, sick of dropping everything for you, sick of being under your spell. he knew his place, knew it enough to where he didn’t even approach you on the rooftop. he knew there would be a call, a text, a fucking messenger pigeon that would get him in your bed tonight, he was sure of it. when chan went back inside the apartment for the night and didn’t have a soul beside him, he knew exactly how the outcome of the night would go, and he was excited for it.

as san slammed your apartment door shut behind him, you jumped nearly a foot in the air, turning to furrow your eyebrows. the two of you ended up leaving together, an outcome that wasn’t on his list of possibilities – no messenger pigeon needed. he was surprised, he didn’t think you’d even want to be seen getting in the same car as him.

“what was that for?” the slam startled you, it was unlike him, he was delicate with everything he did.

“i’m sick of this, ri,” he shook his head, standing by the entrance to your kitchen, not following you into the living room. your stomach dropped, you should’ve seen this coming.

“what do you mean?” you opted for obliviousness after a pause, unsure of how to go about this conversation again after your last one was just two weeks ago.

“i’m sick of being your secret, whatever the hell i am to you,” he ran a hand through his hair, “actually, that’s a good question. what am i to you, riley?”

you gulped, your eyes widening, coming to yet another moment of silence. you didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know how to tell him what you didn’t know yourself.

“you don’t know? or you know and can’t say it?” he understands your silence, using his hands as he speaks, “tell me the truth.”

“i don’t know, san, a friend?” your voice is unsure, small. you wanted to shrink yourself, wanted to be anywhere but here, having this conversation. this is the first time you’ve seen this side of him, you and san had never argued before, the last time you had this talk it didn’t have any anger or frustration.

“a friend? i’m a friend?” he laughs, a sarcastic chuckle that you’ve never heard leave his lips. you must’ve gotten away with it two weeks ago, this was really the end, there was only one way this talk could go. “a friend that knows every inch of you, a friend that’s spent more time here the past six months than the apartment they still pay rent at? that’s a fucking joke, riley.”

tears gathered in your eyes, ones that you weren’t exactly sure why they were there, you felt caught. bombarded with a choice you didn’t want to make. he was finally understanding your web of lies, finally over it, over you. you weren’t ready to let him go, you wanted to continue to live in your bubble with him, you wanted him to stay. you didn’t let them fall.

“what do you want me to say?” you don’t have a rebuttal, you don’t have any sly words that could change the topic, even momentarily change what he’s feeling. you chose anger, deflection.

“i want more, ri. i want you, i’ve wanted you since i met you. there’s no way you don’t know that,” he sighs, turning around, running that same hand through his hair.

“and i can’t give you more, san, so what do you want me to do? force myself into something i’m not ready for? i’ve told you my piece,” you walk towards him, standing just a few steps from him.

“no, riley, i don’t want you to force yourself into being with me, that’s ridiculous. when we’re in public you barely look at me, let alone speak to me. what are you so afraid of? why can’t anyone know about… this?” he turned around, his own eyes glossy, looking down at you through damp eyelashes. your blood ran cold, colder than it had been from the moment he slammed the door, that familiar guilty feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach.

“why do you need people to know? why do you need our relationship to be publicized? is being with me, here like this, not enough for you?” the laugh you let out was dry, calculated, “if it’s not enough then maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

a small gasp left his lips, barely audible it could’ve been just an intake of air, his visage twisted the moment you spoke those words. with his lips and eyebrows turned downward, that slight anger, frustration, morphed into a sadness you never wanted to see again.

“that’s not what i want,” his voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it, a shy mumble, his gaze pointed downward at his fingers which played with his rings. “i don’t want to fight with you.”

“i know, baby,” you stepped forward, placing a hand on his soft, reddened cheek, “i don’t want to fight with you, either. want you to be happy.”

“i’m happy with you,” his voice cracked, a raw tone, as he glanced back up at you. his eyes red, glossed over, full of emotion, it broke your heart. you could never truly make him happy, you knew that, but you could momentarily.

“then let me take care of you,” and that you did, like you always did, the same way you did two weeks ago. you rode him to oblivion, until he forgot why he was upset in the first place, the same thing he did for you six months ago.

a week later, you’d fought again. plenty of times.

almost every day for the whole week you started an argument over something so fucking stupid and you couldn’t stop. everything he did pissed you off, every time he tried to fix it, it pissed you off even more. you were overflowing with so many different emotions you couldn’t breathe, you needed space, you needed him, you needed chan. you were too overstimulated to think clearly, if you were ever thinking clearly to begin with.

the guilt from not returning his feelings, but not being at ease when he isn’t sleeping in your bed.. it didn’t make any sense. you felt insane, suffocated in the overwhelming feelings you couldn’t bring yourself to return. you liked san, you liked everything about him, but the fervent feelings he had towards you mirrored what you felt for chan.

there was now nothing left unsaid. there was no unspoken deal between you anymore, no weapon left to use to let yourself get off without consequence. you were uncomfortable, uncomfortable with his feelings, uncomfortable with your own, you felt shoved in a corner you couldn’t walk away from.

the only things that stayed consistent in that week were chan’s rooftop, chan’s living room, and his incessant need to talk to you every damn time you were there.

san felt like he was losing his goddamn mind.

he wished he could go back in time and take back everything he said, his confession, his feelings, he had ruined everything. you would go from not answering him to getting pissed off that he answered your text with ok instead of okay… it seemed like he couldn’t do anything right, in a constant state of fear that today would be the day you break it off with him for real.

his day to day life was only getting worse. he was making cocktails wrong at work, not replacing ice, handing the wrong beer to patrons at the bar. he got replaced again in his spot for his dance class, reprimanded by his teacher, minho gave him not one but two additional talks about getting his shit together.

he hadn’t seen you since the night you argued two weeks ago, he hasn’t even been going out for just a glimpse of you, he’s been playing catch up for what felt like weeks. to make matters worse, he was pent up, he’d been so used to a consistent sex life, he needed release. he needed a night to let go of you, all of the whiplash he’d endured for weeks now, he needed a night to just be himself. to forget.

he called wooyoung, his best friend who was always out in the city, always had plans. thankfully he was going to a club that night to celebrate your roommate’s recent internship acceptance. wooyoung assured him that you wouldn’t be there, it would only be a couple of your roommates' close friends. he didn’t ask why you wouldn’t be there, he tried to convince himself he didn’t care, he needed to start forgetting now.

he hopped out of bed and got ready fast, the clock already past eight, and headed over to meet the group before going to the club. they were all familiar faces from the rooftop, despite him only knowing wooyoung super intimately. all of the nights he spent at your apartment your roommate was usually at her boyfriend’s, and if she wasn’t, her and her boyfriend were cooped up in her bedroom.

but here he was, in a club he’s never heard of in the middle of manhattan celebrating her.

“have a drink, sannie, do something,” wooyoung slung his arm around san’s shoulder, bent behind the booth he was sitting at, “don’t just sit there and mope.”

san nodded, not having much to say if it didn’t have to do with you. he sipped his beer mindlessly, listening to everyone talking around him, their conversation had to be more entertaining then the jail he created for himself in his own mind.

“...i’ve been trying to get them together for years! i’m so happy it’s finally happening!” your roommate says loud, drunkenly, talking to yunho’s girlfriend.

“years?” yunho’s girlfriend asked, brushing her hair behind her ear, “why the hell did it take so long?”

“when they met they were all just good friends, then i was introduced and started dating jeongin pretty much immediately, i’m the one who noticed how she felt about him. she wouldn’t admit it for ages, until i finally got it out of her, and pretty much immediately after that chan started dating eden, you remember her, right?” san’s ears perked up at that, his stomach dropping immediately. he put the pieces together quicker than ki could run her mouth. the drinks from the pregame clearly made her filter pretty much nonexistent, this is a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be listening to, something he wasn’t supposed to hear. she didn’t notice the extra ear, but her boyfriend did.

“ki,” jeongin interrupted, eyes glancing back and forth between san and his girlfriend, talking over yunho’s girlfriend.

ki ignored him, too deep in her own conversation, “yes! like two weeks ago or something it finally clicked, they’ve been seeing each other since.”

“who?” san interrupted, panic in his voice.

he knew who, from the bottom of his heart. a little over two weeks ago was when san started the fight between the two of you, ever since then you’d been off. he hasn’t seen you. he knows damn well who.

ki’s eyes were wide, her jaw agape, and jeongin’s hand went to his forehead.

“san, i-”

“who are you talking about, ki?” san sat a little straighter, his chin jutting out, “who’s been seeing chan for the past two weeks?”

“i think you already know who, san, i didn’t realize you didn’t know?” ki’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, her hand holding her drink a little bit tighter. yunho’s girlfriend looked between san and ki, also confused, too nervous to ask any questions. the tension was thick in the air, too heavy for a night of celebration. san could feel the control he had over himself lessening by the second.

san laughs, a dark chuckle, and something inside of him shifts. he’s done, he’s so fucking done. he feels stupid, it’s always been chan from the start, it’s always going to be chan. he tried telling himself months ago that you would see he was better for you than chan ever could be, but he was clearly so fucking wrong. chan would always be your endgame, it would never be him, no matter what he did for you. no matter how much he tried for you. no matter how much he begged for you.

everything he’s been feeling for the past two weeks, the confusing feelings, the constant begging just to see you, the amount of apologies he’d given to someone who didn’t fucking deserve them. how many times had you texted him when you were next to chan? how many times had you ignored him because you were next to chan?

san doesn’t get angry, san isn’t a fighter. san’s always been a peacekeeper, a problem solver, water to put out the fire.

he is so fucking over it.

he thought about his grades, how long it’d taken him to bring them back up. his rehearsals, his performances, the center positions that had been taken away from him. how many bottles of beer he’d thrown away at work from constant fuck ups. how many times he’s gotten grilled from more people than he can count on his hands.

he ignored ki, instead he looked into the crowd, suddenly remembering exactly where he was. he reached forward and grabbed one of the bottles yunho bought and took a long swig from it. he looked out in the crowd again and spotted a pretty little blonde thing almost immediately, and took a moment to reflect.

he remembered his life before you, before chan, before that fucking rooftop. how women fawned over him, flocked to him, how obsessed they were. how he didn’t have to try for anything or anyone. he passed the bottle to wooyoung behind him who was so taken aback he hadn’t said a word.

“san, we can leave, we can go, it’s okay,” wooyoung said, bent over once more, taking the bottle from san’s hand, “we don’t have to stay here, let’s go.”

“if you’re not going to drink that then give it back,” his reply is so curt it sliced through the air like the knife ki just put through his chest, “we are not leaving.”

wooyoung took a swig of the bottle, a proud smirk growing on his face, “finally, man. let’s be done with it already.”

2:27 am ri: u up? ri: i miss you

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #ateez smut #atiny #ateez fic #choi san #san ateez #ateez san #san x reader #choi san x reader #choi san ateez #choi san smut #san x you #san x y/n #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #choi san x female reader

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mantou-rin · 1 year ago

Text

The moment the boys realise they are head over heels for you

Characters: Kenma, Sugawara, Yaku

A/N: The amount of things I am able to come up with while at work should be studied. As usual not proofread I am sorry but I hope you like the silly thoughts that go through my head on a daily basis.

KENMA

Kenma couldn't help but look up from his game to stare at you.

You were at the other end of the classroom talking with a few of your classmates. Your voice wasn't exactly loud, but your presence was more than enough to catch his attention. Kenma admired the way you spoke and the way your face lit up everytime someone said something interesting. You weren't exactly an extrovert, but you had a bubbly and bright personality, and often got along well with pretty much anyone.

Kenma kind of envied you for that. Not that he was the kind to draw attention to himself, but being able to comfortably talk with people sometimes seemed nice.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of him looking at you, and you turned to give him a smile while waving towards him. He instantly panicked, and quickly turned his attention back to his game console, trying his best to calm his rapidly beating heart.

He wasn't sure for the longest time about this feeling he had towards you. Was it fascination or just admiration, or was it something more than that. To him, you seemed so interesting, almost as if he wanted to study - no, get to know you better. His racing heart finally confirmed it as a crush, but how does he even begin to ask you out?

“Kenma”

He nearly jumped when he heard that familiar voice of yours. Slowly he put down his console and directed his attention to you. You were standing next to his desk, the sunlight hitting your face gave you the prettiest glow he had ever seen.

It was real, he wanted to get closer to you, he wanted to understand everything about you.

“There's a new cat cafe that just opened, would you like to go there together? I hope you don't mind that it'll just be the two of us.”

Two of us? Did he hear that correctly? Of course he wouldn't mind, if anything he was more than happy that it was just the two of you.

“Mhm.” Came his silent reply, to which you happily told him that you’ll message him the details when you get home.

Turns out that your feelings for him were mutual as well.

SUGAWARA

Suga was not having a good day right now. He felt he didn't do a great job at practice just now and now he couldn't get rid of the constant worry that his team would be disappointed in him. For the most part, he knew the Karasuno boys would never be upset with him, but what if today it was different.

Before he left just now, Daichi had already told him to cheer up and not think about it, but he just couldn't help himself. He wished he wasn't the kind to mull over his mistakes over and over, but unfortunately, he wasn't that kind of person.

He really wanted to call you right now. He often told you how you were his comfort after a long day, and he felt that he really needed you today. He was about to make the call when he realised that you told him that you were going out to run some errands that night.

Right. It wasn't polite to disturb someone when they were busy. Suga figured to simply drop you a text instead, the both of you could talk about it later tonight.

Sighing, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked up at the sky. It was so quiet and calm, contrary to whatever his mind was right now - noisy and chaotic.

“Suga!” He heard someone call from behind him.

Hang on. That voice was familiar, one that he has heard many times, there was no way it was -

You.

Suga wasn't sure why he nearly cried when he saw you, heck he wasn't even sure why you suddenly showed up.

“Sorry if I’m a little late, but I saw your message and figured that I should come right away. Also sorry I couldn't get something better, but I got you some ice cream from the convenience store on the way here.”

Suga panicked a little, he worried that his message to you came off as something that needed immediate attention, that wasn't what he intended for it to be, although now that he saw you the chaos that was in his mind just now seemed to have died down.

“Eh, I thought you had to run errands? Sorry if I bothered you.”

“I can always go another day, besides, you having a bad day is something more important than the groceries I have to buy.”

Suga wasn't aware, but he was sure he let a tear slip out of his eye when he felt your hands reaching towards him to wipe them away. He never noticed because he was always the one doing the comforting, but right now with you next to him assuring him that everything was going to be alright, his mind became a reflection of the night sky - calm and quiet.

“I'll go run your errands with you tomorrow, and will you allow me to bring you out for dinner afterwards?”

YAKU

Yaku was glad you decided to join the volleyball team as a manager. Even though the two of you were childhood friends (and neighbours), any extra minute he got to spend with you meant a lot to him.

You were attentive and smart, always promptly taking care of the team’s needs and giving out advice as needed. Your presence alone sometimes helped boost the team’s morale.

Water was running low? You had already prepared new bottles for the boys long ago before they even noticed they were running out.

There was a spot on the court that seemed a little slippery? The next thing Yaku knew you were ready to swoop in with the mop to clean it up.

The team needed extra balls for practice? There was nothing to worry about because you would have a new basket of volleyballs ready by the side.

You were talking to Yaku halfway after practice when you excused yourself to find the coach for something. Yaku couldn't help but glance over at the extra bag he had seen you carrying around recently. You happened to leave it open, and Yaku caught sight of a pair of knee guards - specifically the ones he was using. Yaku didn't want to peek, but he was too curious as to why you had that in your bag. He pried the bag open slightly and saw a towel as well as a pouch filled with first aid supplies.

Perhaps you were playing volleyball too?

When you came back, Yaku asked if you started playing volleyball too, referencing the items he saw in your bag.

“Ah, no it's just emergency stuff in case you get injured. I've seen you getting many new bruises because of practice so I wanted to be ready just in case.” You replied softly, slightly embarrassed by the fact that you had been found out.

