#anyway i hope some of you wake up and go outside | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladylokianna · 2 days ago

Text

My father's daughter

Pairing: no one, basically Aemond being a dad (and a husband).

Warning: nothing serious i guess. A bit of swearing, an obviously ooc Aemond being a protective dad, Vhagar being a protective great–grand mother, fluff.

AU oneshot in which the brotherly Aegond bond is based on the book and in which Aemond killed Daemon.

Introducing some of my Ocs, of which i'm very proud: Aerenys, his wife, and four of their seven children.

(Aemond here is around 36 years old, his daughters, two ocs of mine, are 16 and 11. Aegon, Daeron and Granny V involved.)

Words count: 3,6 k

A/N: i've checked it countless times, but if there were any mistake, i'm sorry in advance.

Translation from HV:

Kirimvose : thank you

Iksā gevie, kepa: you are beautiful, dad

"Can't we do without it?"

"Shhh!!! Can you please be quiet? If he wakes up, we're in trouble!"

"We'll be in trouble anyway."

Holding tightly the satchel, the younger of the two girls nodded, watching her older sister sneak into her parents' chambers through the secret passageway, the one immediately next to their bed: leaning in a little, she barely caught a glimpse of his hair, hearing his relaxed and regular breathing, hoping he wouldn't wake up just then.

Asterya tried to focus hoping to quickly find what she was looking for even in the darkness of the room: on the low table as well as on the dresser there was nothing but maps and notes, and rummaging again through the drawers was out of question.

Damn, why hadn't she thought of that before?

A sudden rustling from the bed made her freeze on the spot, but fortunately her father had only rolled over in his sleep. And that's when she saw it on the nightstand.

Mornings like those, in which the cold breath of winter had given way to spring sunshine, were ideal for training, or for riding.

Ser Emeric walked out into the large courtyard in front of the huge gate, ready to take up duty after the night watch, just in time to see someone rushing out of the gate: it was not uncommon to see the prince going out for an early morning ride, usually preceding a long patrol over the city on his dragon, so he paid no particular attention to it.

Wandering his eyes over the sky, tinged in the vibrant hues of the dawn, he released a sigh: what a nice morning it was.

What a fucking morning it was.

Ser Emeric swallowed hard before stopping in front of the double door of the Council room, uncertain whether to knock or not. Behind the intricate carving of the wood, his worst nightmare.

"Fuck. Oh fuck. Fuck, no, i can't do it."

Of all the things that could have happened during his shift, that was definitely the worst since he began his journey as a White Cloak, and now he also had to report it to the most fearsome man in the realm, the same man he tried to avoid with all his strength.

Prince Aemond.

The former Regent, the Terror of the Trident, the man who killed the infamous Daemon Targaryen.

He knocked three times with a lump in his throat: he could be dead before the sunset, hanged at the Keep's wall by his own guts like a common thief or feeded to a dragon –or worse, feeded to his dragon– and in all of this, he was only twenty and yet to live.

What a fucking death, eaten by that damned beast...

"Come on in." answered the king.

Once inside, his eyes turned immediately to Aemond, while Aegon looked up on him, settling aside for a second the parchment in his hands.

"What is all this fuss? Oh, good morrow Ser Emeric."

His sight was darting from Aegon and Daeron, to Aemond. The first two sitting at the table, the latter standing next to a window, scanning the outsides, seemingly indifferent to his presence.

Aegon saw him swallowing in discomfort, droplets of sweat running down his forehead.

"What's the matter?"

"I... i have... i have to speak to... i have to speak to his... his highness." Ser Emeric stuttered. The poor guy cleared his throat, wincing when Aemond turned to him, inquisitive and menacing even if he was dead silent as always.

"Then speak! Did the cat got your tongue?" Aegon followed his sight, noticing the gaze Aemond had been giving him since he turned. "Uuh, i see."

His brother's gaze, already intimidating in his youth, had worsened with the age.

"The... the princesses, your highness."

Aemond arched an eyebrow, his good eye still staring at the guard.

If i survive this, i swear i'll...

"Which ones are you referring to?" asked Aegon, leaning back and crossing his hands over his stomach, amused. Aemond did not seem to share the same opinion: he finally ignored the courtyard, crossing his hands behind his back in his usual manner, clearly annoyed.

"You may have not noticed, but i'm everything than patient." his tone, cold and scoffed, made the poor guard to tremble again.

"In the name of the Seven, Aemond, let him speak. To which princess you are referring to?"

"I'm... ehm... i'm referring to princess Asterya and princess Alicent, your grace."

Although he did not have a favourite among his children, it was obvious to everyone that his daughters were his weak point, the lights of his life: Asterya, his second born but his first daughter, was the one with whom he shared the deepest bond: skilled with swords and daggers, excellent with the High Valyrian, a proficient student of history and philosophy. Basically, as his wife loved to say, his female counterpart.

Her twin sister Helaenys was the opposite: calm and poised, she loved indulging in Helaena's company and was as good at embroidery as she was at throwing daggers.

Arianne, named in honour of a maternal cousin who died in infancy, loved to dance and did so whenever she could, especially with her uncle towards whom she had, reciprocated, a sincere affection: Aegon had taught her to shoot with a bow and she had an excellent aim.

Alicent, the youngest of his seven children, was born with the same characteristics as her paternal grandmother (even if her twin brother was born with hair and eyes like a Targaryen) and named after her in her honour; she possessed a crossbow and like her siblings she was a skilled dragon-rider and above all, like Asterya, highly intolerant of rules.

His most beloved children, although Aemond would never admit it, even under torture.

"My daughters what?"

"The princesses are… are nowhere to be found..."

And here it is, that gaze: even without his left eye, Prince Aemond was intimidating as hell.

Please Gods, please give me a fast and painless death. Fast, at least.

"Ah, here's who got your eye patch, Aemond. This is a fortress, for fuck's sake, what do you mean they're nowhere to be found?" replied Aegon.

"What about the armory, or the kennel?" interjected Daeron, sensing the storm approaching.

"No, my prince. They're not at all in the castle..."

"For how long now?" was Aemond's question, interrupting Ser Emeric.

"A stable boy noticed them on your horse during the last changing of the guard..."

The last changing of the guard had taken place shortly after dawn, Aemond reasoned, hours before. Five, at least.

"You're telling me that not just one, but two of my daughters vanished from the Keep several hours ago and you are warning me only now, after all those fucking hours?"

In those hours, needless to say, he had searched for them in every wing of the castle, on every patrol path, in every niche. Ser Emeric looked away from Aemond, who began to mutter something in a language he cannot understand: something unpleasant for sure, judging by Aegon and Daeron's faces.

"I'm going to kill someone today, i can sense it...and it's not even midday, imagine that."

Aegon cleared his throat, trying to think up quickly a way to placate his brother before he could lose his temper, looking at his dominant hand already clutched on the hilt of his omnipresent sword, ready to draw it.

"Wi... with your permission, i'll... i'll leave immediately in their search."

"Yes, wise decision. I also send Ser Criston in search of the girls." Aegon nodded.

"No way." stated Aemond, fuming, feeling the headache already pounding in his skull. "You barely manage to find your cock in your trousers, let alone my daughters. You're dismissed, but i can assure you, Ser Emeric, we will talk about it later."

Ser Emeric did not make himself repeat it twice: he walked out of the council room as if he had The Stranger himself on his heels, leaving the three men alone.

"Woah, what was that?"

"Hm?"

"Who taught you to talk like that? I'm amazed, little brother!"

"Oh, shut up."

"Can i count on you for a healthy drink in my quarters after supper? Let's talk a little, come on."

"You know i'm not much of a drinker nor a talker, right?"

"Who cares? I'll drink and talk... and you'll listen."

"There will be no dinner for me if i don't get my girls home before Aerenys is back: i already know she'll kick my ass."

His wife had been away to her native castle for a fortnight due to family matters and she would return that afternoon with Helaenys and Arianne: with all the days to get into trouble, his daughters had decided to do it on the very day she returned to the keep.

"Don't worry, brother, they are smart, they have certainly avoided any danger."

"Daeron... you have spoiled my girls too much and here's the results."

"Like you haven't done the same since before they were even born."

"He's right, you know? And i wouldn't worry about your ass if i were you: Aerenys likes it too much, she won't do anything to you. And you'll see that the girls will be home in no time. You know, if it weren't for the fact that your faithful wife has always only had eyes for you and that Asterya is practically your female version –poor girl–, you'd say she's more my daughter than yours: what a temper she has. Well, indeed she's my niece."

"May the gods be merciful, that's the last thing i need." Aemond replied, taking his leave in between Aegon's laughs.

He summoned Ser Criston and a bunch of his most trusted guards.

"Ser Emeric told me they thought it was you, my prince." Ser Criston explained. "We questioned the stable boy and he says that she wore your clothes and she moved like you, she even mounted your horse like you do. Nobody asked her to remove the hood, they were sure it was you."

A frustrated groan escaped Aemond.

