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shotmrmiller · 7 months

Text

pornstar au

f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley

3.7k words (sorry)

tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.

You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.

"Professor."

He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.

"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.

The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.

Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"

He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.

"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.

"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."

Fucking hell.

Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."

Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."

It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."

The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.

"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"

Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."

He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."

Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.

His good girl.

A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.

Action.

"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.

"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"

His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."

Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.

"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.

Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.

"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."

That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.

"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."

"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.

"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.

Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.

Bloody fucking hell.

His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.

Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."

Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.

"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.

His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.

Delicious.

Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.

Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.

He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.

"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.

"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."

He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."

That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.

Barely.

The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, look at me."

Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.

"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.

"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.

Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.

"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"

His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."

Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.

It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.

You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.

"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.

He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.

In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.

"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.

His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.

Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.

He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.

"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.

He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."

Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."

Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."

He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."

Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.

Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"

Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.

You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.

Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."

Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.

"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.

Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.

This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.

You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.

He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."

Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."

He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.

"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."

How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?

"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."

You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.

Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."

Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—

All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—

"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."

He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.

Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.

"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."

You didn't.

"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.

All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.

"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.

That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.

Cut.

Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.

To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.

Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.

Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.

"Perfection."

A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.

Ghost truly is the king.

Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.

Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.

Another. one.

Fuck. Fuck!!

You cannot wait.

@mishaglass

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #cod #cod smut #simon riley x you #simon riley #pornstar!au #simon ghost riley x you

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fireinmoonshot · 2 months

Text

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second.

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start.

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it.

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today.

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.”

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason.

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.”

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are.

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence.

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were.

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.”

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike.

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers.

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler.

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you.

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had.

It drives Tyler insane.

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is.

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?”

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another.

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed.

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer.

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers. They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.”

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!”

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God.

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you.

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?”

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening.

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same.

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler.

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat.

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck.

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go.

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet.

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.”

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out.

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again.

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive.

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing.

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual.

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them.

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield.

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims.

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size.

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time.

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this.

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you.

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it.

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore.

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom.

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline.

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead.

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it.

Everything is okay, you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name.

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?”

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.”

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain.

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome.

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!”

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his.

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive.

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive.

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment.

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler.

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.”

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully.

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused.

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being.

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

#tyler owens #twisters #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters x reader #twisters x you #tyler owens imagine #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #tyler owens fanfic

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literalgrill · 9 months

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Do NOT Support Hard Drive On Patreon

You might see friends today suggesting you support Hard Drive on Patreon today. You know, the funny video games version of The Onion? As a journalist, I will firmly tell you DO NOT GIVE THEM A DIME.

The CEO has pushed out all former staff that have built the site up to its current greatness and has been pushing the use of AI. The staff begged to have a Patreon before basically all being pushed out, but the idea was refused until now, when it will only line the pockets of a single person instead of hard working writers.

I know they might have provided laughs before, but Hard Drive is a shell of what it was once. Let it die and support the people who actually made those moments of joy possible. Don't believe me? Check out what former employees are saying below:

Kevin Podas: Okay you know what, I would feel bad saying nothing about this, so here goes:🚨SAVE YOUR MONEY🚨

We passionately advocated for a Patreon at Hard Drive & were aggressively shot down. The talent & people who built the site were pushed out. To see this now is beyond upsetting. For the past few years or so I put a lot of myself into this website. I pitched a ton of jokes, got over 120 articles published, & met a lot of great people. I'm sure if you've been following me for some time you could easily see this.

However, there is a lot of misinformation. I was eventually promoted to Managing Editor of the site & was ecstatic. Grateful for the opportunity. Felt like all of my hard work in the comedy mines was finally paying off. But things took a turn for the worst, & each day there were new surprises that affected our livelihoods. These were all very avoidable surprises, mind you.

A patreon was going to be our hail mary, but alas, for some reason, the power that be did not want it. Causing us to leave a dream job behind. "At least we did all we could," we consoled ourselves afterwards. I put a lot of myself into this project. I pitched all sorts of ideas that could have helped-- we all did. Merch collaborations, Patreon-integrated YouTube content, so much more. And most of them were shot down out of sheer stubbornness and nothing more. To see lie after lie spread, and multiple big publications and YouTubers that I am a fan of promote this Patreon under these pretenses is incredibly upsetting. There are so many receipts.

Please share this and consider pulling out if you've already put money into this. On Hard Drive using AI, also from Kevin Podas: I can't personally confirm that part aside from some of the recent header images for articles on both Hard Drive and Hard Times are being made with AI. As far as writing, it's been mentioned in the past, but I personally do not know. Maybe others do, maybe not. MORE From Kevin Podas suggesting the owner denying a Patreon being set up earlier cost an artist a job that was replaced by AI: We had a social media person who was awesome! He made the images until this AI implementation. He had to leave because ad revenue was low and a Patreon was aggressively refused.

Luca Fisher: at the risk of burning some bridges, i have to back up kevin here. i've only been part-time, in-and-out of hard drive since i got in last year, but i can corroborate that management doubled and tripled down about not hosting a patreon/crowdfunding and that many other suggestions and ideas, including mine (and ones much smarter than mine!), were shot down in really long, apocalyptic threads of everyone left on deck desperately trying to come up with ways to keep the lights on. managerially it has been messy and sad

i've written for multiple publications that have long since died, ones that were in the process of dying, and ones that, in this case, are soon to be put in the ground. it is sad and sucks every time. i don't know what could have been done differently, but i do know that a lot of great writers and content creators were left shorthanded and unhappy by the way things have gone. and it is sort of puzzling to see the sudden championing of patreon after we were all told plenty of times that it couldn't work and we should move on also, just to add my own personal two cents here, i was really disappointed by the shuttering of many different article sections on the site over the past 6-8 months. i understand cutting corners in a deficit, and i know it had to be done. that said…

all in all, i'm really sad to see this all happen. i don't fault anyone, if only because i don't really know enough about how this all can happen to make sense of it. games journalism is in a sad, sorry state, and will likely no longer be a thing in the next decade

VideoSealMan: I'm gonna say this because I think I deserve to. For months, MONTHS on end I was bugging Hard Drive management about a Patreon. Often I got ignored for a week+, but when I actually got a response I was encouraged to - of all things, write up a Google Doc pitching the concept I did it regardless. I wasn't the only one trying to sway management on a Patreon, but so fiercely was I fighting for it that last night, I was accused of making this comment directly by the CEO! With no evidence whatsoever! After I'd been gone for over a month.

I vouched so hard for Patreon because I wanted all the writers and creatives working with Hard Drive including myself to get paid better. When I actually got a response, the idea was often shut down. Eventually due to the state of my company, my pay was cut for a second time I confronted management alongside a couple other important figureheads at the org and told them that if we couldn't do a Patreon - I could no longer financially justify staying there. The answer was still no, so I left. Baffled at the decision, but whatever.

It is unendingly frustrating to know that myself and many other people who put their soul into Hard Drive LEFT because of management's absolute refusal to compromise on a Patreon, to then see them launch one anyway a month later and get over 1000 people pledging money. I'm seeing a lot of things float around about greed and people being fired. No one was fired. Everyone who left, left because they were sick of management's decision-making. And honestly, management is a lot of things but I would not call them greedy. (From my experience.) They did genuinely make an effort to pay people as much as possible. I found the pay very fair for a while. I am not disputing that I was paid what I was owed - yet management frequently feels the need to remind critics of that. Lmao, yes. I was paid what I was owed. No one is disputing payment. You did the bare minimum a business owner should do and paid everyone their due, very well done. I make no allegations of greed, cheating or foul play. I make allegations of poor management and incompetence that has fucked over other people.

Basically the only people left at Hard Drive have been there for about 2 months. They will reap the rewards of this successful Patreon I and so many others passionately fought for for so long. We will not see a dime.

I do not know the new people at Hard Drive, But I feel bad for them. They were haphazardly thrust into Hard Drive's workplace with little to no explanation on how anything works, or given any context on the state of the place. Even now managements feeds them half-truths and misinformation about other people's grievances. I am broke and have been for a while. I had to move out of my flat in Reading and back with my family because of how little money I was making. This has basically doomed my flatmate to moving back in with abusive parents, which is something I feel guilty about every day. If we had gone with the Patreon I worked myself hoarse over back then, this could have been avoided. Some of my other good pals could also not have been fucked over.

It was a bad judgment call, but it's not a crime. It's just management getting it wrong.

So should you give to the Hard Drive Patreon? I don't know! I don't think any of the new people working there to patch up the holes left by the recent mass exodus have any bad intentions. Maybe they deserve it! But it is not the same site you knew a year ago, or even a month ago. Myself and many people who were there far longer than me and did far more for it than I did are all gone now because we could not deal with management's terrible decision-making and dogass communication any longer. That's what you should know, imo

I had an agreement in place with management that I would receive the next 8 months of revenue from the Hard Drive YT channel from my leaving in November. This was a deal I appreciated, and thought was very fair on management's behalf. So far, the deal has been honoured for 2 months. However as of last night I was removed from the Hard Drive Slack without warning, and as an editor for the YouTube channel. This means I no longer have any way of verifying how much I am owed, I just have to take their word for it. I'm sure management will make their own statements full of half-truths and weird language on the many cases being brought against them - I'd take everything they say with a pinch of salt if some of the screenshots I've seen of them talking about me are any indication lol

To management; I do not want to talk to you. I want you to DM me a screenshot of how much I'm owed every month and then send me the money per our agreement until June, then we can go our separate ways. Do that and admit to your mistakes, and maybe you can recover your reputation! That's it from me, lol. If they pull out of the deal and fuck me over I'll have more to say, but most of what I know is other people's stories of incompetence and poor decision-making, lol. I genuinely get no pleasure out of doing this; I do not think management is evil - I just think they're really bad at what they do and it's cost other, more talented people, lol. You should believe the writers imo

One last thing I wanna say btw, management did often stress that no one should try to make Hard Drive a full time thing. They were transparent about that, and that is fair. I was working on it because at a few points, I was lead to believe we actually were doing a Patreon. Many other ppl have similar stories of being strung along by management changing their minds and stop-starting shit every 2 weeks. We all made the fatal mistake of overestimating our manager - who would tell you one thing one day and something totally opposite the next week lol

Hunter R. Thompson:

I'm not your dad, but speaking as a Hard Drive writer, I don't know that funding Hard Drive on Patreon is worth it

The driving talent on the back end—behind the kickass site I joined in 2019—have peaced out over the years as the site's been (in our view) increasingly mismanaged. Mismanagement like, not setting up crowdfunding before the ship sank and all its best crew failed; or publishing a screenshot of Andy Ngo pedojacketing a trans writer, complete with her deadname; or a disgruntled ex-writer getting falsely accused of shit-talk, by actual staff. I'm grateful for the writing I've gotten to produce for HD (and will forever be kicking myself for not writing even more, in the four years I've had to do it!! i'm a dumbass!!!) but it is very much no longer the site I signed up for.

I don't want to resign as a contributor altogether, because I'm open to the idea of the site recovering and bad practices being retired as finances level out-- it would just be dishonest for potential backers to not be Aware Of The Circumstances, I think.

Jeremy Kaplowitz: i truly don't want to start shit, but feel compelled to say: i want to see Hard Drive succeed w/o resorting to throwing former writers & editors, myself included, under the bus. surely there's a way to save the site without building it over the corpses of those who left. my $0.02 i don't blame anyone who wants to sign up for the HD patreon and i support the website, but that includes those who worked on it for years, have complaints, and don't deserve to be treated like bitter assholes like this kind of stuff is just objectively true, meanwhile there's these new writers who joined the site after i left (meaning, in the last ~3 months) claiming people are liars. decide for yourself if you care, but this is what happened! [Quotes this Tweet]

Seth Finkelstein: Writing for Hard Drive has been a privilege the past few years, and it makes me so angry to see people I looked up to get jerked around behind the scenes. The amount of grenades the editors jumped on our behalf is immense, and I don't think the way they're being treated is right.

Other Bits On AI: We do know for sure however that AI art has been used by the site. Its fucking owner confirms it here:https://twitter.com/MattSaincome/status/1743040541603123622. Seems the owner pushed AI written articles as well! TayFabe: My vaguetweet is making the rounds & these made me apoplectic. - owner regularly lobbied using ai. Once he tested it & said ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. - ai images were used on the site & socials w/o consulting the team or disclosing it publicly I found the ai bit relevant to include bc 1) it illuminates a stark change in HD's current direction & leadership, 2) ai images have previously been used on the site and (since deleted) ig posts, 3) ai content fucking sucks, and repeatedly pushing to use it is a telling quality The "handful of writers who chose to leave" includes 2 editors-in-chief (both cofounders who wrote a combined total of >1,000 articles & defined the voice of HD), & at least 3 other editors. These guys put in WORK since 2017, so cool to be corrected by ppl who joined in Nov 2023 [Link to mentioned vague tweet from post.] More from TayFabe: owner continuously lobbied for using ai in every possible way. No one else wanted to do it, but he kept on, saying ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. Also, ai images were used on the site & socials without public disclosure or consulting the team.

The owner has responded now multiple times in a private discord... Thank you for people sharing screenshots! First Screenshot:

Kevin's Response: He banned me from the server for speaking out, so no, I didn't see it. And he gave no indication of a timeline, it was just "we'll do one when *I* say so" and gave every inclination he was totally against it. It bred an environment that pushed our hands to have to leave. Screenshot Round Two:

Kevin's Response: "Starting one in 3 months" is an absolute lie. He denied it, I have screenshots and others who can confirm. No timeline was given. Just "this is what it is now" and like, I couldn't live off of that. I wanted to do more but he was allergic to good ideas from others around him.

Matt, owner of Hard Drive, responds publicly on Twitter.

Matt: Kevin, the patreon launch was delayed because I didn't think it would work. Everyone is happy that it did work. Everyone who left the site because we didn't have money to pay for creative content which didn't revenue is welcome to return home. But unclear why the hostility.

Hard Drive paid out literally every dollar it had, then a bunch more, to creative people who worked on the site. When we ran out of money, we couldn't pay anymore. We did our best.

Kevin: Right, and my point of this thread was that it was completely and totally avoidable. This is reasonable to be upset about. How could I have been any more clear?

Matt: If we knew with 100% certainly that the community would have supported us via patreon, we would have done that. We didn't know. We had tried 4 years ago and got no support. We were wrong this time. We did our best to figure it out. We paid all the money we could.

Kevin: So you knew with 100% certainty this time? Or you took a leap of faith?

Matt: It was a last gasp panic effort after ad rates got cut in half on january 1st due to seasonal spending changes. We didn't know it would work. We were embarrassed to ask for support. We wanted to figure it out.

Kevin: Every site has a Patreon. Every YouTuber, comedy group, etc. But you insisted that nobody cared about Hard Drive. Which is wildly untrue. I know you see that now, but again, I think you can see why I and many others are pretty upset. A last ditch panic effort was long overdue. A couple more things from Matt:

It was about the size of the hole we needed plugged budget wise, the time I had left of personal resources, and the past data I had about us trying a patreon (which turned out to be a bad indicator). I didn't think the Patreon would help us fast enough. I made a bad estimation

aka "if we make $1000 more dollars a month via patreon, which would be 10x what we got last time, we will not solve any of our problems. If instead we try to plow down path B, we might make it out in time." That was the thinking. I chose the wrong path, but didn't mean to Kevin also retweeted this comment from the user Matt was responding to: So you're saying that you're bad at running the business, didn't listen to any of your employees until after they were forced to leave their jobs, and now you're going to get more of the money from the Patreon that was their idea in the first place? Matt's Response: Respectfully, I made a mistake delaying the patreon decision. But keeping a comedy site alive for 9 years is not easy, there are lots of potential ideas, and think overall we've done a good and honorable job. Will leave this thread in peace now to allow people their space.

Sorry for linking to Elon's hellsite (derogatory), but sources need links so...

#video games #patreon #hard drive #ai critical

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chuluoyi · 7 months

Text

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐 !

- gojo satoru x reader

valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!

genre/warnings. crack, semi-failed love confession (it's gojo, what do you expect?), poor geto, and of course, fluff !!

notes. i genuinely love writing this :') loser gojo has always have a soft spot in my heart *sighs* i'd recommend listening to beautiful & because of you - beast (highlight) for this !!

a part of gojo's love entries and valentine's special !

Satoru doesn't really pay attention to holidays. To him, it's all the same—he can turn everyday into a holiday if he wanted to.

However, Valentine's Day is an exception. He knows it and is somewhat excited even. Why, you ask? Because this is the moment he has chosen. He's going to make you his on that very day.

He had everything planned out to perfection: skylit rooftop, bouquet of roses, eloquent speech (at least, he thought so). He was going to charm the pants out of you and it'd be a smooth-sailing event, he was sure of it!

At least until he heard that life-shattering gossip—

"I saw Geto-san asking her out for the 14th just now!"

"What?" he snapped his head in Haibara's direction, who was eagerly sharing with him and the others what he had allegedly heard, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"Ehh, not bad," Shoko mused with a hint of amusement, casting a curious look his way. It was obvious she was enjoying this.

Nanami let out a thoughtful hum. "That's quite a surprise. I didn't think they'll go that fast."

"But how?!" Satoru suddenly exploded, grabbing Haibara by the collar. "How did that slimy bangs go from saying nothing to asking her out?!"

"O-oh Gojo-san! Don't squish me, please!"

And from then onwards, his focus was set: preventing you from falling into Suguru's grimy hands. Absolutely no way! He was so close already. He was on the cusp of winning your heart, and he knew it!

Now, you laughed at his jokes, you didn't ignore him as much, and you even asked him if he was okay after his recent mission! That was huge progress, even Satoru knew as much. And no, even if it was Suguru, he refused to hand you over to him.

On the 14th, you were going to be his... even if it cost him everything!

Gojo Satoru is annoying. You supposed you knew that already, but over these past few days, his ability to get on your nerves somehow had ascended to a wholly new level.

"I'm telling you, you should go with me! I'm going to take you somewhere amazing!" he practically demanded right up in your space, prompting you to let out a long-drawn sigh.

By all means, his attempts to woo you were all lame. He didn't know the first thing about being humble, and logically, you should have been more inclined to push him away.

‘Should’ being the operative word, because, somehow, over the past few weeks, you've started to see his antics as not just bearable but even endearing in a way. No one had ever pursued you with such relentless zeal before him, and it became increasingly difficult to overlook the way your heart fluttered in response to his (occasionally dubious) attempts to win you over.

So, right now, it really wasn't because you were playing hard to get. "Gojo, I've told you already. I can't on that day, I've already got plans," you sighed, exasperated.

He shot you a glance, his expression shifting into a brazenly raised eyebrow. "With Suguru?"

"How do you—"

"Tell him no," Satoru pressed, scowling. "Tell him I asked you first."

"In fact, he asked first—"

“Just say no!”

“No!”

"You're seriously going on a date with him?" he questioned, almost in disbelief. "And what, you're going to confess to him too?"

His tone didn't sit well with you, causing your irritation to rise. You frowned and retorted boldly, "And if I do? It's not like you can do anything about it anyway."

Wait, that actually hurts. Satoru was now irked too. Hadn't he shown enough for you to understand just how much of a big deal it was for him? Didn't you know he actually likes you so much that it made him toss and turn on some nights?

(No, you didn't really know. He just made himself look stupid most of the time. You were not that impressed.)

"As a matter of fact, I can," he began, expression turning into a slight sneer. "I can and I will if you still insist on going with him."

"Wha?"

"I'm going to crash your party so hard, you'll wish you hadn't gone behind my back. The audacity he has, trying to steal my girl!"

"You sound like a creep," you couldn't help blurting out, wide-eyed. "And I'm not your girl—"

"You—are quite heartless." His gaze on you behind that glasses hardened, and you were suddenly taken aback by how upset he looked. "I'm giving you my all—I think about you all day and night I think it's actually making me crazy!"

You stared at him, genuinely dumbfounded this time, realizing that somehow or another now, he was pouring his emotions out.