Yaku felt his heart do about a thousand backflips. He was always under the impression that you cared for each team member equally, but now knowing that you put in a little more effort to look out for him made him somewhat flustered.

“Ah, thank you.” Was the only thing he could splutter out.

There was a brief silence before he mustered up his courage to speak again.

“Would you like to go get dinner together after practice tomorrow?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #yaku morisuke #yaku x reader

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redpill-tfs · 5 months ago

Note

I need some help. My family is sending me to my ultra-conservative redneck uncle's ranch for the summer and I'm already dreading having to listen to them spew the nonsense they hear on the news.

Do you have anything that could help make this summer a bit more tolerable?

I'd imagine that would be hard, going to spend time with someone you don't see eye to eye with, having to do hard labor in the sun when you're more of a computer guy. Forced to go to church when that's not really your thing. Hearing him talk about the corrupt politicians in Washington and how Trump is going to drain the swamp. I know exactly what will help you feel better about this summer. I put a little something in your packed lunch. Don't worry, I made sure it's vegan. I'd take it now so it can take effect by the time you get to your uncle's place.

It'll take you a little bit to get there in your new Honda, wanting to keep the car in good condition as long as you can. Your single bag in in the backseat. The highway is simple enough and uneventful, but your uncle lives about a mile from a small town, farmland and backroads the only way there. With no real choice in the matter, you leave your parent's driveway.

You turn on your Spotify playlist, getting a pop song from your favorite gay artist. You sing along, your dyed hair swaying as you move your body, thinking about how much of an inspiration they are to you. The highway is strangely quiet for this time of day, but you don't mind the lack of traffic.

The song ends as a country song starts playing next. Must be one of the songs Spotify is recommending you today.You've never really been a fan of country music, finding it all seems to be about girls, trucks and beer, but you can tolerate it for one song. It's surprisingly catchy. Not your usual style of music, but it's not bad.

The lyrics are all about a guy in his worn out pick up truck, his worn out shirt and boots showing him to be a man's man. His calloused hands prove he's a hard worker. He sounds nothing like you, but you can almost relate to him in a strange way. After all, you're wearing your old boots for the drive. And you put on a worn out shirt and jeans too, just like your uncle always wears.

You don't remembering putting the outfit on, or even owning it in the first place, but before you can dwell on it too long the next song starts. It's another country song, this time about growing up in a small town and being a conservative man. It's got a nice beat to it as you tap your fingers against the steering wheel. You're nothing like the guy in the song, but the more you think about it, the more you remember visiting your uncle every summer to stay with him. He taught you the importance of conservative values, How those city slickers like your folks didn't know the meaning of hard work. You discovered your faith in God and he bought you your first Bible before you went back home. The godless liberals just want free handouts and to take your money for themselves.

You scoff at the sissies as yet another song plays. You recognize this song. It's Austin by Dasha. You sure can't relate to this song at all! Your boots are in good shape and your truck never would never break down on you. Sure it might need a new paint job from years of use but it still works as well as the day you got it. A birthday gift from your uncle. You're so glad he agreed to let you stay with him and gave you a job at his gun shop in town.

As you pulled into your uncle's driveway and hopped out of your truck, you knew this was going to be a good summer. And fall, winter, and spring.

#liberal to conservative #lib to con #redneck tf #male tf #atheist to christian #male transformation

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anonmousegosqueak · 4 months ago

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Everyone in the 141 (and special guests from KorTac) have something vaguely supernatural about them. (This is a long one so buckle up <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠> )

Price can calm people down really well. That doesn't sound weird at first but there are many situations where he shouldn't be able to. It only works if he's putting a hand on someone's shoulders, and soldiers have reported a 'balm like effect' when he does so. (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Gaz is similar but minus the shoulder thing, if anything physical contact agitated the other person.(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Roach's helmet has wire antenna attached to it, but only when he wears it. This happens with every helmet he wears, antenna will just appear when you blink. He also has survived stuff he shouldn't be able to, got out of a blast relatively unscathed where he should've been a scorched corpse.⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

Ghost straight up disappears in dark corners. Like he fell in the void or something. The entire team just lost him once for an hour. Then Gaz looked over his shoulder and he pushed himself of the wall and out of the corner he was last seen in. They all swore to Price that he wasn't there before, but he just gave one of those 'Yeah, definitely believe you...' nods. ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ

Soap can tell the worst joke known to man and most will still find it funny. But there is always exactly one person that won't get it. Whenever Soap is doing dumb and his accent really comes out someone/something is playing the bagpipes. Maybe it's coming from a speaker, maybe it's coming from person but it always happens. Everyone thinks Soap is paying someone, Soap thinks someone is just following him around with a bagpipe. I thought of which he finds flattering. (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Other soldiers swear that the few times Horangi has bitten into and enemy soldier that his teeth were strangely sharp. Same with nails (that look more like claws) popping out of his gloves. His clothes are always usually pretty intact minus general scuffing from being on a battlefield. (⁠=⁠｀⁠ェ⁠´⁠=⁠)

König never takes of his hood (did you know it's actually a t-shirt?). Which doesn't sound too odd, privacy is fairly important in their line of work. But whenever he lives it up no one can ever see any facial features, it's like a void. Minus the occasional mouth peeking out to eat something. A recruit swore they saw König lift it up once and there was nothing there besides the big shape of a mouth and eyes. This same recruit also had a deathly high fever so who knows? ┐⁠(⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠)⁠┌

I mean, I think you literally wrote it perfectly. I dunno what to add so I'ma just write what it would be like from the perspective of someone experiencing all these things.

John- one second the world feels like it's ending, bullets flying, death everywhere. You can only watch another person die right in front of you so many times before you wonder when it's your turn. Right as you think it's all over, a warm presence washes over you. It's not even clear what happens at first, you just feel... Safer. Yeah the adrenaline is still very much there but it's calmer, less intense. It's only when you see that smile that everything seems to click into place. You're still breathing, heart still pumping, you're not on the field right now. You're alright, soldier.

Kyle- I think it's a similar effect but not exactly the same. While Price can help calm someone down, Gaz can basically make someone... Smart? A solid hand on your shoulder and it feels like the cloud in your mind is cleared. Like you can think again, remember what you were doing and how to do it. Strategies are back and everything seems more clear and doable. You know what you're doing and y'know what? You *can* do it.

Gary- Roach... Roach is bug. Nothing else to say. You could literally give him the helmet you were JUST WEARING and somehow once he's put it on it'll have those silly little antennae on it. Don't ask questions, just let him be bug. AND HE'D NEVER BURN TO DEATH SHUDDUP

Simon- I think at this point the 141 no not to ask questions. Yeah at the beginning it would freak the Sargent's out but at this point they're used to it. Can't find Lt? Eh, he's in the shadows somewhere. Relax, he'll show up when he wants to. If you can't find him that means he doesn't want to be found.

(⁠☞ﾟ⁠∀ﾟ⁠)⁠☞

Horangi (I'm sorry I can't call him Kim, it sounds wacky) - I think it kinda became a rumor amongst recruits, "yeah Horangi is actually a tiger irl". It was a joke and all, everyone took it like that, especially when someone was talking about Horangi biting a guy's throat out, but uhh- yeah that actually happened. I mean König has been bitten enough that he'd literally believe it, even if he didn't see it. Also Horangi purrs. The end.

König- imagine you're just eating lunch, looking at that one huge, spooky guy who never takes his mask off, and he pulls it up slightly to take another bite of his sandwich and... There's just nothing. Darkness. Like deep shadow that can't be illuminated. The sandwich literally disappears and he pulls the mask back down, only giving you a little look before turning back to whatever paper he wants reading.

Okay that's all! I've been feeling slow today (I haven't slept well since... Ever) so it might not be top notch. Hope you enjoy anyways!

#cod #call of duty #cod headcanons #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #könig #kim horangi hong jin

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foxy-eva · 2 years ago

Text

Dancing in the Moonlight

Summary: Spencer gets creative in order to cheer up Reader

Request: could you please write about how sunshine!reader ends up having a bad day and grumpy spencer spends all day to no avail trying to cheer up the sunshine!reader. The thing that finally works is a little bit silly?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warning: Reader has a bad day and is upset but it's not specified why, mentions crying

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

Just like a sunbeam sneaking through black curtains you came into Spencer's life all those months ago. He would never forget the first time he felt the heat your presence radiated, warming even the darkest corner of his heart. After those long days of fighting evil, he craved nothing more than coming home to bask in your kindness.

However, when he entered your apartment that night, Spencer immediately realized that something was different. Where he'd usually find excitement and joy, he only saw a fake smile on your face.

"What's wrong, my love?"

Spencer found his place beside you on the couch, offering to pull you right into his arms. You hesitated, afraid that his touch might break loose the tears you so desperately tried to hold back.

Instead of accepting his embrace, you just shook your head and answered, "I just had a bad day."

Spencer knew that it must have been a truly terrible day for it to take away your smile. You were the most optimistic person he had ever met, always seeing the good in everything even when he couldn't.

"I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do to make it better?"

You just shrugged and leaned back on the couch, ready to simply wait until this day would be over.

Spencer, however, decided to make it his mission to cheer you up. After giving it some thought, he realized that he had no idea how to do that, though. Usually your roles were reversed with you being the one to comfort him after a bad day. You were the one who – without fail – always managed to light up his life.

Now it was his turn to do the same for you. He just needed to figure out how.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He offered.

You shook your head while sinking back further into the couch. Spencer reached out his hand to brush over your fingertips. His touch was soothing, so you opened your palm to take his hand in yours. He moved closer to you until his shoulder touched yours.

When you locked eyes with him you managed to flash him a timid smile, not as genuine as usual but less fake than before.

"Hey," Spencer whispered.

"Hi," you breathed.

His lips found yours in a brief and innocent kiss. It wasn't enough to make up for what happened today but you appreciated his attempt to light up your inner spark again.

Spencer quickly noticed that his nearness alone wouldn't be enough to cheer you up.

"Are you hungry?" He asked. "I could make you something to eat."

"I already had dinner earlier," you declined his offer.

He got up from the couch to turn on the TV and put on your favorite show before disappearing in the kitchen for a few minutes. When he came back he handed you a mug with freshly brewed tea.

"Thank you," you said while taking the beverage. "I really appreciate it."

It was true, you did appreciate his attempts to make your day better. It didn't work though. As he sat with you to watch the show while occasionally checking your facial features, he realized that, too.

"You're still upset," he stated with a frown present on his face.

"Sorry, I–"

"Don't apologize," he interrupted you. "It's not your fault. I just hate that I have no idea how to help you. You're always there for me and know exactly what to do or say and here I am… so…lost."

"It's okay, Spencer. I'm sure it'll just pass. Tomorrow is a new day."

"No, don't you try to cheer me up!" He protested. "This is about you. I really want to make you feel better."

You turned your head to look out the window. The sun had already set, all you could find was darkness on the other side of the glass. It almost felt like a metaphor for that day, as if all you could do was to wait for the next morning to let the rising sun warm your heart again.

Spencer couldn't accept that, though, so he suggested, "We could go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will help you clear your head."

It was worth a try. Chilly air met puffy cheeks when you stepped outside, Spencer’s hand immediately reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Walking side by side, you followed his lead, unable to make a decision as to where to go yourself. Soon you stepped into a park together, noticing how a mild breeze created a rustling sound as it met leafy trees.

Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the night sky. The moon was bright and big, almost looking unreal from your point of view. Although it was only borrowing its light from the sun, it still did its bet to illuminate your path.

Very sudden and without a warning Spencer stopped his motions to step in front of you. He softly smiled at you when he said, "Dance with me."

Those were words you never thought you'd hear from him, so you asked in disbelief, "What?"

He gently got ahold of your wrists to move them to his shoulders before he grabbed your waist.

"Dance with me," he repeated.

And so you did.

At first you just swayed from side to side, not unlike all those kitschy prom scenes in teen movies. There was no music playing but that was alright, the sound of the wind was your beat while some sleepless bird sang the harmony. When Spencer made the first step, you simply followed his motions.

It was clumsy and graceless but he didn't give up, not even when he almost fell over his own feet. The smile slowly forming on your face spurred him on to keep going despite his lack of skill. There was no holding back the laughter spilling from your lips each time your chests almost collided because you missed a step.

However, after a few moments your body moved naturally with his, almost as if you had done that a million times before. Your smile grew bigger with each spin, making you slowly forget the sorrows of the day. And although the sunrise was still many hours away, just like that your inner light began shining again.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @snapeknot @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds comfort #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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sugdendingle · 1 year ago

Text

Since I'm still seeing posts where people are saying Buck wanted Tommy's attention in 7x04 I thought I would do a break down of the episode. Cause the entire thing was about how Buck wanted Eddie's attention full stop and I'm baffled that some of you missed that it wasn't exactly subtle:

This is going to be a long post with gifs so I'll put it under the cut

First there was the mansion call. (I know some might say this scene is different because it was meant to be a part of episode 7x05. Doesn't matter they changed the order so it's canon for this ep and so Buck's behavior in it is relevant).

Buck trying to get Eddie's attention with the random facts he knows and also because he knows no one listens and appreciates that stuff about him like Eddie:

Buck glued to Eddie's side the whole call.

Buck also not showing any interest in the ladies from the Bachelor while he's standing with Eddie.

---

Then you have the scene at the hanger:

Here's the thing I do believe Buck has an attraction to Tommy and is interested in him but the main draw Buck has to Tommy is because of the multiple similarities Tommy has to Eddie. The show was practically putting a neon sign above Eddie and Tommy multiple times saying that Tommy is a mirror of Eddie.

I'd also like to point out that maybe it was just me but Tommy didn't seem all that interested in Buck throughout this scene or really any scene until the last one. Now yeah he could have been being cautious because he didn't know if Buck was into guys but I honestly got the vibe he was into Eddie. I can't help but wonder if he was trying to get with Eddie and then maybe in Vegas Eddie told him he was straight (not that he is) or maybe Eddie just told him he has a beard girlfriend. No one can convince me otherwise that Tommy doesn't think there's something between Eddie and Buck. I 100% believe all Eddie did was talk about Buck when they hung out and Buck did the same thing right up until Tommy kissed him. That whole "my attention" line was very telling. Tommy you're gonna get your heart broken but I get it dude Buck is hot.

So anyway Buck goes for a tour and unsurprisingly he brings up Eddie before Eddie ever shows up. And while yeah it's him responding to Tommy saying he was in the army it just feels like a partner moment. Like yeah no way my boyfriend was in the army. Buck talking about Eddie is as second nature as someone talking about their spouse. They're such an integrated part of their life that they don't even realize how much they talk about each other. It'll be interesting to see if Buck does the same thing when he's on his date with Tommy too.

Then Eddie shows up and if you watch Buck the whole scene once Eddie arrives he's almost exclusively watching Eddie.

(watching Eddie walk away)

Here's the difference btw in one of the few times he looks at tommy (when Tommy speaks) after Eddie show up 👇

Then at the end you have Buck make this face:

Which I think isn't so much about feeling left out as it is seeing how happy Eddie is and knowing he's not the one making him happy. Although I don't think Buck is consciously processing all of that right now but I definitely think that was a big part of it.

I think in this whole scene what's going on in Buck's head is this: 1. surprise that Eddie is there because he didn't expect him 2. Why didn't Eddie tell me he was hanging out with Tommy (I usually know everything going on with Eddie). 3. Trying to understand what he's feeling when he sees Eddie and Tommy together. 4. Feeling confused about everything. 5. Jealous that Eddie is going off with someone who isn't him but not really understanding that's what it is.

I get some people might watch that scene and say well Buck was essentially asking Tommy out on a date and then Eddie showed up an took off with him so he must be jealous that Eddie is getting to spend time with Tommy. Buck obviously has an attraction to Tommy but the person he really wants and wants to spend time with is Eddie this is further highlighted by the next scene we see them in when Buck keeps getting more and more upset over hearing about how Eddie is doing things he enjoys with someone who isn't Buck. But also in how Buck acted while at the at the hanger. He wasn't focused on Tommy. I mean have you ever been crushing on someone when they're in the room it's like no one else is. The person who Buck couldn't take his eyes off of was Eddie.