"It is beyond serious if they cannot tell a grown man from a sixteen year old girl." huffed upset. "My daughter is visibly shorter and thinner than me."

"As i say, no one dared to check under the cloak, my prince."

"We'll talk about this later. As for the guards, they have to pray that nothing has happened to my daughters or they will answer directly to me." warned Aemond. Once on the saddle, he noticed everyone in the courtyard were looking at him, and with a sudden gesture, he lowered the hood of his cape. "So you know who are you getting out of the keep. Now open the gate."

Aemond pulled the reins suddenly forcing the horse to stop almost abruptly: at its protests, he leaned in to give two affectionate pats as if to apologise.

"Have you seen something, my prince?" questioned Ser Criston, turning back and flanking him, peering in his own direction.

In the heat of the moment he had not thought of Vhagar: she was not in her usual place. She usually liked a certain spot near the water, surrounded by trees but wide enough to allow her to move her wings as she wished, but he noticed that she had moved at least a hundred metres, which was unusual.

"Yes and no. I think i know where they are." after dismounting the horse, Aemond handed the reins to Ser Criston, with the order to return to the Keep. "Asterya surely left my horse somewhere near. I'm hoping to return with both of them before my wife's return or may the Gods be merciful with me."

He did not wait for Ser Criston to leave: he put on his hood again and walked through the trees. His horse was grazing peacefully in the shade of a tree, the reins secured to a sufficiently strong branch, and Vhagar was resting as usual: the air expelled through his nostrils was sufficient to stir the vegetation.

Smiling a little and approaching cautiously, he was determined to surprise his daughters without irritating his dragoness. Aemond reached out a hand and touched her: Vhagar opened her eyes wide, ready to incinerate anyone who dares threaten what she was protecting.

"Shh, it's me."

Her gaze immediately changed, and he heard her grunt, happy to see him.

"Hi baby." smiled Aemond, fondly stroking her snout. "Are my girls here with you?"

Indeed they were: Asterya walked barefoot on the shoreline, with only her tunic and her trousers -his trousers- gathered up to her calves to avoid getting them wet, while Alicent sat on the sand in the shadow of Vhagar's huge wing and had her back to him, reading aloud an old tales book in High Valyrian. On the ground, on a large blanket, Aemond recognised some of his clothes -his embroidered jerkin with the dragon shaped clasps and his cloak-, a couple of his books, a small basket with some leftovers and Asterya's boots.

"...i cannot decipher this last glyph." whined Alicent.

"How is it shaped?"

"It's like... it's like a chalice..."

"Rēko, rose." answered Asterya, without esitation.

Aemond smiled with pride.

"Kirimvose, my dear friend." he whispered shortly after, thanking Vhagar.

Both the stable boy and the guards were right when they say they mistook his daughter for him: dressed like that with her hair tied up like his, Asterya had all of them fooled. Perhaps she even would fooled him too.

They were right. Gods how he hated being wrong.

The icing on the cake was his usual eye patch -surely the thing Asterya had used to trick the guards- and the dagger he had gifted her for her tenth nameday, that she recklessly leaved near a book and out of her reach.

Careful enough not to be heard, Aemond found a way to sneak up behind Asterya, catching her by surprise and grabbing her by the waist with one arm. He intercepted her fist and easily stopped it, holding her so tightly she can barely move, finally revealing himself shortly after.

"Got you!"

Asterya stopped struggling as soon as she heard his voice, giving him a little slap on his arm in protest as he put her back down.

"Papa? For Gods' sake, what's wrong with you?"

Aemond smirked a little amused, but still angry, shedding his hood.

"Nice try with that fist, good job. You have to improve though."

"You scared her!" giggled Alicent, encircling his waist and resting her head on his stomach.

He smirked again, returning Alicent's hug and lowering his voice.

"Let's say it was my aim."

"How did you sneak so silently behind my back?" protested Asterya.

"Well, i'm quite seasoned than you, i trained you and i know exactly how you move. Besides, i told you countless times to not sneak out of the Keep, and yet you still disobey me. And what's worse, this time you brought your sister with you." Aemond retorts, returning the dagger to her. "This must stay always on you: you may not know when you have to use it, your life might depend on it. This time it was me, but what if there had been someone else in my place?"

"Vhagar would have protect us."

"What if she hadn't been there?"

"Papa, please, nothing's happened." sighed Asterya.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, young lady. You always have an answer for everything, mh? Fine. You are grounded: you cannot fly with your dragon for at least two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"One for you, one because you took your sister with you. That seems like a more than reasonable amount of time, counting that your mother would confine you to your rooms. There are rules that exist for your safety too, sweetheart."

"But... you told me not to stroll around the city alone anymore, or to the woods, or alongside the river... and i didn't do it again!"

Gods, he still remembered that time she went to King's Landing with her older brother -both disguised as commoners- to the Kingswood with her dragon or worse, to the Blackwater river.

Better not think about it again.

"Good, since i don't want you to go to the city without someone."

"You disobeyed Grandma Alicent when you were little, i know it."

She was referring, most likely, to his attempts in the dragon pit and above all, to the Driftmark incident. She knew it so well, since it was a story almost as old as him.

"Yes, that's true. And i paid a far higher price than you will." Aemond admitted. There was no need to deny something so blatantly well knowed, not to his own daughter. With an istinctive gesture, he then removed his eye patch and the sapphire underneath shone in the sunlight: few had seen his wound, and until then his children had no idea how awful it was. Asterya gasped, then looked at it in astonishment, her eyes fixed not on the gem, but on the severed eyelids, how the lower eyelid had sagged a little, making it wider than the healthy eye, how the eyelids seemed like to bent inwards and how the eyebrow, also cut in two, no longer allowed hair to grow.

"Oh, papa..." she said, raising a hand towards his face, but she did not dare touch it, only merely looking at it. "Has mama ever saw it?"

"We've been married now for eighteen years, she knows everything about me." he replied, stroking her head with a smile.

"Can i see it too, daddy? Can i touch it?"

Aemond bent down a little, allowing Alicent to look at him as well.

"Be gentle, it hurts more than usual today."

Asterya cleared her throat, feeling guilty for having brought back certain memories.

"Does it hurt a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes yes, sometimes i don't feel any pain." he answered, still bent towards the daughter.

"Iksā gevie, kepa." asserted Alicent.

"You are certainly far more beautiful than I am, my love, but thank you. Why don't you start collecting the books in the bag, sweetheart? I need to speak a little more with your sister."

"Are we going home already? Ugh!"

"Your mother's coming back, aren't you glad to see her? I personally can't wait, I missed her."

"Yes, but at home Septa Gwyn never leaves us in peace. Can we at least take a ride on Vhagar?"

"We'll see."

Aemond waited until Alicent had gone some distance before paying attention to his eldest daughter again.

"Why are you crying?" his good eye wandered over her face, trying to comprehend the reason. Then he hummed, understanding.

"Two weeks are fine, papa."

"Two weeks my dear, not a day more, i promise. I've made so much mistakes in my life and i've payed for all of them, but if losing an eye was and it still be a fair exchange for having Vhagar at my side, losing your mother or worse, you or one of your siblings is a price i will never be willing to pay for my sins. I can understand your craving for freedom, i really do. But you're a Targaryen princess, you're my daughter: if something ever occur to you because of my past, i could never forgive myself. You can always count on me if you want to stay alone for sometime, for i would accompany you everywhere, but my point is that it's dangerous to sneak out alone. You don't want your annoying father around you? I got it, but at least alert your brother, or your guard. Someone. You scare the hell out of me every time!"

"Sorry…"

"Few things more, Asterya, i'm not done: i've showed the secret passages to you and your siblings only for safety reasons and not for sneaking in my rooms while i'm sleeping. That book belonged to Aegon the Conqueror himself, and the sand might damage it so take good care. About this…" Aemond added, showing the eye-patch she took from his nightstand "...you can use my things, but not this. Anyway, i'll order the seamstresses to sew you comfortable clothes so that you no longer have to ransack my drawers to steal mine: it's not appropriate for a girl to do such things."

"I won't do it again dad, sorry."

Aemond tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek in a loving gesture.

"...your disguise would have fooled me too."

Asterya looked at him with a wide smile and with a deep affection in her eyes, hugging him tightly.

"You are not annoying." she said, standing on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on his scarred cheek. "And i will not ask anyone but you to accompany me, you will always be my first choice, papa, i love you."

For a moment she was again the little five year old girl who used to sneak in his rooms during thunderstorms, with her wide blue eyes seeking for his reassuring hug.

Aemond kissed her forehead, returning the embrace.

"Want to join for a ride?"

35 notes · View notes

xxchaosjojoxx · 2 days ago

Text

Sick (Penguin x f!reader)

A/N: Happy Birthday to me OwO I just had a little idea in my head and needed to write it down asap. It isn't proofread but I hope you still like it. <3

Normally it would be the Captain's job to take care of the crewmembers who became sick. But Law was busy preparing everything for the fight on Wano and trying to hold Strawhat Luffy back otherwise he would mess up Captain’s plan for sure. Penguin sighed, changing the wet washcloth on your forehead. Penguin would be out there with Shachi and Bepo, gaining and trading some information, but here he was. Taking care of you. He was happy to spend some time with you. It would be so much better if you actually would be awake but you were asleep, snoring quietly.