"Nothing I say will make sense to you, but whatever—" he exhaled sharply in frustration. "It's always you—in my mind. Compared to anyone else now, you're the prettiest. And if you were to ask me to pull a Blue on Ichiji right now, I'd probably do it! You see now—what you have done to me?"

"Ichiji? Gojo—!"

"You might think I did all of this for your attention, and yes, you’re right! That's how much you've messed with my head!"

. . .

Oh, now he had really gone and done it, hadn't he? He had laid it all bare, every last bit of it—the chaotic heap stacking up as his botched confession. And there were no roses, no rooftop, and none of the grandeur he had envisioned. This was so not how he wanted it to go at all.

Satoru grimaced, suddenly regretting this turn of events. He had seen it coming already—you calling him a total weirdo and then leaving him in the dust. Just the thought was enough to make his heart squeeze. Wanting to escape before it became a reality, he abruptly turned on his heel and walked away from you.

He barely made it a few steps away before he felt a firm tug on his arm.

"Wait! Gojo!"

You grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to turn towards you. Satoru stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a massive pout. Yet, beyond that display of defiance, you could discern a hint of heartbreak splashed across his face, and it made your stomach churn.

Always trying to make you look at him. Always trying to get you to smile through his lame jokes. Making himself stupid on purpose. Frustrated when his feelings went unnoticed… All Gojo Satoru did thus far finally added up.

So it's true... he likes me this much...?

In that moment, warmth flooded through you. This idiot. Everyone said he was no good, but your heart couldn't help but leap, and a flurry of butterflies seemed to dance in your stomach.

In this instant, everything seemed to fall into place. Any doubt you might have melted away, leaving only a sense of certainty about your feelings. Everything just feels absolutely right.

"I'm not going on a date with Geto, you know."

"Huh?" Upon hearing that, he swiveled to face you, his gaze intensively searching your face for further explanation.

With a huff, you elaborated, "It's for my Grade One promotion mission. Geto-san asked to join me for it."

"But why? He doesn't need to—"

"He wants to tag along to absorb more cursed spirits, you see..."

"Oh, amassing new little friends, I see," Satoru quipped, face scrunching up distastefully.

His mood seems better now, you noted. You exhaled, your heart suddenly felt like it was pounding louder. "So, you've got the wrong idea. It sucks but my Valentine's day is going to be spent on a mission."

A beat passed by before he finally spoke again, still sheepish and avoiding eye contact. "I'm coming with you too, for that... mission or whatever."

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. "And?"

"And... huh?"

"That's all? Nothing else you want to add?"

And suddenly his eyes sparkled back to life. Beyond those ridiculous round glasses, his bright, yet steadfast eyes met yours with such vibrant shine it made your chest thump so hard and face flush with matching intensity.

Silly, silly boy... liking me so much that he turns stupid.

"Actually, I've got plenty more to say!"

With an indignant snort, you released his arm. "Well, I'm waiting. Because what you just said before has to be the most underwhelming confession I've ever heard."

"Wha? Hey! That wasn't my confession! Just you wait, I'll do it over, and this time, I'll make you swoon so hard you'll forget how Suguru's face looks like!"

And on the night of February 14, he truly surpassed himself once again in making a terrible confession, and yet it still signified the day you truly became his—the beginning of your life together, which along the way, would be filled with more shenanigans, endless laughter and of course, love.

Epilogue

"Haibara, I really thought you're the most sensible here! I can't believe you!"

Suguru massaged his temples with utter grievance. So this was the cause of his headache and constant death stares Satoru gave him these past few days—the three people gathering in front of him!

"I've told you already, Nanami—Gojo is really going through with it," Shoko cackled with utter satisfaction. "Now, pay up."

"Ieiri-san... sigh— from now on, I'm not participating in your bets anymore."

Haibara, who went with Shoko's suggestion to incite this, sheepishly laughed. "Ehe, Geto-san, all that ends well is well though, no?"

"Satoru was really about to skin me alive! Ugh, and you almost ruined my date too..."

"Eh? Date?" All three sets of eyes suddenly fixed on him in utter astonishment. "Who?"

-> continue to 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 (with geto suguru—soon!)

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sun-snatcher · 1 month

Note

If you're writing for dp3 then Hiraeth from your prompt list would work SO well since they're all stuck in the void! 🤲🏽😭 We need Gambit fics its a DROUGHT HELP

♧ ⎯ LUCK O’ THE DRAW !

summ. You find the Devil himself at the end of the world. Surprisingly, it isn’t the first time you have. It is, however, the first time it hurts. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader (established relationship. Kinda. Multiverse be funky like 'dat.) w.count. 1.8k a/n. Because Channing deserved that Gambit all those years ago, and I've come to (attempt to) deliver what the the people have asked. Masterlist here.

MOST PEOPLE MEET THE DEVIL at a crossroads, but you meet yours in— quite literally— the back end of fuckin’ nowhere.

It hurt more than it should.

Your heart practically stutters.

“Remy.”

Then he turns, and you wait for the flash of recognition in his eyes.

Nothing comes.

And then. And then.

Realisation— logic. The cold, hard truth: This isn’t your Remy LeBeau. Your Remy had died long before, in a Universe that was pruned and erased into nothingness by the TVA. Your Universe. The joke? That the Gambit before you is merely a variant amongst a million. The punchline? He looks exactly the same as the day you’d lost your own.

“Well, this is awkward. You know off-shoot Hawkeye here?” Wade says, astonished, before his eyes widened. “Ah. Tragic exposition time for the readers, I see.”

Your mind is still reeling. It feels like someone’s just jammed a chisel straight into your gut. “I— Knew a version. Variant, I guess,” you manage to correct yourself, distracted by the skirting trenchcoat and the all too familiar sound of shuffling cards.

Christ, it’s like he’d stepped right out of your memories.

Remy’s eyebrows shoot up as he studies you. Something in your chest pulls taut, threatening to snap as he speaks. “Apologies, mon ami. But as far as I remember, I ain’t never seen you before.”

“Ouch,” Wade winces, looking between you both. “What a classic trope! This is like, me talking to my past Mom in The Adam Project. Funnily enough, my Mom was you!” He snorts, pointing to Elektra.

You ignore Wade and offer Remy a wan smile. “I figured. It’s okay.”

…It is obviously, in fact, not okay.

You avoid him like a plague shortly after the entire commotion; it’s almost comical. Wade had managed to come up with a plan with the rest of the group, albeit a ramshackle, flimsy one, but you’ve hardly been able to pay attention through the bloodrush of shock rocketing in your head, anyway.

Being around this Remy is stunningly stifling.

The lilt of his accent, the sharpness in his smile; the flourishing of cards and the faint hum-drum of kinetic charge against his fingertips.

You’ve seen it all before, once upon a time. You never thought any of it could ever bring you to this bad of a heel.

It hadn’t taken long before you’d tried drowning yourself at the end of a bottle of brandy Logan had handed you that night. (The whiskey tames his mordance and makes him uncharacteristically civil. He’d said something along the lines of: Y’need this more than I do, bub; look like you’ve just seen a fuckin’ ghost. Shit, I guess you did, huh? )

“Mais la,” comes a huff. “Ain’t that mine?”

A frisson runs through your heart.

“Sorry,” you say, barely glancing up from the barrel fire tucked outside the team’s hideout. You’re not quite sure you can handle meeting his gaze. “I know I should’ve asked.”

A playful hum. Remy settles on the log adjacent to yours. “S’alright. No harm done, chèr.”

It takes everything in you not to flinch at the endearment. If he’d noticed, well— he’s smart enough not to mention it. He’s curious and it stands to reason; afterall, he’s never quite seen someone look at him as weathered as the way you do. It’s as if the effort itself to do so would be unbearable.

“Y’kno’, I been told I’m easy on the eyes. Not for you, tho’, eh?” Remy shoots you an amicable smile. It’s charming, if a little compelling. “Guessin’ I made bad on you where y’from? You done been boudéin’ since y’first got here.”

You let out a laugh. It’s the most brittle sound he’s ever heard come from someone.

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s… You just make me a lil’ homesick, is all.”

Remy bristles with his deck of cards. A Charlier cut; a One-handed shuffle. It’s a mindless tic; your variant used to do the exact same with the exact same ease.

(Such a miracle, you remember thinking once, that there could be symmetries in the Multiverse. Now you learn, perhaps, it’s far more a curse. Either way, you can hear Remy’s doting voice in a distant memory, dimpling coyly at you: “S’just the luck o’ your draw, chèr.” )

You tamp down the memory before it could sink its jowls any deeper in you.

“You’re curious,” you say.

He makes a noise of assent. Revolution cut; One-handed shuffle. Repeat.

“I ain’t gon’ axe if y’ain’t wanna answer.”

It’s kind of him.

You forgot he was like this.

Witty, yet gentlemanly. The way Remy always has been.

Underneath the blanket of the night, the crackle of the flames limn the planes of his face in flickering, hazy saffron. The look in his eyes is sincere as they meet your red-rimmed gaze. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him, and in this light no less: tall, cutting, strong.

Lively.

The last you’d seen Remy, he’d been drawn out and battered by the war. Not that he’d ever admit it; he always insisted on keeping up his sunny disposition despite the constant losing battles happening. (Sometimes you think you resent him for doing that; it’d felt like he’d taken the light of the world with him when—)

You thank your lucky stars the variant Remy doesn’t make a comment on how you must be staring so openly. It’s a feeble attempt to committing every detail to memory, you suppose, in case you don’t get the chance again.

“In my Universe, a war was waging against mutants.” Your nails tinker against the empty bottleneck of the flat whiskey you’d nursed, thinking of how to cut a bloodshed of a story short; to get your point across before you falter and lose your footing.

“There was a mission sanctioned, and during it— a decision had to be made at that moment. So… you chose. Easily.” Your brows pinch tight against your will. The molten burn returns to the back of your eyes. “You saved so many lives the day you died.”

Something catches in your throat when you realise your mistake, find yourself amending instantly, “He. He died.”

(It had been swift. A small mercy, all things considered. There wasn’t even a need to check for a pulse when you finally managed to reach for him.)

You’re fidgeting, too, with something in your other hand. Remy catches sight of it only now: a card, sitting pinched between your ringed fingers. Nine of Hearts. Its edges are torn and creased across the face, singed an ashen black.

A proverbial piece of Remy’s heart, carried to the end with you.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a cold rush over his body at the sight.

“…I’m sorry, chèr,” he offers quietly, inadequate as it is. He hadn’t expected that.

He can’t imagine how haunting it must be to look at someone you’d shared a lifetime with and be met with a complete stranger instead.

A living, breathing, ghost.

That unbiddable feeling of longing had always seemed to accompany the sight of him; but now it’s different. Now, there’s a blistering, brutal pain to come with; All-encompassing grief, thick as molasses in your lungs, overturning itself like a phantom from wherever you thought you’d buried it a long time ago.

The only way to smother it would be to reach out, to hold him like you had once before, and isn’t that an ironic inconvenience?

“No, no. I’m sorry,” you tell him, sigh coming out as an awkward laugh. A breeze passes and you inhale deep to ground yourself. Press your eyes shut momentarily to will away useless tears. “It must be so weird to hear all of this from me about— well, you, technically.”

“Mais, can’t ‘ave all been a bad memory, tho’, right?”

Right. No. It hadn’t been. There’s something else too. An undercurrent. Beyond the grief, the deep ache in your marrows— you think it’s nostalgia. Hiraeth. More bittersweet than it is painful.

It’s… It’s watching mutant schoolkids teaching him UNO for the first time. It’s the bickering over the beignets for breakfast, or your feet on his lap at the couch in the lounge after dinners with the rest of the X-Men. Lazy banter. Conversations that go everywhere and nowhere.

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling something bloom in your chest you thought long lost. “You taught me everything about your home, too. Down South. Told me about the bayou, the cypress trees. Your Cajun, your ways. We used to play Bourré.”

Talk of home has him ducking into a laugh. Remy had been in the Void far longer than the rest (he figures, at least)— he’s very nearly lost most of his fragmented memories to time by now. “Did I? Oughta’ play a game or two wit’ you.”

You buckle at that. “Ah. You were always the better player.”

Then:

He makes the leap before he runs out of steam. “Was we…?”

His finger darts between the space you two share.

“Oh, no,” you override, sheepishly. “No, we, we were good friends and stayed good friends. I was—” Your breath scurries; a reconsideration. “I was glad with that. You had a Southern belle named Anna Marie. A powerful mutant called Rogue. You two were good for each other.”

You must have given yourself away somewhere, though, the way Remy is reading you with a pinned gaze. It’s the same, levelled look you’ve seen before— the kind he gets in a game of cards.

Something discerning eclipses in his eyes.

He’d gotten the measure of you in an instant.

“Gambit musta’ been blind blind not t’see you.”

Ah.

You smile. It’s windswept. Resigned. “Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it? My Gambit’s gone. No matter how much I wish I can see him again.”

Remy’s eyes dart to your hands.

“Y’kno’, chèr,” he begins, something spirited in his tone. “In the world of cards, each a’ these and they suits hold a meanin’.”

He flourishes his deck, hypnotisingly smooth with every elegant cut, fan and spring. Every shuffle cascades as smooth as liquid in the sleight of his hands.

“Some of my folks back in New Orleans I remember, they learned me to read ‘em. Now, outta the whole deck? What you got there; the Nine of Hearts is also called the Wish card.”

The small laugh that punches out of you is bell-like. “Really?”

It’s warm. Bright. Musical to his ears. It washes over him, and he can’t help but hang on to the peal. He wanted to hear it again.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Remy clicks his tongue as he shoots you a sunny look. “Would never lie t’you, chèr.”

The cracks in your soul don’t disappear, but they surely lighten as you look gently at him. “Huh. Well, I guess I got my wish, didn’t I?”

He chuckles.

“Mais, I ain’t your Gambit but—”

He leans. Reaches out behind your ear with an empty palm, playfully revealing a gilded card from seemingly thin air with a sharp flick of his wrist:

Another Nine of Hearts. His. He hands it over to you, by way of meaning— I’m here, now.

New beginnings.

You take the card with a smile.

#**Cajun footnotes (if I've educated myself correctly):#'boudé' means '-to pout' | 'mais/mais la' is used like 'well..' | & Bourré is a local Louisiana card game!#Louisiana/Cajun friends please do leave a comment/critique! All my knowledge has been scraped off the internet & Tiktok 😭#Okay but in all honestly writing for Gambit is a TREAT #OBSESSED with the quip of his lingo and had so much fun learning about his culture!#also. Deadpool breaking Tumblr 4th-wall is hilarious to me please don't judge me for that #please do drop your thoughts!#Requests are open folks!#gambit #WELUCKYFEW #gambit imagine #xmen #deadpool & wolverine #xmen imagine #gambit x you #gambit x reader #gambit x y/n #gambit x oc #gambit fic #d&w #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #remy leabeau imagine #remy lebeau x you #remy lebeau x y/n #remy lebeau x oc #deadpool #deadpool 3 #dp3 #🪷 ; wishing well

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satinroses · 2 months

Text

How Yan! Adepti react to feeling jealous (separate)

A/N: I FINALLY finished all the 10+ story quests I had lined up that I was procrastinating doing. It was gruelling. I've never pressed space bar so much in my life. By the end I couldn't feel my ass as I'd been sitting on it for too long BUT on the positive, doing Xianyun's story quest made me nostalgic for Liyue and got me motivated to write a little bit! I may do a harbinger one if I feel a bit silly, I'm not sure yet but please let me know if that's something you might be interested in! <3

(also i’d usually give this a little final read through but i am so exhausted so i just wanna get it posted so please forgive any silly mistakes or inconsistencies)

Word Count: 7.0k words

Includes Zhongli, Xiao, Xianyun, Ganyu

Warnings: Yandere Behaviours, if you are uncomfortable with dark themes please don't read! obsessive/possessive behaviours, younger Zhongli has serious issues - honestly all of them do, threats, violence, murder, manipulation, stalking, implied somno (depends how you read it) in Xiao's excerpt, some truly earth shattering delusions

Ganyu:

Renowned throughout Liyue Harbour for her mild manner and keen work ethic, the overworked secretary of Liyue Qixing was always a welcome sight around the harbour. It had taken Ganyu months to push past her bashfulness alongside countless encouragements from her colleagues and friends to confess her feelings to you.

It had only been once Captain Beidou had drunkenly declared that she would tell you herself if Ganyu didn’t muster up the courage that the Qilin had decided to tell you. Her cheeks flushed pink as she stuttered out her confession to you in the evening lantern light of Liyue Harbour.

Much to her delight you did not coldly reject the woman, instead you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips before muttering that you felt the exact same way.

In her thousands of years of life Ganyu cannot recall a time she's known more peace than the time she has since shared with you. Your mere presence coaxes the insomniac into a gentle slumber. Every day she gets to spend by your side is a day in which the woman is glowing with giddiness, so much so that even the conqueror of demons had noted the positive change to Ganyu’s disposition.

Ganyu had always adored her position as secretary even if it had caused her immeasurable stress, she had always strove to serve Liyue in whatever way she could and never resented her position in spite of the responsibility it entailed however now that Ganyu had something to treasure, someone she wished to hold close she couldn’t help the annoyance that crept over her when she was asked to work overtime for the 5th time this week.

The Adeptus wanted nothing more desperately than to return to your shared home (she had insisted you move in with her as soon as possible and you simply couldn’t say no to her large violet eyes as they glimmered with unshed tears at the thought of you rejecting her offer) and monopolise you for the evening, ushering you into bed and holding you as tightly as the poor qilin could, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.

Ganyu prided herself on her maturity but even she couldn’t prevent glowering when she was denied yet another precious night in your company after Baiwen begged Ganyu to stay and help fill in some paperwork.

She had dedicated herself to ensuring the smooth running of Liyue harbour yet even she could not fend off the envy that shadowed her as the thought of you running around the harbour without her. Every single person that was allowed to gaze upon your face while Ganyu was away from your side were rapidly earning spots on the Qilin’s list of enemies (a list she had only created 20 seconds prior)

Due to Ganyu’s soft and sensitive demeanour it’s easy to forget the sway she holds over Liyue. Several of the Qixing owing her favours after her years of servitude, she is in possession of countless embarrassing secrets she has gained access to due to her position. She holds the ears of the wealthiest people in teyvat as well as having fought ferociously in the archon war in bygone millenia.

Ganyu helped construct the very nation of Liyue into what it has become, moulding it with her very hands into the prosperous land it is. The people of Liyue have seemingly forgotten that Ganyu’s servitude is entirely her own choice. She does not serve the Qixing because she sees them as above her, she serves the Qixing because she wishes to, because she understands Liyue would collapse without her guiding hand.

Perhaps people will remember that when a man who makes a flirty remark to you will have a letter left on his doorstep detailing a solemn secret he long thought buried.

Perhaps people will remember that when the girl who blushed when your hands brushed as you both reached for the same bag of wheat is arrested for fraud despite her desperate claims to the contrary.

Perhaps people will remember that when the vendor who overcharged you goes bankrupt the following morning.

Perhaps people will remember that when the treasure hoarder who accosted you for your mora is found weeks later deep in a cave in Minlin, impaled with countless frosty arrows.

Rest assured, if people forget just how fierce Ganyu can be then she is more than happy to remind them.

Xianyun:

Xianyun often considers herself above such petty emotions as jealousy and possessiveness.

She loudly declares herself one of the most measured of the Adepti, harbouring centuries of combat prowess and mechanical genius, raising two independent and fierce young woman on Mount Aocang, remaining a fierce and honourable servant to Morax and enduring the insults that flying rat that accompanied the traveler spewed at her, intentionally and not. Xianyun regarded herself as a dignified and patient woman.

After centuries of not being proven to the contrary, to the mighty Cloud Retainer there is no issue that cannot be overcome with the technical brilliance she has acquired or the thrumming power of the illuminated blood in her veins or so she had believed until recently.