-------

Next we have the sewer rescue scene with Ravi. (We really need more Ravi and Buddie scenes btw I love them together) We have Buddie working together as per usual. Highlighting like in the Bachelor scene how well they work together which they always do.

You have Buck telling the story from the pilot about when he saved that baby in the wall and Eddie smiling fondly like a typical spouse who has heard that story a million times.

While they're working Buck is spending the whole call trying to find out what Eddie was up to when he went to Vegas.

Buck is asking a million questions which implies that Eddie hasn't told him yet about the trip. This goes back to the helicopter scene where Buck didn't know Eddie was spending time with Tommy and is really starting to feel left out. Again this isn't really about Tommy or Buck feeling like he's missing out on spending time with Tommy it's Buck feeling like he's missing out on Eddie's life.

Buck calls out the similarities between Eddie and Tommy

Although he's still clueless that this is what is primarily causing him to be drawn to Tommy. More than anything this was for the audience to again say in case you didn't catch it by now Tommy is like Eddie. They want to keep reminding us of this before the kiss so we know Buck is going to date someone who is like his best friend.

Also want to point out that while Buck is talking about Tommy to Eddie the camera shakes at points so we feel Buck's nerves. He's nervous to hear what Eddie has to say about Tommy.

Also the whole conversation about "naked men pummeling each other" and Eddie saying that he was wrestling with Tommy. Like I'm sorry but not one ounce of that convo felt heterosexual.

I've seen someone say that Buck's jealousy must have been about Tommy because Buck isn't even interested in the things Eddie and Tommy were doing together like Muay Thai and basketball etc but you can hear/see Buck getting more and more hurt as he and Eddie talk because Eddie is sharing parts of himself with someone else.

I feel like there's multiple reasons why Eddie and Buck haven't been spending as much time together. I mean yeah Eddie made a new friend but for the longest time it's been BuckandEddie like peas in a pod in work and outside. But I think the end of season six played a role in some of that changing

At the end of last season they were both dating someone else and they had both gone through some major trauma with Buck literally dying for 3+ minutes. We know that seriously affected Buck but the show didn't touch on how I know it must have affected Eddie. If you watch the scene (from 7x01) where Buck talks to Chris and we see Eddie's reaction in the hall when Chris talks about how everyone leaves. I can't help but think Buck's brush with death made Eddie think of Shannon and how scared he is to lose another person he loves or worse put Chris through that.

Not to mention what Buck said in the cemetery how he felt like Natalia this woman he had known for less than a minute saw him better than anyone. I feel like all of that combined made Eddie distance himself a little even if he wasn't doing it totally consciously.

There's also the fact that I think Buck has kind of taken Eddie for granted a little. We find out later in the ep that Eddie had asked Buck to play basketball with him many times but he'd always turned him down. I also got the impression in this ep that Eddie has all these hobbies that he was sharing with Tommy when he would have rather been doing them with Buck (he was so excited when Buck showed up on the basketball court).

And I'm not saying Buck doesn't love Eddie or hasn't tried hard to be there for Eddie and Chris over the years but it's something that happens in relationships sometimes. You think the person is always going to be there and you get distracted with life stuff.

This combined with things Oliver has been saying in interviews about how Buck is going to have to put in work for his next relationship. How Buck has always gotten whatever person he wanted mostly and I can't help but wonder if that's going to play a role in how Buddie is developed. Is Buck going to have to prove to Eddie how much he means to him?

This part of the scene if no other really lets you know it's about Eddie and not Tommy. We can see how Buck is looking at Eddie when he says I do I really do and we feel all these intense emotions from him more than would make sense for the brief amount of time he's known Tommy. He's clearly thinking of when he met Eddie.

These are really just the baby steps of Buck recognizing how deeply he feels for Eddie. Because right here he's thinking that he thought their connection and place in each other's lives was special and unique to every one else they knew but then he hears Eddie talk like that and thinks maybe he was the only one who felt that way. Maybe he's easily replaced in Eddie's life.

----

So Buck goes to talk about his feelings on everything with Maddie. Tbh I wasn't thrilled with how they did the Buck and Maddie scenes in this ep. Though I do think we're going to get more of a heart to heart with the two of them in future eps when Buck officially comes out. I just feel like Buck needed someone to really listen to him and Maddie was a little dismissive both times he talked to her. I also really want someone to try to ask Buck about his feelings for Eddie.

It's kind of crazy to me how no one in the 118 has ever really brought up the fact of how close Buck and Eddie are. Maddie has said the whole "boy crush" thing and that elf mistook them for being married but what I mean is you know the 118 sees how they are. Look at when Eddie was shot. It was assumed automatically that Buck was going to be the one to talk to Chris because they knew how close Buck and Eddie are and how they're essentially raising Chris together. This is how people talk about someone's spouse not just their friend.

Back to the convo with Maddie

Buck is complaining to Maddie about Eddie and Tommy. His feelings in that scene don't come across like he's unaware of some attraction he has to Tommy or like he's trying to hide feelings for him. He comes across as hurt, and frustrated, and confused that this new person has moved in on his place in Eddie and Chris' life.

Again I'm not saying Buck doesn't have an attraction to Tommy but I do think Tommy is a distraction more than anything. I think Buck is focusing on him rather than looking at the entire situation. Instead of asking himself why does it matter if your friend has a new friend? Why does it matter if Eddie spends time with new people? Why does it matter if Eddie shares parts of himself with someone else parts he might not be sharing with you?

----

Then of course there's the gym scene at the firehouse. I've seen people say Buck thought Eddie was on the phone with Tommy. And maybe he did. But you expect me to believe he was upset and jealous over Tommy and because Eddie was getting to talk to him and his way of dealing with that was to try and get Eddie's attention through lifting weights and pointing his dick at him. o_o

Literally sitting up in the middle of lifting weights so he can see if Eddie is looking over at him.

Nothing about this scene is telling the audience that Buck is thinking about Tommy. It's saying he wants Eddie's attention.

This scene is actually very similar to what happened at the hanger

Buck saw Eddie looking incredibly happy and he wasn't the one making him happy. Eddie also wasn't sharing what's been going on in his life with Buck. Buck felt shut out and ignored from the one person who he's been the closet with for years. Even when they've had girlfriends it's clear Buck and Eddie have been close and connected in ways they never were with anyone else. Buck is scared he's losing that.

If the show wanted us to believe that the scene was about Buck and Tommy and Buck's growing attraction to Tommy there are so many different things they could have done to highlight that. Have Tommy ask Eddie about Buck (if that even was who Eddie was talking to) and have Eddie tell Buck he was talking to Tommy maybe direct a question from Tommy to Buck. They also at the least could have said that's who Eddie was talking to and they didn't even do that. They could have had Buck ask Eddie hey is that Tommy? But they didn't because the scene wasn't really about Tommy it's about Buck's feelings for Eddie that he still hasn't fully come to terms with yet.

Buck buys a basketball literally has it sent to the firehouse so Eddie can see him with it and hopefully ask him to go play basketball with him. Because remember he's feeling left out of Eddie's life. It's not like he asked Tommy to play basketball or asks Eddie if he can go with him to the court in hopes of seeing Tommy. No he wants Eddie to invite him. He wants to know Eddie wants him there.

Watch how Buck acts even when he's opening the basketball. He's trying to do it quickly and even while he's doing that he's looking over to Eddie to try and get his attention.

Also someone on twitter pointed out that in season 3 it was shown in Buck's loft that he already had a ball. My head canon is that he still has that ball and the lunatic that he is he just bought a whole new one and had it sent to the firehouse so eddie would see him with it. 🤦‍♀️

---

Next is the infamous basketball court scene where I knew the minute I heard "basketball beard" and playing with the boys and other Top Gun references that canon bi Buck was a go.

Similar to the hanger scene Buck's attention is almost exclusively on Eddie through the whole scene.

Oh I'd also like to point out that both times that Eddie was with Tommy in this ep he was wearing sunglasses particularly when the two of them were side by side. I feel like it's the shows way of saying that Buck is not seeing Eddie right now and he's not connecting with his true feelings for Eddie.

I know Oliver is good at basketball but I couldn't help but laugh when they included that shot of him spinning the ball. Like we're meant to believe Buck doesn't play how did he learn to do that 🤦‍♀️

If the basketball scene had really been about Buck wanting Tommy's attention or being jealous that Eddie was getting Tommy's attention Buck wouldn't have been spending the entire time trying to get Eddie's attention. He also would have been competing with Eddie for Tommy's attention and he wasn't he was trying to get Eddie to notice him because he felt like all Eddie was doing was focusing on Tommy.

You can watch Buck get progressively more upset through the game as he feels like Eddie is competing against him and partnering with someone else when for so long that's been his role on and off the court. It's been Buddie against the world.

Also there's a moment when Buck runs into Tommy but the show never plays it as some kind of moment between the two. I mean they had more of a moment on the boat after the cruise ship when Buck patted Tommy's shoulder. But like according to some this is supposed to be the episode Buck is all into Tommy but that's just not present most of the episode.

Buck immediately knows he's fucked up after Eddie is hurt. I've seen people say why wasn't he running to help him but I've been in a similar situation like that where you're so stunned that you did something to cause someone you cared about to be hurt you can't even move.

Then as soon as Buck wants to try and help Tommy swoops in and says he'll take Eddie to the hospital. Taking care of Eddie has been Buck's job for a long long time. Think about how he saved Eddie during the shooting and took care of him and Chris. Also he took care of them during Eddie's mental health crisis. Buck is feeling like Eddie doesn't need him anymore.

Here's another thing I want to bring up about the basketball scene. Like I keep saying people have said that a lot of Buck's motivations in this ep were about Tommy. I'm sorry but you don't have those kind of strong emotions over someone you just met. Even if his emotions were that he had a crush on Tommy and felt like Eddie was taking all Tommy's time away. If Buck behaved that way from a simple crush on a guy he barely knew I would think he'd lost his mind. No he reacted the way he did because all of these feelings (that he's just now scratching the surface of dealing with) are connected to Eddie someone who means everything to him.

Remember too that Oliver said in his interviews that Buck doesn't even know why he's jealous or who or what it's about. Which is why I think even by the end of the episode when Buck thinks he's figured some things out there's still a lot he's missing.

----

The second Maddie scene

I definitely agree with what others have said that unfortunately Maddie's words here only served to further confuse Buck. What he was feeling was not just being left out and excluded from this friend but mostly jealous over a man he loves being all excited to spend so much time with someone else. Buck was jealous and scared of someone taking his place in Eddie's life and doesn't really know how to process that.

Oh and for people who say he wasn't jealous over Eddie he literally says he was to Maddie.

Buck admits he was trying to get Eddie's attention which like I said in the basketball scene you can see because Eddie is all Buck is focused on.

----------

Then of course we have the end scene with Buck and Tommy.

First we get the opening shot where Buck answers the door. And before he even answers we the audience are made to think it's going to be Eddie and made to think Buck also thinks it's going to be Eddie. Because all of the tension that's been between them in the ep hasn't been resolved and Buck hasn't talked about how he's been feeling to Eddie at all. So we're left waiting for that resolution.

Instead however when Buck opens the door it's Tommy

One thing I didn't mention earlier was that the show has made it a point to have Tommy only call Buck Evan. I've seen a number of theories people have for why this is, personally I think it's a reminder to the audience that Tommy for all his similarities isn't Eddie. Like they give us all these signs that say look Eddie and Tommy are so much the same but everytime you hear Tommy say Evan so casually like that you remember they're different.

Eddie who knows the real Buck only ever calls him that and it's only on the rare serious occasion does he use Buck's real name. Maddie is similar. It's like when Ana called Eddie Edmundo. These people have an idea of who Buck and Eddie are but they they don't know all the little intricate pieces that's something Buck and Eddie only have with one another.

So Buck is smiling and laughing (somewhat out of embarrassment for how he behaved on the basketball court) but watch his body language at even the mention of someone replacing him in Eddie's life:

I find it extremely foreshadowing of what's to come with Buddie that the show chose to have Tommy and Buck spend most of the time before their first kiss even right down to the seconds before it talking about Eddie and even talked about him afterwards. I mean if you didn't want your audience shipping a ship or giving them hope it was going to happen would you do that?

Buck not only talks about Eddie before the kiss he talks about how great he is and brings up memories of their past. Almost like someone talking about an ex they're still in love with. Like you're trying to move on but you can't help what your heart wants.

Like I said above I fully believe that when Tommy said "my attention" he knew that Buck is all about Eddie. Buck's response being "I guess" is even more telling because it shows his confusion. I definitely think that when Buck and Tommy break up (or however far they get in their dating) that we'll get some kind of confirmation that Tommy always knew Buck and Eddie were in love.

I think a lot of the stuff Buck talks about in this scene is him trying in the moment to make sense of the confusing way he's been feeling. I do think he's attracted to and likes Tommy but there is also a whole host of other feelings he has that really were the main motivating factors into why he acted the way he did in this episode.

The last time Buck was with someone and there was an I love you it was with Taylor and it was like Buck just went along in that relationship because he felt like he was supposed to. Buck and Eddie are similar in that way. They have this amazing love and bond with one another but there's a reason besides the fact that they're both guys that they keep avoiding really confronting their feelings. They're scared. They're scared to loose what they have. They're scared to change it. They're scared of fucking it up like they believe they have their past relationships. Scared of so many things. So they just kind of side step it at every turn.

The show mentioning Eddie right before the scene ends is one of the biggest indicators that this is all leading to Buddie.

If the episode was really just a misdirect where Buck was really into Tommy all along they wouldn't have made the last scene so Eddie heavy and especially not the last bit of dialogue about Eddie. The last few lines are what you're leaving the audience with until the next episode and the words they left us with are about Eddie (and Buck) so we're meant to focus on them.

If you read all this thank you ❤️. This post took me forever (which would be why it's getting posted a full week after the ep >_< ) please reblog if you like it. Can't wait for the ep tonight.

#buddie #911 meta #911 7x04 #911!#long post #911 s7 #buddie s7 #b*ck t*mmy for bl

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batlovebites · 2 months ago

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How would vampire cookie feel with an s/o that doesn't drink, but still likes to go to the bar with him anyway, or be there when he gets more drunk than usual? Like they go to the bar with him and just get a flat non alcoholic, but make sure vampire doesn't get tooooooo tipsy while drinking

Not sure if this was a request or just conversation, but I haven't actually gotten a request for Vampire Cookie yet so I'm going to treat it as one. As a treat to myself.

Vampire Cookie x Nondrinker Reader [Headcanons]

That's actually pretty perfect for him! Vampire Cookie has no issues with other people not drinking, so long as they don't try to get him to also fully stop drinking. It's in his dough (literally), that's Not happening. His partner being someone that doesn't drink at all just means that he always has a 'designated driver'- or rather someone walking (dragging) him home after he over-indulges and falls asleep at the bar.

And he's happy to have you tag along with him, even if a bar's not exactly a place of interest to you given its primary purpose is to provide a vice you have no interest in. He's fairly chatty while drinking and knows most a lot of the other regulars quite well, so you'll at least be able to chat with a lot of people and hopefully have some fun even when you yourself aren't drinking.

He doesn't always over indulge, but its not exactly an infrequent occurrence either. You can usually get him to stop before he drinks too much, but sometimes he'll be stubborn about it. 'What's the harm in onneee more?' he says for the fourth time, and its easy for him to say because he's not the one who's going to have to deal with dragging him home at the end of the night- you are. Oh, the things you do for him...

Vampire Cookie is a tired drunk (unsurprisingly) and will get more clingy and cuddly as he drinks. Even if he hasn't drank himself to sleep, you'll probably still be half-dragging him home because of how heavily he'll lean against you just for the sake of being closer to you. Fortunately he's pretty light despite being fairly tall, so its not too hard to deal with.