He got some medicine from Law this morning and you needed to take it in a couple minutes. Penguin was watching outside the near window. The sun was about to go down and then Ikkaku would come and take care of you, giving Penguin a little break to stretch himself or eating some delicious food from Sangoro.

“Well time to wake up Missy. It’s time for your medicine.”

Penguin said and was gently caressing your cheek. But you were still in a deep slumber.

Penguin was stroking your head, calling your name a little louder now. “Wake up please.”

But you still didn’t move.

“Oh god dang it." The man with the penguin hat was groaning. He was gently shaking your shoulder. “Wake up now.”

The fever got you pretty good he knew that, otherwise he would panic.

“What am I supposed to do? Captain already said that I should take care of you and reminded me that it's important that you take this stupid medicine.”

Penguin was looking at the medicine bottle in his hand and then at your sleeping face. You looked cute and exhausted at the same time.

Penguin had an idea and even so he knew it was wrong, it was the only option he had left at this moment. At least in his mind. But he couldn’t think clearly when it comes to you anyways.

“Please, forgive me.” He whispered, taking a sip of the medicine, helping your body to sit up a little. His left hand supported your head while the rest of his arm was on your back. With his right hand he caressed your cheek and then his lips were on your. Just for a moment, just for this one purpose.

He couldn’t consider it a kiss. He had to give you your medicine. And even so he didn’t know if you both would get a real first kiss or not, he wanted it to be perfect while knowing you wanted this as well. He let your body gently down and in this moment Ikkaku entered the small cabin.

“Here I am. Is Y/N still asleep?”

Penguin nodded and smiled softly. “Yes” he said and stood up. The young man was about to leave the small cabin for some fresh air and food. Trying to sneak some away for you as well later on.

Before Penguin left he turned his head back towards Ikkaku. “I made sure that Y/N took her medicine, so let missy get some sleep, will you?” With a faint smile, his fingers brushed over his lips as he left you for some hours hoping you would be awake the next time he sees you.

#one piece #one piece x reader #penguin x reader #x reader #op penguin x reader #penguin one piece #female reader #fluff #penguin

34 notes · View notes

theshadowsingersraven · 4 months ago

Text

I had this drafted around elaingate, and now that my fever has finally broken, I can piece together my thoughts on the absurdity that is this fandom and the rhys week tamlin and rhys' sister piece debacle. Because, of course, no one has learned anything from elaingate to now, and it's time to wake up and smell the coffee.

If there's one thing about this fanbase that I've noticed so far, it's that people will accidentally tell you exactly who they are in the most embarrassing way possible. What's the main takeaway in the overlap of the rhys week drama and elaingate?

Art, purity culture, and "victimhood." And people deciding who does and doesn't get to fall under the latter.

The thing that I appreciate about elaingate (and I guess Rhysgate??) happening is that it outs the people in this fanbase who don't see art that doesn't cater to them as having same rights as the art they do like/are comfortable with to be celebrated and appreciated in a community event about a character.

It outs people who only care about "protecting survivors" if their trauma conveniently matches what SJM believes to be abuse or trauma. It outs people as having the same performative inclinations of "protecting victims" as pro forced-birth/anti-choice pundits do. Rhysand’s sister, a nameless character, is the perfect "victim" to create an upheaval about because, like Elain, no one actually has to sacrifice anything or do any difficult self-reflection because fictional characters will never ask anything of you.

Remember this quote from Pastor David Barnhart? It's pretty relevant.

"The unborn are a convenient group of people to advocate for. They never make demands of you; they are morally uncomplicated, unlike the incarcerated, addicted, or the chronically poor; they don’t resent your condescension or complain that you are not politically correct; unlike widows, they don’t ask you to question patriarchy; unlike orphans, they don’t need money, education, or childcare; unlike aliens, they don’t bring all that racial, cultural, and religious baggage that you dislike; they allow you to feel good about yourself without any work at creating or maintaining relationships; and when they are born, you can forget about them, because they cease to be unborn. You can love the unborn and advocate for them without substantially challenging your own wealth, power, or privilege without re-imagining social structures, apologizing, or making reparations to anyone. They are, in short, the perfect people to love if you want to claim you love Jesus, but actually dislike people who breathe. Prisoners? Immigrants? The sick? The poor? Widows? Orphans? All the groups that are specifically mentioned in the Bible? They all get thrown under the bus for the unborn."

Rhys' sister and Elain are the perfect vehicle for people to feel like they're "morally just" for "protecting" from...Tamlin. And people creating specific dynamics between these fictional characters, too, I guess. Because they're evil or whatever, I suppose.

"But, Raven!" I'm sure some of you are already scrambling to say. "There are real people in this fandom triggered by Tamlin, and they were hurt! They were so upset/disgusted that they left the fandom because people cared more about fictional ships than their triggers/feelings!"

And I'm going to hold your hand while I say this as a fellow survivor of DV.

No one is responsible for my triggers and caring for my own mental health other than me. And that applies to everyone else in this fanbase, too.

It's my responsibility to curate my online experience as much as possible to my own needs. This space is voluntary to be a part of, and if I no longer feel as though it's conducive to my mental health overall, then yeah, it's probably best for me to leave. Same with everyone else who felt like they shouldn't be in this fandom space because of the elaingate upheaval.

If people rightfully pointing out that this fanbase is extremely conservative and aligned with purity culture and morality policing to the point where art is policed in relation to celebrating a character during their own week is too much for someone because of the narrative around one of the characters involved...then yeah, it sounds like this isn't a good environment for them anyhow.

There's no judgment to be passed on the side rightfully saying this fandom is fucked up, whether or not people are ready to hear that. People saying art that features Tamlin in relation to another character event still has a right to be celebrated so long as that character in the event is depicted has no bearing on whatever real person Tamlin represents to the people that were triggered.

There's only so many ways people can actually be realistically protected from content that triggers them, and tagging is the most consistent way to do so. If the protection of tagging triggering content somehow still isn't enough for people when they might happen upon art depicting a character for one day out of a one-week period maybe is also still too potentially triggering for them, then maybe being in a fandom space isn't the best for their overall mental health and stepping away from it isn't a bad thing.

(And that's all without getting into why its totally fair for peoppe to question how true that ""stance"" of "protecting survivors" actually is when the Elain Week event's tagging system is consistently ignored and not used to actually protect survivors from triggering content. It's interesting how people spent more time angry at people who were adamant about the right to celebrate art instead of the event itself for not having a remotely thorough tagging system. How are you "protecting survivors" from triggering content, including yourself as the event runner, without tagging anything from character names to triggering content/events someone might view? Let's not forget how wide-spread triggers are, too. People have trigger warnings for content involving eyes or spiders due to phobias, not just events that they might have personally experienced, like violence.)

Back to the main point, however.

Issues like these out people as not understanding that creativity means bending the rules of canon however you want, because these are characters, not real people. But real people are making this art, and its value and worthiness of being celebrated is not up to anyone's personal discretion (including event runners) even in situations of discomfort.

It's a shame that the first upheaval happened regarding Elain since she's rarely appreciated outside of her ships anyway, but this Hell-hole of a fandom has had this coming for a while now. This is an absurdly conservative, rigid-to-canon, puritannical fandom, and unfortunately, Elain Week was the match that started this fire.

As a writer, I'm always going to have a hard stance on this because appreciating and celebrating art does not end where my personal likes and comforts do. Appreciation does not look the same for everyone, and just because it's not how you would personally celebrate a character does not mean it stops being appreciation or celebration. Your preferences are not and never will be the end-all-be-all of artistic appreciation in a fandom space. If you don’t see that, the block button is right there, and I've been using it very liberally.

You either stand for all of fandom integrity and creative works, or you don't deserve to be in this space. And I will very happily remove you from my space here since, as far as I'm concerned, you don't deserve to be in mine, either.