Despite the mystery and majesty the Adepti commonly shrouded themselves in as they dwelled in their mountainous retreat, Xianyun had always been vigilant in ensuring that she honoured her vow to Rex Lapis and safeguard any of his subjects she comes across.

After doing her divinely ordained duty centuries ago and saving a young man from a rock fall she had since become accustomed to receiving offerings from the man's family and his descendants in the centuries since then.

As an adepti offerings of thanks and acknowledgments of her mercy were not uncommon, especially to one so revered as cloud retainer. Even so she continued to be surprised that his descendants remained vigilant in offering their sincere gratitude towards her centuries after she saved the man.

If you asked Xianyun herself she would claim she holds none of the descendants in higher regard than the other however if you were in her presence when a certain individual climbs up the path to Mount Aocang you would be able to see in the way her breath hitches and she stops her sentence, her entire being frozen as she watches them set down the home cooked meal and offer a gentle prayer of thanks.

Even in her crane form her eyes never once stray from the visitor. She trails her vision over them, intaking every aspect of their appearance. how their hair falls over their face, how their breath comes out in warm puffs after the exertion of the climb, how they let a satisfied grin fall upon their face as they set the meal down.

Despite her tenacity and confidence Xianyun has still not formally introduced herself to her visitor, instead opting to watch from afar. She goes out of her way to personally ensure that your journey to Liyue harbour is safe and uneventful as she trails after you in her avian form, her eyes on the path ahead of you. She is more than ready to dart down and defeat any hillichurls or geovishaps or clear the rock slide blocking your path before you’re even aware the obstacle is there.

If anyone were to inquire about her vigilance in ensuring your safety she would puff her chest out and remind them of her contract with Rex Lapis and the duty she had to guard Liyue Harbour and all its inhabitants.

Shenhe and Ganyu have long given up on inquiring about you after a flustered cloud retainer gave them the same monologue about her sworn duty to Morax for the 27th time.

Does she do this with every visitor to her domain? For thousands of years one has been a most faithful servant to Morax, to question one fulfilling their duty is to question ones-

As far as Xianyun is concerned she is simply doing her duty as an adeptus, there is no ulterior motive and she will ensure that she emphasises this to every person who inquires about her interest in you.

She even goes so far as to have Shenhe and Ganyu give her regular updates on your life when you haven’t been out Mount Aocang in a long time (read: over 24 hours)

Upon formally moving to Liyue Harbour, Cloud Retainer assumes the name of Xianyun and decides to use her mortal form to officially introduce herself to you. She will not allow you to know of her true identity as the subject of your reverence until she believes you are both adequately acquainted. One wishes simply to know you she thinks to herself

Again this is merely her curiosity at work she convinces herself. she merely wishes to know you are safe or so she attempts to convince herself, ignoring the tender fluttering in her chest at the thought of seeing you up close.

No this is simply her duty as an adeptus. She takes her contract seriously, nothing more.

She doesn’t seem this invested in any of the other citizens? One does not have to justify Oneself to the likes of you.

From the updates she had instructed Shenhe and Ganyu to deliver when she still resided on Mount Aocang she knew you frequented the Yanshang Teahouse. Unsure of when you would decide to visit it again she simply decided the best course of action would be to go to the teahouse every night from midday to closing until her eyes could meet yours.

On the 4th night of waiting to see you again she was growing antsy and entertaining thoughts of banging down every door in Liyue until she found you once again, her eyes darting around the room frantically. Her vision danced from face to face in a frantic tango until it settled on a familiar one.

Her entire being relaxed as she saw you seated at a table, soft hands clasped around a cup of tea taking tentative sips. The warm glow in your eyes made her feel as though she was feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin for the first time yet seeing that tenderness and affection directed at the person seated opposite you made her illuminated blood simmer as violent imaginings filled the adepti’s mind, a thousand different inventions to bring nothing but distress to your counterpart.

Equally Xianyun’s mind raced with a dozen different ways to fix this situation. No one but her deserved to see the soft glow in your eyes. No one but her was worthy of your reverence. To see you sharing the admiration she thought was only reserved solely for her... One would not stand for it.

You do not survive fighting in the front lines of the Archon war and a thousand tribulations afterwards by allowing slights against you to go unanswered. Xianyun was no stranger to seeking out her own justice.

Such a shame for the person next to you that they are visiting from Fontaine and as such she has no obligation to hold back. Even if they were from Liyue she is not entirely sure even Morax could prevent her from exacting her bloody vengeance.

Although she had originally decided to stay in Liyue harbour permanently she now found herself longing for the recluse of Mount Aocang, her only little world where the only people that mattered were the two of you. That was all she needed. You would soon learn that was all you needed to.

She would pack tonight and leave for Mount Aocang at first light.

The next time you would set foot on the mountain you would not be leaving again.

Xiao:

The conqueror of demons

The vigilant Yaksha

The bane of all evil

Throughout his many millennia of life Xiao has been called by countless titles but from you he longed only to hear his name on your lips.

After saving you from a few hillichurls he had anticipated the usual stuttering of gratitude that was so common from mortals, however what he didn’t expect was how his heart tugged at the sight of relieved tears in your eyes. Large wet eyes looking up at him with unabashed admiration.

The adeptus was puzzled by the clear reaction his body had to the tender gaze you bestowed upon him. With flushed cheeks and dilated pupils the vigilant yaksha quickly fled from the scene, not even muttering a word. He spent the night attempting to disregard how the gentle trembling of your lips replayed in his minds eye or how he simply couldn’t rid himself of the thought of how soft and supple your skin had seemed in the cool moonlight of Liyue.

The following day and night the yaksha busied himself with slaying the beasts and scum that loitered within the vicinity of the Wangshu inn. When you disregard the fervent replaying of your interaction yesterday that thrummed through his brain, the day had passed exactly as he had anticipated.

Torment.

Suffering.

Misery.

These were parts of his day that was not foreign to him. They certainly were not comfortable but there was an air of familiarity around these emotions. Perhaps his day would have ended in a similar way had it not been for the sound of hesitant feet making their way onto the top balcony of the inn.

He peered down from his position on the inn's roof inquisitively. Verr often made a point of ensuring any visitors to the inn avoided the top floor in order to grant the Adeptus much needed solitude.

Instead it was… you. Again.

In your hands sat a plate of almond tofu, your fingers gripping the porcelain plate almost hard enough to smash it as you called out hesitantly

“Adeptus Xiao?”

His hairs prickled as he heard you call out his name. Hearing his name on your tongue, echoing your pronunciation of every syllable, rewinding and replaying the noises you made. The hitch of your breath before speaking, the breathiness of your words, the fondness in your tone despite your nervousness.

He wanted desperately to drop down and greet you, to ask you to say his name again. He would beg if he had to yet he couldn’t move

“If you’re here… Miss Verr told me you enjoyed almond tofu so I’ll just leave it here for you. I-”

You cleared your throat, your voice gaining some timbre as you gained some confidence speaking to what you hoped was the Adeptus that had saved you

“I wanted to thank you for saving me yesterday, without you i wouldn’t be here now”

You placed the plate onto the balcony before giving one last hopeful glance around. No sign of the adeptus. Regardless you whispered a soft hopeful prayer that the adeptus would find the token of gratitude you were leaving him.

As he heard your footsteps retreat down the staircase of the inn he finally allowed himself to breathe again. Leaping down onto the balcony of the inn with feline grace, he picked up the dish you left for him. His mouth pooled with saliva, his appetite was not for the almond tofu before him. As he traced the sides of the plate where your hands had once been, his heart fluttered like a teenage boy with a crush.

Xiao had spent the day thinking of you far more than he would dare verbalise but this new interaction with you had fanned the spark of interest into a blazing obsession. To think that he had been on your mind too, it was overwhelming for the adeptus, he almost didn’t want to believe that one such as himself could be blessed with something so tender to cherish as you.

He took care to watch over you vigilantly, rarely straying from your side. Ensuring your safety and acting as your shadow became his priority, however he still maintained a distance between you both, fearful that perhaps he may frighten you away with the intensity of his desire to guard you his karmic debt might overwhelm him in your presence.

The yaksha’s usual post at Wangshu inn was quickly abandoned in favour of his new perch on your roof. Of course he would never wish to invade your privacy but when you leave your bedroom window open like that… surely you must have some idea that the yaksha has taken an interest in you. Perhaps you know Xiao is there, you’ve seen him in the corner of your eye and this is your way of inviting him inside and you're simply too timid to declare it.

Even if you haven’t seen him and this isn't an invitation, clearly your senses are rather dull and you cannot be trusted to watch over yourself. He has been trailing you for weeks now so if you truly haven't noticed him then that’s all the more proof that he should slip inside your bedroom window… to keep a better eye on you while you remain defenceless as you rest.

Those are the two primary justifications he cycles through as he tentatively slides through your window, his feet silent on your floorboards after thousands of years mastering the art of agility. He wanders around your bedroom, flitting through the little trinkets you had scattered about; pretty seashells, crystals, a vase of silk flowers, your outfit for the following day.

He huffed out a breath at your mortal amusements, countless little testaments to your interests, a dozen tributes to your fascinations. Despite the superfluous nature of these curios you had scattered about, because they were small remnants of you he simply couldn;t bring himself to feel disdain for them, not when they brought him just a little closer into your world.

After he had thoroughly explored every countertop in your bedroom, his eyes darted to what he had been attempting (and failing) to ignore this entire time. Watching your peaceful slumber brought him more relief than he cared to admit. He perched tentatively on the side of your bed. Despite his attempts to restrain himself, he simply couldn’t prevent the wandering of his hand across the soft blanket that covered you.

Once he had traced his hand against your form, separated only by the blanket, he let his hand grasp onto a corner of it. Slowly peeling the blanket off of your form like a present that the archons had carefully wrapped just for him, golden eyes darkening as he drank in your body, covered only by sleep wear.

His deep, trembling intakes of breath stopped only when he saw your brow scrunch as you tossed in discomfort, reaching for the blanket he had since removed. Any moment you would wake up, he was sure of it. With no time to cover you back up with your blanket and even less to put your ornaments and baubles back in their spots he slipped back out of your window silently, returning back into the shadows to observe you faithfully.

The following nights he didn’t dare creep back into your bedroom. You now kept the window shut and curtains drawn. He would be dishonest if he said he wasn’t slightly frustrated by this development but moreover he was glad you didn’t simply ignore such an occasion. After all you didn’t realise it was him in your room, for all you know it could have been some debauched pervert. He would be thankful that you’re so vigilant about your safety if that was the extent of your preventative measures, however it was not.

You now had a friend staying with you. Admittedly you could just be having them stay with you as a deterrent or precaution to any unsavoury folks and yes he likely did give you quite the fright but you have no need for anyone's protection but his. You need only speak his name and the conqueror of demon’s is at your beck and call. He would be your undeterred shield, your unyielding blade to set upon any who would harm you if only you would let him.

Being around you makes Xiao feel tender and breakable for the first time since he signed his contract with Rex Lapis. He should hate how you make him feel but he can’t… he’s not sure he could hate anything pertaining to you. Well perhaps one thing: that friend who seems insistent on escorting you everywhere. Perhaps Xiao wouldn’t mind it so much (he definitely would still mind) if your friend wasn’t so liberal with his gaze, just by analysing the man for a few moments Xiao could tell he had less than noble thoughts about you.

After about a week of being on such high alert your friend convinces you to get out of the harbour, that perhaps some time away would do you some good. Perhaps you could go to Mondstadt for a week or so together. Usually you would be inclined to disagree with his spontaneous ideas but for almost a month Liyue has been smothering you. Initially you attempted to ignore the oppressive gaze you felt upon you, convincing yourself it was a mere delusion, a cruel trick your mind was playing but after last week you were certain there was a real cause for concern behind the gaze that followed you wherever you roamed.

Upon overhearing this conversation Xiao’s blood ran cold. Going to Mondstadt means leaving the area in which he can best protect you. Going to Mondstadt means you’re in far more danger than he could allow, sure he could ask that troublesome bard to keep an eye on you but that simply means opening himself up to questions he’s not even sure he knows the answers to just yet.

The accursed day finally arrives despite Xiao’s feverish wishes to the contrary. You begin the trek to Mondstadt when the sun is high in the sky, he keeps his eye on you, eagerly awaiting any moment you might need help, any opening for him to sweep in and keep you in Liyue for even a second longer. Perhaps this time he might mutter a word to you, tell you ‘you’re welcome’ when you inevitably drown him in gratitude or extend an offer of an escort all the way to Mondstadt (of course he’ll be escorting you regardless of whether you’re aware of it or not).

Instead you make it all the way to Wangshu inn without issue, much to the yaksha’s irritation. As the sun began to shrink into the horizon and the stars began to glimmer softly in the gloam coated sky, you beg your friend to stop in the inn for the night, hesitant to continue on with the daylight quickly dwindling however they refuse, insisting that you were practically at Stone Gate already and to keep on going for a little while longer, spewing empty promises of protecting you if anything might attack you. You shifted nervously, your eyes looking askew but you conceded, following dutifully after your companion through Dihua marsh.

As expected you didn’t get far in the dark without bumping into several hillichurls however much to your misfortune it wasn’t just a handful of meagre hillichurls. The mitachurl towered over you, his thick club raised in the air before slamming down next to your head as you rolled to the side. You darted out from under the beast, your eyes searching through the chaos for your friend only to be met with a distressing view. Your supposed friend fleeing the battle, their eyes searching for yours, tinged with pain as they mouthed a quick “I’m sorry” before continuing their desperate flee, leaving you to fend against the hillichurls alone.

Betrayal and dejection flooded you as you watched the person who had promised to protect you both from whatever had been watching you and whatever beasts you may bump into in the darkness. The stinging in your tear ducts and burning in your chest became dampened as you felt a swift tap to the back of your neck as your world faded into darkness. You felt no pain, no more betrayal as you collapsed.

Xiao had originally intended to take advantage of this situation. To appear by your side when the battle seemed lost, saving you if only to see your eyes light up in recognition of the yaksha before you but when he realised that wretch was fleeing from the battle, surely leaving you for dead he couldn’t stand still for another moment, his fingers curling around the air, instinctually craving the weight of his weapon to rest in his palms.

Using the end of this spear he hit you with just enough force to send you into the soft slumber of unconsciousness, catching you gently before laying you down on the grass, cradling your head like one would a newborn babe. With you carefully positioned out of his path he donned the mask of exorcism that usually sat at his waist, the karmic debt swirling around him in much higher intensity.

Slaughtering a small camp of hillichurls was a small feat for the conqueror of demons however he would not stop there. Xiao refused to rest until he felt that justice had been served for you, his most beloved.

Xiao scooped up your sleeping body before taking you back to Wangshu inn. When he first took up the mantle of protector of the inn Verr had offered him a room as thanks for his service and until now he had little need for it. He entered the dusty room and lay you down on the bed, brushing hair out of your face. The room was filled with only barebones furniture but perhaps tomorrow he would go to your home and bring you some of your pretty ornaments to make it seem more homely for you.

He allowed himself one small indulgence before he would head back out again to seek retribution for you. He removed the glove on one of his hands and took his bare, trembling fingers he traced across your lips. Memorising every inch and crevice of your soft lips beneath his fingers brought him a sense of unfathomable peace he had not felt since… he couldn’t remember anytime he had felt a sense of calm remotely similar to this.

Despite it paining him to do so the yaksha managed to force himself out of the stupor you had coaxed him into with your gentle breathing and sweet scent. Placing his glove back on and summoning his Jade winged spear the adeptus took off into the night once more.

When he returned to the remnants of the hillichurl camp, it didnt take long for him to find a trail. Following the dragging footsteps in the dust led him directly to your ‘friend’, now curled up at the foot of Wuwang hill, snot coating their face as their sobbed into their hands, wracked with grief and distress at their actions.

Even now the adeptus couldn’t muster even an illusion of sympathy or understanding, seeing them in this state only made his loathing for them grow.

They had truly deluded themself into believing they were a worthy protector for you? They couldn’t even defend themself.

With the hatred clawing up his throat like bile, Xiao couldn’t contain the Karmic debt slithering over him. His grip on his polearm tightened as he raised it above his head.

The fact that they truly believed themself to be a competitor for your affections would have almost been humorous had it not been for their display of cowardice not even an hour prior.

He plunged his weapon into their soft flesh methodically, his grip not faltering for even a moment. If it weren’t for his concern about you rousing afraid and alone, he would have taken his time and drawn their suffering out. He would have shown them that a few measly hillichurls were the least of his issues, instead he gritted his teeth, deciding to place your happiness and safety over his own desperate lust for vengeance.

Xiao quickly turned to abandon the scene. Even staring upon the filth’s body, thinking of the warmth and affection you had shared and how quickly they had forsaken you… No, he couldn’t end it like this. He turned back around to the almost corpse- the last few vestiges of life were flickering. Xiao resolved to make the last few breaths of air your friend would take as painful as possible. Digging his foot into their chest before he raised his polearm once more. Cutting and slicing, skewing and carving until all that remained after the frenzy was a mound of meat, muscle and bone.

Xiao crept into the room hoping you still remained asleep. A rare smile blossomed across the pale face of the Yaksha as he saw you curled up on the bed.

Dropping his spear by your bed Xiao stared at you longingly

He had waited so long for the moment in which he could express his feelings to you properly. He wanted to show you he loved you without fear. Now that you were lying in his bed, eyelids closed and breathing deep, Xiao made the decision that he could indulge himself fully before you woke up.

Just this once as a reward for saving you.

He’s sure you won't mind after all the time and energy he has devoted to ensuring your safety he’s almost positive you would be fine with him taking his fill.

Surely after two millennia of selflessness he has earned the right to be a little selfish.

With one swift step Xiao turned around to lock the bedroom door behind him.

Zhongli:

The reaction of Zhongli varies significantly depending on which phase of his life he is in. The man who goes by the name Zhongli has mellowed out considerably since his days as Deus Auri, If someone had stolen your attention away from him they may be greeted with several snide remarks and biting threats, if somebody stole your affection away from him then Zhongli would have a much less pleasant reaction however if either such thing occurred during his younger years as the Lord of the Adepti and God of contracts it is unlikely any potential suitors will escape unscathed.

In his youth Zhongli was far more of a slave to his draconic instincts than he was willing to admit. Upon the realisation of his intense feelings for you, the warrior god is far more frightened than he lets on. You are so fragile in comparison to him, so breakable. Not only that but humans are so flighty. Where Adepti may be content to sit on the same mountain top for centuries in solemn meditation, the same cannot be said for mortals. He has watched them flit about, to and fro for centuries and he would be lying if he didn’t find the mortal proclivity for change rather unnerving.

He has watched humans profess undying love for one another before turning around and betraying their vows to each other. It’s not that he thinks you’re anything like those adulterers, really he doesn’t but… you humans are slaves to your desires (he says, completely unaware of the irony his statement brings), he doesn’t want you to bring harm to your relationship because your human heart is fickle (you have not been made aware of your ‘relationship’ with the Lord of Geo) so he shall personally ensure that no one and nothing will allow you to stray from him.

And yes this is all because he cares about you and definitely not because when he sees other mens eyes flit across you he has to use every ounce of self control to prevent him from smiting the filth where they stand for allowing their lecherous eyes trail across you like a cut of meat at the market or a pretty jewel to possess (again, completely lacking in the necessary self awareness to recall how his own lustful eyes rake across your form).

Any man that makes an advance towards you shall meet a grisly end.

The shopkeeper who gave you an extra bag of rice on the house flees Liyue harbour muttering nothing but reverent prayers and desperate pleas for mercy to Rex Lapis for his transgression.