There is the slightest problem that Vampire Cookie is the type of person to show affection and care by sharing food or drink- including alcoholic drinks. So as he gets more drunk, the fact you don't drink'll slip his mind and he'll keep trying to offer you some of the wine he's drinking. Its kind of cute, but also kind of annoying having to remind him that you don't drink and to stop offering. He'll drop it when you say no, of course, but when he's drunk enough he'll forget you said no after a bit and offer again. A little annoying, a little cute. He means well! His brain's just a bit scattered.

You'll become a pretty good judge of what Vampire Cookie's drinking limit is and when you actually need to stop him pretty quickly. Vampire Cookie's not a lightweight by any means, it takes quite a lot before he starts going beyond 'tipsy,' and he's pretty functional even pretty far into drinking- but everyone has a limit, and Vampire Cookie reaches and passes his own drinking limits often.

(Sparkling Cookie's also already a fairly good judge of it and- as a bartender [and a friend] is supposed to- will cut Vampire Cookie off at a certain point without you needing to step in, but he's glad that you're also there to look after Vampire Cookie in more ways than he can while working.)

Given that you don't drink, Vampire Cookie will make sure to come up with other places for the two of you to hang out so there's things for you enjoy too- usually his go to is just having lazy days together at home. He'll still almost certainly be drinking some regardless of where or when you're hanging out, but at least it'll be in situations where you can have as much fun as he's having, too.

#cookie run x reader #crk x reader #cookie run headcanons #✧ lovebite bits ✧#♱ bitesized morsels ♱#Vampire Cookie x Reader #crk x you

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icomeandg0 · 7 months ago

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Dyk Vio? The Smart Part Of Four Well I came To Ask For a Request From Him Specifically And I've Been Thinking About Him Lately And I just Want To Fill Him With So Many Kisses That He gets Dizzy And Dumb

And My Request Is Exactly That, Where Reader Kisses Him So Much That He Gets Drunk With Love Idk I Like The Idea Of Making The Intelligent One A Little Stupid

Hi Anon! Sorry for such a long wait, I'm here to deliver a request that was long overdue.

Enjoy it though and I apologise if he seems out of character.

Content under cut:

Could you really blame yourself for wanting this?

Your boyfriend, Four—or well should you say boyfriends. The colours had split after a little miscommunication, All angry at one another for silly, petty reasons might you say.

Red, Green and Blue had all left the comfort of your house leaving the lonesome yet calm Vio on the couch reading as per usual. "Whatcha all fighting about now?" You questioned which he only hummed. "Nothing important, silly bickers amongst us. It'll pass" Vio flips to the next page of the his book.

"Whatcha reading?" You asked as you sat down beside him, taking a peak at the cover. "Old Hylian history, something you obviously won't be interested in" Vio says, on purpose just to tease you which made you huff. "You're right. That sounds really boring, we could do something much more fun." You suggest with a cheeky smile which caused him to glance your way.

"Oh yeah? How so?" Vio asked, licking his finger before turning the page.

"Well, since you guys have spilt I realise just how much time I spend away from each of you individually. Of course I spend all my time with Four but with you all one by one? I don't recall our last conversation"

"Hm, it's just more rational. So none of us get jealous of the other and we all have our own share." Vio answers simply. "Plus, why are you bringing this up now? You trying to butter me up or something?" Vio teases which made you grin.

"Well, we're alone. House to ourselves and we don't know how long the others would be until they come back" you say in an innocent tone but your suggestive words said otherwise. "They'll probably be back in an hour or so—" "So we have an hour? Better be quick. Stay still" "What? Stay still—"

He's quiets down when he felt your lips against his. He felt hesitant at first, sure he's kissed you before but only when he's Four...This was new, sorta?

However it doesn't take much for him to come to his senses as kiss you back, cupping the side of your face gently. He felt all giddy inside, this makes him feel so alive. You move forward, shifting your body across his lap so that you were now straddling his lap while wrapping your arms around his neck.

The sensation was overwhelming, overpowering but he didn't want it to end. However, pulling away for a quick breather you looked down on him. How adorable he looked, looking up at you and panting slightly, already so heated and you only gave him one kiss! You didn't say anything, however you leaned down and peppered his skin with light kisses, making sure to brush over his lips a few times making him jolt with excitement.

"Just a few kisses and you look a bit flushed" you comment with a knowing grin which made him huff. "Don't tease me." Vio huffs as his pale cheeks were dusted with a pink hue. Capturing his lips in an unexpected move made his heart beat quicken, never have you been this bold before. Kisses he was used to receiving were tender and careful, these kisses now are filled with passion and heat, he craves for more.

It was honestly so cute how quick he went from being 'calm and collected' to a complete flustered mess.

10 minutes have passed.

20 minutes have passed.

30 minutes have passed.

40 minutes have passed.

A long, torturous time for Vio. Being coddled and loved on like never before. He looked drunk...drunk in love. His hands squeeze your hips as if a sign for you to continue on with your delicious kisses he craves but you only giggle. You would teasingly move in close to his lips and move back when he leans in, poor boy. Getting his hopes up~. He would whine and try to pull you in, you were thinking about giving him a few more kisses until you looked at the nearby clock.

Sheesh! 40 minutes gone by already?

"Should we wrap things up? The other boys may come back any second now, wouldn't want them to catch us" you say teasingly. Vio glances at the clock. "Knowing them, they'll be back around in 10-20 minutes..." he informs.

"Not much time, huh? Just when I was having fun too" You smile as you went to get off his lap but instead his strong arms were now wrapped around your waist pulled you in. "Let them see, if anything 10-20 minutes is long enough for me to finish what you’ve started”

——————————

Honestly, this is my first time with such a request like this so I hope it was decent!

Guilty because I’ve had this in my drafts for a while but I wasn’t sure if it was good enough or if it was out of character.

#linked universe x reader #lu x reader #link x reader #x reader #lu four #Vio #lu vio #lu colors #lu red #lu green #lu blue

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restless-soulz · 8 months ago

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HOW THE HOUSEWARDENS ACT W/ A BABY (not their own, they're all still underage)

RIDDLE:

-man this guy is so bad with babies, but damn it if he isn't efficient

-he'll make sure that the physical needs are taken care of, but that's not entirely what a baby needs.

-but a baby can't tell you what exactly it needs so it'll just be stressful for both of them until he figures it out

-it might be a while

-doesn't do super well with physical affection (giving)

-he probably won't burn down the house to make a bottle for the baby but he will stress about the temperature and it'll go cold before he's satisfied and it'll repeat the process ad infinitum

LEONA:

-pls the baby he knew was cheka, and he was easy he's got this (NOT)

-lion man just wants to sleep and does not appreciate being woken up for feedings or changings or anything else

-doesn't care about bottle temp, milk is milk

-won't show but is a little stressed about having claws vs incredibly fragile baby skin

-genuinely confused to as why not all babies are not like Cheka

-after a while he'll get down the baby language and be so fast at it, just to maximize his sleep

-hey if it works it works

AZUL:

-another one not really fit for children

-would try to foist off the child to the leeches, and then realize that unfortunately he is the much better option (because morays eat their young)

-he will do his best tho and he will do an almost perfect job

-he just...overestimates human baby milestones

-it's ok, it can go one of two ways. either the parent is delighted by fast progress or Azul feels embarrassed

-like riddle, doesn't super love the whole physical contact thing

-also secretly i'd think he'd be great to talk to for anything involved in being recognized outside of your children or a body dysmorphia kind of depression cause same

KALIM:

-mans has 40 siblings or something

-i trust him, but he can be a little...cloud heavy

-he will make sure that baby is cuddled, and fed, and played, but sleeping is not his thing. adorable, but babies are AWAKE around him

-plus he's had servants that take care of the gross parts so he's clueless about how messy babies usually are

-jamil would lose his mind having two people to take care of, one infinitely more dependent than the other

-as much as i love him, don't give him a baby

VIL:

-he wouldn't try very hard

-babies are hard and he's not planning to babysit very long, he has more important things to do, but in the meantime

-this baby will be TAKEN CARE OF

-he bought a lot of...well...everything and all the excess goes to the parents.

-the cutest outfits you've ever seen

-detests changing and other gross parts but will do it

-does not like the not sleeping part, but he will admit they are very cute

IDIA:

-you're playing with fire here

-the only baby he's ever been around was Ortho, and that...ended terribly

-panicking every single second, and rapidly googling every time the baby breathes a little weird

-builds an automated bottle warmer and baby rockers so he has minimal contact with the baby as possible

-until Ortho says that skin to skin or physical contact is best for optimal health

-he'll whine and cry but do it, for a super short amount of time

-made an automatic changing station so he never does the gross parts

MALLEUS:

-adores children. they do not adore him.

-he can scare them a bit being all dark colors and rbf

-but he does theoretically know how to take care of a human baby

-i don't think silver should count since he's more of a changling

-will not put the baby down unless absolutely necessary (my kind of guy)

-the baby lives in a singular too big shirt or the most regal ensemble you've ever seen. no in between

-doesn't bother with changing since he can just magic it away

-also buys everything for the baby and keeps half for when he hopes to be asked to babysit again

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foundtherightwords · 7 months ago

Text

Fallen Empires - Chapter 5

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: domestic violence, physical abuse

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Daphne watched her patient across the table. He was bending over two flat boards, gouging out a shallow square in each of their centers with a chisel she'd borrowed from her youngest brother, Mikkos, claiming she needed it to fix a window. Mikkos, ever the dutiful sibling, had offered to fix the window for her, but she insisted she could do it herself, saying she didn't want to take him away from his regular carpenter work. It was such a bad lie that she feared Mikkos might turn up anyway, but it looked like he believed her.

Romulus was trying to make a wax tablet. It had all started the other day, when Daphne came back from her usual rounds in the village to find out her goat, Amalthea, had broken into the garden and was contentedly munching on some of the seedlings she'd just planted. Daphne had given Amalthea a stern talking-to and planned to raise the garden wall so the goats couldn't jump over it—she didn't have to worry about Midas, who was a good boy and knew the garden was off-limit—but what really worried her was that she didn't know what Amalthea had eaten exactly. Some of the medicinal plants were poisonous or at least harmful to a goat, and the poison could pass into Amalthea's milk, harming the kids as well.

"Don't you remember what you've planted?" Romulus asked, when he heard her scold Amalthea.

"Well—yes, usually," she stammered. "But I've been busy taking care of you so I wasn't paying attention." She ran an irritated hand through her hair. "Time like this, I wish I knew how to read, so I can label my plants and medicines."

Romulus stared at her. "You don't know how to read?"

Now it was her turn to stare at him. "Of course not. Around here, one doesn't need letters to be shepherds." The only person in the village who knew how to read and write was the chief, Master Kavos, and even then, only enough to write down thei villagers' names in the tax roll. Daphne had always wanted to learn, but she knew she shouldn't get ideas above herself. She had once been courted by a scribe in the nearby town of Adala, and when she suggested to him that she should like to learn to read, he had only laughed at her, thinking it was a joke.

Thankfully, Amalthea was none the worse for wear, but Daphne had a stressful day watching the goat for signs of poisoning or bloating. That evening, over their meal, Romulus suggested casually, "I can teach you to read, if you want."

"Why?" Daphne asked warily.

"It'll be something to do," he said with a careless shrug.

In the end, Daphne had agreed. She could see no harm in it, and she rather liked the idea of having neat rows of labeled jars and jugs, like the apothecary's shop in Adala she often visited. And Romulus was right, it would be something to do in the long hours when it was too hot to work outside. He was still pushing himself too hard with his exercises, and often Daphne had to remind him to go into the shades and rest or he would have a sunstroke. He struck her as a restless sort of person; no doubt he was tired of being cooped up inside. This would give them both something to fill their time.

So now he was making a wax tablet for their lessons. She could tell he was not used to woodworking, as he held the tool awkwardly and his chiseling was uneven, but he seemed determined to get it done. He frowned over the chisel, sweat dripping down his forehead, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. The expression contrasted with his usual scowl, giving him a rather childish look, and Daphne had to turn away to hide a grin.

She wondered why she kept him around for so long. It had been a month since she brought him back, half-dead, from the Balikh, and he had made a remarkable recovery. Perhaps not enough to walk all the way to Edessa, but certainly enough to leave on a cart or a wagon. Yet she kept putting off his departure, telling him—and herself—that something could happen to him on the road, that his wounds could open up again, that his fever could come back. She could never live with herself if she let her patient die from negligence. But other than professional pride, there was another reason she kept the soldier around, the same reason she'd saved him in the first place—for companionship.

In the years since she received the message that Galen was not coming back from Caledonia, and since she moved into the hut following her grandmother's death, Daphne had been on her own. Of course, the villagers were always around, but they never stayed for long. The only time Daphne had had a patient stay with her was when Ione, the little girl who lived on the next hill, broke her leg running down the hill after her father's goats. After Daphne had set the bone, the little girl had become so taken with Amalthea that she'd insisted on staying, and for the next three weeks, Daphne had had a rather chatty housemate who hobbled around, got underfoot, and made a mess of all her herbs and potions. Daphne had rather enjoyed it. Even now, whenever she had to leave the village for longer than a few days, she still entrusted the care of Amalthea and her kids to Ione.

It was hard being alone. It was the one thing that her grandmother, for all the wisdom she had imparted to Daphne, had failed to teach her. When she first moved into the hut, Daphne had thought she would enjoy it, after years of growing up with two younger brothers and never having a moment to herself. But the novelty had worn off quickly. Sometimes, on winter evenings, when dusk fell early over the hills, her own fire giving up little warmth, she would sit and watch the smoke from the huts down in the valley blend in with the gray clouds, feeling so lonely that she might even risk her father's wrath to come back to the village. But in the end, fear of her father always won out, and she remained in her hut, wondering how her grandmother had managed it all those years.

Now, it was a comfort to return to the hut after a long day to another person, who was waiting for her. It was a comfort to hear a voice other than her own and see another face across from the table during mealtimes. It was a comfort to fall asleep knowing there was another person just on the other side of the wall. A simple sort of comfort, perhaps, and it would not last, but she would take it for as long as she could.

One might say that an irascible, arrogant, and quarrelsome legionary did not make for a very good companion, but Daphne didn't mind. Had he been courteous and good-humored, had he asked for her help with politeness and accepted it gladly, it would have made her nervous, afraid that she would offend the noble patrician with her coarse peasant ways. His roughness put her at ease. It was simply that he, like most men, was used to having his every order followed and his every whim catered to. His undoubtedly high status only made it worse. She had had her fair share of men like him, men who insisted they were perfectly fine until the moment they tumbled over from pain. Patrician or plebeian, at the end of the day, they were all the same. She knew how to deal with them.

The only thing that bothered her was Romulus's reticence. After a month, she knew nothing about him except for his name, and that may not even be real. To all of her questions, he answered none and only gave questions of his own. He'd stopped making her taste his food and medicine, but she knew he still slept with his dagger under his pillow. Well, she couldn't blame him for being suspicious after having so narrowly escaped death. Who was she to judge anyway? She hadn't been exactly open with him either.

That day he walked around and got himself lost on the hillside, it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Galen. When she turned around and saw him sitting at the door with his back to her, dressed in Galen's old tunic, for a heart-stopping moment, she'd thought he was Galen. They had the same build, sturdy and broad-shouldered, the same dark curls and eyes. The difference was that Galen had been quick to jest and to laugh, while Romulus was always scowling. But for some reason, she felt shy about mentioning Galen to Romulus, and so she had kept those memories to herself.

After the boards had been chiseled out, Daphne melted some beeswax and poured it into the hollows, while Romulus fashioned two styli out of twigs, and the lessons began. Daphne took to it with an enthusiasm she didn't know she possessed, and soon learned to write her name, the names of her animals, and the common names of the medicinal plants in her garden. Romulus seemed to enjoy the lessons as well, and she often caught him watching her with a curious expression, without his usual wariness. When they tired of the writing and reading lessons, Romulus made another board, marked off a series of squares on it with his knife, and gathered a handful of pebbles from outside—half of them black and the other half white—and placed each of them on a square. It was a Roman game called latrunculi, or draughts, he said, and proceeded to teach Daphne to play. In this, she proved to be a quick learner as well. Once she'd grasped the rules, it only took her five games to beat Romulus. This brought on another scowl, while Daphne laughed at him for being a sore loser.