#elaingate #acotar #rhysgate #is rhysgate a thing??#idk im making it a thing if it isn’t #anyway i hope some of you wake up and go outside #anti acotar #anti acotar fandom #acotar fandom critical #acotar critical #fandom wank #you arent a better person for not liking Tamlin or giving the things he did in a fictional narrative the same seriousness #as abuse happening to a real person with real feelings #the reality of having psychologically complex characters in a narrative is that they will resemble real people from your life #but these characters are not real and cannot hurt you and did not hurt you unlike the real person they remind you of #and projecting onto them doesn’t change anything for you #but a lot of you are not ready to have that conversation yet

45 notes · View notes

yoohyeon · 2 months ago

Text

I was too shaken up to say it yesterday, and you probably don’t care but I need to vent

Yesterday at 12:30 at night some of my neighbours got into a fight, bottle of beer shatter, lot of noises like barels were falling down the stair to the point we had to call the police and they ran away… No idea who was fighting, but half the building was there (4 app out of 8) including a REALLY pregnant woman with twins and now my mom says they are giving use dirty looks and I can’t help but be a bit scared even if they are usually super sweet 😭

#I think they may think that if we tell the landlord she’s going to make them leave #so my dad is scared of telling the landlord cause he dosen’t want his ass beat even though my dad could easily beat someone up too bsbsbsbs #I pretty sure we are just stress and anxious about what happen #and my mom is the can of you look at her without smiling and she’s like “’’I see you are mad at me you hate me’’ 😭#so can I trust her #also not because they look at us because they are mad that they’re going to be mad a long time #I would be mad if someone called the police on my even if I deserved it #and anyway they were laughing and screaming next door listening to music (loud but not enough to heard it if it wasn’t total silence)#my dad wants to give up the job of janitor though he has enough and don’t wanna deal with them anymore 😭#so 50$ more for the rent 🤪#yeah that’s what she was paying 😐#I mostly hope they won’t do anything like that again #I slept 3 hours because I had to wake up at 6:46 woke up at 6:30 but couldn’t sleep cause I was too shaken up #we wear so scared someone would fell down the stairs or hurt themself (or even d*e if they fell down the balcony directly)#police found blood in the stairs but with how loud they were it’s probably from a broken nose or something 😭#also my dad saw a car leave so maybe non of them fought but their friend did we couldn’t see at all :/#it’s a whole mess I just hope it won’t make discord into the building 😭#that would be really bad :(#and they know it’s my dad that call cause he yelled police to them 😭#but some were already on their way so someone else call but stay hidden my dad is crazy he went outside to yell at them 😭 ckbsjsn #alex.txt

1 note · View note

soaps-mohawk · 2 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,723 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof.

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings.

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now.

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you.

Nothing happened. No one got in.

The only threat was still just in your mind.

Graves.

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind.

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you.

It boils with anger at himself too.

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else.

How badly he’s failed you.

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help.

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it.

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp.

Now...now things have changed.

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here.

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place?

Where do they go from here?

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now.

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are.

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad, from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well.

Then this happened.

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment.

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye.

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.”

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.”

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought.

You're not like them.

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to.

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away.

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next.

“I want to take her out.” Christine says.

“What?” John asks in surprise.

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.”

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long.

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.”

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine.

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.”

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says.

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.”

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says.

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.”

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.”

“Can you make me forget?”

“I wish I could.”

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.”

“I killed people.”

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.”

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.”

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.”

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack.

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise.

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.”

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him.

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.”

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you.

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.”

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather.

It’s not fair.

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again.

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.”

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.”

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.”

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage.

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution.

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire.

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you.

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace.

“Careful. Put it on the side.”

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.”

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now.

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.”

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud.

They are trying.

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead.

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?”

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.”

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right.

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. You want answers.

“I want to know why you decided to leave, why you went on that mission and left me when you knew things were not right.”

John shifts on his feet behind you, the wood floor creaking just slightly. He’s silent for a long moment, so long you almost think he’s walked away.

“I was too trusting. I got caught up in the mindset of a soldier and chose to trust my superiors when I knew I shouldn’t have. I wanted to send you somewhere else, to stay with Kate, but things didn’t work fast enough to make that possible. I shouldn’t have just left you there, even with Johnny and Simon. It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. At least he knows he made a mistake. At least he thought up other plans, but that doesn’t excuse the fact he did nothing and just left you there so easily.

Another question burns at the forefront of your mind. You think back to that conversation with Dr. Keller just a few days ago. You want to trust her, you know you can trust her. She’s given you no reason not to. She wouldn’t lie, even if the rest of your pack did.

“You really didn’t leave me with Graves?” The words slip out before you can stop them, spilling forth from your lips, revealing part of those inner thoughts that have plagued you for the last few hours.

“I would never have left you with him.” John says, the floorboards creaking as he takes a couple steps forward. “As soon as we found out we turned around and went to Kate’s safehouse. She was already looking for you. We did everything in our power to find you as quickly as we possibly could.”

The tears start sliding down your cheeks as you sit there, taking in his words. They’re spoken with such conviction and match what Dr. Keller had told you. Some deep, dark part of your brain wants to think it’s all a lie that they’ve conjured to try and make you feel better about everything, to try and jumpstart the healing process. Yet, at the same time you want to believe they are telling the truth.

Your other option is to trust Phil and what he said to you. For all you know, everything he said was a lie. Some sick justification to torture you as some kind of revenge towards your pack. Maybe it was all about revenge.

Who can you trust more? Phil, or your alpha.

Maybe if you had just held on a little bit longer. Maybe if you hadn’t believed Phil’s lie, you could have saved yourself the terror of letting your omega take over. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to take that risk and corrupt yourself with blood-stained hands. From what you can remember and have managed to weasel out of Dr. Keller, they were right behind you. A few more minutes and maybe none of it would have had to happen.

Maybe you did do the right thing in the end. Phil might have ordered his men to kill you as soon as they arrived. Maybe they would have done it as soon as Simon and Johnny entered the room. Saving yourself might have been your only option.

Those men would have killed you or worse. You did what you had to do.

You’re shaking. The tears are cascading down your cheeks, warmed by the heat of the fire. You’re crying, your breaths nearly hyperventilating as you sob quietly.

“Talk to me.” John says as he kneels down beside you.

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.”

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.”

“She scares me, my omega.” Your inhale stutters. “She’s angry. She won’t settle. I’m scared I’m going to lose control and she’ll come out again.”

“You’re not going to lose control.” John says. Despite the heat of the fire you’re not much warmer, a cold chill shooting through your veins. “If it were to happen, we’re right here. We’ll get you through it.”

You stare into the flickering flames, your breaths slowly coming back down to normal. John sits there, as still as a tree. You don’t want him so close to you, yet you can’t deny how comforting his presence is. For the first time in a while you don’t feel quite so out of control.

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.”

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different?

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night.

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you.

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.”

“On the couch?”

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.”

“Why?”

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher.

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep.

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets.

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears.

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain.

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.”

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel.

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. You’re not quite sure how that makes you feel.

You don’t remember falling asleep after your little talk last night. You’re not sure how that moment of vulnerability makes you feel either. There was a time when you wouldn’t have thought twice about going to your alpha with such concerns and tumultuous feelings. There was a time when you would have sought him out for the comfort and stability you need right now.

Things are different, though. Things have changed.

You run a hand over your face, thinking back to the groggy conversation with Simon this morning. You’re not quite sure it even happened, or if you dreamed it. There’s two blankets on you, however, and you distinctly remember feeling the second one being draped over you.

It’s a touching gesture from the specter in your life. Once again he’s been reduced to a shadow, a figure lingering only because he has to. The distance that had once been so close to closing has widened into an impossibly wide canyon. You’re not sure it’ll ever fully close again. Too much has transpired in such a short amount of time between the two of you. He’ll never forgive himself, and you’ll never be brave enough to force it again.

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face again.

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell.

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug.

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says.

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get.

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there.

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.”

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table.

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.”

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.”

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.”

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin.

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.”

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?”

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.”

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?”

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of trauma and their decisions ache in your chest, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been.

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit.

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore.

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind.

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table.

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea.

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more.

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball.

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.”

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.”

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face.

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff.

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.”

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times.

You almost miss the times they were away.

You’re half tempted to go back to sleep, but you’re too awake now, and the light streaming in the doorway is making it hard. It was done on purpose, left that way to prevent you from falling asleep again.

You let out a huff as you maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed. You try to blink the drowsiness away, no matter how much your brain is trying to chase the last lingering threads of sleep quickly receding. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted.

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area.

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes.

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.”

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically.

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers, repeating what he told you in the room.

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain.

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him.

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant.

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves.

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing.

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car.

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives.

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, the lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world.

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand.

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching.

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not.

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path.

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up.

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself.

You might hurt yourself just trying to run.

You hate it.

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for late fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter.

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment.

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.”

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny and Kyle down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes.

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here.

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach.

You’re at the beach.

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.

You’re really here.

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops.

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea.

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now.

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful.

It shouldn’t, but it does.

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.”

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence.

Leaving.

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air.

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside.

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.”

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again.

“John-”

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.”

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go.

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief?

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told.

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again.

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.”

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time.

Leaving?

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.”

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack?

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit.

NEXT ->

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Ghost x reader #Johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse

1K notes · View notes

giannaln4 · 6 months ago

Text

Sleep

lando norris x fem reader

summary: You always had a hard time falling asleep, but it seems like all you need is Lando to give you a little help. (1k words)

warnings: language, fluff

a/n: this is just a little something i wrote when, of course, i couldn't fall asleep. i hope you like it! also, i don't know why these are so short; i'm really trying to write longer fics. anyway, please send some requests!