The Physician who helped bandage up your torso after you were wounded by a follower of Osial was offered a far more lenient punishment. Any place his skin may have made contact with you is carved off, his life is only spared as he was helping you however Morax cannot help the way his claws dig into his palms leaving fresh welts in the calloused skin, still unused to this humanoid form, unable to contain his rage at the thought of another touching you in a state of undress, even if only to heal you. Your bare skin is for his hands alone. If someone had to dress your wounds then they should have summoned him (please note that he has not made his affections for you known to you or anyone else for that matter)

After his most recent battle, felling yet another God who rivalled him for the position of Archon, Morax who had decided to take some weeks to allow for Liyue harbour to recover and the Adepti to rest. However when he learns it was a follower of Osial who dared to mar your delicate skin… He is rallying his Adepti with a fervour and aggression unseen from the warrior god. No one is entirely sure what has incited Morax to take such a devotion to ensuring Osial is destroyed but with his pupils in slits and his grip on Vortex Vanquisher so tight it looks as though the staff may snap, none of the Adepti are brave enough to question their lord.

Despite being renowned as the most fearsome of fighters no one, not even the closest of Morax’s allies had seen such a slaughter brought down by the Draconic lord of Geo.

Barbaric.

Savage.

Monstrous.

A slaughter.

Countless words could be used to describe the massacre Morax unleashed upon Osial, the Overlord of the Vortex and all his followers; however those were the most commonly repeated in the months following the extermination.

All knew to be wary of Morax, however that was the day the people of Teyvat truly learned to fear his wrath.

He hoped that when you looked out of the bay of Liyue Harbour and saw the Guyun Stone Forest, a complete destruction of every remnant of Osial and his forces, you would be reminded of his love for you, you would realise Morax is clearly the superior choice compared to all the other men around you.

Who but Morax could give you Teyvat?

Who but Morax would engulf the world in flame if only to see you smile?

Who but Morax could and would give you every comfort mora could afford?

He had frequently entertained various plans for his courtship with you; however the one his mind spun most frequently was to win the Archon war and assume his role as one of the chosen seven. Then he would raise you up as his consort, granting you immortality and binding the two of you eternally in a contract of marriage.

Of course that didn’t mean he couldn’t let his mind wander to other fantasies, his mind swirling with thoughts of spiriting you away to his palatial domain and keeping you there for days, weeks, months, years, however it took for his insatiable desire for you to be satiated. Only then would he leave his domain to win the war and return to you as the victor of the brutal war and one of the seven, finally able to rest a crown upon your head.

Admittedly he had yet to confess his desire to take you to wife or even that he loved you so desperately and fervently that it was one of the few things that managed to frighten the lord of contracts.

But surely you knew, even if he hadn’t verbalised it. He refused to believe you didn’t feel the tug between you both, reeling you together. You simply must understand what it's like to look into his eyes and feel as though you’re seeing clearly for the first time in your life. You have to know what its like to feel as though every step apart is energy wasted. You too must crave to feel his bare skin against your own, willing to merge into one if only to bring you both closer together.

Even if you somehow did not feel the same things… surely you must feel his gaze upon you. When he looks down at his city his eyes rest only on you, no matter how much he tries to break his gaze away from you.

Besides he doesn’t need words when he has made his romantic intentions towards you more than obvious in the way his draconic instincts have been roaring for him to. You have accepted his gifts of courtship happily, you clearly understand that he can fulfil his role in providing for you and any young you may have. He has seen you wearing the glaze lily in your hair, the very same lily he had his adepti scour the war torn lands for days to obtain.

Admittedly you seemed rather hesitant to accept the chests of mora and countless jewels he had left on your doorstep but equally you didn’t reject the gifts. As far as he was concerned that was proof enough that you had accepted his offer of courtship. By all draconic standards you were now officially entered into a contract with the rising Lord of Liyue and he would not take any contract lightly.

Despite the occasional event where some filthy wretch had to be taught to keep their lecherous eyes and hands off the Lord of Contracts future consort and the fact that he had not been able to converse with you about the future of your relationship, he believed his ‘relationship’ with you was going exceedingly well.

In spite of this and much to the rage of Morax, another reprobate had decided to give you an offer of courtship.

Morax can feel rage thickening in his veins, viscous and violent. Watching you blush softly at the Mortal’s meagre proposition. He understood mortals were far more inclined towards change and adaptation than a being such as he could even begin to comprehend as a deity that stands unchanging as stone, refusing to be eroded by the sands of time or the winds of change. Even so he did not expect such a flagrant betrayal. You don't even have the decency to look shameful as you forsake every thoughtful gift the lord of contracts had spent countless hours pouring over to ensure you received only the best.

Even if Rex Lapis didn’t currently have the time to display his affection verbally he had ensured that he had more than made up for it with his opulent gifts, only the finest for his future consort.

He had been desperately trying to restrain himself from stealing you away to his personal realm every time he saw you pass through the centre of the harbour. He had managed to restrain himself, displaying such self control and patience that he surprised even himself but a man has limits and the prime adeptus could stand no further insult.

How dare that vermin stand where he should, face to face with you, gazing into your eyes, drinking in the warmth that pooled into your cheeks, his arm extended with a meagre sweet flower clutched in his sweaty palm, the stem already drooping from being clutched so tightly.

Perhaps if you begged softly for the poor fools life Morax may bestow a rare act of mercy and only remove the man's eyes or tongue rather than his life, if only to see his beloved happy however all thoughts of Mercy were dashed when you accepted the flower with a soft smile gracing your face.

He didn’t think it was possible for his beloved’s glowing smile to inspire such a primal rage within him.

The city of Liyue harbour came to a stand still as their mighty Lord descended upon their city with a swiftness imperceptible to the naked eye to stand between you and your would be suitor.

A clawed hand clasped around the mortal man’s throat, blood trickling out of the small incisions the razor sharp claws of his humanoid form.

The man gasped for air however Morax’s grip was not dissuaded. His hand only faltered when he heard a familiar voice cry out

“Lord Morax! Please! Please release him i beg of you”

He turned his attention to you now perched on your knees, grasping at the bottom of his robe in a desperate plea and display of reverence. Although his blood still simmered with the fury of betrayal both at you and the wretch that had tempted you away from his side, seeing you now on your knees for him, tears welling in your soft eyes he simply couldn’t stay angry, not at you at least.

He threw the young man down on the ground with a sickening crack, watching him writhe around desperately clutching at the wounds on his throat.

No more waiting and no more distractions. This little infraction has persuaded him to do exactly what he needed to this entire time.

Taloned hands scoop you up, pressing you close into a solid, warm chest as you are quickly whisked away from the harbour and everything you had ever known. He should have known better than to allow you to wander freely without his stewardship or guiding hand to lead you.

Thankfully here in Morax’s private domain you two will be able to remain unbothered for as long as he sees fit, remaining far away from any man that may dare to tempt you away from him and he can rest easy knowing you will be tended to by the servants whilst he goes out and deals with the rodent that tried to damage he and his beloved’s relationship.

Not that it shall matter anymore once the mortal is disposed of. After all, despite his reputation as a war monger and monster, Morax is capable of understanding and empathy. You cannot help the fact that it is human nature to wish to try every experience, to culminate a portfolio of countless events and adventures, it really was a failing on his behalf to not keep a closer eye on you. Not to worry, from here on out he shall never part from your side, he shall be with you every moment of every day to remind you of your vow.

Of course if he wins the archon war, and he will, he knows in his very bones that he was born for the role of archon then he shall have the power and authority to raise you up by his side, as his consort and bestow you with eternal life and only then you shall truly remain at each others sides, forever. He shall not even entertain the thought of you being stolen from him again, covetous creature that he is.

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katsu28 · 2 months

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i saw requests were open and i simply could not resist

holding both their hands while holding their gaze gently, just before leaning in for a kiss + oscar maybe? honestly whoever you want to write it with, i’ll be happy!!!

you’re the best, love you, hope you’re having the most beautiful day ever💛💛

marissa babe i love you loads, thank you so much for this request <3 i've melted into a puddle writing this i kid you not

oscar piastri x reader, 1.8k. request something from here!

You’ve gone back and forth between canceling your date three times in the past two hours now.

You should be showering, getting ready, finding a cute outfit, but instead you’re pacing a hole in the floor of your room, staring at your phone on your desk.

You’ve been going out with the sweetest guy, Oscar, for a bit, and you like to think things are going well. He’s so kind and so cute, and you still can’t quite wrap your mind around the fact that he likes you enough to have gone on five dates with you.

But for some reason, he makes you so unbelievably nervous. You feel like a bumbling fool around him whenever you’re together, tripping over your words, laughing a little too hard for a little too long at something that probably wasn’t even that funny, but you can’t help it. When Oscar is around, it’s like some little person in your brain wrenches away control from any rational thinking and just goes crazy.

The worst part is, you don’t even know why. He’s just your type, he makes you feel like you’ve known him for much longer than you have, and you thought that would put you at ease.

You’ve never felt this way with any other person before. Maybe that’s why you’re acting this way. This thing you have with Oscar is special, however new it is, and you’re afraid of fucking it up. You haven’t even kissed yet, but you’re afraid of fucking that up too.

At that moment, your phone buzzes with a text from none other than Oscar himself.

Oscar: Can’t wait to see you tonight. Miss you :-)

You’ve only gone four days without seeing each other and he misses you enough to tell you so. Fuck, he’s adorable.

You have to go now, because the moment you finish reading his message you’re grinning like an idiot, giggling alone in your room at an eight word message and a stupidly endearing smiley face.

Unfortunately, your nerves and anxieties have come to bite you on the ass. Now you’ve only got a little more than an hour to do everything you should’ve been doing to get ready for dinner instead of sitting around being indecisive.

How you manage to get ready and out the door on time is a miracle, and before you know it you’re in an Uber on your way to meet Oscar. The driver is a kindly older man, rather talkative, which normally you weren’t very fond of, but his stories about his grandkids do wonders at providing a distraction from your thoughts.

You almost forget you’re on your way to meet Oscar until you get out of the car and spot him across the street, slouched against the wall of the restaurant scrolling on his phone.

He looks devastatingly handsome in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, both of which fit him fantastically, if you say so yourself, hair fluffed to perfection even though you know for a fact he probably hadn’t done a thing to it.

As if he senses you’ve arrived, he glances up, beaming brightly at the sight of you. He raises his hand in a wave, pocketing his phone immediately and coming to meet you at the other edge of the sidewalk.

“Hey, stranger. Long time no see,” He says warmly, effortlessly folding you into a hug. You let yourself melt a little bit in his embrace, cheek pressed to his firm chest. “You look really pretty.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You reply. He smiles bashfully, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Shall we?” He offers out the crook of his elbow and you loop your arm through his, happy to follow his lead into the restaurant.

Dinner goes well, all things considered. You’re frustratingly aware of how Oscar makes you feel the entire time, but you think you’re playing it off fairly well.

Or at least, if Oscar does notice, he doesn’t say anything. He’s absolutely perfect the whole time, polite and engaged with your stories, and funny in that dry sort of way of his that you’ve come to like.

You insist on splitting the bill once it comes and he doesn’t waste time by fighting you for the check like a lot of guys always seem to do, but he does call dibs on paying for ice cream at a place down the road he’d spotted on his way in, which you agree to.

He slides his hand into yours almost shyly at the start of the walk over, peering over at you through that one swooping curl of his that never seemed to stay put, as if to ask if it was okay he was holding your hand.

Your relationship (if you could even call it one at this early stage) is still new to the point where both of you aren’t quite sure what’s okay and when. Your response is to simply lace your fingers through his and squeeze.

You quite like holding his hand, even if it does make you worry about if yours is too sweaty.

Oscar opts for double chocolate chunk as his scoop of choice, which surprises you a little bit. You thought he would’ve gone for vanilla, but he always finds new ways to surprise you. He even pokes fun at your choice in flavor, bumping his shoulder against yours with that big smile that makes your heart dance in your chest.

You find a nice place to sit and eat your ice cream on a bench in a cute little park across the way, and everything is going swimmingly, but then he asks.

“This might be a stupid question, but are you alright?”

You nearly choke on your ice cream at his words. You’ve learned that Oscar is usually pretty blunt, but you’re still trying to get used to it. “Am I—what?”

“Are you okay? You seem…different. Was dinner alright? I’ve never been there before, but one of my mates keeps going on and on about it so I thought—”

So he had noticed. You shake your head firmly, placing a hand over Oscar’s. “Dinner was lovely.”

“Ah. Okay. Is it something else then?” To his credit, he looks genuinely concerned that something’s wrong, even with ice cream smudged at the edge of his mouth. You have to fight the urge to wipe it away for him. “You don’t have to tell me, but you can if you want to. I’m a good listener.”

You could tell him. It would benefit you to tell him, but for some reason, you hesitate.

How are you to tell Oscar that he makes you feel like you're not yourself when he's around? That you get so nervous in his presence that you always feel like you're doing or saying the wrong thing?

That every time he holds your hand or touches your cheek or texts you silly updates about his failed attempts at keeping a plant alive, you have to fight the urge to scream because you like him so much it scares you and you're afraid you’ll chase him away if you let him in on it.

How do you tell someone all that without sounding completely and totally mental?

You’ve only been on five dates, for fuck’s sake. For all you know, he could be planning on telling you it just won't work out between the two of you as soon as you get home tonight. You know he wouldn't do that because he's way too nice, but it doesn't stop you from jumping to conclusions.

You must take longer than you think to respond, because Oscar says your name again. He’s fully facing you now, one hand on your knee when you come back down from your thoughts, brows furrowed.

“I like you.” You blurt.

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “Well, that's good, ‘cause I like you too.”

“No, Oscar, I—” You pause a beat, trying to gather your thoughts into something more coherent. “I really like you. Like, so much that I feel like I’m messing everything up.”

“You could never mess anything up,” Oscar says fondly. So, so fondly. Your heart feels like it's about to leap out of your chest at his sincerity. “I really like you too. It’s a little scary, actually.”

“Oh, thank god. I thought it was just me,” You breathe, shoulders sagging in relief.

“That’s it, though?” He prods, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Uh…yes? I’m sorry, were you expecting more?”

“No, no, of course not. I just—I thought maybe you were acting differently because you didn’t like me anymore. Got tired of me, or something like that,” He admits sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

His shoulders hunch in on themselves, brows knit in something akin to embarrassment as he stares off at something in the distance. “It sounds stupid now that I hear it out loud, actually. Forget I said anything.”

“Oscar,” You hum, just as soft as the way he’d reassured you moments earlier. His eyes shift over to meet yours, rich, warm brown like fresh coffee looking wide eyed back at you. You ease the nearly half empty paper cup out of his grip, taking both his hands in your own. You don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.

“Hm?” He sounds flustered, gaze flicking down to your lips momentarily before coming back up. It’s only a split second, but you know what it means.

He wants you to kiss him. You want to kiss him. You haven’t yet because you’ve been scared, but you don’t feel scared anymore. You’re not at all sure where this sudden burst of confidence is coming from, but you’re sure as hell not about to let it go to waste, so you lean forward, pressing your lips against his gently.

It’s like he’s been waiting for this moment, because as soon as your mouth is on his, he sighs, tilting his head accordingly so your noses won’t smash together. You can taste the chocolate from his ice cream on his lips as they move against yours, and it’s not a perfect kiss by any means, but Oscar’s kissing you back, so it feels pretty perfect to you. You’re rather sad when you have to pull away, but air remains a necessity.

Oscar’s eyes flutter open slowly. “That was…”

“Nice?” You supply hopefully.

Oscar bobs his head quickly, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Really nice. We should do it again. Can I…?” Now it’s your turn to nod, and he wastes no time in kissing you again, maybe a little too excitedly, because he knocks both your ice creams off the bench and onto the ground with a sad splat. He pulls away just enough to look at the splatter of melted dessert already starting to seep into the cobblestones under your feet. “Oh. Crap, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Forget the ice cream,” You mumble, already chasing him for more. You reach around to tangle your fingers up and into the hair at the nape of his neck as a means of pulling him closer.

Oh, this newfound confidence is really working out for you.

He lets out a hitched exhale, swallowing hard again. “Yeah, yep. Forgetting the ice cream.”

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#requested!#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri one shot

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topazadine · 2 months

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Avoiding therapy speak in writing

I think we all know by now that therapy speak is irritating and unrealistic, especially if you are writing in a fantasy world that doesn't even have modern psychology.

Part of the reason that it is so annoying is that it is the definition of telling instead of showing: characters are just plainly informing us of their feelings rather than making us work for a better understanding. It's cheap and boring. Instead of making your characters seem like complex individuals with their own hangups and difficulties, they seem like plot points programmed to tell us things.

But obviously, you want to put these people in situations and have them talk about it! How do you do that without sounding maudlin? Here are some options.

Listen to real arguments/conversations

I cannot stress enough how important it is to listen to how actual real human beings talk to each other during heightened emotional states. They don't have to be nasty abusers, and they don't have to be perfect angels, just everyday people doing their normal thing.

Of course, I'd hope you're not seeing people argue all the time, but if you do happen to see it, listen carefully and notice how people actually address their problems. Think back to tough conversations that you have had, even if you wouldn't classify them as arguments. Consider how people acted and reacted to one another. Notice how normal humans talk about issues outside of therapy, even intelligent and emotionally evolved people.

I've had years of therapy, and even I do not talk in therapy ways about my issues when I'm talking to my family or friends. It just feels cheesy and fake outside of that particular setting - plus, it freaks other people out and can seem kind of manipulative. Try talking like that in a real conversation and see how uncomfortable it is. You'll understand why avoiding therapy speak is important.

Consider the character's own hangups

Just as everyone has their own unique speaking style and mindset, so do we all have our own argument styles. These are often informed by our pasts and upbringing; they are as varied as our own histories. However, there are a few different options.

Someone with a happy upbringing may be more assertive and willing to address their problems because they had that demonstrated to them as children.

A spoiled child will grow up to be a demanding adult who refuses to give any quarter.

Those who got yelled at a lot as children may shut down and fawn to avoid getting hurt.

Someone who grew up in a violent household may mimic that behavior and get incredibly aggressive when upset.

Individuals whose parents didn't teach them emotional regulation will lash out and get loud.

Manipulative people may stay very calm and gaslight the other person, or they may get hysterical to garner sympathy and make people focus on comforting them.

Someone who has gone to therapy may revert to their original argument style, or they may imperfectly apply what they have learned in a way that feels a bit unnatural. They may start out with rage, then force themselves to calm down through grounding techniques.

People who have been coached through previous emotional outbursts could demand a time out, then fail to actually calm themselves down.

Some may refuse to acknowledge they are upset and insist, in increasingly forceful terms, that they are fine.

Others may get quiet or crack a joke to ease the tension, but it doesn't really help.

Keep each confrontation short

IRL, emotional confrontations are generally not that long. They don't go on for hours and hours, though it can feel that way. No one is going on and on about their feelings and sharing every little detail of how they feel (at least not that I know of personally, maybe other people are different).

Even the worst arguments I have had, the real nexus of the argument was maybe an hour or two, though the fallout lasted much longer. I'd say there was an hour maximum of real, active confrontation, preceded or followed by hours/days/weeks of simmering frustration.

Why? Because arguments are exhausting. You don't have the energy for that in the heat of the moment. Yes, feuds and fights can last years, but each actual confrontation is short.

For longer, more serious issues, hash it out over a few sessions rather than all at once. It's rare to get everything out of the way immediately unless the characters already have a strong, loving relationship.

Show incongruencies

Especially for more reserved people, they will likely have their emotions leaking all over the place but won't actually say anything. As such, focus on body language while keeping the conversation more focused on the plot. For example, Character A might be crying but still trying to argue their point about whatever is going on.

Address physical complaints instead of emotional ones

In many cases, people will use "I'm tired" or "I didn't sleep well" or "I'm not feeling great" as shorthand for whatever is actually bothering them. It relieves pressure by not making them talk about upsetting matters while still addressing their discomfort in some form.

You should also consider the fact that some people can't connect physical sensations to feelings, so they may genuinely feel ill and not really understand why. This is especially common in people who can't emotionally regulate or have been through trauma.

For myself, I tend to somatize my feelings, so I might not feel upset, but I will feel physically sick. My stomach will hurt, my chest will get tight, or I'll get a headache, but my emotional state will seem calm. This isn't all that unusual, and many people experience this to different degrees.