With such occupations, the long, hot days of early summer went by quickly. Romulus seemed calmer, though he remained wary, watchful of every little movement outside the hut. One afternoon, Daphne was coming in from the garden with some vegetables. She had just stepped through the door when an arm yanked her into a corner and a hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her half-formed scream. It took her a moment to realize it was Romulus, who was standing with his back against the wall. His eyes were enormous in the dimness of the hut, and sweat was pouring down his face. Daphne tried not to notice how tightly he was holding her, how his arm was circling her, pressing her back to his chest. He smelled of sweat and leather, and for a confused moment, she was reminded of evenings when she went to the edge of the pasture to meet Galen coming back with the goats. They had been courting then, though they had always known they would marry, so it wasn't as if Galen had to do anything to woo her. She would throw her arms around him and press her face into his neck, and he'd smelled just like this...

She twisted out of Romulus's arm and hissed through his fingers, "What in Hades are you doing?"

"Shh!" He held up his dagger, precariously close to her face. "There's a man coming up the path." His breath was hot against her ear.

"One of the villagers?"

"No. I've never seen him before. He looks shifty."

"Stop being so damned suspicious!" she snapped. "You haven't seen everybody from the village. Just go into the bedroom and let me see who it is."

Reluctantly, he lowered the knife and let her go. Once the bedroom door had closed behind him, Daphne picked up the vegetables that had fallen out of her basket and looked out the door to see who the mysterious visitor was.

Her stomach dropped. Staggering up the path was her father, Timon. His robe was disheveled—more disheveled than usual, his head bare, his face bruised. Each of his feet was having a very different idea of where it was going, and she could practically smell the wine on his breath from where she was.

Silently cursing, she went out to meet him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Chaire to you too," said Timon, sounding friendly for once. "You're looking well, daughter."

Her guard was instantly up. Whenever her father was being nice, it was because he wanted something. She eyed his bruises and had a pretty good guess what it was he was after. She asked anyway. "What do you want?"

"Can't I just visit and see how you're doing?" He sat down by the front door and looked up at her with bleary eyes. "Your mother misses you. When was the last time you came to see us?"

"I just saw Mother the other day," she said coldly. She wished he would just get on with it and leave.

Timon peered into the hut. Daphne followed his gaze warily, hoping Romulus hadn't left the wax tablet or the latrunculi board lying around. She knew her father would come down on her with all the wrath of Zeus if he found a man living with her. There were two cups on the table, but thankfully, Timon didn't seem to notice.

"Looks like you're doing well," he said. "Lots of patients, lots of coins..."

"What coin? When have you ever seen any coin around here?"

"I don't need much." And there it was. She knew it had to come out sooner or later. "Just a few coins to tie me over." Always the same. If she had saved all the coins she'd given her father "to tie him over" throughout the years, she would've been rich by now.

Daphne sighed. "How much do you owe?"

"Ten drachmae," said Timon. Daphne groaned inwardly. Ten drachmae was a large sum even by the standard of a sizeable town, where a man could subsist on half a drachma a day; here in their village, where they lived by bartering and some had never seen so much as an obol, it was practically a fortune. "Those snakes at the nomad camp tricked me!" her father snarled. "They said it was just one game, for fun, and before I knew it, they've taken everything I got! It wasn't my fault!"

"It's never your fault, is it?" Daphne snapped. "Mother and Mikkos work their fingers to the bone, and Attikos sends home everything he can, but it's never enough for you, because you insist on falling in with every low-life and criminal you come across!"

"You're one to talk!" Timon stood up, and Daphne had to turn her face away from his wine-sour breath. "You'd never have this place if it wasn't for me! And here you are, living in the lap of luxury, while your family starves!"

Daphne grimaced. Her father's drunken insults were nothing new, but they never stopped grating. He made it sound like she was dining on roast mutton and fresh fish every night. "Go home," she said. "I have nothing for you."

"We'll see about that!" said her father. He stormed into the hut and started going through her herbs and potions, searching for where she might have hidden some money. Jars clattered to the ground. They didn't break on the soft earthen floor, but their contents spilled out, leaves and roots scattering everywhere. Daphne trembled in terror, not of her father's wrath, but of him opening her bedroom. If he burst upon the knife-wielding Romulus, it would be catastrophic.

"Stop it!" she shouted, trying to shove him outside.

"Perhaps I ought to take your goats," Timon said, staggering out the door. "Or that donkey. They should fetch a pretty sum."

"No!" Daphne went cold all over. Knowing her father, her animals would end up at the butcher's right away. She grabbed the back of Timon's robe, and he went sprawling on the ground.

"Is this how you treat your father, you ungrateful whore?" he slurred, scrambling to his feet.

"I will treat you as a father when you start acting like a father!" she shot back.

This earned her a backhanded slap across her face. Timon was so drunk that it didn't hurt much, yet Daphne could feel hot blood dripping down her cheek. Putting her fingers up, she realized the slap had caused the cut on her cheek to open again. She glared at her father. This was routine for him. Once he failed to appeal to her sense of filial duty, he would resort to violence. It had always been the same way in their family, even when she was a child. When one of them didn't do what he wanted, he would hit their mother or one of the children until they submitted to his will. Her grandmother had been the only one standing between them and Timon's beating, and it was only after she took on her grandmother's mantle that Daphne found the strength to start standing up to him. In fact, Daphne was surprised her father had made the trip up here himself. Usually, he would force her mother to go in his stead, knowing Daphne could never refuse her mother anything. Perhaps this time he had realized, and rightly so, that her mother's bruised and battered face would only infuriate Daphne and get him nowhere.

Daphne pressed a corner of her stole to her cheek. If there had only been herself, she would have fought harder to drive her father away. But she wasn't alone. No doubt Romulus had heard their struggle. She had to get her father out of the hut before Romulus became even more agitated and did something foolish.

Going back inside, she gathered up some amphorae of wine that she'd just picked up from the village, a payment for curing a shepherd of his toothache. She dumped them into a basket and pressed the lot into her father's arms. "Here," she said. "It's the only thing I have that is worth something. Take it. Treat your gambling pals to a drink and maybe they'll give you an extension on your debt. Or you can drown in it for all I care."

Timon raised his hand again, but this time Daphne had foreseen his intention and ducked. Losing his balance, her father had to hold on to a boulder to keep from falling over. It took the fight out of him, and he took the basket from her with a brightening face.

"You're a good girl, Daphne," he said as if nothing had happened. "I know you'll take care of us." He reached out to pat her cheek. She flinched away. "Speaking of which, have you given Izkur's proposal another thought? He's very keen, you know."

"No," she said, trying to keep calm. "I've told you, I'm not going to marry again, and certainly not to that old lecher. Go home now. And try to stay out of trouble this time," she added, knowing it wouldn't happen.

Daphne watched until his stumbling figure disappeared down the path, before returning to the hut. She was cleaning the blood off her face when Romulus emerged from the bedroom, still holding his dagger.

"That was your father?" he asked.

She sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"You've never mentioned him."

"What's there to mention?" she said with a shrug. "He's the terror of the village. If it wasn't for my grandmother, our whole family would've been driven out of this place years ago because of him."

"Is that why you insist that I hide?"

"Yes. I would not have him accuse me of misconduct." She didn't say that the secrecy was for her father's protection as much as hers and Romulus's. Then suddenly she realized what she was implying by "misconduct", and her cheeks grew hot even as the pain from the cut subsided. Romulus didn't seem to notice.

"What did he mean when he said you wouldn't have this place if it wasn't for him?" he continued.

Daphne wrung out the bloody cloth and hung it up. "This was my grandmother's place," she explained. "She left it to me on her deathbed, even though I can't inherit. My father is her only son, so it should've gone to him. But I convinced him to let me stay here and continue my grandmother's work."

Romulus was quiet for a moment. "I have some money," he said. "You could've given it to him."

"I'll not touch your money!" She had seen the pouch on his belt since the first day and heard the clink of coins inside it, but had refused to even open it on principle. Then she added, in a softer voice, so he wouldn't think her ungrateful. "Besides, it wouldn't be enough. It would never be enough for my father."

Romulus looked at her strangely. She turned away, not wanting him to see the bruise forming on her cheek, and started gathering up the spilled jars.

"My father—" Romulus began.

Daphne turned back to him with interest, for this was the first time he had ever mentioned anything relating to his personal life. Only whatever it was he had to say seemed stuck in his throat. She waited, but he closed his mouth again. With a sigh, Daphne returned her attention to the jars.

Without another word, Romulus put the dagger away, got down on his knees, and helped her.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, as he handed her a jar.

Her smile seemed to startle him. And then, slowly, hesitantly, a corner of his mouth lifted in return. It was the first smile she'd ever seen from him, and brief though it was, it still lit up his face and wiped away his scowl. It made him look younger and friendlier, and Daphne no longer wondered why she kept him around.

Chapter 6

As you may know, in the "Gladiator II" script, there is a deleted line that reveals Geta and Caracalla's father was abusive. While this has no basis in history (same as much of the movie), it does align nicely with what I already had written about Daphne's own abusive father, so I had to add a little moment between Daphne and Geta as a nod to that. I'd like to think that Geta's childhood trauma made him more sympathetic toward Daphne, though he may not be ready to admit that yet.

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #gladiator 2 #emperor geta #gladiator 2 fic #emperor geta fic #geta #emperor geta x ofc #geta x ofc

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fire-bean · 24 days ago

Text

Coral Celeste

Rafayel x Reader

1.2k words, fluff

A/n: Thank you so much for the love on my first post, I wasn't expecting it to do that well! I decided to make a lil something for Rafayel, so I hope you enjoy <3

"Ah-ah hey! Stay still, I'm nearly done."

There's an ache in your legs after sitting on the wooden stool for so long, but you try to stay in the same posture he had positioned you into. The idea of him painting you had always been something you'd been open to, and so you had offhandedly mentioned it to him yesterday. As he was supposed to be in the middle of working on a painting that Thomas needs for the next gallery, you hadn't expected anything out of the suggestion until he was done. Maybe after he would take you up on your offer later, when you both had more time.

In hindsight, that was a stupid mistake. He may as well have thrown the gallery piece out of the window as soon as the suggestion escaped your mouth. Completely deviating from any deadlines Thomas had so desperately set out, within moments he was all over the new idea.

He had pestered you relentlessly about it all night, determined to fit it into your already busy schedule. As much as you didn't mind doing it at some point, you already had a long day planned out.

The next day, the sun had already set behind the horizon when you headed to his studio after a long day at work. Drained from the strain of a larger amount of wanderer attacks than usual, your initial plan was to try and wind down, maybe try to sleep it all off. Wiping your face with the back of your hand with a sigh, you barely managed to get one foot through the door when he suddenly appeared in front of you like a whirlwind. At the back of the room you could see an empty canvas and paints set up on an easel, ready to be used. It was almost as if he had been hovering around, waiting for the exact second you came in. His badgering was immediate, the insistence from yesterday as present as ever.

"There you are. I've been bored out of my mind waiting for you, you know. It's unfair, my bodyguard leaves me alone and makes me wait around for you. You don't even protect me from my own boredom."

"I've just walked through the door."

"It's already set up, I'll do a quick one, it'll only take a few hours."

"Later, I promise."

"Please."

"No."

"Please."

His lips pull into a childish pout, arms folded in front of his chest as he looks at you expectantly, feigning annoyance at your refusal. It's clear he isnt going to drop this. Him and his stupidly handsome face, always so relentless. It feels endearing however, how eager he is to do this. Somehow, he always seems to know exactly how to get under your skin and get his own way.

"... Fine."

That's how you ended up here, legs crossed as you sit perched on top of the stool. It's uncomfortable, but that much you had expected. You weren't even surprised when he had tossed one of your nicer outfits for you to put on, he likely already had some sort of vision in mind after all. What you didn't anticipate however, is when he came charging at you, paint in hand, smearing splodges and speckles of various shades of blue and pink across your skin. Your arms, your legs, even your face wasn't spared, smears of colour dragged across your features. By time he retreated, satisfied with his work, you felt like a canvas yourself. Now, his eyes flicker between you and the easel, furrowed in concentration as the bristles delicately brush paint into place.

“I still don't get why you had to put paint on me.”

“Because the colour suits you. You shouldn't question my creative talents, cutie.”

“You did it for fun, didn't you?

“Maayybe.” His face morphs into an impish grin, dragging the word out slowly as he glances over at you once again.

“Little shit.”

A small laugh resonates from the both of you, filling the room with a comfortable tenderness. Despite the physical discomfort of being sat still for so long, it still feels quite nice. Music plays faintly in the background, filling the gaps of silence with a peaceful hum of noise. You've seen only Rafayel look so intensely focused on a piece a handful of times before. You find yourself watching his every move, the way his arms shift with every stroke, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, how his hands move with a precision only years of practice can conjure.

It feels uniquely intimate, a shared moment of unspoken contentment between the two of you. Neither of you speak much during the process, not really feeling the need to. There's a couple of teasing jokes about being tired, lighthearted quips any time you shift too much. But nothing serious, nothing significant. Just a few words drifting between the lingering sense of calm.

“Okay, I think that's it. I might add a few touches later, but you're all good to go, cutie.”

His voice breaks you out of your train of thought, drawing your attention back to him. Taking a step back, his hand moves to his face, thumb rubbing against his chin in thought.

Your feet thump against the floor as you hop off of the stool, hurrying with anticipation towards his latest creation. Reaching his side in a moment, you finally get to see what he's managed to illustrate.

Upon the canvas, you're not sitting on a stool, but on the top half of a pearly white Greek pillar, legs dangling down and out of frame. Various tones of pink and blue seem to blend and swirl in the background, some rays of colour leaking forward and dancing across your features, stroking against your skin and giving you an ethereal glow. The exact same shades that he’d so eagerly flicked onto you a few hours ago. Everything in the painting seems crafted to only enhance you, every colour chosen to compliment your features, every brushstroke made to praise your appearance. It feels like a love letter, something made only for the two of you to see.

“It's not quite there yet, there's still some things I need to- hmph!”

Grabbing his cheeks, you cut off his sentence by pulling him towards you, your lips pressing firmly against his own. It takes a mere second for him to melt into you, hands moving to your waist and pulling you in closer. Moving perfectly in tandem, the kiss is soft and tender. You pour every ounce of loving gratitude you can muster into every movement, and he returns it all back to you with equal reverence.

As you pull apart for breath, your forehead rests against his. His hands still rest on your hips, yours still cup his cheeks, neither making no intention to move. A wide smile spreads on his face, eyes sparkling with a relieved delight.

“I knew you'd like it, cutie. I'm a master of my craft, the best of the best.”

You see his eyes fall back down, lingering on your lips as you laugh affectionately in response, before they flicker back up to meet your own.

“You're right. I love it, thank you.”

Your thumb rubs along his cheekbone, and his head leans forward a little, leaning into your touch. For a moment longer you stare into his eyes, a cacophony of blue and pink that blends in waves like a rolling ocean. Within a heartbeat, your lips find his once more.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x mc #rafayel fluff #lads rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #lnds rafayel #lnds rafayel x reader #l&ds rafayel #l&ds rafayel x reader

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heroes-among-us-all · 2 years ago

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How would Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto react to walking in on their girlfriend for the first time while she's changing?

Izuku:

Poor baby will be mortified, and there's no doubt this moment will live on in his mind rent-free.

You've forgotten to lock the door, so when he walks into the room, he finds himself looking at you while you are very much exposed.

He pretty much faints for a split-second, and when he finally blinks to make sense of the situation, his freckled cheeks turn the deepest shade of red you've ever seen.

"I-I-I'm so sorry!" he exclaims, immediately covering his eyes with his hands. "I didn't know that you were... it-it was an accident! I'm so sorry!"