↺ back to navigation— send me a request!

You were not sure how long it had been, but it felt like you had been tossing and turning for hours. You opened your eyes for a moment to make sure it was still dark outside, letting out a sigh of relief when you confirmed it was.

You forced your eyes closed again, getting closer to your boyfriend, hoping his warmth would relax you enough to make you fall asleep. But, of course, that wasn’t the case.

It was like this sometimes—actually more often than not. You never had the best relationship with sleep, your mind forcing you to stay wide awake until the sun was peeking through your window.

You opened your eyes again, finding the clock that rested on your nightstand. 2:40 AM. “Fuck,” you thought to yourself. Slowly, you started to kick the covers and get off the bed. You tried to be as quiet as possible, knowing you couldn’t wake up your boyfriend. You knew how exhausting it was to travel as much as he did, as well as how much his job wore him down; he needed to sleep.

You looked back at your bed before carefully opening the door, admiring how peaceful and pretty Lando looked as he slept, his breathing slow and calm. Then, you finally exited the room and closed the door behind you.

A cup of tea always made you feel better, even if it didn't necessarily help you sleep. You hoped it would happen tonight, though.

As you gathered everything you needed for it, your mind started to wander. A lot of things flooded your mind, but mainly what you needed to do before leaving for the next race, mentally making a list of what you had to pack.

You were so distracted that you didn't notice the milk carton falling off the counter until you heard the loud noise it made when it hit the ground. Although the noise wasn't particularly loud, the silence in your shared apartment was so intense that even the sound of a hairpin falling could be deafening. You quickly bent down to pick it up, stopping it from spilling completely.

Before finding something to clean up with, you stayed still for a moment, looking back at the hallway and mentally praying you didn't wake Lando up. When you didn’t hear anything, you proceeded to clean up the mess, relieved that you didn’t disturb his sleep.

You continued preparing your tea, and when you were finally done, you took a sip to make sure it was good enough. It wasn’t, but you didn’t feel like starting from scratch, so you just made your way to the couch.

A few minutes went by, and you were just scrolling on TikTok, your hand still holding the hot cup of tea as you occasionally took little sips. That was something you were used to doing this late at night, killing time until your body was tired enough to go back to bed. You looked at the time again, sighing loudly at the fact that you weren’t as tired as you hoped you would be.

“Hey,” you heard behind you, pulling your attention away from your phone. You put the mug down and turned around, spotting a sleepy Lando walking towards you, his eyes tired as he yawned.

"Hi, baby,” you whispered, as if speaking any louder would scare away the sleep he still had. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” “No, you didn’t. I just… I tried to reach for you, but you weren’t there.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled softly at you, sitting next to you and making you scoot over. He was aware of your sleeping issues, so he knew what this was about. “Can’t sleep?” You shook your head as you remembered the endless tossing and turning before getting up. “No, it’s one of those nights again.”

“Everything okay?” He asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I just can’t seem to fall asleep... I don’t know; I guess I was hoping the tea would help,” you answered, signalling the mug now resting on the coffee table.

“Can I?” He asked as he reached for it, but you quickly shook your head.

“It’s not very good.” Giggling a little, he took it anyway and took a small sip. He didn’t want to make you feel bad about your tea skills, but his face gave it away. “Told you.”

He laughed again, making you smile “I’ve had worse.”

“I really doubt it.”

“Oh, believe me, you’ve gotten better.”

You paid attention to how he leaned back on the couch, his hands pulling you to his lap and embracing you. You relaxed into his arms, feeling at ease for the first time that night.

“You need to sleep.”

“I know, but so do you.” He just hummed in response as he caressed your back. “I’m serious, Lando; you need to rest as much as you can before going to Silverstone. I’ll be okay.”

“I care more about you getting enough rest.” His words warmed your heart, but you really needed him to go back to sleep.

“Why don’t you go back to bed, and I’ll join you as soon as I’m done here?”

“I’m comfortable here.”

“Lando-” You started, but he interrupted you.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit, yeah?” You knew there was no point in arguing with him, so you just nodded and hugged him back. Your head was on his chest, allowing you to listen to his heartbeat; your mind focused on it as if it were your favourite sound in the world.

You didn’t notice at first, but the way your breathing was syncing with his made you fall into a much calmer state. So much so that you started to fall asleep in his arms. He, however, was well aware of this. His hands kept soothing the skin under your sleeping shirt until he felt you completely drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally.

He waited just a few more minutes until he was sure he wouldn't wake you up. Slowly, he started getting up, trying to be as careful as he could as he carried you to your room.

Once he got there, he laid you down in bed, happy that his plan had worked. He laid next to you and pulled you into him again, kissing your temple softly with a smile. “Good night, baby,” he whispered, falling asleep almost immediately.

#lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #f1 #formula 1 #mclaren #giannaln4 writes #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris one shot

2K notes · View notes

luveline · 8 months ago

Note

JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones.

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does.

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad.

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him.

“Super Pup?”

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.”

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart.

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind.

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his.

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike.

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work.

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?”

“Me and dad are looking for books.”

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him.

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?”

“I want to read Super Pup.”

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?”

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.”

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?”

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.”

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section.

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.”

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say.

“Dad!”

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains.

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.”

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.”

“I can see,” he says softly.

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed.

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says.

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.”

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says.

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.”

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.”

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing.

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.”

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you.

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.”

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate.

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place.

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads.

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying.

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.”

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.”

“It’s Jack’s birthday.”

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.”

“Do you do that for every kid?”

“I do.”

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.”

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ”

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words.

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says.

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all.

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive.

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose.

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane.

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?”

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop.

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch.

“We have something for you,” Jack says.

You stand straight. “You do?”

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me.

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask.

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says.

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company.

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side.

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier,

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron.

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

2K notes · View notes

gingerpines · 13 days ago

Text

teen!caitvi AU drabble based on this art by me!

warning: i am not a writer! and english isn’t my first language! i hope this still makes sense :) its a bit messy its not very well explained sometimes but i hope i got the point across! enjoy!

Ekko was sent by benzo to deliver things at jayce’s workshop and vi and claggor join because ekko’s quite young to go on his own anyways, vi is like, acting as the bodyguard and shes looking all tough and mysterious making sure ekko is okay constantly

they knock and stand at the door, vi staying behind ekko to look around and jayce is like come in! bc they have quite a lot of things and while vi stands back still cautious, she completely drops her tough demeanor when she sees young cait tinkering with some of jayce’s stuff, goggles on. Vi tries to be discreet but her eyes keep darting back at Cait while ekko and jayce conclude business, claggor catches vi but doesnt say anything, and cait comes towards them, taking the goggles off, a big smile on her face.

"Nice to meet you all!" she goes in her thick british accent and she offers a handshake to Vi who doesnt know what to do with that so she kinda blushes and stares at cait, cait going "I’m Caitlyn!" and, embarrassed and flustered, vi just frowns and doesnt say anything, sorta turning around and caitlyn takes that VERY personally and from that point on she’s got beef with her and Vi kinda regrets how stupid she acted but tries not to think about it too much.

now everytime ekko has business in piltover, vi INSISTS on joining, saying its for safety but really its in the hopes she’ll run into caitlyn again. one time at a fair, benzo has a booth to sell things in piltover and ekko runs it, naturally, vi and the other kids join, Jayce and Caitlyn visit the booth and when cait sees Vi she just turns her head away with a frown, still upset at their last interaction and refusing to look at her, and Vi decides to tease her and ask about what theyre doing here. Cait kinda ignores her at first but ends up yapping about jayce’s and her’s latest experiments and shes talking sooo much and vi listens to all of it and when cait realized shes been talking too much they both kinda laughs and then jayce says they have to go so they leave and they smile at each other

throughout the fair Cait tries to “accidentally” walk in front of ekko’s booth again, and when she does, Vi is gone and she asks Ekko where she went and ekko shrugs, cait keeps walking around until she sees Vi walk around and cait joins her and they just kinda tease each other and argue the whole day but in a cute way but they both try to pretend they dont like the other bc they have such different lives and vi keeps calling cait entitled but she doesnt even mean it. From then on, Vi starts sneaking out to meet Cait outside her gate, but she has no idea how to get her attention, so she kinda sits there in the rain for a while until one of the dog starts barking, waking, thankfully, only Caitlyn up who looks out her bedroom window and goes outside to see little wet puppy vi standing at the gate and trying to make up an excuse as to why shes here like jayce forgot a tool from ekko and it was just easier to get it to her house instead and they end up talking until so late even tho its freezing outside, the gate still separating them, like the wall that socially separates them.

they start meeting up almost every week, like clockwork, outside of Cait’s house to talk, and for Cait to yap about things she likes while Vi listens. one day, Cassandra catches them and forbids Cait to see Vi again. They both cry themselves to sleep and Vander notices Vi’s change in mood after that, and asks her about it. she tells him everything and apologizes for lying and sneaking out but vander isnt upset, he hugs her and tells her theyre going to figure it out.