As such, you can have your character say that their stomach hurts, or that they have a headache and can't discuss this anymore, or that they need to go lie down because they're dizzy. If we know they're relatively healthy, this can be a clue that they're getting overwhelmed but either cannot pinpoint their emotions or don't want to discuss them.

Let characters advance and retreat

A lot of the time, someone will address a scary emotion and then retreat again, sometimes over a period of hours, days, or even weeks. This is normal: most of us don't have the emotional fortitude to forge ahead through something difficult all in one go. Character A may say something vulnerable, then change the topic, laugh it off, say they're done discussing it, or even leave the situation.

Leave emotions partially unaddressed

Again, it's rare for someone to spill out everything they're feeling all in one go. As such, have Character A address the most important thing - or the least important, depending on their level of emotional maturity - and let it be done for then.

They might say their small piece, but when someone tries to probe deeper, they don't have an answer, or they get "stuck" on that one emotional level and cannot go further.

If Character B keeps pushing, then they may get incredibly upset and push back, or retreat.

Have Character B point out the feelings

Works especially well if the other character is a close companion or a parental figure. Often, people who know us really well will have better insight into our emotions than we do. Or, we might have good insight into our emotions but are still too afraid to open up. Having Character B point out the issue gives Character A grace to be more honest.

I can't tell you how many times I've been really upset, so I've distracted from the issue by getting angry about something completely different. Then, my mom will gently point out that I'm not actually crying about my new plastic cup being broken or whatever; I'm actually upset about XYZ. In that moment, I realize I've been caught out and admit that yes, that's what I'm really upset about.

Have Character A address it with a third character

Who among us hasn't gone to someone else to talk about our feelings? Having a third party serve as a sounding board is normal. Sometimes, Character A will feel such catharsis from this conversation that they don't address it as thoroughly with Character B.

Of course, you can use this to your advantage and create more tension if the third character gives bad advice or is biased.

Remember that just because the third party responded well does not mean that Character B does. You also have to avoid omniscience and remember that Character B wasn't privy to that conversation.

Have one confrontation be a stand-in for a larger one

I always think about the "The Iranian Yogurt Is Not the Issue" post when I think about this. Often times, things like not doing the dishes or whatever aren't actually the big deal: it's lack of boundaries, communication, or respect. A minor argument can be shorthand for a larger one that is too challenging for the characters to tackle.

This isn't just creating drama for the hell of it, though; it's about exploring the larger issues without making the characters lay it out on the table. A good reader will be able to see it's not about the Iranian Yogurt as long as you set up the relationship well.

Currently, I am writing a story where Uileac and his sister Cerie go to rescue Uileac's husband, Orrinir. On the way there, Uileac idly comments on how he wonders where a waterfall comes from because he's trying to distract himself from thinking about the fact that his husband is kidnapped and possibly dead.

Cerie, being pretty wound up too, starts arguing with him about it because she's like "why is this relevant? We're kind of too busy to think about geology right now!" Uileac gets annoyed at her for being so aggro, and she gets annoyed at him for being so irreverent. Both of them are upset about something completely different, but they're too scared and panicked to actually address that, so they release their frustrations by complaining about waterfalls.

Those bad vibes have to go somewhere, but neither of them are very good at talking about their feelings (though very good at stuffing them down). As such, they take the pressure off by sniping at one another. You've probably done this too, when you get into a dumb argument about something absolutely pointless because there's something you don't feel strong enough to discuss.

There's also the fact that if you're mad at someone about something but feel it's too stupid or petty to discuss, that frustration will leak out and everything else they do will annoy you, leading to a bunch of irrelevant arguments.

Use "reaffirmation" gestures

I talked about this in a different post, but after an argument, the "make up" stage doesn't always involve going "ohhh I forgive you" and big hugs and kisses, especially when the two characters aren't emotionally mature.

Instead, Character A makes gestures that reaffirm the relationship. This could be offering to do something Character B needs, making plans for later, or changing the topic to discuss something the other character cares about ("how are your cats doing?") etc.

Note that these "reaffirmation" gestures aren't the same as the cycle of abuse. This is more when two characters have had a difficult emotional conversation but aren't really sure how to continue being emotionally open, so they revert to something safer that still shows they care. They're not over-the-top gestures either, but more a special attention to something the other person loves. Knowing what the other person loves also demonstrates the depth of their relationship.

As always, I can't tell you what to do with your writing.

You are the crafter of your own story, and if you want people to talk like therapists for whatever reason, that's your choice. However, we want characters to feel like real people, and most real people don't lay it all out on the table every single time they're upset. If they do, they might be trauma vomiting, which is icky in and of itself.

Healthy communication isn't always perfect communication. People can have strong, loving relationships and still get things wrong - we're human. Having people calmly and rationally and easily talk about their feelings every single time is not only kind of boring, but it also feels weird, because unless we're primed to discuss those difficult topics and know we're perfectly safe, we're not going to do that.

People don't even do that in therapy, where they are paying for the service of talking about their feelings! Therapists also don't always do that IRL!

We're humans, and your characters need to feel like humans as well. That means letting them be imperfect communicators and using context clues rather than making them do all the work for the reader.

If you liked my advice, consider purchasing my book, 9 Years Yearning, for $3!

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xothatnerdykid · 3 months

Text

guilty as sin

You're a dedicated nurse who loves their job even when it means taking care of stubborn, battle-worn pro-heroes (or maybe especially then). Aizawa Shouta x gn!reader. Set between S6 & S7. Fluff, slight angst with comfort. SFW, 2k words.

The sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air as you walk down the pristine white hallways of Central Hospital. The raid against the Paranormal Liberation Front had left the medical facility overcrowded, understaffed, and bustling with activity. You yourself had been working tirelessly for the last 24 hours straight to care for the numerous injured heroes and civilians.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders, your feet dragging slightly with each step. Your shift was supposed to have ended hours ago, and you were more than ready to clock out and get some much-needed rest. However, there was just one patient left to see.

You knock at the door.

"Good morning," you greet the man lying down on the bed. You don't have the strength to muster a smile, but that's okay. He doesn't seem to either.

Instead, he gives you a familiar nod. "Good morning."

He was a brooding, reserved man of a few words. With dark hair and even darker eyes - well, eye, the other being wrapped in bandages - he looked more tired than you some days. You can't fault him for that though. You knew he had been at the front lines of the battle that day and had paid a heavy price for it.

He sits up as you come closer, approaching his bedside. The room is quiet, save for the soft beeping of the machines monitoring his vitals.

"How are you feeling today?"

He shrugs. "I've been better. I've been worse."

"I can see that," you nod, noting the way his complexion is less pale and his hair less unruly today compared to the past week. You open the blinds for him, warm light streaming into the dim room. “More sunlight ought to be good for you.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, blinking up at the bright, blue sky out the window.

You take that as your cue to go about your usual tasks silently, adjusting his IV, checking his bandages, writing down his vitals.

Then, out of the blue, he says, “You’ve been working long hours lately. You should get some rest.”

"Believe me, I will. Just as soon as you're taken care of first."

"I'm fine,” he responds in a clipped, dismissive tone of voice.

“Fine or not, it's my job to make sure you’re comfortable and healing properly. You went through a lot, losing an eye and a leg. Frankly, I’m not sure we should go through with discharging you tomorrow.”

He heaves a tired sigh, “Like I said, I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse, too.”

Frowning, you sit down on the bedside chair and take a moment to look at him. Despite his stoic facade, you can see the toll all those years of being a hero have taken on him, especially the past few weeks. The dark circles under his remaining eye, the weary lines and scars etched into his face. The worried, pained look that lingers even when he's trying to relax.

"You know, it's okay to admit that you're not feeling great. From what I've been told, it seems like you've been through hell and back."

He shrugs again, leaning back against the pillows with a wince that he tries to hide. "It comes with the job. If anyone deserves your concern, it's my students."

“It must be hard, seeing them fight in a war. They’re just children, after all.”

He nods grimly, his mouth a tight line. "And because of this—" he touches the bandages covering his eye "—my quirk is pretty much useless now, especially on the villains we’re up against.”

He doesn't say it, but you can hear it in the tightness of his voice, his clenched jaw, his hands fisting the bedsheet. You know what he really means: “I'm useless now."

You want to reach out to touch him, maybe place your hand atop his, but you're not sure if he'd welcome such a gesture, especially from someone he's only known for a short time. You settle for a few sympathetic words instead, folding your hands in your lap.

"Aizawa-san, do you honestly think your quirk is the only thing that makes you a hero? You've done so much for your students, for so many people. You're a mentor and a role model to these kids. I'm sure they trust and look up to you more because of this, not less.”

He looks at you for a long moment, that same unreadable expression on his face.

"I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t protect them the way I used to."

"Maybe not, but even without your quirk, you have your experience, your wisdom, and a heart that cares deeply for them. That's more than enough."

Instead of responding, he stares silently up at the ceiling. You don't push him, resigning to let the moment simply stretch out. After all, this is the most you've ever talked to him the whole week.

As he gets lost in his thoughts, you find yourself mentally tracing the contours of his face, where the sunlight bathes his skin in a soft, warm glow. It accentuates the strong lines of his jaw, his nose. Softens the look in his dark eyes.

You take a quiet breath, surprised by the fluttering sensation in your chest. It's an odd time and place to notice something like this, but you can’t deny there's a certain rugged handsomeness to him.

You shift your weight, feeling a little self-conscious about your own thoughts. It’s unprofessional, you chide yourself, to think of a patient this way. But the inexplicable attraction you feel for the man before you is unmistakeable.

Aizawa turns slightly, catching you off guard as his eyes meet yours. When he finally speaks again, his voice is softer, almost contemplative.

“It's strange. There was a time in my life when I wouldn't have cared what happened to me in the line of duty, whether I lived or died. But now...I want to live for those kids. My kids.”

You manage a wobbly smile even as your heart aches at his words. "Your students are lucky to have someone who cares about them so much."

“You remind me of them a little bit.” He lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling softly in the quiet room. “Determined, stubborn, always insisting on helping.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

The corner of his lips quirk up, and the realization that he might actually be teasing you sends your heart aflutter.

“Mostly good,” he murmurs. “A little bit troublesome for me though.”

“Yeah?” You bite back a smirk. “You’ve been a bit troublesome for me, too, you know.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the pillows. “Is that so? And how do you propose I make it up to you, then?”

Maybe it’s the huskiness of his voice, the quiet intensity of his gaze, or the faint smile tugging at his lips, but something about him in this moment makes your stomach freefall. And you’re suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss him, passionately and spontaneously, as if afraid to see sense.

You know you shouldn't indulge this, should put a stop to this train of thought before it gains too much momentum. You’re thankful you manage to keep your voice steady despite the rush of blood pounding in your ears.

“Well, Aizawa-san, you could start by taking me out to dinner. Dealing with a patient as stubborn as you has its price, you know.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you wonder if you’ve made a terrible mistake. But then his gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you feel your breath hitch. He tilts his head, his expression thoughtful yet guarded, as if trying to read between the lines of your playfulness.

“I suppose,” he concedes softly. “But you might find that I’m not as interesting as you think, Y/N. I’m just a man who cares about the people in his life and does what he can to protect them.”

"That's exactly what I like about you.” Your voice drops to a whisper, your hand lightly brushing against his.

He groans softly, and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the sound. He rubs his hand down his face, seemingly weighing his options.

It’s not too late, you assure yourself in a rush of anxious thoughts. You haven’t crossed any lines you can’t go back on, haven’t overstepped the delicate boundary between patient and nurse, between flirtation and something more.

“Will you let me kiss you at the end of the date?”

Oh.

The line is a dot now.

You swallow hard and — heart pounding in your chest, everything else spinning dizzyingly out of focus — you rush forward to close the distance between you, pressing your lips urgently against his.

The spark you felt before intensifies into an electrifying current now, racing down your spine as he tangles one hand in your hair and another holds you by the nape. He tilts your head back to kiss you deeper, his lips hungrily exploring yours, and you feel drunk on the pleasure of his touch, the intoxicating scent of his skin and his aftershave.

The softness of his lips contrasts with the roughness of his stubble, sending shivers of delight coursing through you. His mouth is warm and inviting, and you lose yourself in the sensation of his kiss, the way he breathes you in, the quiet sighs of pleasure that escape both of you.

Your mind spins with the realization of how much you’ve wanted this and how many ill-advised daydreams you’ve had of him these past few weeks. When you finally break apart for air, you keep your forehead pressed against his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. The sound of your blood rushing in your ears drowns out the rhythmic beeping of the machines around you, and for a moment, the world feels narrowed down to just the two of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” Your breath comes in ragged gasps. Your fingers gingerly touch your lips, which are pursed in surprise. “That was reckless of me. I shouldn’t have.”

Aizawa blinks at you, his dark eyes wide and dazed, like he’s trying to process what just happened. He licks his lips, a gesture that sends a fresh wave of warmth through your body.

“Do you…” His voice is husky, tinged with uncertainty. “Do you regret it?”

“No, of course not,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I only regret not doing it at a better time.”

His eyes widen slightly in surprise before softening, the tension in his shoulders seemingly melting away.

"Good," he murmurs, reaching for you, his thumb cradling your jaw and tracing small, soothing circles on your skin. “Because I’d like to do it again—”

He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And again—”

He brushes his lips teasingly against yours, feather-light and promising of more.

“And again.”

The admission sends a thrill through you, a rush of joy and excitement that makes your pulse quicken. "All the more reason to look forward to dinner, I suppose. After you get better, that is."

He chuckles softly. "Shouldn't be a problem, seeing as how I have an excellent nurse taking care of me."

"Mmmhm. Speaking of, is there anything else I can do to make you…more comfortable before I leave?” You can't help but ask, a playful lilt in your voice.

He captures your lips in a delicate kiss, so sweet and tender, like a dream barely skimming the surface of reality. You've finally calmed down enough to hear the sound of his heart rising, betrayed by the loudening beep of the machine. His hand trails down your arm and he laces his fingers with yours, smiling against your lips.

“I can think of a few things.”

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apricityxoxo · 24 days

Text

Sound of Your Voice

✧.*Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader

✧.* wc about 3k

✧.* summary: Routine. Continuously. Everyday. Every day since that day. He is used to a routine, that’s how he normally lives. His routine was tedious and had recently started to feel mundane. Like a never-ending cycle of constant repetition, a cycle of violent missions and loneliness. That was most certainly not the case now. Now he has you, and he is addicted.

✧.* content: mainly fluff, a bit of violence (simon gets in a fight duhh) and a bit of suggestive dialogue

✧.*This is part two to Help and Care, Here is "part one", it can be read together or separately.

I'm so sorry this took such a long time, I've been so busy and I haven't been in a writing mood. I'm gonna start updating more and writing about different characters. lmk who you want me to write for next. pleaseeee interact, i love hearing from yall.

Routine.

Continuously.

Everyday.

Every day since that day.

He is used to a routine, that’s how he normally lives. His routine was tedious and had recently started to feel mundane. Like a never-ending cycle of constant repetition, a cycle of violent missions and loneliness.

That was most certainly not the case now. Now he has you, and he is addicted.

He makes his way over… starting to rush a little.

He keeps checking his back, ensuring no one is following, checking to see if anyone's watching.

Sometimes he feels paranoid, worried that rumors will spread. Reputations ruined, your reputation ruined. He has seen it happen before and doesn't want it to happen to you.

He finally arrives at the building, making his way past the receptionist's desk. He doesn't have to look, he knows that the receptionist is shaking her head. He knows this path like the back of his hand. When he finally arrives at the door, a weight is lifted off his shoulders.

It’s like the feeling of pure relief.

He checks his surroundings while turning the handle and with his free hand, he begins to pull up his mask. He pulls up his mask with a large smile on his face, mentally preparing himself for the intense makeout session that was about to start. However, before the session was about to begin he realized something strange.

Your office was empty. This was the exact time he came to visit your office every other day, so why was today different? Where were you? He started pacing, trying to think where you could be. Where? Where are you? What are you doing? Why aren't you here?

He's freaking the hell out.

Where are y–

“She's not here son.”

He pulls down his mask and quickly faces the voice. He turns and sees a tall but thin older woman in the hallway. She looks away from her clipboard and looks up at him with her thin almond-shaped eyes over her slim reading glasses. When he still doesn't address her she rolls her eyes and looks back at her clipboard.

“She should be back next week, it won't kill you to be away from her for a week…right?” She says with a sarcastic smirk on her thin lips.

So, word had gotten around.

She walked away while shaking her head.

He had to wait a week, he could do that.

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He could not do this.

He's going crazy, it has been six days and he thinks he's going to kill himself. It's been a horrible week for him and many are starting to notice. God, he’s gotten addicted to you.

He's been snappy, and everything is starting to set him off. He doesn't think he's ever been madder in his life. He's like a ticking time bomb that is constantly being set off…

And these recruits were going to make him explode.

They had the same attitude they always had, but he couldn't tolerate their actions with you not here. He was harder on them than usual and irritated by everything they did wrong. He didn't have time for their cockiness, their back talk, and their disagreeable attitudes. However, that's all he received, and he had had enough.

“Harder, you have to hit me harder. Unless you want to die out there.” Ghost said with an angry stern tone. He was training a young recruit, they were on the training grounds surrounded by other recruits and onlookers. The recruit he was training had extremely short-buzzed black hair, was well-built, and had impressive combat skills. His name was Thomas… he thinks. He has a lot of potential, he could make it far if he wasn’t a cocky asshole. Thomas's hits were impressive but not up to his standards. He needed to try harder and be better.

“If ya not going to try hard, I can train someone else,” Ghost said, sick and tired of this recruit's lazy antics. He could tell his corrections had been irritating Thomas. He was rolling his eyes, shaking his head at Ghost.

“Come on!” Ghost yelled. He watched as the concentration in his eyes turned into pure anger. Ghost thought that anger would encourage him to fight harder, but all it did was make his mouth move more.

“Don't be mad at me because you haven't seen your bitch in a week.”

Ghost doesn't think he’s ever punched someone in a while as hard as he punched Thomas. What was a sparring session between mature respected soldiers, quickly turned into what looked like a nasty bar fight between infantile men who couldn't control their temper. Punches were thrown back and forth and soon they both ended up on the ground. A crowd of men formed a circle around them, cheering them on and guessing who they think will win.

“Get the ‘ell off me!” Thomas yelled, trying his hardest to get from below Ghost.

Ghost didn't say anything, he was more focused on teaching Thomas to watch his mouth. He knows this isn't good for his reputation. He knows that this proves all the rumors about him and you true. He thinks about how he shouldn't do this, after throwing a punch to his face, but he doesn't care.

He was ready to throw another hard blow to the right side of Thomas’s head before he heard a bellowing voice.

“What’s goin' on here?!” Ghost stops and Thomas quickly crawls from under him, ready to salute his captain.

Ghost stays on the ground looking at the floor.

“That's enough training for today. You're all dismissed.” Says Captain Price, followed by the sound of soldiers dispersing. Then he feels a firm hand on his soldiers.

“You're dismissed too Ghost. Go take a nap or something, your piss-poor mood is showing.” Price says the smell of expensive cigars follows him as he walks away.

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“Piss-poor mood, I'm not in a mood…”

“...he should’ve watched his mouth”

Ghost continued to murmur to himself as he made his way over to his quarters. Upset by the eyes that followed him. He didn't feel upset, he felt fine. He's not the problem, everyone else is for upsetting him.

He makes his way down a hallway and near his quarters but before he can get within a couple feet of his door, he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around and his eyes widen in utter shock and surprise.

“So, I'm gone for not even a week and you're already beating up little kids?” You say. You look beautiful, your hair is done differently than normal. Your skin looked kissed by the sun and glowed under the artificial lights in the hallway, God he missed you. He missed the sound of your voice.

“It's not my fault, he should've watched his mouth.” You could practically hear the smile forming on his lips as he spoke to you. He was slowly closing the professional and appropriate gap between you.