He's just about as panicked as you might expect, and even though this isn't exactly how you wanted him to see you half-naked for the first time, his innocent reaction is adorable in its own right.

"It's okay, Izuku," you reassure. "I'm not mad. I know it wasn't on purpose. I probably should've remembered to lock the door. It's my bad."

His eyes are still covered, so when he tries to walk out of the room, he ends up smacking his face into the door a few times. You feel bad for thinking it, but it's kind of hilarious.

Still, you know that your boyfriend is a flustered little cinnamon roll, and it's one of the things you love most about him. It'll take him a long time to calm down though, that much is for sure.

Once your relationship progresses a bit more, you'll be happy to show him a more intimate side of yourself. But for the time being, you should take things slow and not surprise him anymore, otherwise he'll probably have a heart attack.

Shouto:

At first, you don't even know he's walked in on you changing, because he's completely silent. It's only when you turn and catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye that you gasp and hurry to cover yourself up.

Shouto just stands there, refusing to blink. His expression is usually so stoic, so it's hard to tell the difference, but there's no doubt that his face is red, his eyes are wider than usual, and his lips are parted in awe.

"Um," you say, doing your best to cover up your exposed parts with your hands, but it's not an easy feat. "Shouto. You know you can look away, right?"

He finally blinks. "Oh. Right. I should... probably do that."

Even then, it still takes him a while to turn around. You're not sure if it's the shock of it all, or if he's trying to prolong the moment for as much as possible. You're definitely embarrassed, but you'd be flattered if that was the case.

"I'm sorry," Shouto says, standing with his back facing you. You can see that the tips of his ears have turned red. "I should have knocked before coming in."

"No, I could've locked the door. It's okay. This is no big deal," you reassure.

"It's a big deal for me," you hear him mutter under his breath. He opens the door and walks out, but right before he closes it in his stead, you catch him not-so-subtly stealing one last peek.

Even if he's respectful enough not to bring this moment up, you get the feeling that he'll be thinking about it for a long time.

Katsuki:

He's hardly the type to check before barging into a room, so he just blows right past the door and says, "Hey, [Name]! Where'd you hide my damn chili powder? I told you to stop-"

He isn't able to finish his sentence, because there you are, with your most delicate parts exposed.

Katsuki stiffens up, and he immediately barks out, "What the hell? Why didn't you lock the damn door?!"

He's as loud as ever, but that's mostly because he's trying to downplay his embarrassment by yelling. The fact that his face is bright red - basically as red as his eyes - tells you everything you need to know.

"I don't remember where I hid the chili powder," you admit, using your hands to cover yourself up.

Katsuki's face turns even redder. "As if I could care less about that right now! God... j-just let me know when you're done changing. We can talk later."

He likes to act macho and like nothing could ever faze him, but the sight of his girlfriend half-naked wasn't something he was prepared for this early on in the relationship. In fact, he even fumbles with the door handle as he tries to close it behind him.

"Shit!" you hear him curse out, and you can't help but laugh, even as embarrassed as you are.

As you finish changing, Katsuki stomps through the house in a hopeless attempt to try and calm down. At least you have something to tease him over for the next little while.

#boku no hero academia #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #fluff #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #my hero academia

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panchulien · 4 months ago

Note

bratty makarov!! i need him to get put in his place. He's too confident, he needs to be shaken up a little bit just to remind him he's just a man. idc who does it, i just need someone to break him down and then break him in half

Anon, I wanted to write something for this so bad but considering my writing habits it'd wait for so long, and I don't wanna be disrespectful. If I do end up writing though you'll be the first to know.

Listen, there are only two people who can talk back to Vladimir Makarov and live to see another day. Andrei and Milena.

Milena because in my head they're besties (wlw & mlm solidarity. milena's husband wasn't murdered by others, it was milena herself. don't ask how I know) She can playfully bully Makarov when he fucks up, and Makarov knows he can't get back at Milena because she's one of their most important assets, and a long time friend. (so much for that, though, after MW2 LMFAO)

Andrei because he's the only one allowed to do something about it. Get physical and fuck some sense into him. He's the definition of "This man can't be fixed. I can fuck him though, maybe that will calm him down."

Andrei is the only one Makarov truly trusts, so he doesn't hesitate to take the matters in his own hands.

Makarov could be more restless than usual, twitchy and even more of a bitch over all. Andrei picks up the signs and immediately knows he should do something about it, put the man in his place. Had it been anyone else Makarov would have them shot for even making a comment or looking at him a certain way, but with Andrei he almost wants him to.

Sometimes he's not aware he's doing it, he's genuinely on edge, it's not easy leading a whole company into starting another world war. He's prone to overworking himself, denying himself sleep and other necessary things, resulting in him being more insufferable than usual. Lashes out, intolerant of even the tiniest of mistakes, twitchy and irritated. That's when Andrei knows he has to step in as his second in command, drag him into a secluded room and handle Makarov's attitude. He gets rough with him because Makarov will NOT surrender easily, he will lash out and bite and threaten Andrei with a demotion, but Andrei doesn't budge. Ties his hands up behind his back, manhandles his commander and works his magic until he's pliant under his hands. With the way he's been pent up for so long, it doesn't take Andrei long to turn him into a crying begging mess.

Sometimes he will deliberately try to get under Andrei's skin. It's not his general attitude but rather personal towards Andrei. Tries to rile him up, is a complete brat and Andrei knows exactly what he's trying to get at. Maybe he will give him what he wants, maybe he will drag it out and it'll turn into this little competition between them about who's going to break first. Makarov always wins, of course, because at the end of the day he gets to have Andrei deep inside him while Andrei takes it out on him. He's not gentle, whispers outright disrespectful shit into Makarov's ear, much to his pleasure.

He probably takes pride in the fact that he's the only man who can rile up Andrei Nolan and see him like this. I don't know.

#makanolan #vladimir makarov #andrei nolan

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panda-noosh · 2 years ago

Text

authors note: oh hey. enjoy!

ask me about commissions!

--------

this is Daryl's fault.

all Daryl's fault, as most things tend to be nowadays.

this isn't the first time you've been held captive in the three years since you joined Rick's group. in fact, you get captured at least once every fortnight, but you always took it as a sign you were doing your job right; hunters cannot be hunters without a brief spell of missteps, and getting caught by the enemy is usually high on the list of scenarios that could take place. by now, you are used to it.

but this is different, because it's Daryl's fault, and that makes it ten times worse.

the rope holding your wrists together is painful, skin already red raw despite the fact you've only been tied up for an hour. Daryl tells you it will hurt less if you stopped trying to maneaveur your wrists enough to flip him off, but that doesn't stop you from continuing your attempts.

the walls are oozing condensation. it drips onto your head, slides down your nose, gets in your eyes, and it smells like damp. mould grows in the cracks in the floor. mice dart in front of you, as if boasting the fact they are free to roam and you aren't.

the worst part is, your knives are nowhere to be seen.

"i didn't even see them take them off me!" you exclaim. beside you, Daryl has barely moved. his hands and feet are tied in the same way yours are, but he's putting up no fight to get free, or even loosen them. he keeps his head down, shoulders sagging, shifting every now and then with his ragged breaths. you can't make out his expression due to the curtain of dirty brown hair shielding his face, but you would like to think his expression is one of pure guilt and sorrow for being the idiot who got you both captured in the first place.

"oi," you hiss. "a little communication would go a long way right now."

"what do you want me to say?" he bites; anyone else would back away from that tone, but you're not anyone else. you're the person put on this earth to be a pain in Daryl Dixon's ass, and that's exactly what you plan to be.

"i want a plan," you reply. "the others are expecting us back before nightfall."

"we're not getting back before nightfall."

"not with that attitude." you sigh, doing yet another pointless scan of the room - well, dungeon more like, considering the amount of rock and concrete there is. "how long has it been since they left? do you think they'll feed us?"

"we're not dogs, y/n," he grumbles. "we're hostages. chances are, next time we see them, it'll be so they can slit our throats."

"i didn't really get that vibe off them, to be honest. i know we're tied up and everything, but i think we can negotiate."

finally Daryl looks up, bloodshot eyes bored. "don't even try. things always go tits up the minute you open your mouth."

your jaw drops open. "are you serious? how can you say that when you're the one who got us into this situation in the first place?"

Daryl rolls his eyes, looking away. "i never asked you to come with me."

"yeah, well, someone has to keep you from killing yourself."

"you can keep me from killing myself, but not getting kidnapped?"

"i'm not a miracle worker."

Daryl scowls. you scowl back, even though he's not looking at you. it would be so easy some days to just punch him square in the face, but you've never let yourself get that far. at the end of the day, and as tough as it is to admit it, Daryl is the only one in the group you can properly talk to, whether he likes it or not. everyone else is too. . . flowery, too keen on sparing your feelings. they know what you've been through, and that effects everything they do when in your presence.

Daryl isn't like that, and for some reason, it feels safer to be with someone who tells you the truth, and nothing but the truth. sometimes, it feels safer to be with someone who hates your guts.

still, that doesn't mean he doesn't drive you completely mad. the way he chokes up in stressful situations, offering no help or communication - this is a life or death situation, and yet he still insists on kneeling there with his thumb up his ass. you could scream. in fact, you're so mad at his silence that you're being driven into your own silence, unable to come up with a plan when you're so angry at the idiot beside you.

he's a domino effect. a bad one. a domino avalanche.

you sigh heavily, closing your eyes, tilting your head against the concrete wall behind you. Daryl glances over, but neither of you get a chance to continue arguing - as much as you'd love to - before the rickety wooden door on the other side of the room creaks open. light spills in, blinding you, but you don't let your discomfort show. instead, you stare right into it, waiting for the face of your captor to appear, because you don't remember it all too well. they were wearing balaclavas for one, the smart bastards, but you can imagine they're young with the shabby way they've tied you up, and the complete whim of which they decided to-

"what the fuck."

two people come into view once the door is closed. their faces are lit only by the flashlights they carry, but the puny yellow light is enough to show the wrinkles indented in their leathery skin. the flashlights shake from elderly trembles, held by veiny, pockmarked hands damaged from years - years - of hard labour never soothed by retirement.

you and Daryl share a look; something isn't right. these can't be the same people who managed to pin you to the ground and tie you up.

that would be too embarrassing to even fathom.

"are you awake?"

the voice is frail but commanding.

"yes," you reply, earning a glare from Daryl that you ignore. "quite hard to sleep on concrete."

the flashlight pivots in your direction. you wince.

"right, stop blinding me, would you?"

"what's your name?"

"who's asking?" Daryl grunts.

the stranger - the male - steps closer. "the people who have the power to kill you, or let you go. i suggest you cooperate."

you stare at Daryl, hoping to God he can feel what you're trying to say through gaze alone; he needs to work with these people. they didn't come in here guns blazing, which means there is room for release if they just cooperate, but that word has never been something Daryl fully understands. right now, you need him to understand. right now, you need him to use his brain, need him to-

he spits on the concrete, right at the mans feet.

you close your eyes, resisting the urge to start cursing.

"go to hell," he growls.

the man steps back and wraps an arm around the female's waist. she curls into him, shooting daggers at Daryl as she places one hand on her husband's chest, as if protecting him from Daryl's lack of manners. you really can’t say you blame her.

“there’s no need for the hostility,” the man says. “we did what we had to do; you can’t trust anyone nowadays.”

“the wise thing would have been to leave us. kill us, even.”

“he doesn’t mean that,” you hasten to add.

daryl shoots you a glare before continuing. “instead you tie us up and bring us to your base. what good is that going to do?”

“it keeps us in control,” the female replies. “just because we want the upper hand, doesn’t mean we want you dead.”

daryl scoffs. “biggest load of horseshit i’ve ever heard.”

“do you want us to kill you? because, young man, that can easily be arranged,” the man growls.

your heart jumps in your chest; this isn’t going as smoothly as it could be going, all because daryl can’t keep his mouth shut. he’s the quietest guy in the group when he shouldn’t be, and the biggest loud mouth when he should.

your brain work at a mile a minute as daryl and the elderly couple have a stare down. it’s your first instinct to scan the room for any weaponry, but then you imagine yourself actually slaughtering this elderly couple, and your stomach twists; there has to be another way, some kind of reasoning you can find, even ground you can all agree-

your eyes land on the wedding bands on the couple’s fingers.

you don’t even fully process the next words out of your mouth, just dive head first into the ridiculous idea that has suddenly sprung to your mind. “look, i’m so sorry about my husband. he gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

daryl’s head snaps around, mouth open,ready for a retort, but you’ve stated digging the hole, and you’ll be damned if you let him ruin it now.

“i’m sure you understand, being a married couple and everything.” you laugh nervously. “we were actually just talking before you came down - we think i’s so admirable that you two have grown old together. it’s the kind of marriage we want. of course, the cards we’ve been dealt make that a little more difficult, but hope prevails.” you look at daryl and smile. “hope prevails. isn’t that what you said, dear?”

daryl only stares.

the elderly couple share a glance. if you’re not mistaken, they look almost sympathetic, and when they look back at you and daryl, their expressions have changed entirely, watered down to something you can certainly work with.

“i’m sorry,” you chuckle, waving a dismissive hand. “i always get carried away when it comes to taking about him. we’re newly weds, you see - got married just a few weeks before the news broke about. . . well, everything.”

“oh, goodness,” the female gasps, wrinkled hand covering her mouth. “you poor souls. did you at least get to have your wedding?”

“a tiny one,” you reply. “people were isolating, you see. my own mother, god rest her soul - she never made it. we had to put her down the day after.”

the woman shakes her head like this is the worst story she’s ever heard come out of the apocalypse. you glance at daryl, urging him with your eyes to play along, though you have very little hope you’ll ever get him to tart spewing bullshit marriage stories. the least he can do is stay quiet - that’s all your asking.

“we’re married, though, and we’re together,” you continue. “that’s what we’re focusing on.”

“yes, of course,” the man says. “do you . . . do you have a home to go back to?”

“a group, actually,” you reply. “we have a few young’un’s waiting for us. don’t tell anyone, but i think of them as our children now. they’re probably worried sick.”

the couple share yet another glance, and you know you’ve got them. when it comes to old married couples, the idea of a young couple mirroring their experience with marriage is always an easy fix; if you want anything, just tell them it’s because you want to end up like them, old and in love. they fall for it every time.

the woman inhales shakily, letting her hand drop to her side before she pulls a knife from a tiny sheath in her leggings; you almost whistle appreciatively at the blade, how shiny and well-kept it is, nothing like your own which have grown almost completely dull with age and overuse, and very little care on your part.

she walks over and slices the ropes from daryl’s hands, and then she steps back and waits. you blink at the scene, waiting patiently for her to make her way over to you to do the same, but she doesn’t. she just stares at daryl, lips pursed.

she’s waiting for him to make a big scene about being released.

what would a young, married man do in this situation? probably rush to his significant others side, smother them with kisses, ask them if they’re okay. daryl just rubs the raw skin on his wrists, cursing quietly under his breath, seeming almost oblivious to the audience watching him.

panic grips your chest. you have to do something before they realise something isn’t right.

“baby, you’re free!” you exclaim.

daryl’s head whips around. “huh?”

“you’re free!” you repeat. “come here, let me make sure you’re alright.”

daryl raises a brow, but he’s at least got the common sense not to say anything in the presence of your captors. slowly, he crawls over and kneels in front of you, confusion still etched on his expression. you rake your eyes over him dramatically, feigning worry; in truth, he looks to be in better form than you are, his wrists not even raw from the ropes.

“what are you-“ he begins.