Vander decides to go talk to Cassandra at the next Piltover-Zaun event, Vi standing shyly behind Vander’s leg, Caitlyn standing straight next to Cassandra, both girls so excited to see each other again even tho its weird and awkward with their parents talking in front of them, Cassandra listens to Vander who’s putting on The Charm™️ and she eventually sighs and allows them to see each other bc she sees Vi isnt a menace

that day they both walk around Piltover, often almost holding hands but theyre too shy so they don’t, but Vi wants to show Cait she likes her but she doesnt know how to because they shouldnt and also because she doesnt know how to show love in a way that Caitlyn would understand. they walk around and its comfortably quiet this time, even tho theyre used to yapping and yapping for hours but this time they just want each other’s presence. at one point they walk through a tiny crowd and theres a small group of Zaunites laughing at them, at the contrast between their clothes and demeanors and they hear one of the boys call Caitlyn and a not-so-nice words like stuck up or worse, Vi isn’t even sure but she immediately knocks him down in one punch and Cait has absolutely no idea what to do or say but she then grabs Vi’s hand and they run away, when theyre safe away from that crowd, Caitlyn gets SOOO mad in her little british accent and Vi just sits, knuckles bloody, listening to Cait lecture her.

Eventually, cait calms down and looks down at Vi’s hands and sighs, starting to unwrap her bandages to check her wound muttering “You are such an idiot, Violet.” and Vi just smiles as Cait cleans her wounds.

bonus:

cait begging her mom to let her bring vi to one of the shooting tournaments and Vi joins and they have so much fun and cait lets vi try out her rifle and shes so bad and they laugh and caitlyn teaches her and theyre having a moment but cait’s parents interrupt and theyre blushing and being silly teenagers with a crush and they dont know how to deal with it. cait is definitely the one to fall first even tho she represses it bc vi is from zaun and thats not how she was raised, but she becomes closer with vi and vi realizes wayyyyy too late that she has a massive crush and also that cait is not being slick about it in the slightest. she talks about it with vander at the last drop she sits at the counter with her head in her hands like ughhhhhh i hate having a crush its so stupid and vander laughs

thank u for reading :))

427 notes · View notes

svtskneecaps · 2 years ago

Text

hm. ah.

#how long until you get bored of me?#not kpop #shut up vic #negativity #bc. like. i mean. it's all well and good now. and i'm not bored. idk if i'll ever be bored.#but also. i mean. it's happened before (people getting bored of me)#like. my company seems to have a shelf life. and i'm just. like idk how long it is.#like. i feel exhausting. as a person yknow. like i feel so easy to get tired of.#like. when am i going to pass that event horizon?#bc i don't want to but i just. can't help feeling like. one day my presence is gonna drain more energy than it generates #and then. poof. yknow?#and like lucky me this only bothers me when i'm outside of the situation #bc i refuse to ruin a good thing while it's happening like i Don't Want To #but like i am horrifically aware nothing lasts forever and i'm coming up on one ending #who's to say it won't take something else with it.#who's to say it wouldn't just Happen Anyway #bc ugh. bc UGH. bc this was what i had hoped for as a tiny lil high school grad #bc there's a timer on what i have right now and i don't know how long #some people are skipping town and some people are skipping the country like. how do i know he won't. like. do i follow??? (no.)#idk it's a Slow morning. i didn't wanna wake up. it happens.

1 note · View note

ruggiezz · 1 year ago

Text

— MOST TO LEAST LIKELY TO GO TO MCDONALDS WITH YOU AT 3 AM : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] twisted wonderland characters that would accompany you to mcdonalds at 3 am

[characters] all (romantic) + ortho (platonic)

[disclaimer] this post talks about food a lot and mentions of unhealthy food (in vil's and riddle's part)

[extra] i'm having way too much fun writing character's reactions

── Most likely

★﹕LILIA VANROUGE

Bold of you to assume he was sleeping in the first place. Lilia was playing the equivalent of Overwatch in Twisted Wonderland when you suddenly asked him to go to the nearest McDonald's. He agreed instantly, and now you're both on a date, with you eating fries and Lilia eating a strawberry sundae and a cheeseburger..

★﹕ORTHO SHROUD (platonic)

He agreed instantly. Can robots even feel tired in the first place? Ortho will search on the internet for coupons and promos, but first let him equip his eating gear; he wants to eat too. Everything for his best friend. By the way, he wants to buy something for Idia too.

★﹕ROOK HUNT

Rook got out of bed even before you even mentioned you wanted to go out, he woke up when he felt you were awake. Rook is a light sleeper; he can even feel when you wake up to go to the bathroom. If you really want a meal at McDonald's, who is he to say no? It makes him happy to see you happy, but he will stare while drinking his strawberry shake. Not a "I'm judging you" stare, but a "I like to see you enjoy your meal" stare.

★﹕MALLEUS DRACONIA

He has probably eaten McDonald's at least once because Lilia bought the whole of Diasomnia burgers. Alright, you're both going. Yes, he's still a little confused over why you would crave a really cheap burger at 3 am, but Malleus doesn't even care; the burgers are good and he enjoys indulging in human customs, plus he gets to see you smile. The only bad thing is that the employees got the fright of their lives when they saw the literal prince of Briar Valley enter the restaurant.

★﹕SILVER

Still sleepy, he agreed. There are times when he randomly awakes during the night, so he might as well spend it with you, even if it was at a fast food restaurant at 3 am. He'll order an iced coffee and some fries and listen to you while you speak about whatever comes to mind. You'll both have to make it quick though, he may fall asleep there, and you both need to get back before classes start.

★﹕DEUCE SPADE

He didn't even understand what you were saying; his mind was still foggy from being woken up so late. He said yes, not knowing what he was agreeing with, but a few minutes later he realized what he agreed to. Deuce, not wanting to have gotten your hopes up only for him to say no, got up and accompanied you anyway. He still enjoyed himself though, as long as he is with you, he's happy.

★﹕RUGGIE BUCCHI

He's tired because of how many errands Leona made him do yesterday, but you know what? He will still go. Food is food, and he could never refuse it. Leona lets him grab his credit card anyway, so order whatever you want, Leona will pay, even if he doesn't know that. It's not like he checks his credit card's expenses, so don't worry about it.

★﹕JACK HOWL

When he confessed to you a few months ago, he didn't expect that would mean signing up for you waking him up in the middle of the night, asking him to accompany you to eat fast food outside of campus. Still, he's your boyfriend, and he can't let you go alone, it's dangerous. Even if he doesn't feel like ordering anything, he will sit there with you until you finish your meal, chatting with you in the meantime.

★﹕ACE TRAPPOLA

You're lucky he loves you too much; he would have said no if you were another person. So now Ace is sitting at McDonald's, almost falling asleep while eating some nuggets. That one song they keep replaying will haunt him in his dreams; it got stuck in his head for like, a week. Riddle reprimanded him the next day for falling asleep during history class.

★﹕CATER DIAMOND

Out of everything he could have expected a person to say at 3 am, it certainly wasn't "I want to go to McDonald's". Cater takes a selfie with you inside and uploads it to his Magicam story, the close friends one, so Riddle doesn't realize he wasn't at the dorm. He still has no idea how you came up with this, but ok, it was for the funsies.

★﹕JADE LEECH

You're certainly unpredictable, aren't you? Jade stared at you for a good minute until he just got up, got changed, and went with you. Floyd has done weirder stuff during one of his mood swings; what harm can going to McDonald's do? He doesn't feel like cooking that late anyway. Just don't tell Azul you're both going to the competition, okay?

★﹕EPEL FELMIER

He had you repeat what you said twice to make sure he was hearing you correctly. You want to do what? Let him go back to sleep, please. Okay, whatever, he will accompany you, but make it quick. At least that's what he said before spending the next two hours chatting with you while eating. He sadly got caught by Vil when he came back. Rook snitched.

★﹕SEBEK ZIGVOLT

No, he has to make sure nobody attacks Malleus while he's sleeping. But with some reassurance from Lilia (and him asking Sebek to bring him a burger) and his love for you, he decided to accompany you. He'll ask for the biggest burger since he has a big appetite. He did enjoy it at the end; 10/10 would do it again (but he won't say that out loud).

★﹕KALIM AL-ASIM

He doesn't mind that you woke him up, and he would like to go, but there's a small problem: he isn't allowed to go anywhere without Jamil, which means he would need to wake him up. Jamil wouldn't be happy about that, and Kalim doesn't want to bother him either. So you both just order takeout and give the delivery guy a very generous tip.

★﹕IDIA SHROUD

Idia was awake, but he really doesn't want to go, and he's also farming for an event. Great, now he's craving McDonald's too. If you really want to go, you can have Ortho accompany you, but please bring him a chicken sandwich and some fries. You can use his debit card to pay.