“Did ya miss me?” You ask in a soft sultry voice, as you look up at his tall frame through your eyelashes.

He didn't respond but by your face, he could tell you already knew the answer.

“What did you do while I was gone?” you said and as you spoke you started to walk away, and like a loyal dog, he started to follow.

“I found ways to busy myself” he lied. In reality, he did his work and was pissed while he did so. Everything that happened while he worked ticked him off. He didn't like that the recruits talked back when he gave them corrections. He didn't like how cafeteria food tasted when you weren't there to distract him. He especially didn't like how he couldn't visit you in your office on long days.

When he wasn’t working, he was at the pub drinking his sorrows away with Johnny and drinking and drinking even more so that he could forget that you're not around. You're not around, and he can't listen to you ramble about your unique interests like your troublesome cat, the most recent book you read, or the hairstyle you were planning on getting next. He really missed that.

When he wasn’t working or drinking he found other ways to distract himself.

Other ways that made him feel ashamed.

Other ways that made him sleepless at night, and drowsy in the morning.

You made him crazy. You drove him absolutely mad. He couldn’t think straight around you, and it confused him.

He’s had girlfriends, and hookups, even one-night stands. None of them compared to the way you made him feel. You made him feel lightheaded, you made his heart race, and you made him throb at just the thought of you.

He wanted more.

He was tired of the flirty banter, the soft touches, and the heated makeout sessions in the privacy of your office.

He wanted to get to know you, the way no one else has gotten to know you.

Out of nowhere, he asked, “Do you want to have dinner with me?”

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God! Men!

How dare Simon give you less than an hour and a half to get ready!

You’re so nervous, you’re literally trembling. You haven’t felt this way about a man, ever. You feel ridiculous!

All your life you pushed away the attention of men, in order to succeed in your career. You were always taught that men would stop you from succeeding, they would only drag you down.

However now, you don’t give a shit. You don’t care if Simon drags you down to hell, you’ll skip right along with him. He makes you feel high like you’re weightless and on top of the world.

He so entrances you that you think if he asked you to run away and sell crops in the middle of nowhere, you’d say yes. You’re crazy and delusional, and you don’t care.

You invited a friend over to help you style your hair, wanting to do a natural look for your first date with Simon. As she styles the curls and coils of your hair, she can’t help but make fun of you.

“I can’t believe ‘Ms. I don’t need a man is going on a date!” She cackles, and goes on saying “And she’s nervous!” She all but hollers.

Even though you don't appreciate the hollers and cackles from her, you can’t help but giggle along with her. You were a hypocrite.

…

Okay, even with the time given… you look good. Like, really good. You always look good, but damn. Right now, you look fine.

You managed to search for a dress that was elegant and sexy at the same time. A black dress that hugged your curves beautifully, with a high slit that showed your glowing legs. You paired it with jewelry, a black bag, and black heels. Your makeup was finally finished and as you started to set your face you heard a knock at the door of your apartment.

You felt your heart sink and doubt started to creep into your mind. However, before you have time to second-guess yourself, your friend sprints down the stairs to let Simon in.

You rush to grab your purse and your phone, hyping yourself up as you scramble around your room. “You can do this, you got this” “he’s already into you, there’s no need to worry” “You’re a bad bitch, the baddest”. You look at yourself in the mirror one last time and head downstairs.

As you make your way downstairs you find Simon and your friend talking. Simon is wearing the face of a child who has been punished by his parents and your friend has her back to you.

“What's going on?” You ask, confused. “Nothing!” Your friend said with a bright and mischievous smile on her face. You roll your eyes, knowing that she's probably giving him the best friend speech.

“Love you, have fun!” She says as she walks past you and gives you a friendly kiss on your cheek.

When Simon finally looks at you, you can see his face physically soften. He looks nice, you lied cause he looks so handsome. He's wearing straight black dress pants, and a short-sleeve white button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. He looks classy and slutty at the same time. It's making you warm up inside, especially with the way he's looking at you.

His hair is styled differently, instead of the messy blonde tussles of hair that usually adorn his, it looks like he attempted to style his hair. His beard also looks trimmed and cleaned up, not fully shaven though. He holds himself more confident than normal but his face has nervousness written all over it.

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God, you look good, so good. You look good in your scrubs and tennis shoes but right now you look amazing. You look beautiful, you look so beautiful that words can’t describe how he feels right now. It was absolutely worth getting the "You better treat her right" speech from your friend.

He was nervous about planning this date, he wanted it to be perfect. He tried his best to find the best restaurant near your apartment knowing that you’re, what you call, a foodie. He searched all day for somewhere worth taking you to. When picking out his outfit he had to go off base to find a new shirt.

He cleaned up his beard and even thought about shaving it completely, but he decided against it last minute thinking about all the times you've played with it. He also styled his hair but it looks messy now due to all the times he nervously ran his hands through it.

He needed this date to be perfect. It had to be. It had to be as perfect as you.

“I brought these for ya,” He said, as he grabbed the flowers off the coffee table with sweaty hands. He gave you a beautiful bouquet. A bouquet of vibrant lilies that went together perfectly with beautiful white flowers.

“Aww! They’re beautiful, how’d you know these were my favorite?”

“I’m psychic,” he said with a wink. He saw a picture of a similar bouquet while you were scrolling and liking posts on your Instagram. You smile to yourself and look down.

“You look good, Simon,” you say to him, so soft it almost sounds like a whisper. He loves the sound of your voice. He loved how it made him feel and he couldn't get enough of it.

After you complimented him, he took a couple of steps toward you until your chests were pressed together. He looks down at you and holds your face with his hands. “You look beautiful”. He leans down and gives you a soft and gentle kiss on your thick glossed lips. You feel dazed after that kiss and he asks “Ya ready?”, with a cocky smile. He was perfect.

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Dinner was less than perfect…

The hostess was rude, giving you nasty looks. During dinner, Simon called the waiter a clumsy, forgetful, flirt. The waiter was so busy trying to get your attention that he ended up spilling your drinks on you and giving you the wrong food. Finally, when you do get the right food it was “bland shite” as Simon described it, cursing the people who gave this restaurant anything above a two-star review.

As he paid the check, refusing to let you even reach for your purse, he pettily left a no tip and a short message. You giggle your way out, laughing at his pettiness. As you make your way out, he's profusely apologizing as you wrap your arms around his thick bicep while trying to clean the huge stain on your dress.

“I'm sorry love, thought the restaurant was good and it was gonna go different and-” You're not even focused on him nor your dress anymore. Your eyes drift away to the colorful ice cream stand and your mouth all but waters.

“Do you want ice cream Si?” You interrupt him with a bright smile on your face. You let go of his arm and make your way over to a cute ice cream stand.

You bend over with a slight arch to your back and look at all the ice cream flavors. You feel a presence make its way over to you and feel a hand go from your upper ass to your hip. “What do ya want Si? My treat!” you look up at him “Nah, you don’ need to get me anything, love, I'll pay”. You continue, ignoring him, “You seem like a cookies and cream kind of guy, or maybe French vanilla, ooh cookie dough?” there was a silence for a couple of seconds, then a deep sigh “Mint Chocolate-chip”

You look at him and giggle, you knew he’d like something weird. “You got it, Si!”

You order and pay for the ice cream after going for a walk as you both enjoy the sweet treat. You find a bustling Main Street near the ice cream stand that’s illuminated with street lamps, fairy lights, and boutiques. You both walk down the street hand in hand while eating your treats. You walk and window shop and point out things you find cute to Simon. Then, a surge of happiness fills you. You haven't felt like this in years, Simon makes you feel alive, in a way you have never felt before. You finally finish your ice cream and feel the need to tell him how happy you feel. You both drift away from the crowd and make your way to a bench illuminated by a warm street lamp, that's where you finally stop and look up at Simon.

“I having a wonderful time Simon, thank you.” You tell him and you squeeze his hand as you do.

“I'm real glad ya are. I was nervous ‘bout this and I feel like I screwed up with dinner and the waiter was a flirty arsehole and I just wanted this to be perfect with the-”

“I have a wonderful time, every time I'm with you. It's always perfect with you.” You interrupt his nervous ramble with your own. “I haven't really done any of this before and I feel kind of dumb but I like the way I feel when I am with you.” Then you start getting honest, real honest, “After I graduated med-school, I couldn't find a job and I was looking everywhere and no one was hiring me, it was so frustrating”. You continue, “So when I found that job at the military base, I impulsively took it. And when I did, I immediately regretted it, it was far from home, my friends and family, and a new environment, but now, I have great friends, an apartment that feels more like a home every day, a crazy cat, and more” You pause, and grab his hands. “I think it's one of the best decisions I've ever made”

Simon then rips his hands from yours and grabs your face pulling you impossibly close to him. Giving you the greediest kiss you have ever felt.

His lips intertwine with your own and you wrap your hands around the back of his head.

The most passionate kiss you have ever felt. He pauses the kiss and you go up to reach his lips once again but before you can he interrupts you by speaking.

“I'm so glad I went to the infirmary,” he says then he pulls you back in.

You know that from this moment on everything is going to be okay.

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I hope you all enjoyed pls let me know who you want me to write for next

#roma’s works ❀#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x black reader #simon my beloved #simon riley x f!reader #ghost x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare ghost

338 notes · View notes

daydreaming-nerd · 3 months

Text

Our Girl (Bat Boys! x Female! Reader) Rhysand's Part

First part

AN: Sorry I've been a little MIA, I've been going through a lot and struggling to find time to write. But I just busted this out and I love it.

Summary (Series): When Rhysand becomes High Lord the boys find themselves too busy and too well known to visit their local pleasure house. So they hire the reader to to satisfy their needs.

This fic: Rhys seeks his revenge from the last encounter he had with you and his brothers. HEAVILY BASED OFF THIS FANART

Warnings: sub/dom dynamic, dirty talk, degradation, cock warming, cum eating, (i think that's it, as always lmk if I missed anything)

Word count: 3,100

The past week or so had been nothing but bliss. I spent every morning curled up on my chaise lounge reading a book and eating whatever home cooked breakfast that was brought to me. It was just as I had dreamed, silk pajamas and expensive champagne, sleeping in and spa treatments.

Rhys and his “brothers” had been extremely busy the past couple of days, I hadn’t yet seen them since the first night we spent together. I hadn’t heard from them either, but as long as the gold in my account kept being accepted at every manner of boutique and fancy restaurants I didn’t much care when my services were needed.

I made my way through the townhouse and to my room, bags in hand and hair freshly done. I had spent the day at the hair salon and decided it would be a crime to return straight home with a fresh blowout, so I treated myself to lunch and of course some shopping as well.

When I returned to my room I found a black box waiting for me on my too large bed. Setting the bags aside I made a beeline to the mysterious box tossing the lid open with little care. My eyes went wide at what I saw inside. A babydoll made of deep purple lace and a silky mesh lay in the box. It was beautiful, but that wasn’t the lingerie that made me lose my breath, it was the diamond necklace that lay on top of it.

I picked up both gifts prompting a note to tumble out of the folds,

Your presence is requested by your High Lord…

There was no doubt in my mind that Rhysand was the one to send such a lavish gift. While I’m sure Cassian and Azriel were paid handsomely I could buy a house or two with this necklace.

I wasted no time changing into the attire Rhys had bought for me. I wondered if this would be a recurring thing for him. He had told Cassian and Azriel they could dress me however they pleased, but none had yet to take advantage of it.

I tiptoe down the hall to where I can practically feel his power seeping through the door. He had been holed up in his office all week. There were times I thought to check on him, offer him some release or even some company, but I didn’t want to pester him and lose my paycheck.

My hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment before closing around it and pushing the door open. I find Rhysand in the exact same place he was when I first came here, hunched over stacks of papers and drinking a whiskey on the rocks.

“There you are,” he says low, rising from his plush chair, his presence making me feel small. “Do you know what I was reading over?” he asks, waving a piece of paper in the air.

“No my lord,” I reply and I don’t miss the glimmer in his eye as I utter the familiar name he claimed to love so much.

“This, little one,” he smirks, further closing the distance between us. “Is your bank statement.” he smiles tossing the paper on a nearby chair.

My blood runs cold. Had I spent too much? Did I overdraft my account somehow? I was sure I hadn’t spent that much money in the past week.

“200 gold marks at Rita’s for dinner last night,” he states, coming behind me pulling my hair to the side so he has access to my neck.

“300 gold marks at a boutique, 100 marks buying lacy underthings and another 100 gold marks buying shoes.” he smirks, placing kisses on my neck as he lists every expense.

“I-I’m sorry did I overdraft my account? I can return the shoes, or the ‘lacy underthings’ as you so call them?” I wince praying I’m not about to get fired.

“If you take back those lacy underthings you will be fired,” he chuckles, resting his hands on my hips.

I mentally curse myself for forgetting his ability to pry into my mind, but I stop kicking myself the moment he kisses that sensitive spot underneath my ear.

“On the contrary, little one. You aren’t spending enough of my money.” he smiles, brushing a hand over the lace covering my breasts and up to my necklace. “I thought you could use some help.”

“They’re beautiful my lord,” I breathe, feeling him lick a stripe up the column of my neck.

“The next time I fuck you I want you dripping in diamonds and jewels that I bought you, is that clear?” he asks smugly and I swear if he wasn’t bracing his hands on my hips my legs would’ve buckled.

“Yes my lord,” I breathe leaning into his touch as I feel him smirk against the shell of my ear

“Good girl,” he praises me and I feel my stomach flutter once more. “Now I have unfinished business with you.” he growls and my eyes snap open as his hand traces around my necklace.

“You see last time I was denied you, I had to watch my brothers fuck and fill what’s mine and I didn’t like it very much.” he says dangerously low as his fingers dance over the diamonds around my neck. “Who put this pretty little collar around your neck?”

“You did my lord,” I breathe as he turns to face me.

“That’s right I did,” he smiles tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “And whose money do you spend all around town on expensive wine and shoes?”

“Yours,” I say, my love drunk eyes boring into his.

“Good girl,” Rhys smirks, dragging a thumb over my lips. “Now I have need of you but, I’m not done with work.” he says, dropping his hand from my face, making me miss the contact already.

He strolls around the desk and sits down on his ornate chair again. Part of me wondered what his throne looked like if this was just the chair to his office. I hear his belt unbuckling as he frees himself from his slacks, standing tall, proud and practically throbbing for attention.

“Come here little one,” he croons as he tugs his cock a couple times in his hand, getting it hard and ready for me.

I approach him smoothly, I think he wants me under his desk with my mouth on his cock but the second I’m within arms reach of him I feel his hands on my hips. The next thing I know he’s slipping me on his cock like I’m nothing more than a cock sleeve for him.

“There we go, nice and snug in there,” he smirks, nibbling my earlobe.

I can hardly think or even breathe from the sheer size of him. I was almost embarrassed that he didn’t even have to touch me to warm me up for him. His words alone had me dripping wet for him making it easy for him to slide right in.

“Now,” he chuckles, feeling the tension in my body. “I’m going to finish some paperwork and you're going to sit right here and keep my cock nice and warm alright little one?”

“Yes my lord,” I mewled, already sweating, needing him to move.

“Good girl,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “No talking, no moving, and no touching yourself or you don’t get to cum.”

I nod shallowly as he begins to resume his paperwork.

It was probably the biggest exercise of self control I had ever practiced. I knew how good it felt to ride Rhys, knew how good it felt when he lost control and pistoned inside of me until I fell apart under him. To sit here and be so close to that kind of pleasure? It was torture.

The ticking of the clock on the wall only furthered my madness. I averted my eyes to where Rhys was scribbling on scroll, the scratching of a fountain pen equally as infuriating. The way his hand gripped the fountain pen, the veins standing out. How could his hands possibly be arousing? Was there a part of this male that wasn’t arousing to me?

I pictured what those hands might do should they find their way on my skin. Where they might touch first, the ideas had my pussy clenching as I take in a sharp breath.

Rhys’ hand on my waist flew to my thigh slapping it hard, “Bad girl, I felt that,” he growled and I had to bite my lip not to whimper.

The scratching of his pen on paper echoed throughout the room as I did everything in my power not to move, not to breathe or think about anything but being completely still.

“150 gold marks at the perfumery huh?” Rhys croons holding the receipt for the perfume I bought two days ago.

“Yes my lord,” I say, eyeing the receipt that had yet to bear his signature.

“Let’s see what I purchased then,” he utters slowly, his nose nuzzles my neck inhaling the scent of the new perfume. “Mmm, very nice little one.” His voice is low and husky and I can’t help but clench around him once more.

He growls, grabbing the back of my neck and hauling me up before slamming my front on top of his desk. On instinct I try to move but I’m held down by his hand on the back of my neck. His cock slips out of me, leaving me cold and empty, I’m half tempted to beg him to fill me again.

“What did I say about moving?” he snarls in my ear, making me whimper.

“I’m sorry,” I mewl, making him laugh.

“You aren’t, but you will be,” he chuckles.

His hand grips the hem of the light chiffon of the babydoll and tosses it over the small of my back so he can see all of me. I feel his hand smooth over my bum before spanking me hard. The sting makes me whimper until his hand comes back to soothe over the area.

Without warning he buries himself inside of me, his balls smacking my clit. The guttural moan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic. I can feel the bulge in my belly that he leaves, his tip brushing my cervix like he did last time.

He pulls out and moves in slow languid motions, making me feel every harsh inch of him. I’d like to think he’s warming me up but I know he’s warning himself up, this is all about him.

“Gods your pussy is worth every single piece of gold I pay you? Do you know that?” he growls picking up the pace a bit.

I whimper in response, feeling him move his hand from my neck to my hip to keep me from lurching forward so much. Out of the corner of my eye I see him shift the receipt from the perfume on the desk and grab a pen. Is he really signing my bills as he fucks me over his desk? The scratching of his signature on the page lets me know he is.

“Every fucking penny,” he grunts before tossing the heavy pen on the desk.

The thud of the pen is followed by another grunt before his hand goes to my upper back pressing me back into the desk again. His fingers on my hips and between my shoulderblades keep me from moving even an inch as he pistons his hips into me, a male gone feral.

“Oh fuck Rhys!” I moan feeling my eyes roll to the back of my head.

My fingers grab the edge of the desk trying to keep myself from moving too much, needing something to dig my nails into. The sound of skin slapping fills the room as Rhys’ breathing picks up with the rhythm of his thrusts.

I clench around him and I receive a harsh slap to my behind once again. The sting startles me but fades into pleasure.

“Don’t you dare cum little one,” Rhys growls, increasing his pace. “You were a bad girl, bad girls don't get to cum.”

I let out a whimper at his words. I swear to the gods if this man leaves me trembling on the desk from not finishing with his cum leaking out of me I will lose my mind. I’ll run and find Cassain and beg him to finish the job, which I know he will. Azriel is another story. I think he might end up tying me up and getting off on me begging, hell I might get off on it too.

“Rhys please,” I cry as he presses my cheek further into the cool, smooth wood of the desk. Pens and picture frames rattling off from every thrust.

His hand comes down on my ass again as he pistons into me, searching for his own release. Long fingers dig into the skin of my hips leaving marks in their wake.

“Are you going to beg little one?” Rhys laughs, thrusting harder making me too dumb to speak.

My eyes roll to the back of my head as he finds that spot that drives me wild. I’m sure he’s not trying to, clearly just trying to get himself off. Yet somehow he’s fucked me dumb already and I’m a babbling mess bent over his desk.

“Tell you what if you beg nice and pretty I’ll let you cum?” Rhys chuckles. “Can you do that for me, little one?”

As if snapped out of the trance I’m in I feel my thoughts come back to my head. I’ll beg for him, I’d do anything for this male. I knew the second I met him I’d be utterly devoted to him if he just fucked me right, and by the cauldron he does.

“Please, please, please, please my lord,” I cry, feeling like a cock drunk fool. “Please let me cum!”