“you’re okay!” you throw yourself forward, letting him catch you, and then you do the extreme part of the plan. without warning, you press your lips to his. he grunts against your mouth, eyes widening, fingers curling around your biceps, but he doesn’t pull away, and you almost sob in relief. you were fully expecting him to shove you to the floor, probably fight his way out of this dungeon and leave you for dead. instead, he goes still against you, but his lips don’t leave your own. you’re almost tempted to push your luck and stick your tongue in his mouth just to piss him off, but there’s a time and place for things like that, and it certainly isn’t here and now.

you keep the kiss short and sweet, pulling away with a smile you hope is convincing. the elderly couple are looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars in the sky; apparently the kiss was all they needed, as the man walks over and finally cuts the ropes binding your wrists. the cold air against the raw skin makes you hiss in pain, but you don’t let it take you from the character you have suddenly developed. as soon as you’re free, you throw your arms around daryl’s neck and drag him in to a hug. his hands hover at the small of your back.

you turn your head and whisper in his ear, “play along, you son of a bitch. i’m trying to get us out of here alive.”

he drops his hands, wrapping you in his arms. a warmth spreads through you, an odd sense of relief tat you don’t want to acknowledge when you’re in this position with daryl dixon.

“you two get home safe,” the man says, his voice being the only thing to remind you and daryl that you can actually let go of each other now. “tell your folks we’re sorry. we didn’t mean no harm.”

you pull away from daryl. he keeps his arm around your waist, tugging you into his side like the old little actor you never knew he could be. “thank you. honestly. we appreciate this.”

daryl gives a nod, which is probably all you should expect from him.

and with a final goodbye to your captors, you walk up the stairs and into the night.

——

daryl doesn’t speak the whole way back to camp. you didn’t really expect him to.

nonetheless, you still try. you would hate to go back to camp with all this tense energy between you, a direct result of daryl’s inability to communicate like a regular human being.

he barrels ahead of you, letting all the branches swing back in your face. usually you would tell him to fuck off and stop being a child, but it’s obvious what happened has shocked him, and the last thing you want to do is make it worse.

maybe you shouldn’t have kissed him. maybe you shouldn’t have let things get that far. hell, you probably could have worked out some way to get free without telling lies, but in the heat of the moment, it was the only thing you could come up with.

it worked, didn’t it?

“daryl!” you holler after him. “daryl, come on. slow down.”

“keep up,” he shoots back.

“are you mad at me?”

he tugs on the ropes holding the prison gates together; in the distance, glenn stands atop one of the watchtowers, watching you like a hawk.

you grip daryl’s arm. “are you mad?”

he pulls away and glare before finally getting the gate open; he doesn’t give you a reply, instead storming off without another word, which you suppose is answer enough.

you follow him into camp, eyes cast to the floor in any attempt to hide your emotions from anyone you might come across; it doesn’t matter that you’ve been gone for hours - you don’t want to explain why daryl has marched off in a huff, because that will be the first thing they ask you. always you, like you’re tied to the man in some way.

you make your way to the canteen without seeing anyone. you slump in one of the metal chairs and finally take time to rub at the raw skin of your wrist; it burns, but the sting is familiar at this point. you could easily go another few days before having it looked at, but of course hershel has other plans.

“you’re like a bloodhound,” you say, sensing his presence in the doorway.

the click of his cane echoes. “what happened?”

“what always happens - we got in shit, got out of shit. now we’re here.”

“now you’re here.” hershel kneels in front of you, taking your wrist for examination. “where’s your other half got to?”

you wince. “don’t call him that. he’s nothing of the sort; especially not right now.”

hershel raises a brow. “no?”

you sigh, looking at the ceiling; hershel is one of those men you are able to trust with anything, the grandfather of the group after dale died. you have told him secrets, confided in him with embarrassing questions, but he has never judged you. in fact, nine times out of ten, he knows what you’re going to say before you’ve even said it. still, he expects you to make an effort, which is why he doesn’t fill in the blanks, just inspects your wrist whilst waiting for you to speak.

“it’s complicated.” your go-to statement when it comes to daryl. “we ran into some people, and we had to. . . play pretend, and i don’t think daryl appreciated it very much.” you wince, cheeks burning. “did i violate the poor guy?”

“i’ll need more details before i can answer that.”

you hesitate. “we kissed.” hershel’s head snaps up, but you’re quick to clarify. “we had to kiss. the only way we were going to get free was by pretending we’re a married couple.”

hershel blinks. “i’ve. . . never heard of that tactic before.”

“either have i, but it worked like a fucking charm.” you sigh. “only problem is-“

“daryl’s huffing.”

“yep.”

hershel shakes his head, muttering almost to himself. “i don’t understand that man. he makes absolutely no sense.”

“he has every right to be mad,” you say. “it took him off guard, and we all know daryl doesn’t like surprises.”

“yes, but. . .” hershel shakes his head, taking your wrist again. “never mind. i’ll have a chat with him; i want to check him over anyway.”

——

the days pass, and daryl continues ignoring you.

you’re very good at pretending this doesn’t bother you; the group are absolutely none the wiser, not mentioning daryl to you once. however, you refuse to be in denial - you have greatly pissed daryl off, and you don’t like it.

your hunting trips aren’t the same without him. they’re lonely, and boring, and too quiet; you never realised how often you turned to him when it was just you in the woods, and no one else, how often you leaned on him to take your mind off everything going wrong in the world. without him, these hunting trips are almost scary.

of course, it would be easy for you to approach him, just ask if he wanted to hunt, but you can’t throw your pride away like that.

so you spend the next few days trying to distract yourself from his ever-looming presence. he stands in the corner of the room during group meetings, arms folded, avoiding your gaze. the fact he finds it so easy to completely block you out is a punch to the gut, but you refuse to let it get to you.

you will not be the first one to break.

two weeks pass with no disturbances at the prison. days actually start to grow boring, a repetitive cycle of prison upkeep and hunting that drives you insane. you tell carl this as the two of you sit on the floor of the courtyard, watching the small pile of walkers cling to the gates; you and rick fixed them up yesterday, so you’re in no rush to get up.

carl scoffs at your complaint. “have we not earned a little boredom?”

“yes,” you grumble. “i knew you were going to say that. make me feel all bad and stuff.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” he shrugs. “i’m enjoying the boredom.”

“not like you.”

“keeps dad calm. can’t ask for much more than that.”

you nod. “fair enough, i suppose. fair-“

carl suddenly lurches forward, eyes narrowed. immediately your knife is in your hand and you're joining him, one hand on his shoulder, the other curled around the hilt of your knife.

you don't need to ask him what he's looking at, because you see it instantly, the one breathing being amongst the dozens of corpses clawing at the gate.

"fuck," says carl.

"watch your mouth." and then you're both on your feet, sprinting for the gates. you catch glenn's attention up in the watch tower and wave your hand above your head, signalling for him to get the others. your heart pounds with an adrenaline you haven't felt in days, you're dizzy with it, on the verge of-

you nearly trip over your own feet when you finally get a glimpse of who the person is.

the same woman who watched you kiss daryl. the same woman who took you captive and forced you into this situation.

the same woman who let you go when she could have easily slit your throat.

"carl, wait!" you grab his arm and yank him back. "i know her."

carl doesn't lower his gun, merely glances up at you with a raised brow.

you step forward, pushing him behind you. the woman meets your eyes and continues to yell, slamming her hands desperately against the wire fence; a few walkers have already noticed her, slowly peeling away from their group and making their way towards her. by the looks of things, she doesn't even have a weapon; she's come here out of pure desperation.

"what's going on?" rick hollers, sprinting down the hill with most of the group close behind. "y/n?"

"open the gates!"

"what-"

"open the gates!" you demand, before thrusting your knife through the fence and into a walkers brain.

you ignore the confusion happening behind you and just hope they're following your orders. you continue to stab and yell, drawing the dead away from the terrified woman and towards you.

it doesn't take long for daryl to join you, though you aren't sure who he's doing it for. even though this woman showed you kindness, she is still the one who kidnapped you in the first place; you aren't sure if daryl would appreciate her presence near him again. and yet he takes the walkers down without hesitation, even helping glenn and rick rip the gate open, allowing the old woman in.

she's disgruntled to say the least, gasping and stumbling. she collapses at your feet, and that's where she breaks down completely. tears streak the mud caking her face, dripping into a mouth held open in absolute horror. her grey hair is matted with blood, and her husband is nowhere to be seen.

you glance at daryl, and for the first time in days, he looks back.

"someone grab her," rick orders.

"no," you bark, pushing maggie back. "can't you see she's distraught?"

"that doesn't matter," rick fires back. "we don't know who she is, how she found-

"y/n said no."

all heads turn to daryl. he meets everyone's gaze, letting them know he is not one bit intimidated before looking back at the woman. too caught up in daryl's overall presence, you hadn't even noticed the woman go silent, flicking her gaze between you and daryl like you're some kind of spectacle.

you kneel next to her. "hello again."

----

you and daryl decide to talk to her together. nobody else allowed in the room.

he's nervous, or furious - you don't really know which one. he paces back and forth, crossbow not leaving his hands once; rosalie stares with wide eyes, glancing at you like she expects you to do something about it.

you have a sip of your water. "you can ignore him if you want. he never really adds anything to the conversation anyway."

daryl whirls. "you know, your little jokes really aren't handy in situations like this."

"good thing i don't give a fuck-"

"no, of course not. everything's just a big game to you."

"why are you yelling? you think that's going to-"

"please."

rosalie's voice is barely a whisper, but you hear it nonetheless. she sounds so fragile, so broken - so much so that you actually feel guilty for being so hostile in front of her. you have been in this interrogation room for nearly twenty minutes, doing nothing but bicker with daryl.

"please," she repeats, not looking up. "don't fight. we don't need any more of that in this world, especially between two people who love each other."

daryl stiffens, and you wince. that's right - she thinks you and daryl are married.

you fold your arms on the metal table. "rosalie. sorry. look, you have to understand why daryl and i have been sent to talk to you. this - you showing up out of nowhere. . . it looks a little weird. we just need some answers."

"why are you here?" daryl demands.

you shoot him a glare and repeat the question, softer this time. "why are you here, rosalie?"

she sniffs, wipes her nose on her blood stained sleeve. "our base got ambushed. patrick didn't make it; they got him while he was trying to protect me." she squeezes her eyes closed. "i ran out and just. . . kept running. your prison was the first place i came across that looked like it had any sign of life." she opens her eyes again. "i didn't know it was you two. i promise i didn't."

"bullshit," daryl scoffs. "it don't matter that you just kept running. this place is in the asshole of nowhere. you couldn't have found it unless you had us followed that day."

rosalie's eyes widen, darting to you for support you can't give her. despite daryl being a known drama queen, he also has a point right now. rosalie could have ran for days, but the chances of her finding the prison without forewarning of it's whereabouts are slim.

daryl stalks over, leaning close to rosalie's terrified face. "what do you want?"

she pulls back, and you don't miss her wince when she does. "i-i don't want anything you're not willing to give. i just needed a place to rest. i'm exhausted."

"you think we should give you anything after-"

"where are you hurt?"

daryl looks down at you, that familiar glint of frustration in his gaze. it's a look you've become accostomed to, so it's easily ignored, especially when you're focused on something else. you didn't notice it at first, but the wince rosalie makes every time she moves is becoming increasingly suspicious.

rosalie stares for another few seconds, as if waiting for you to retract your question. you lean forward, pushing your knife closer with your elbow.

"i've been nice to you," you say. "and i'll continue to be nice if you tell me where you're hurt. why you're hurt."

daryl stiffens. "a bite?"

you narrow your eyes. "i don't know."

rosalie shakes her head violently, fresh tears beginning to leak down her face again. "i'm not bitten! i swear i'm not bitten!"

you grab your knife. "show us."

immediately she scrambles to her feet and yanks up the hem of her pink jumper, revealing not a bite, but what looks like a nasty burn mark. still, you and daryl have been through this before, are both well aware that there's no such thing as being too cautious when it comes to injuries. it's an unspoken routine when daryl grabs rosalie's arms and tosses you the flashlight always strapped to his belt. you catch it with ease, shining it on the throbbing, wrinkled mess on rosalie's hip.

"well?" daryl grunts.

"looks like a burn." he drops her; she lands back in her chair with a clatter.

you glare at daryl.

he plucks his flashlight from your fingers. "now what? we keeping her here or not?"

"you're letting me decide?"

daryl shrugs, but you don't miss the tiny blush rising to his cheeks, one he tries to hide by going back to his pesky pacing.

you decide to leave the teasing till later, instead turning to rosalie. "hershel will want to check her over."

"why does hershel have to know? send her out on her ass without telling him, he's gonna be none the wiser."

you raise a brow. "you're not really that evil. the tough guy act doesn't work on me." and just to add salt to the wound, you add, "we're married, remember?"

daryl scowls, but that blush only gets more pronounced. you're finding this quite fun.

"okay," you say to rosalie. "we're gonna get our medic to look you over. that burn doesn't look too good. once he's said it's alright, the group should have some idea of what to do with you."

rosalie hollows out her cheeks, slumping back. "thank you." "don't thank us yet," daryl grumbles. "we aint decided yet."

----

daryl lets you in his cell that night.

it's the first time in a while he's let you follow him to bed, the first time in a while you've actually wanted to. after everything that happened when you were captured, it seems almost. . . inappropriate, even though these little sleepovers have never been anything more than a platonic comfort for you both, just having someone there to exist with.

daryl doesn't invite you in or anything, simply lets you hover in the doorway as he sits crosslegged on his bed, busy sharpening an arrow.

you fold your arms, watching him. it's always jarring to see him like this - sitting still, doing something slow paced. he's the type of man you expect to always be in motion, like he might cease to exist otherwise. when he's sitting still, you can admire everything about him, and there's nothing he can do about it.

"you didn't like it, did you?"

you say it because that's really the only thing you need to say, the only elephant in the room. judging by the way he freezes, it's obvious he knows it too.

"i thought it was our only chance of getting out of there." you shrug. "you know me and my stupid ideas. i should have asked you first."

"you admitting you were wrong?"

you hold your hands up. "just 'cause the word 'sorry' melts your brain, doesn't mean it melts mine."

he glares through the tops of his eyelids, making you grin.

you step into his cell. "i'm just messing. i really am sorry."

"stop apologising," he grumbles. "fuck, it worked, didn't it? we got out alive."

"alive and wed."

he scoffs, but it's close enough to a laugh that you make your way over to his bed and take a seat. he goes back to sharpening his arrows, and suddenly it's just like old times. it was only two weeks of his silent treatment, but you still missed the evenings spent just like this, watching him work, those calloused hands so skilled in anything he puts them to. you can imagine a ring on his knobbly finger, though you aren't sure why the image sends heat racing through you.

"have you ever been in a relationship before?"

the question takes you by surprise; it's not the kind of thing daryl would ever ask about, not a topic he particularly cares about. when you look at him, he keeps his head down, tongue gliding across his bottom lip.

you shift on the bed, bringing your feet under you. "not a serious one, no. i'm better on my own, i think."

"ain't that what they all say?"

"what about you? have you ever had that special person?"

he pauses a moment too long. your heart jumps, a flood of some dark, grim feeling filling your body before you can get a hold of it.

you clap a hand over your mouth, gasping dramatically. daryl groans, lifts his head to tell you to shut up, but you need to bury this burning jealousy somehow, and the only way you can come up with is by embarrassing the shit out of daryl.

"you have, haven't you?" you grab his arm. he lets out a hiss of pain, drawing his arm back to reveal a droplet of blood welling on his finger.

you flinch back. "shit, sorry!"

daryl glares, placing his finger between his lips, and holy god, why is the room getting so stuffy? why can't you stop staring at his lips? those same lips you kissed only two weeks ago, those lips you have tasted, those lips-

"i've never been in a relationship," he grumbles, snapping you out of your daze.

"i don't believe that," you scoff. "a fine, sociable man like yourself? surely the ladies were dropping at your feet."

daryl rolls his eyes. "funny."

"seriously though. never?"

"don't act so surprised. you haven't either."

"yeah but that's. . . different. i'm . . . me."

daryl freezes, eyes snapping up to meet yours. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"well, i'm not exactly the best person to-"

"shut up y/n. you're ridiculous."

your eyebrows rise. "woah, okay. fuck you, dixon."

he just shakes his head, going back to his arrow sharpening. this is what he does, one of the many things that infuriate you about him; he will say or do something entirely out of pocket, and then go silent when you confront him on it.

but it's been years, and you're used to it by now. taking a deep breath, you try steering the conversation someplace safer. "you know if rick decides to let rosalie stay, we'll have to pretend we love each other."

he flicks his eyes up. "why do we?"