★﹕TREY CLOVER

... What? What did you even dream about to crave McDonalds so late at night? Trey says you both can go on the weekend if you really want to, but go back to sleep, please. There's an important exam tomorrow, and you'll both be in trouble if you suddenly fall asleep in the middle of it.

★﹕FLOYD LEECH

He was not in a good mood after being woken up in the middle of the night. Floyd won't let you go, squeezing you so hard that you can't even move away from the bed. You're not going anywhere the whole night, and if you still want the meal, you can order some in the Mostro Lounge tomorrow.

★﹕LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

It's 3 am, what the heck. Leona says Ruggie can buy you some tomorrow; ask for as much as food as you want, but not at 3 am. He will fall asleep on top of you, so you can't even move, just in case you try to sneak out while he sleeps.

★﹕JAMIL VIPER

No, please, he's tired. He did so much work yesterday: laundry, cooking, folding clothes, tutoring Kalim, paperwork for an upcoming event, and preparing for an exam. He just wants to rest for at least a few hours. Go back to sleep, please. He promises he'll cook you a burger with some fries tomorrow. His cooking is way superior to fast food anyway.

★﹕RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"No, that's unhealthy", he says. Somebody buy him a happy meal or something, Riddle has probably never eaten fast food in his life. Either way, there's class tomorrow, and he would never forgive himself if he arrived late to a lesson. So no, you aren't going anywhere.

★﹕AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Why would you want to eat at McDonalds when he has a literal restaurant? Are you trying to buy from the competition? Now Azul is offended at 3 am, so offended that he dragged you to the kitchen to make you a meal resembling the McDonald's one just to prove Mostro Lounge's food is better.

★﹕VIL SCHOENHEIT

Excuse you? Not only did you interrupt his beauty sleep, but you want to go eat McDonald's'? It's 3 am, please go back to sleep or you'll get dark circles. Lack of sleep is bad for your skin, and he won't take the risk, much less to eat unhealthy food.

── Least likely

4K notes · View notes

dontbesoweirdkira · 22 days ago

Note

How would Platonic! Yan! Batfamily react to Reader with Narcolepsy?

A/N:Thank you for requesting. I hope I did okay with this, please respectfully correct me if I got anything wrong or unintentionally offensive with this as I do not suffer from narcolepsy.

Warnings: Toxic and abusive family dynamics, infantalization, medication tampering, worsening issues

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Oh my gosh that would be the worse thing to deal with in a Yan! family. Especially with one as affectionate as them.

Can you imagine trying to avoid Dick or Tim but just falling right asleep in their arms from the stress...then when you wake up moments later, they aren't allowing you to leave their grasp...oh how terrifying that'd be.

Anyways, they are rather attentive to your needs and observant. If one of the siblings notice that you are showing signs that you will abruptly collapse, they will rush over and quickly guide you to a safe area where you can rest.

The family is very strict on not giving you certain tasks that may be hard on your body. Especially if you deal with cataplexy. If you need help with moving something, or completing a task, just ask someone. They will be very upset if you get yourself hurt.

The down side of not having great muscle control or overall weakness is the constant babying. They treat you as if you were made out of glass. It can be quite annoying when you need to strengthen your muscles even if it's very difficult for you. They also might enjoy keeping you weak and vulnerable because you have less of a chance to escape and no real ability to fight back. You are far to precious to not be in their care.

Your family is strict about not allowing you to hang out with friends and staying only in the home. Occasionally they'll allow you to have a supervised visit. They even may force you to take up schooling at home and you're not allowed to work. It's all far too dangerous when they aren't near to assist you. You cannot trust anyone outside of them.

If you suffer with hallucinations, whether that may be audio or visual, they will be very understanding. You aren't the only one in the family to suffer with symptoms like such. Many days Jason and Bruce are struggling with those things. I can't imagine anyone would poke fun, they'd just redirect you.

But his can kind of suck given that sometimes you cannot tell if something that happened was real or not. Your family may say that you were just having a hallucination but you swear that you heard them talking about tampering with your meds.

Speaking of such, they most definitely do. The medicine that is supposed to help with your EDS seems to have the opposite effect on you. Some days it seems like you've been sleeping for weeks. You swore that you feel asleep in the living room...why are you now in an entirely different sect of the mansion..???

If you suffer with memory issues, that will be a huge problem because so many things they get away with or manipulate you about and because you have no recollection of any events..you are just forced to go with it, even if your gut says something is wrong.

Sometimes the family can get a bit worried if you are up all night..they worry you might wonder off or get hurt while they are either on patrol or sleeping so one designated person must be up with you at all times.

Even when you're sleeping. Someone is monitoring you and your health. Usually Alfred or one of the siblings if they are free.

Often Tim will take the shift since he is usually home and doing work anyways. Too many times have you randomly woken up in his dark room with him in the corner watching you.

Your constant fatigue is an excuse your siblings may use to just carry you around without your consent. Yes, you were struggling up the stairs. but no. you didn't really want Dick to just come and pick you up and carry you around the house like a pet. It's worse when it's Jason because he throws you over his shoulder...he's working on it.

Alfred has a specialty diet for you, which kind of sucks sometimes when the others are eating your favorites. But it's for the best he tells you. It's supposed to help with your symptoms but...every time you eat his cooking, you just feel sick then super drowsy..Alfred says it's the adjustment period to the new diet..but you can't shake the feeling that the food is worsening your conditions

634 notes · View notes

adrienneleclerc · 6 months ago

Note

so i’ve been a virgin my whole life right, and my family (like true latino fashion) they always bring it up and makes jokes and my nickname about it. if i EVER say anything about losing my virginity, dios mío, no me avergüenzo. anyways my sisters always say that when im 25 they will give me a birthday that say new record 25 years of virginity. but i can’t help think that charles is celebrating your 25 with your family and see this and turns red, because he knows the truth 👀. and your sisters realize what is happening so the next week they give you a cake that say congrats on no longer being the virgin

Oh my god, I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! It’s new, it’s unique, me encanta tu imaginación, de verdad. I am also a virgin, 21 years and counting, jajaja, haven’t been in a relationship either so this is going to be fun to write. I hope I did your idea justice!

The 25 Year-Old “Virgin”

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Where Y/N spends her birthday with her family who still think she’s a virgin with Charles, the boyfriend who made her not a virgin anymore.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: sorry it took so long, I try to make the Spanish as neutral as possible but I am Mexican and Peruvian so there will always be nods to my cultures, I am sorry.

Y/N was sleeping and turned over to hug to Charles but his side of the bed was empty and there was only a bouquet of white and pink roses. This made Y/N sit up in bed and check her phone. It was 8am, she put on her house slippers, took the bouquet in her hand, and walked into the kitchen for something to eat and she saw balloons, more white and pink roses, and Charles making breakfast to some piano music. Charles turned around and saw his girlfriend.

“Mon ange, you’re awake! Happy birthday, beautiful.” Charles said, leaving his station to give Y/N a quick kiss before finishing his cooking.

“This is amazing, muñeco, when did you wake up to do all of this?” Y/N asked, sitting at the kitchen counter.

“6am, i tried really hard not to wake you.” Charles said, serving Y/N’s breakfast on a plate and placing it right in front of her. “Your parents called, they want to host your birthday party at their house.” Charles said and Y/N looked shocked. Y/N and her family moved from New York to Monaco when she was 18, Y/N started dating Charles last year, a little after she turned 24, so Charles doesn’t know how her parents and sisters get.

“Are you sure we can’t just have a small party here?” Y/N asked.

“Mon coeur, I have never met your parents in person, I’ve only talked to them on the phone, I would love to meet them, we’ve been dating for almost a year.” Charles said.

“I know but you don’t know what they’re like.” Y/N said, eating her breakfast. “I’m glad that dating me made you a better cook, this is so good.”

“Ha ha, i asked my mom for cooking lessons since we started dating. Your parents want us at their house at 3.” Charles said.

“Fine, you pick out my outfit while I shower and do my hair.” Y/N said,

“You’re not gonna do your makeup?” Charles asked.

“It would be better if I didn’t,” Y/N said, knowing one of her sisters would probably push her head into the cake, it happened last year.

Y/N got out of the shower with her bathrobe on and she saw the what Charles left on the bed.

“You love seeing me in this dress, don’t you?” Y/N asked, picking up the dress.

“It makes you look so innocent like an Angel, even though we both know that’s not true.” Charles said, kissing Y/N.

“You and your innocence/corruption kink, it will ruin you, you know.” Y/N said, putting on a pair of panties and one of Charles’s shirts so she could do her hair and skincare routine.

“I think I’m the one that’s ruining you, Mon coeur,” Charles said.

“Yeah that, that right there is something you can’t say in front of my family. Are you wearing a suit?” Y/N asked.

“Of course I am, because we are going out of something goes wrong.” Charles said.

Y/N and Charles are outside her parents house, they knocked on the door and her mom opened.

“Ay, mi Lupita, how are you? Come in, come in, your sisters are picking up your cake.” Y/N’s mom, Hilda, said.

“Lupita?” Charles asked.