Rhys chuckles, grabbing the back of my hair and angling my head so my cheek isn’t pressed into the wood anymore. I almost wished there was a mirror in front of us so I could see the way he’s taking me.

“If you make a mess, you’ll have to clean it up. Can’t have other High Lord’s coming in here and seeing my whores cum all over my desk,” he smirks fucking me harder.

A sick part of me wanted just that to happen. Hell let the other High Lord’s watch him fuck me.

“I’ll be good, I’ll clean up,” I rasp out feeling tears prick my eyes. “P-Please let me cum.” I breathe.

It suddenly occurs to me that this is truly revenge from our last encounter when I wasn’t allowed to let him cum. He wanted me to beg just as hard as he did that night.

His hand in my hair tightens, lifting my front off the desk. My back is forced to arch and somehow he’s able to fuck me even deeper in this postion. My eyes fly open and I’m met with a pair of raging violet ones.

“Couldn't reach that pretty clit with your face pressed against the desk,” he smirks and before I can say anything his finger finds that sensitive pearl between my legs rubbing little circles in it.

My mouth falls open as the coil in my stomach threatens to unravel. His fingers continue their tantalizing ministrations on my clit. The impressive length of his cock digs deep in my belly. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling overstimulated. The hand he has fisted in my hair shakes as he forces me to arch my back more.

“Eyes on me little one,” he growls and when my eyes flutter open I see his violet ones staring back at me, eating up every reaction I give him.

My mouth falls open as I slip back into that cock drunk feeling and his eyes drink me up, seemling getting off on my fucked out face.

“Yeah you like that?” he smirks, not taking his eyes off me. “You like being my little cock slut?”

The words falling from his lips are enough to have me coming undone for him in a string of moans and cries. Tears fall from my cheeks, and I swear I feel him lick one up before he slams into me one last time, sputtering inside me so deeply I can feel the warmth coating my insides.

The grunts that fall from his mouth are enough to make me want more, but as he releases my hair and gravity pulls my body to the desk again I realize how spent I truly am.

I hear the chair squeak behind me, signaling that he’s sitting down, no doubt watching his cum spill out of me as I haven’t gotten the energy to move.

“Oh little one you’re such a messy girl,” he teases, running a finger up my folds collecting the mixture of our releases that are there.

I mewl as I feel him graze my overstimulated clit. I pull my head up to examine his desk, pen cups and picture frames are knocked over, papers are lying on the floor. My eyes widen as I see faint claw marks from my nails in the wood of the desk.

“What did I say about messes?” he tuts behind me.

I let my body slink to the floor, hitting my knees at the edge of his desk. He runs a large hand through my hair from where he sits behind me and my eyes come face to face to the mess we made.

Rising on my knees I let my tongue lap up the salty sweetness of him and that's right in front of me. His hand pushes my head down a bit forcing me to take every last drop. Only when the wood is spotless do I feel him thread his fingers through my hair and pull me back so he’s looking at me again.

“Such a good girl for me,” he smiles, leaning down to give me an upside down kiss. “Let’s get you cleaned up little one, you’ll sleep with me tonight.”

I’ll give the High Lord one thing, he fucked like a god, but what he really did well was aftercare. Always cleaning me up and getting me fluids. Holding my shaking body until I fell asleep. Something told me he longed for this type of intimacy as well. Cassian was the same that first night as well. Fetching me snacks and stroking my hair. The mysterious third brother, Azriel, had yet to show his cards. But something told me I’d be seeing him sooner than later.

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writeroutoftime · 4 months

Text

true love's kiss

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: when azriel is hit with a powerful poison what - or who - will be able to save him?

warnings: talks of death, angst

words: 2.8k (buckle up)

a/n: my first azriel story and I'm so excited!! this idea just popped in my head the other day, and I ran with it lol. it was so much fun to write, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

(p.s. requests are open if you'd like to send anything in!)

oOoOo

Without warning, your heart began to pump furiously and an uneasy feeling settled over your body. Your muscles tensed up, as if preparing for an attack, and only moments later, you noticed Feyre's glazed over eyes widened in fear. Lunch suddenly postponed, she shot to her feet and ran towards the living room while you, Mor, and Amren quickly trailed behind.

Before you even stepped foot in the room, your suspicions were confirmed as the scent of blood and fear smacked you in the face. There was a brief space of time in which you mourned for the anguish Feyre would feel over an injured Rhys. However, the image of Rhys and Cass heaving an unconscious Azriel onto the couch suddenly seared itself into your mind.

"What happened?" you whispered the words over the commotion, though it rang out loud and clear to the Inner Circle despite its wobble.

"We were ambushed in Windhaven." Cass explained while Rhys reached into the void to call for Madja. "Az's side was struck with a sword, but it must have been laced with poison. One second he was standing behind me, and the next thing I knew, he let out a shout before collapsing almost immediately."

Tears lined your eyes at the thought, and the pain didn't register when you dropped to the ground beside Azirel, hands hovering over his body. The dark swirl of shadows that nearly obscured him from view parted for you, allowing you access to their master.

"Oh, Azriel." you breathed out, only distinguishable to you and his shadows. The later wisping gently around your face, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. You leaned into the gesture, wishing it was Azriel's palm against your skin.

Suddenly, you felt strong arms pull your shoulders away from Azriel as Madja stepped in and took your place, her gaze instantly drawn to his wound. Meanwhile, your family stepped back in fear. Rhys held Feyre tight in his grasp, and Cassian offered you and Mor each a comforting hand.

The only sounds for the next few minutes were Madja's grunts and huffs as she did her best to treat the injury. You couldn't help but cringe into Cass' side as her hands turned a dark-red, tinted from the blood that should have long ago clotted. It felt like an eternity before the healer turned around to face all of you, her face worn.

"I've done what I can to stabilize him, but the sword that struck our Shadowsinger was indeed laced with a poison I have yet to see. Unfortunately, it still seems to be working his way through his system. I can't say for certain how much time he has, but I will work swiftly to find an answer." she explained solemnly, taking in the pained expressions of you and your friends. "All I do know is whatever the cure ends up being, it needs to be a strong source of magic. I'm sorry I can't offer better news."

Rhys was the first to break through the stunned silence. "Thank you, Madja. C-can we move him somewhere more comfortable?"

The healer nodded before taking her leave. In her stead, all of you gaped in shock before Rhys and Cass worked together to move Azriel to a bed where they thought he would be more comfortable. Once they got him settled, you pulled a chair up, next to his bed, a stack of thick, dusty books beside you. If there was nothing you could do at the moment, by the cauldron you would at least help Madja research a cure.

When your focus couldn't get past the first few sentences on a page, you shut the book with a sigh and furiously wiped at your eyes. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter what you did. Carefully, you reached out and interlaced your hand with one of Azriel's, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin.

"Please, please wake up, Azriel." you whispered into the room. "I don't know what we'd do - what I'd do - without you." you told him, praying to the Mother and anyone else listening to heal your best friend.

As day bled into night, Rhys and Cass came into the room, trying to relieve you even just for an hour. They tempted you with food, rest, or even just a moment alone, but you refused. How could you leave Azriel alone in his moment of need? Eventually they got the hint, and slowly, the rest of your family began to take up residence in the room alongside you.

oOoOo

"How can there be nothing on this subject?" you shouted, tossing the book to the floor with a loud thump.

The rest of the Night Court looked up at your outburst, their own eyes red and bleary from the hours and hours of research. It had been three days since Madja first examined Azriel, and even the experienced healer was coming up empty. With every hour that passed, you felt the hope in your soul drain even further.

"There has to be an answer somewhere." Cass placated, stretching out his wings from where he sat. "Someone has to have used this poison before."

"That doesn't mean they had to write the antidote down, boy." Amren spoke cooly from her spot, ignoring your pointed glare.

"What is it, Feyre?" Rhys asked, taking note of her trance like state. She shook her head slightly at her mate before turning her attention to the rest of the group.

"Well...I was just thinking. Madja said whatever the cure ends up being will have to be powerful, but maybe we've been thinking about this too literally. Maybe it's not an answer that can be found in a book. What has been a powerful motivator for all of us over the years? Was even the answer to end Amarantha's reign?" she asked, the group shuddered at the mention of the name of that devil. "Love."

You stared at your High Lady, head titled to the side. "Okay, but how is that going to help us now? It's not like any of us don't love Azriel."

"And it's not exactly a position we can give him." Mor chimed in.

Feyre reached out a tattooed hand and grasped Rhys' hand. "Or maybe it is." she countered. "I don't know about here in the Night Court, but haven't you ever heard fairytales? True love conquering all with a kiss, and all that?"

"Do you think it would really work?" you ask, your tone warm and face full of light for the first time in days.

All eyes fell to Rhys and Ameren for guidance. The two shared a look, silently communicating their opinions on the matter, but it was Rhys who spoke first. "I've never heard of an instance of true love's kiss being the answer, but since when have we been known to do anything traditionally?" he said with a small grin, inspiring a soft chuckle in the room.

"Well," Cass dragged out. "I would try, but I don't think Az would appreciate me waking him up with a kiss."

You rolled your eyes at the general, before considering the impact of his words. "Doesn't that leave us with a problem? Azriel hasn't found his mate, so we're still stuck and unable to break though." A small pang shot through you at the idea of Azriel's mated to an unknown female, but you quickly tamped that down. This was a matter of life or death.

All eyes of the Inner Circle turned to face you. Looks of disbelief, amusement, and even understanding from Rhys, came your way. You caved in on yourself, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat under the scrutiny. This was not the time for their games.

"What?"

Mor spoke your name, gently, as her hand reached out to grasp yours. "Do we really need to spell it out?" she asked in your silence.

"Spell what out?"

Amren, having had enough of the tiptoeing, finally spat it out. "That you're in love with the Shadowsinger, and have been for decades. If anyone in this room has the power to break this curse, it's you."

A laugh bubbled up and out of your throat at her words, born out of sheer nerves that shot through your body. "N-no, no. I am not in love with Azriel. I mean, yes, I care for him - of course I do! I love him the way I love all of you. I'd do anything to help, but I really don't think this is going to work." you stuttered and stumbled over your words, bashful from the accusation.

"We've all seen the way you look at each other, y/n." Feyre spoke gently, her eyes soft and she stared at you. "I think you love Azriel a bit differently than the rest of us."

Her words brought tears to your eyes. Yes, you were in love with your best friend - how cliche. It had been that way for decades, but you never had the courage to speak up and say anything to him. And now, all these feelings were being dredged up in such a tense situation. What if it wasn't enough? What if you weren't enough to save him?

"Okay, fine, you've caught me." you conceded, throwing your hands up in the air as your voice grew thick and heavy once more. "Is that what you want me to say? That I've been in love with Azriel for years, and it's killed me to just stay by his side as just a friend?" a defensive anger rose in your body as you looked at each member of your family. "But you're forgetting an important piece to this puzzle. Just because I'm in love with Azriel, doesn't mean I'm his true love."

With that, you ran out of the room, collapsing against the wall in the hallway. You tried to take deep, steady breaths to calm your breathing, but it did little to help the situation. A few minutes later, you heard soft footsteps come up to your side, and Mor pulled you into a giant hug. The two of you stayed in silence for a few moments, grateful for the anchor she acted as in the moment.

"I know that was a lot to throw on you, and for you to have to admit to us." she spoke, softly and cautiously. "And nobody judges you for how you feel or how you're reacting."

"I'm so scared." you confessed. "W-what if I try and it doesn't work?"

Mor looks at you with a gentle smile. "What if you try and it does work?" she countered. "I think you underestimate the extent of Azriel's feelings for you. And, if, Mother forbid, it doesn't work, then we'll figure something else out."

Her words gave you a sense of comfort and the courage to wipe your tears and walk back towards Az's room. Before you stepped back in, you gave Mor's hand a grateful squeeze then rolled your shoulders back.

All talking ceased as you walked back in, and you knew your family had to have been discussing what to do if you didn't agree with their plan. But this was Azriel's life on the line, and you would do anything to protect it. Even if that meant having your feelings revealed, or rejected.

"Okay, let's try this." you told the Inner Circle, calmly and with conviction you tried to convince yourself you had. "But, all of you are waiting outside."

There were no laughs or jokes at your expense, which surprised you, especially coming from Cassian. Instead, they all nodded their heads and solemnly and filed outside to wait. On his way out, Cassian squeezed your shoulder and nodded.

"Bring him back to us." he whispered, board line pleading with you to save his brother's life.

When it was just you and Azriel alone in the room, you took a deep breath and crossed the space until you knelt before his bed. You took the moment to study his features. His hazel eyes, normally full of life and mischief, now were shut off from you. His skin looked more swallow and the rise and fall of his chest seemed to slow with each breath that passed. Even the presence of his shadows seemed dimmer as Azriel's life slowly drained before your eyes.

With a shaky hand, you reached out to brush away soft tendrils of hair that had fallen into Azriel's face. "Can you hear me, Az?"

The air was heavy as you waited a response that never came.

"We all miss you so much. I miss you - my best friend. I-I know it's not fair of me to ask, but just keep holding on, keep fighting. Please." you whispered, leaning down to rest your forehead against his body, gathering your courage. "Look, Feyre has this crazy theory about what could save you. It's uh, true love's kiss."

Again, no response.

"This was not the way I expected to tell you, not that I thought I'd tell you if I'm being honest. But even though I don't want to jeopardize our friendship, I'd rather have you alive and never speak to me again than gone forever. So, here it goes." you took a deep breath. "I love you Azriel, I think I always have. You are so good and kind, and the kind of male I've dreamed about for years. I-it's okay if you don't feel the same," you forced yourself to say. "but I thought you should know given our situation."

Not sure what else to say, you took one more look at the male in front of you, placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, and then dipped your head down to meet his lips. They were chapped against your own after a few days without enough water. Az's normal smell of cedar and mist was faint, but still there, and comforted you as it surrounded your senses.

You poured as much love and hope into the kiss as possible before slowly pulling away, falling to sit on your legs. The next few seconds that passed seemed to stretch for hours, waiting for a sign, a movement, anything. Just as you were about to sag and give up hope, a loud gasp sounded next to you and Azriel's frame jolted up.

"Azriel!" you shouted, watching as the color returned to his face and his eyes darted around the room.

Those hazel eyes finally landed on your frame, and Azriel quirked a small, albeit, sleepy smile at you. "y/n." he whispered, holding out a hand.

Wasting no time, you grasped onto the anchor for dear life, and the tears immediately began to pour down your face. "I can't believe you're awake. Oh, I was so scared for you Azriel. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? We have to get Madja and the other's here. I'll go-" you rambled, before being cutting off my Azriel.

"Hey, hey, calm down." he soothed, pulling you up onto the bed, flush against him. "I feel fine, considering I was just on the brink of death." he chuckled.

"Don't make jokes like that." you swatted at his chest. "We almost lost you."

"Yeah, but you saved me." he said, looking down at you in awe.

Suddenly bashful again, you began to stutter. "Oh, no, I didn't do much. It was all Feyre's idea, and we all were here helping to research."

"But Rhys and Cass weren't the one's to bring me back with a kiss." he said, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire at Azriel's words.

"Y-you heard all that?"

"I did." he nodded, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "And, I can't believe it took us until now to say anything, but I love you, y/n." he admitted, turning your face so you stared into his eyes.

As the words left Azriel's lips, both of your gasped. This time, however, it wasn't because of a sleeping curse, but because of the taught, golden thread you felt connecting your soul to Azriel's. Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the loudest one was "mate, mate, mate."

You stared at the male before you in awe, and Azriel grinned. "My mate. My knight in shining armor." he teased, then leaned down to capture your lips once more.

This time, the kiss sent butterflies to your stomach and you revealed in the feeling of Azriel's strong arms around your body. His kiss was long and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world to explore. And as you kissed him back, you found yourself giddy at the thought of the rest of your immortal life with Azriel.

It was only when the doors had been thrown open and the rest of your family came stumbling in did you and Azriel pull apart. The two of you looked at each other, then busted out laughing at the shocked faces of your family.

"It worked!"

"You're awake."

"The two of you are mates?!"

Their voices all overlapped, and you felt Az sigh against you, hugging you close. Yes, your family was a lot, but they meant well. And now, you could live happily ever after.

oOoOo

a/n: ahh, I'm pretty impressed by how quickly this went from an idea to a story! kinda feel like I rushed the end, but oh well! hope you enjoyed!

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #acotar azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rita writes

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d1xonss · 5 months

Text

Cigarettes After Sex

�� Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 11

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+) and a lil bit of angst

✧ Word Count : 5.6k

AN ~ Not a request but I had this idea that I just couldn't get out of my head. Plus I've been in the mood to write something a little spicy since you guys liked the Older oneshots so much. Hope you enjoy!

Your eyes stayed focused on the pages of the book you were reading in front of you in the smoke filled garage, occasionally turning the pages to continue on with the chapter. In the background you could hear the tools clinking around, along with a few curses that fell from his lips when he couldn’t get something just right. Every once and a while you couldn’t help but look up and stare at him for a few seconds, knowing the real reason you came out here to keep him company while he worked.

Over the past twelve, long years you had known Daryl, you still didn’t exactly know what you were to each other. Some would call the two of you friends, and though that may be true, you always knew there was something a little more there than what meets the eye. And you knew he felt it too, but neither of you were willing to admit that out loud. Too hardheaded, you supposed.

It always caught your attention when he left a few lingering touches on your skin, how he embraced you so dearly as if you were the most important person in the world, or even how he occasionally left a small kiss on your forehead. You couldn’t help but think he did all of these things for a reason, as if to ease you into something that he was always terrified of. And hell, maybe he was easing himself into it too.

You always knew he was never much of a romantic person, he never quite showed interest in anyone else the way he always did with you. Though when he finally did open his heart up to a woman named Leah all those many years ago, he got absolutely crushed in the process, leaving you heartbroken for him as you witnessed him go through it all. In the back of your mind, you hoped it would work out between the two of them because you knew he deserved someone that would treat him right. And though that person may not have been you, it didn’t matter, as long as he was happy. That’s all you had ever wanted for him.

However, you couldn’t help but notice ever since he got hurt, he had been slowly pulling away from you. Not in a way that was drastic, but you always seemed to notice the little things. He had completely stopped showing you affection whatsoever which was very out of character for him considering how close you were. All of the little things he used to do that would make you smile, he had brought to a halt without warning. The only thing that he really did now was just a small squeeze on your shoulder, and that’s only if you were lucky.

It frustrated you slightly, not because of his sudden wall he built up, but because subconsciously he thought you would hurt him the same way she did. He was now scared that the same thing would happen all over again. And it bothered you in a way he could never understand. Because after all you had been through together, he still didn’t seem to know you at all.

“Pass me that screwdriver, will ya?”

Your thoughts cut short when he started to speak, absentmindedly nodding your head as you turned towards the toolbox that was placed right next to you. You dug through them for a moment before you spotted the familiar red handle, grabbing it and stretching your arm out to hand it over to him.

He met your hand halfway as he accepted it gratefully, “Thanks.” he muttered with a small smile, the cigarette still dangling from his lips as he spoke.

You nodded before watching him for another moment, tilting your head to the side, “What’re you fixing up anyway?”

He shrugged as his eyes stayed down, “Just some repairs…nothin too fancy.” he spoke, his eyebrows furrowing as he worked.

“Ah.” you muttered with a small nod, going back to your book as you assumed he didn’t want to be bothered while he focused.

Though upon hearing your small mutter, the quietness taking over the space, Daryl subtly looked back up at you for a moment. He knew things had been different, way different than what the two of you were used to, and a part of him felt bad. Mostly because he knew it was his own fault. He had pushed you away when you had done nothing wrong, and he felt guilty for it every single day.

With that in mind, he cleared his throat as he took a puff from his cigarette, “Ya still want me to teach ya?” he asked, his tone growing softer than before.

You glanced up from your book again, seeing the small smile he had on his face as he reminded you of something you had requested a long time ago. You had rode on the back of his motorcycle many times before, but a part of you wanted to learn how to ride all by yourself. And he clearly remembered.