"well, she thinks we're married."

"who gives a fuck what she thinks? she's our prisoner now."

you roll your eyes, exasperated. "don't call her a prisoner. we're not tyrants, daryl."

"everyone's a tyrant."

"she came to us." you sigh. "we could just stay away from each other if you think that's easier."

his reply is quick, almost panicked. "what good will that do? married couple it is."

just to really seal the deal, you shake hands. it goes quiet after that, neither of you knowing what to say or how to proceed. still, you don't leave his cell, enjoying his presence more than you would ever willingly admit. despite him being a complete pain in the ass, he's still your closest friend in this place, the guy who knows you better than anyone. the guy who somehow managed to break down every wall you've ever put up, all whilst keeping his perfectly in tact.

---

rosalie is released from the infirmary and put under watch, but she is still free to roam the halls of the prison. rick decided an injured, unarmed, grieving old lady isn't much of a threat in the grand scheme of things, and you weren't going to argue. you have no problems with rosalie besides the fact you have to get uncomfortably close to daryl when she's around.

again, this isn't something that ever bothered you; once upon a time, you and daryl would spend hours with each other, out in the woods hunting, or just sitting in each other's company. however, after your last little sleepover, being in daryl's presence has become a very confusing experience, one you don't have time to face head-on. all those weird, warm feelings you felt just don't make any sense.

nonetheless, you keep up the charade when rosalie's around, because it's easier that way. even daryl agrees, which is why he sits beside you now, an arm thrown loosely over your shoulder. you can hear glenn and carl snickering behind you, but rosalie is talking, so you can't do anything about it.

she's in the middle of a story about the travels her and patrick used to embark on, how they aren't even from atlanta, but got caught there after the first wave of walkers made an appearance.

she's explaining how they didn't fret, because at least they had each other, when she turns her attention to you and daryl and says, "i'm sure you two understand. this world could really do some damage if we didn't have people we love."

daryl's grip tightens, and you purse your lips. you can appreciate rosalie's optimism, but her naivety takes the forefront; how can she say such a thing to a group of people who have lost everything, have watched their loved ones get ripped to shreds one by one? it wasn't that long ago rick lost his wife, carl his mother, you a friend.

you sniff, grabbing daryl's hand to keep your angered trembles at bay. "very true, rosie, very true."

"such a good thing that daryl and y/n have each other," glenn chimes in, amusement dripping from every word. "not so lucky for us - they can be loud when their - uh - love takes over."

carl chokes in his attempts to keep from laughing.

"oh!" rosalie gasps, abashed. "goodness, well, at least that spark is still there. i loved patrick dearly, but when you're busy surviving everyday, you don't get time to . . . you know."

"i wish you'd tell that to these two," glenn continued. "almost every night its-" and then the little bastard starts slapping his hand against the wall just to really get his point across.

you spin around and punch him right in the leg. carl bursts into laughter as glenn cries out. even rosalie laughs, a nervous little titter that tells you she doesn't want to get on your bad side.

you slump back in your seat, and daryl immediately wraps his arm back around you, tighter this time, like he needs something to hold on to or he'll lose his temper. you flick a glance his way, but he doesn't meet your eyes, jaw set and gaze straight ahead.

you turn back to rosalie, shaking your head. "ignore them."

"they're just jealous anyway," daryl pipes up. "couldn't make someone moan if they tried."

you choke and bury your head in your hands; this is not where you expected the conversation to go. around you, everyone besides daryl is doubled over in fits of laughter, a sound you would have treasured if it wasn't for the fact it's aimed at you.

you glance at daryl through a crack in your fingers. he smiles smugly, chewing casually on a toothpick. you hate that he looks so good after embarrassing you like that, putting the image of that in your head, and now you feel all warm and gooey, like you might melt straight into his arms.

rosalie excuses herself to help maggie and hershel with dinner, and glenn and carl follow suit shortly after. you dislodge from under daryl's arm, ignoring the way you instantly crave the weight of him again.

"didn't realise you had such a sense of humour," you say, plucking your shoes from the floor. "good job by the way; arm over my shoulder and everything. you're really sticking to the character."

he shrugs. "might as well have fun with it."

"fun?"

"watching you get all flustered?" he trails his eyes down your body, back up again in a slow, almost sensual way. "my idea of fun."

you blink. he stares right back, and the thing is, he isn't even doing anything he wouldn't normally do. the man is just sitting there, waiting for you to reply to his teasing remark, but there's been something in the air these past few days, finally coming to immobilise you for good. you can't even keep the eye contact as heat crawls up your back.

"right," you mumble, looking away. "that's all good then. glad we got that over with. i'll see you later."

he lifts his hand in an amused little wave, ending the conversation and allowing you to scramble from the room.

----

"you were stomping too loudly the entire time. no wonder we didn't get anything."

"if anyone was being too loud, it was you."

"bullshit, daryl. i would have had that rabbit if you hadn't-"

daryl shoves past you, storming towards the prison. you grit your teeth and follow close behind, desperately trying to keep calm. another unsuccessful hunting trip, and daryl is clearly losing his patience - still, he doesn't have to take it out on you, and you're not going to let him.

"you can be such a child, you know," you call after him. "there's still plenty of food in the kitchen, so you don't need to be throwing all your fucking toys out of the pram."

"oh, shut up!" he exclaims. "all your smart little remarks ain't helping!"

"i'm not saying them to help, i'm saying them 'cause you're being a fussy little-"

he whirls around and pushes you against a tree.

you gasp, but the noise comes out weak and choked by the fingers gently tracing a line along the column of your throat. daryl presses his knee between your legs, all but holding you up at this point, because suddenly he is so close you can see the tiny green specks in his blue eyes. you have half a mind to shove him away, tell him to go to hell, but the words fail you when he drops his forehead to yours like it's the most normal thing in the world.

you swallow thickly. "w-what are you-"

"no more yelling at me," he says quietly. "rosalie is standing at the gate."

you go to turn your head, but daryl catches your chin, keeping your gaze pinned to his.

"don't look over," he orders. "that'll be too obvious."

without another word, he trails his fingers down your throat, hooking them in the neckline of your shirt. you rise on your toes, you can't help it. you've never had him so close to you before, never had the opportunity to crave this proximity so much, but there is a fire lit in your stomach right now that is impossible to ignore.

"y/n," he croaks, sounding just as desperate as you feel.

"daryl," you manage. "i-is she still looking?"

he nods without looking over, but you take his word for it, because you don't want the moment to end just yet.

you watch the movement of his eyes, the way they slowly slip to your lips, lingering there. he wets his own lips with a swipe of his tongue, throat bobbing, and suddenly this isn't a performance. suddenly you are overcome with the urge to grab him, drag him into you, audience or not.

you have the strange, impossible feeling that he might want the same thing.

but that doesn't make sense, because daryl doesn't like you in that way. from day one, his boundaries have been clear when it comes to you - you're his hunting partner, someone kept around to make life a little easier, his pain in the ass. not once has he ever expressed feelings for you. not to your face. not like this.

his hands fall away from your throat like leaves tumbling off a branch. your breath escapes you in a rush as you wait for him to step away, but he does no such thing; his hands find your waist, and he oh-so-gently nudges your hips back against the tree.

"y-you're taking this roll very seriously," you manage.

he huffs a laugh, breath fanning your face. his eyes slip closed. "right."

you cup his cheeks. "hey, open those eyes or she'll think we're breaking up."

he looks at you then, the eye contact more intense than it has ever been before. daryl isn't an emotional person, but he could fool anyone with the gaze he levels on you, like you're the only person in the whole world.

you draw back, hand still holding his face. "hey. what's wrong?"

"nothing."

but his answer is too quick, too orchestrated.

you furrow your brows and finally risk a glance at the prison gates; rosalie is nowhere to be found.

"coast is clear."

daryls eyes snap over, and he immediately stumbles away. "right. good. let's get back."

you watch him leave, legs still too weak to follow. he runs a hand through his brown hair, tugging on the strands, a complete demeanour change that leaves you stunned. you don't want to acknowledge your racing heartbeat, but it's difficult to ignore when it is so all consuming, so confusing.

you have to take a few calming breaths before heading to the prison. you duck under the gap daryl made in the fence and head to the canteen, desperate for a distraction. you think you've managed to sneak past the group until you actually enter the canteen to see hershel sitting at a table, all on his own. you have half a mind to walk away, avoid any conversation, but then you remember this is hershel.

"need company?" you ask, sitting across from him.

he looks up with a smile, though that expression is quickly replaced by furrowed brows and a frown. "what's wrong with you?"

you don't meet his eyes. "what do you mean?"

"you look like you've ran five miles."

"i don't know what you're talking about."

he lowers his head in an attempt to get a better look at your face. you do everything to hide away, but you should know better when it comes to hershel greene - nothing gets past him.

he slowly leans back, having clearly inspected your flushed cheeks and frazzled hair enough to make his own conclusions. "oh."

"don't start," you grumble.

"you know i hate gossip, but could you explain. . ."

you chew your bottom lip, twisting the ring on your finger. "just. . . daryl. rosalie was at the gate, so we had to keep up appearances, obviously. he's just. . . really good at his role. got me a little flustered, that's all."

hershel is silent for a beat too long. you risk a glance up and catch his sceptical eyes, all furrowed brows and a frown so deep you think you may have accidentally hurt his feelings somehow.

"what?" you ask.

"rosalie was nowhere near the gate."

you pause. "huh? yes she was. daryl-"

"rosalie's arthritis had a flare up this morning; she's been out cold all day. hasn't even left her cell."

your heart stops, because surely that isn't right. daryl wouldn't have gone anywhere near you if rosalie wasn't watching. you were having an argument, for crying out loud, and lord knows the only way daryl settles an argument is by blanking you, not pinning you against a tree and making your insides turn to complete sludge.

you go to tell hershel this, but the words die the moment you see the amused little smirk pulling across his face.

"what?" you spit.

"is it not so obvious?"

you know exactly what he's referring to, but you refuse to acknowledge it. "clearly not."

hershel chuckles. "my dear, that man is head over heels for you."

please don't.

"that's not true."

"you don't believe me?"

"it's not like that with me and daryl. we're hunting partners at best." you don't mention the way your heart races when he's around, the way you aren't comfortable with anyone in the same way you are with him, the way you would call him your best friend.

hershel tilts his head, but you can't meet his eyes. that would give too much away.

"y/n," he says softly. "come on now."

"you're looking too deep into things."

"i would agree if daryl hadn't confessed his feelings to me personally."

you open your mouth to shoot back a reply, but again, the words die the minute you process what hershel has just said. a confession from daryl? daryl dixon talking about his feelings? the idea is so bizarre you nearly start laughing, but the shock has left you almost immobile, so all you can do is blink, waiting for hershel to get to the punchline. he stares back, not a trace of humour on his face.

realistically, you know this isn't something hershel would joke about, but you can't bring yourself to accept any other possibility. it doesn't make any sense. it doesn't fit in the puzzle that is you and daryl.

"he. . ." you shake your head. "what did he say?"

"will you believe me if i tell you?"

"what did he say, hershel?"

"that he thinks he's in love with you, and it scares him." a soft smile graces his lips. "that's why i was so confused when he reacted the way he did to you kissing him. i would have thought he would be over the moon." "but that's. . . why wouldn't he just tell me?"

hershel scoffs. "when has daryl ever made his own life easier?"

you close your eyes, letting your head fall into your hands. "holy fuck."

"rosalie was nowhere near those gates today, my dear. i can promise you that."

you stand before you can think better of it. you are suddenly overcome with the need to see him, to look him in the eyes and hear this confession for yourself. you don't care that he'll be put on the spot, that his anxiety will probably morph him into a hostile beast. you need the truth, because going one more day without it might just drive you mad.

hershel doesn't even try to stop you. you storm out of the canteen and make a b-line for daryl's cell, pushing past a confused rick and carl on the way.

of course, daryl is laying on his bunk, crossbow held over his face as he inspects the weapons underbelly. he looks over when you storm inside, opens his mouth to no doubt yell at you, but he doesn't get the chance as you grab his crossbow and chuck it onto the floor.

"do you love me?"

the colour drains from his face in an instant. it is answer enough, so answer enough, and you nearly crumble under the weight of it. part of you wants to kiss him, another part of you wants to yell at him for making all of this so complicated, for denying himself something good just because he's less in tune with emotions than the corpses walking around.

you trail your hands through your hair. "oh, daryl. . ."

"did that old fuck tell you?" he sits up. "i swear to-"

you push him back onto the bed. "don't you dare start on hershel. you wanna know where rosalie's been all day? nowhere near those fucking gates, that's for sure." daryl looks away, but you're not playing games any more, not when your heart is beating so fast, and you don't know if it's out of anger, or excitement, or dread, or all of the above. you just need things to be straight forward from here on out. you just need the truth.

"daryl, what was that?" you demand. "why . . . why would you play along instead of just telling me the truth?"

"it's a lot harder than that," he grumbles.

"how long?"

he narrows his eyes. "huh?"

"tell me how long you've felt this way. since i kissed you?"

he scoffs like the suggestion is ridiculous.

you raise a brow. "before?"

"a long time before," he replies. "that's why the kiss. . . freaked me out so much. i ain't used to that shit. especially not with someone. . ."

you pause. "someone you love."

he squeezes his eyes closed. "it's so fucking stupid. hershel should have kept his goddamn mouth shut."

"rosalie's on bed rest. i would have found out eventually." you take a step closer and reach for his hand. he stares for a moment before slipping his hand in your own; his fingers are rough, yet the minute he intertwines them with yours, you realise you never want him to let go. "it's nothing to be intimidated by. it's not stupid."

"it is stupid. it should be the last thing on my mind. the dead are up and walking, but all i can fucking think about is you. it's always just you." he shakes his head, grip tightening the smallest bit. "i'm caught in a hoard and all i can think about is where you are, if you're safe or not. do you know how fucked that is? how in my head you are?" he scoffs in disbelief, tilting his head back. "christ, and you don't even try. you never have tried; you just managed to completely take me down without a care in the fucking world." he rakes his hands down his face, groans into his palms. "i should hate you for it."

"but you don't."

he drops his hands into his lap, dejected. "no. no, i really don't."

he looks up at you then, expectant, like a child waiting for their next task. you can only stare back at him, because there isn't an awful lot a person can say after an admission like that. you wish you could reply with something coherent, something that would get your own feelings across, but for the first time in history, daryl has articulated your emotions for you. every experience he so heart-wrenchingly described is one you have experienced yourself, so there's nothing you can add.

so instead, you guide his hand to your waist and let him draw you in. he's hesitant at first, never taking his eyes off you as you step between his knees and take his face in your hands. for a man so muscular, his cheeks are soft and round, a feature you've always found so amusing and appealing at the same time.

he inhales shakily. "you're still a pain in my ass."

"but you love me."

he scowls, but there is no denial.

you grin, and finally your mind clears enough for you to kiss him. for real this time.

he stiffens for just a moment before easing into it, grip tightening on your waist to pull you closer. you slide your hands over his shoulders, deepening the kiss, feeling his body against your own. you taste the cigarettes on his tongue, a flavour so perfectly him that it doesn't even gross you out. your nails bite into his back, forcing a growl from his throat that nearly has your eyes rolling into the back of your head with how desperate it leaves you.

that's how you know it's time to pull away.

he chases your lips, hands never leaving your waist even when you gently push him back. he groans, pressing his head to your stomach as he says, "why'd you stop?"

breathless, you reply, "it's the middle of the day, daryl, and these cells aren't exactly private."

"so? as far as everyone knows, we're a married couple." his hands slip lower, making you gasp. "and according to glenn, we're known for being loud anyway."

you swallow thickly. the only response you can give is another kiss, only this time you do let your eyes roll into the back of your head.

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