A smile wormed its way onto your face as well as you nodded, “Yeah…yeah I’d like that.”

He nodded in return as he went back to tuning up his bike, “Gotta start ya off slow though. Can’t have ya crashin into some tree the first time ya get on.”

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself with a roll of your eyes, “Right, we probably wouldn’t want that. But I think I’ll have a pretty good teacher…I’m not too worried.”

His heart swelled, though you couldn’t see, but that comment touched him in a way, “Yeah?” he asked as he looked back up at you.

You nodded again, “I trust you.”

You trusted him. That little comment meant more to him than you could even fathom. It meant that after all the things he had put you through, all the things he regretted, you still loved and trusted him just the same. He couldn’t help but pause for a long moment as he contemplated all of that, how only a few little words could mean the absolute world.

Though when he was lost in his own mind, the cigarette that he now held between his two fingers, slightly burned his skin as some hot ash fell from the tip. He let out a small noise as he shook it off, only now noticing how smokey the space was from how much he was chain smoking with you in the room. He knew you never cared, but a part of him still felt a little bad.

“Sorry.” he muttered as he raised his hand to fan the area a bit, “Didn’t realize how much I hotboxed ya.” he chuckled a little.

You laughed it off as well, waving him off, “You know I don’t mind. Actually I kinda like the smell.”

He raised his eyebrow a bit at the unexpected comment, looking down to the stick in his grasp as he thought about your words for a moment, “Ya never told me that.” he muttered.

You shrugged, “Never really came up I guess. But I don’t know, it’s always kind of been comforting.”

Daryl silently knew what that meant without you even having to explain. And that only made his chest fill with even more warmth than before, knowing he was the reason behind your words. He knew he meant a lot to you, but just hearing you say that his bad habit was somewhat of a comfort to you, it almost made his mindset shift.

You absentmindedly closed your book as you noticed he grew quiet, “You know any cool tricks?” you asked with a smirk.

He huffed quietly with a small smile, wordlessly taking another hit and holding it for a moment before effortlessly blowing it out in small spurts, the smoke forming into little o shapes in the air. You nodded to yourself as you watched him, “Solid.”

He chuckled a little, “Thank you, thank you.” he said as he bowed his head a bit.

Tilting your head a little, you thought to yourself about any more little tidbits he might have experienced, “Have you ever shotgunned it?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Who’s askin?”

“Me.” you smiled sweetly.

He found himself chuckling again, shaking his head as a few memories came to mind, “Uh yeah…yeah I have.” he admitted a bit sheepishly, hoping you wouldn’t ask for any details.

A hum passed through your lips in response, opening your mouth to speak again, though he seemed to beat you to it, “You ever done anything like that?”

You scoffed, “Who’s asking?”

But he didn’t answer you. He only stared at you with the same small smile, however, there seemed to be something a little more behind his eyes. Though you couldn’t tell what that was, it intrigued you slightly. “No…” you answered honestly.

“Ya wanna try?”

It felt like your heart had dropped and settled into your stomach, swearing that you heard him wrong. “You’re not serious.”

But the smile on his face only grew a little, confirming to you just how serious he was as he nodded for you to come closer to him, “Come here.”

In all honesty he didn’t know what he was doing, and seeing the shock on your face only made the small pit in his stomach grow further, though he didn’t show it. He couldn’t really think in that moment at all about how this could be perceived, all he knew was that he wanted to be closer to you. Suddenly having a craving for it, having been without it for far too long.

A few beats of tense silence passed before you finally found the strength to stand to your feet, moving closer towards him as he stood tall as well. You tilted your head back a bit as you looked up at him, standing just a few inches away as you almost waited for him to instruct you on what to do next. Because in all honesty, you didn’t know what you were doing.

His eyes traced over your face for a moment, almost wanting to ask you to stand a little bit closer to him, but ultimately he refrained. He knew he couldn’t be greedy with you, not when you were already so precious to him. He only held the cigarette out towards you, watching as your delicate hand took it from his grasp, all while never removing your gaze from his.

“Go on and take a long drag.” he instructed, his voice coming off in an anticipating whisper.

You only nodded your head in response, placing the end of it in between your lips as you slowly inhaled all the smoke it had to offer. Daryl couldn’t help but stare down at your lips the entire time, he studied you in the most mesmerizing way it almost caused you to choke on your own spit. Yet you still couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it made you grow a little frustrated all over again.

Your heart then fluttered when the smoke filled your lungs, taking the cigarette away from your mouth as you leaned up on your tiptoes to get closer to him. His hand instinctively came up to cradle your jaw as he pulled you even closer to his lips, feeling them barely brush against each other before the blissful feeling would soon wash over the two of you.

Exhaling the smoke, you blew the thick cloud right into his mouth, hearing a quiet groan leave him in response. It surprised you how good it felt, how your skin practically ignited with fire at his simple sound of enjoyment, it made your mind wander to a very dangerous place. His hand didn’t stray away from your face as he inhaled the smoke until he physically couldn’t anymore, the craving he felt only building to a new level as a part of him wanted to taste you. Just for a moment.

But the thought vanished, everything crashing down in an instant as he felt you pull away from his mouth, clearing your throat a bit. His eyes fluttered open to see you standing there awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the two of you had never dared to cross this line before in the past.

“Well, I guess now I can cross that one off the bucket list.” you joked with a small, forced laugh.

“Do it again.”

Your eyes snapped back up to meet his as he spoke with zero hesitation in his tone, not even acknowledging that you made a comment at all. “What?” you asked quietly.

He took a small breath before speaking again, repeating the phrase, “Do it again.”

If you weren’t stunned before, you sure as hell were now as you stood almost frozen before him. To say it was one thing, but to repeat it with such confidence was another. He was serious. What started out as just a suggestion, now turned into something a lot more real.

But you found you didn’t protest. Because you wanted it too.

You then held the cigarette back up to your lips, inhaling it all over again as you were surprised you didn’t cough even once in the whole process. His eyes practically lit up as he saw you repeat the action, mentally preparing himself for the familiar feeling that would hit him all over again. But the thing he couldn’t get past was that he had never felt it before now. He only felt it with you. And it was very surreal.

Your perfect lips parted from the cigarette after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, moving back up to him to exhale the smoke into his mouth once more. The man breathed it in as if he needed it to stay alive, his hands coming up to your arms to hold you in place as if he was scared you would pull away again. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not even if you wanted to. The slightest brush of your lips made your breath hitch, but before you could even register what you were doing, you pressed your lips firmly to his. It almost didn’t feel real.

Daryl responded immediately, instantly bringing you into him as he wrapped his arms around you to hold you closer to his chest. Your hands went up to the sides of his face, tilting your head a bit so your noses wouldn’t clash so much, the kiss intensifying in just a split second. It was like all the years of the built up tension, the built up feelings, were now finally being unleashed after so long of waiting. You supposed before it was never the right time, but now, it couldn’t have felt more perfect.

His tongue moved to run along your lips almost teasingly, begging for an entrance as his hands gripped you even tighter. And you accepted his request, parting your lips for him and feeling his excitement grow as he didn’t take it for granted. His tongue swirled rapidly in your mouth, letting out a groan of pleasure as he tasted your sweetness. You shivered slightly at the low rumble you heard from him, something about it turning you on even more as you had never heard that sound from him before. It was like a switch flipped.

He continued to absolutely devour your mouth, his hands now running down the curves of your body in a slow and teasing manner, taking his time. You gasped softly as you felt your skin almost tingling under his touch, wanting to feel him everywhere. So without thinking, you quickly moved your hands down to his chest as you frantically began to try and tear his shirt off of him. Your fingers worked on each of the buttons, though you couldn’t see what you were doing, it all felt like it was happening so fast you almost had no time to prepare yourself.

But in a fit of panic, Daryl quickly pulled back from your mouth as the feeling of you trying to take off his shirt finally registered in his mind. He still remained close to you, but his sudden actions stopped you from yours, your hands freezing in place as it was clear you had pushed him too far. But your expression was filled with confusion and concern as you couldn’t understand why he looked almost scared to go any further.

He sighed as his eyes remained closed, almost ashamed to look at your face as he gently leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I…I can’t.” he whispered.

Your eyes seemed to widen as it clicked in your mind. He hadn’t done anything like this since Leah. Since he had been burned so badly by her. Since he was left shattered and heartbroken because of what she did to him. He opened up to her unlike anyone else, and she left him. A lump formed in your throat as the realization set in for you, seeing just how scared he was for this to potentially happen to him all over again.

“I can’t do this, I…I can’t lose you too.”

You sighed softly as you shook your head, your hands tilting his face up a little more, “Hey, look at me.”

He simply shook his head, his eyes remaining closed, “Daryl, look at me.” you pleaded quietly.

When he did finally open his eyes, you could see he was starting to tear up, breaking your heart even further. Not only to see how much he was hurting, but how much he was truly terrified to lose you. Although in your mind, that wasn’t even a possibility.

“You couldn’t lose me, okay? Ever.” you whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. You know me…I would never hurt you like that. Never.”

Upon hearing your voice reassure him so sweetly, his tears slowly slipped down his cheeks, watching as he swallowed thickly to try and pull himself together. But you didn’t want him to be embarrassed. You understood more than he probably realized. Which is why you were quick to wipe them away with your thumbs, leaning up to kiss the ones you had missed in hopes to offer him even more comfort.

He shuttered under your touch, quickly finding your lips with his own again as he kissed you deeply, holding the back of your head steady as his lips were filled with passion. You responded to his kiss with hesitance, not wanting to push him again as you didn’t have a clear response to how he was feeling. But once you felt him take your hands, guiding them back up to the buttons on his shirt, you had your answer.

In a flurry of hurried kisses and laughs, nearly tripping over one another as you tried to make it back inside the house, the two of you finally landed on the couch in the living room. Neither of you really cared about trying to make it all the way upstairs, almost as if it was a silent agreement that you were both impatient. You panted heavily as each piece of fabric was being discarded onto the floor faster than you could even realize, yet his hands moved across your skin with such ease and gentleness. The action alone told you a thousand things, and yet he didn’t need to say a word.

You quickly lowered yourself to your knees the second you saw the opportunity, getting in between his legs as he sat on the couch. His eyes widened at your actions, “Aye, you don’t gotta-”

But his words were cut off with a groan as you lowered your mouth to the tip of his dick, darting your tongue out to slowly swirl around and tease him the smallest bit. You knew you didn’t have to, but you wanted him to feel special for once, you wanted him to feel important and loved. And besides, you just couldn’t help yourself as your mouth practically watered at the sight. And the small noises he was letting out as you licked sensually along his shaft, was almost like a reward of some kind.

He threw his head back slightly as his hands went up to hold your hair back for you, feeling you teasingly lower your lips just a little at a time to take more of him in your mouth. It was almost like torture with how slow you were going, but it was also the most enjoyable torture he could even endure. His muscles twitched in anticipation and he was already beginning to sweat, clenching his teeth together all the while.

“Come on,” he muttered breathlessly, talking more to himself than he was to you.

But you still took it as a sign, seeing he had enough and finally lowered your mouth even more to take him further. A shaky moan left his parted lips at your actions, hissing slightly when he felt your teeth barely brushing against him as well, though it wasn’t enough to hurt. Just enough to get his attention. You then began slowly bobbing your head up and down the length of him, swirling your tongue and hollowing out your cheeks to really make him squirm. His hands tightened around your hair in response, another low groan echoing around the room as he basked in the state of pleasure you provided.

His breathing grew heavier and heavier by the second, growing even more sensitive to you as your pace began to gradually pick up, trying to take even more of him in your mouth. You couldn’t lie though, he was bigger than what you had experienced in the past, which made you almost nervous. But hearing what you were doing to him so far, it gave you the right motivation you needed to keep going.

“F-Fuck.” he breathed as the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat, feeling your hands running up and down his thighs as you tried not to gag. Though he felt you struggle a bit, pulling your hair up slightly as if signaling you that you could ease up if you needed, but you didn’t. He felt too good in your mouth for you to want to stop.

Your head then moved a bit faster, taking him as deep as you could as you heard his whimpers and moans, not even trying to hold them back anymore. He wanted to make it known how good you were making him feel, just the sound of it was enough to make you wet, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Your spit soaked him completely, making it almost easier to take him entirely in your mouth as you felt him hit the back of your throat almost every time with each pass.

His breath hitched, “Oh shit,” he muttered as he tried to regulate his breathing, “Ya need to get up here…come on.” he almost pleaded.

And you didn’t need to be told twice, feeling how hard he was now he was nearly throbbing in your mouth, knowing he was close to falling apart. So your lips slowly parted from his aching dick, leaving a few lingering kisses behind before you slowly stood back up to your feet with a smile. Looking at his face now, he gazed at you as if you put all the stars in the sky, as if you painted him the most beautiful sunset you could’ve ever laid your eyes on. Or as if you had given him the best head of his life.

He watched as you wiped your mouth from the spit that nearly dribbled down your chin, quickly reaching forward to pull you in and crash his mouth against yours, licking your lips completely clean. You giggled in response to his eagerness, attempting to remove your thong as it was the last thing in the way, struggling to kick it off your ankles. Though the moment it hit the ground, you instantly moved forward and broke away from his mouth for only a moment, straddling his hips as you hovered on top of him.

The man nearly gawked at the sight of you, “God…” he muttered as if he couldn’t find the words. But you knew what he was getting at, knowing that his actions always spoke louder than his words ever could. And he only proved that further when he lowered his mouth to one of your breasts, sucking gently at your nipple to elicit a small whimper from you.

You could feel his lip curl up in response to your little noises, his hand coming up to gently massage the other with his rough fingers. The scratchiness of his calloused palms made it even better somehow, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine as you lowered yourself a little more onto him in response. He hummed at your actions, encouraging you to continue as his mouth worked wildly along your breast.

One of your hands then moved down to gently guide his tip towards you, running it up and down your slit to gather the wetness that pooled there. Your chest heaved up and down as you were almost overwhelmed with the tingles running through your entire body, nearly causing you to shake.

Daryl’s mouth then dragged all across your skin, leaving a small trail of small hickies along your chest, groaning as you continued to play with him a little. Your other hand came up to run through his hair, tilting your head back a little as you dragged his dick up to circle around your pulsing clit. That seemed to cause you both to gasp, the slow and tormenting teasing beginning to be too much as Daryl quickly removed his mouth from you, his hands moving to your hips as if to position you in the most perfect way he could.

You followed his lead as your hands moved up to his shoulders to steady yourself, feeling him move his dick down to your entrance to align himself with you. And when you finally sunk down onto him, it felt like absolute heaven. A long, slow moan left your lips as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, hearing a harsh grunt escape him as he tried to refrain from pounding into you. He knew he needed to take his time, wanting to draw this out for as long as he could as if it were the first and last time. He hoped for more, he prayed for more, but he knew it was never guaranteed.

His forehead fell to rest in the middle of your chest as the two of you basked in the pure errotic experience, slowly managing to move your hips once you were ready. It was slow at first, gradually easing into it as you lowered yourself back down onto him again and again, your hands moving to grip the back of his hair. He groaned as he felt you tug a little at his roots, but in all honesty, he didn’t care. In fact, he liked it.

You moaned softly as you rocked your hips against his, pulling almost all the way off of him before he filled you completely once more. What you were feeling was almost indescribable, not having felt it with any other man you had been intimate with in your entire life. But with him, it felt so different, so incredibly good. Like his body was made for yours, fitting together perfectly like a puzzle piece you had been missing for far too long. And you weren’t the only one feeling like that, with him squirming beneath you, it was just a sign to not stop your movements anytime soon.

You bounced on him at a steady pace as you balanced yourself, feeling his hand travel down to rub slow circles along your clit with his thumb. You nearly cried out in response, your heart racing out of your chest, “Oh fuck…yes.” you breathed as his pace quickened.

“Yeah? Ya like that?” he asked as his face moved close to whisper in your ear, feeling his teeth gently bite down on your earlobe.

Your mouth fell open in response as you gasped, nodding your head frantically, “Yes…yes.” you moaned as you continued to rock against him, feeling your wetness drip all over him with how aroused you were.

“Mmm,” he hummed his mouth traveling down to kiss along your jawline, “You’re doin so good sweetheart.” he breathed as he held back a groan, “So good.”

His praise only spurred you on more, your fingers tugging a bit harder at his hair which caused him to groan, thrusting his hips up into you to match your pace. The sinful sounds that escaped you should never be heard by anyone, you couldn’t even believe you were the one making them. But he was the one to cause all those little reactions, adding something more to push you over the edge. And it was working too, you had felt it ever since you were down on your knees in front of him. The familiar tingling in your stomach was building to the point where it could spill over at any moment.

He panted heavily as he began to suck on the base of your neck, “I love you…God, I love you.” he whispered.

The words threw you off guard for a moment as your eyes widened, but you didn’t stop, nor were you scared to say it back. “I love you too.” you responded breathlessly.

That phrase had gone unspoken between the two of you for years, constantly avoiding saying it to each other for no reason at all. Perhaps it was stubbornness, or just the fear of the feelings not being reciprocated. But for whatever reason, this moment alone brought it out to the open. And it couldn’t have felt better.

Daryl thrusted deeper into you upon hearing your response, causing you to gasp as you felt the string finally snap inside you, releasing your orgasm as your muscles twitched. Feeling you squeezing him, he cursed as he quickly pulled himself out of you in one swift motion, cumming all over your stomach. You could’ve sworn your vision went black for a moment as you slowly came down from your blissful high, not a word being said for a few minutes at least as you both tried to regain yourselves.

His head rested against your chest again, his lips beginning to leave a trail of kisses up your skin as your eyes were still hazy, leading them up to your neck where he nuzzled his face, pulling you close to his chest. You hummed in response, running your fingers through his hair as you thought to yourself for a moment, finally finding the strength to speak.

“Did you…really mean that?” you whispered hesitantly.

He pulled his face back to look at you, his head still too far up in the clouds that he clearly didn’t hear you. The big grin on his face was evidence of that. “Hm?”

You huffed with a small smile, “The whole…I love you thing…did you really mean it? Or was it like the heat of the moment.”

His brows furrowed in concern as he gently cupped the sides of your face, “Of course I meant it. I love you.” he repeated again, as if to make sure you really heard him.

You smiled in slight relief, “Did you mean it?” he asked with a smirk.

“Yes.” you said with a breathy laugh, “I just…wanted to make sure.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, darlin,” he said as he leaned in to rub his nose against yours lovingly, “I’ve always loved ya…my dumbass just took too long to admit it.”

You shook your head in response, “It’s okay. I understand why.”

He sighed quietly as he thought about how much he may have missed out on, how much went down the drain just because he was scared. Not only to have his heartbroken, but to potentially lose one of his best friends if you didn’t feel the same way he did. There was always a risk, but he let the fear consume him, and now he was kicking himself for it seeing how easy it was to be with you. He should’ve always known, and now he felt he was too late.

You quickly noticed his change in his expression and gently tilted his chin up so he’d look at you, “Hey…what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, “M’ just…m’ sorry.”

“For what?” you asked in confusion.

“For not actin on this years ago. For pushin ya away when I was hurtin just because I was nervous about it happenin all over again.” he stopped suddenly to gather his thoughts, “I just feel like I wasted so much time.” he finished with a whisper.

Your face was filled with worry about hearing him apologize for something that he had nothing to be sorry for. It hurt you seeing how much this was affecting him, knowing that the two of you should be happy that it finally happened. Not wanting to dwell on the past.

You leaned in to gently kiss his lips for a moment, pulling away enough to speak, “Well, it’s a good thing we got all the time in the world now.” you smiled.

His eyes slowly filled with a little more hope, “You mean…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I love you.”

He let out a small breath he was unaware he was holding, pulling you close to press multiple kisses all over your face, “I love you too.” he whispered, continuing to trace his lips wherever he could reach, igniting an infectious laugh from you.

It seemed his prayers were answered.

~ Thanks for reading!

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