“I’ll explain later.” Y/N said. Charles and Y/N walked into the house to see her dad, José, setting up the table.

“Mija, there you are! Happy birthday, mi niña chiquita, never had to worry about boys in the house with this one growing up. So charles how are you?” Jose asked.

“I’ve been good, it’s nice to see you in person.” Charles said.

“Same here, son. Come to the kitchen, you need to eat.” Jose said and Charles turned to Y/N.

“Andrea is going to kill me.” Charles said before entering the kitchen where Hilda made him a plate of tacos dorados de papa, pollo a la brasa, jalea de mariscos (mixed fried seafood so like calamari, clams, fish, shrimp, crab), white rice, French fries. Charles left the kitchen and sat at the dining table next to Y/N. “I’m gonna have to do so much cardio to burn this off. Maybe you’ll help me with that.” Charles whispered the last part in Y/N’s ear.

“I Can’t with you. But I really want jalea so I’m just gonna steal this piece of calamari.” Y/N said, taking a fried calamari ring from Charles’s plate. “Delicious! I’m gonna make my plate.” Y/N said, getting up and thats when her sisters, Maria Luisa and Angelica entered the house with the cake.

“Hola todos! Tenemos el pastel.” María Luisa said, putting her keys on the hook and walking to the kitchen. “Lupe! So good to see you, hermanita. You look good, love the dress, very you.”

“Charles! Nice to finally meet you, I hope being with Y/N isn’t too boring, you know.” Angelica said and Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to charles.

“Don’t listen to them, muñeco.” Y/N said before entering the kitchen to make her own plate of food, sitting down next to Charles.

The little “party” was going well, Charles was getting along with José, there were no jokes at Y/N’s expense, it was all great until.

“Okay, time to cut the cake.” Hilda said, bringing out the cake to place it in front of Y/N with the candles lit on the dinner table.

The cake read “New Record: 25 Years of Virginity”. Y/N looked up at Charles and covered her face with her hands while Charles’s face turned Ferrari red and he scratched the back of his neck. María Luisa and Angelica stared at Y/N and then at Charles. The two girls laughed.

“No manches! Ay mami, pásame algo para quitar el frosting, ya no creo que esto aplica a ella.” Angélica told Hilda. No fucking way. Mom, pass me something to scrape the frosting off, I don’t think this applies to her anymore

“Angelica!” Y/N yelled. “Que oso, neta, mejor ustedes se quedan con el pastel, Charles y yo tenemos planes. Muñeco, Let’s go.” Y/N said, getting up how embarrassing, seriously, y’all can keep the cake, Charles and I have other plans.

“It was nice meeting all of you.” Charles said, before leaving with Y/N.

“Usan protección!” Marcia Luisa screamed out and Y/N flipped her off, causing her sisters to laugh and their parents hit them upside the head. Charles and Y/N walked to his car and Y/N turned on the radio.

“So…that’s why your mom called you Lupita?” Charles asked.

“Yep, the Virgin Mary, La virgencita de Guadalupe, Lupita. Ugh, I’m so sorry about that, my sisters are…well, they’re my sisters.” Y/N said.

“It’s fine, Mon coeur, at least they won’t tease you anymore.” Charles said.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Can we still make it to our reservation?” Y/N asked.

“Yes we can, do you want cake for dessert? You can’t celebrate your birthday without cake.” Charles said,

“One slice should be good, let’s go.” Y/N said.

A week later, Y/N and Charles were sleeping, cuddled up together when they heard the doorbell ring.

“Mon coeur, get the door.” Charles moaned out.

“No way, muñeco, this is your apartment.” Y/N said, burying her face in his neck.

“Mon ange, I’m semi hard and I don’t think I should answer the door like this.” Charles said, the doorbell rang again.

“Alright, I’ll go.” Y/N said, kissing Charles’s neck.

“That’s not helping my situation.” Charles said.

“I know.” Y/N said, she got out of bed, put on her chanclas, and answered the door, her two sisters were holding a white box.

“Surprise!” They said. Y/N motioned for them to come in.

“Whats that?” Y/N asked.

“Well we felt bad about last week so we got you a new cake and some pan dulce.” Angelica said as María Luisa placed the box on the kitchen counter.

“Open the box, it’s your favorite flavor.” María Luisa said. Y/N hesitantly opened the box and when she saw the frosting she laughed.

“Se pasan, de verdad.” Y/N said. “But thank you. I’m sure Charles will get a kick out of this.”

“So…you lost your virginity to an F1 driver. I’m so jealous,” María Luisa said,

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky, he was so gentle to me. Now get out.” Y/N said,

“You’re so mean to us.” Angelica said.

“Dude, you guys are late for work.” Y/N said, showing her sisters the time.

“Oh shit we are, see you later.” María Luisa said, pushing Angelica out the door and running down the stairs. Y/N closed the door and that’s when Charles entered the kitchen in boxers where she can see his semi hard on.

“Your sisters came over?” Charles asked.

“Yep, and with a new cake for us.” Y/N said, Charles walked to the counter and saw the cake, she laughed lightly.

“Well i am glad that I got to be the one to ‘pop your cherry’, I hate that expression, by the way.” Charles said. Y/N walked to Charles, having one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest while charles placed his hands on her waist.

“It doesn’t matter. By the way, we never got to have birthday sex and I believe you need some bell with your situation.” Y/N’s said, trailing her hand from his chest to the elastic of his boxers.

“I guess we should fix that with some morning sex, don’t you think?” Charles asked in a flirtatious manner,

“Oh absolutely.” Y/N replied and Charles carried her to the bedroom.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! It was very fun to write, not gonna lie. I also started watching Drive To Survive because if I don’t have F1 TV, I’m gonna keep myself entertained with something F1 related

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

827 notes · View notes

littlexdeaths · 3 months ago

Text

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: reader is a bit insecure, little sprinkle of jealous eddie, reader wears glasses, smooching, also the finest cheese in all the land (i hope) <3

part two | part four

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this ended up bit longer than i intended so oops. but big thanks to @strangerstilinski for brainstorming some ideas with me to further cheesify the kissing scene. and another HUGE thank you to @undead-supernova for helping me with fix some things and for looking this over. I LOVE YOU BOTH <3

“What do you mean you didn’t kiss him?!”

You quickly turn to give Nancy a pointed glare before digging deeper into your locker to retrieve your biology textbook.

But really, it is a valid question.

“I— just,” you blow out an exasperated breath. “I panicked, alright? Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

While your date didn’t end on a bad note by any means, it definitely ended on a lame one.

When Eddie dropped you off at home after the two of you spent way too much time cozying up in a corner booth at Benny’s— you weren’t entirely ready to say goodnight to him yet.

But when he walked you to your front door and carefully started to lean in, those pesky nerves got the best of you. Instead, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before he had the chance to reach your lips.

Feelings of disappointment clawed at your insides once your lips brushed against the stubble on his cheek instead of his lips, your tinted chapstick leaving a tinge of pink in its wake.

Eddie cleared his throat, carefully rubbing the back of his neck while he bid you goodnight.

You’d barely shut the door behind you when your smile faltered and all those feelings of self doubt you’d managed to push aside all night came creeping back in.

Everything was going so well, why couldn’t you just kiss him? It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed someone before.

Your first kiss happened your sophomore year, with band geek Ray Howard in King Steve’s coat closet during a stupid game of 7 minutes in heaven that neither of you enjoyed.

If you were brave enough to do that, why couldn’t you kiss the guy you actually liked?

“Well, when are you gonna see him again?” Nancy prompts. You shrug once you slam your locker shut.

“I don’t know… I’m afraid he’s not gonna want another date. I mean, I gave him a peck on the cheek! How lame is that.”

You hug your textbooks to your chest as you head to class with Nancy, who is desperately trying to convince you that Eddie would be insane if he didn’t want to see you again.

You just hoped she was right.

When you don’t see him at lunch, you instantly deflate a little. The doom and gloom that lingers outside the school now mirrors your mood, taking any semblance of your appetite with it. You hadn’t seen him all day, so that only seemed to confirm your worries.

He’s avoiding you. What else could it be?

It’s not like him to skip out on lunch, so instead of heading further into the cafeteria you turn heel to head toward the library—

And almost collide directly into Eddie.

His leather clad arms instantly wrap around you, a teasing smirk playing on his full lips. Lips you so desperately want to feel pressed against your own.

“Sweetheart, we really gotta stop meeting like this,” he teases, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “One of these days you’ll take both of us out.”

You let out a nervous giggle and an apology, relief filling your chest as his smile grows wider in response. Damn Nancy for always being right.

“Where are you headed in such a rush anyway?” he asks, finally letting you go, much to your dismay.

“Uh… the library. Wasn’t feeling super hungry.”

He nods, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He looks even prettier than when you saw him on Friday. His curls are a little more unruly, his stubble more pronounced.

And when you catch the faintest hint of cigarette smoke lingering on his jacket and how it mixes with his spicy cologne— it has your heart stuttering in your chest.

“Well, anyway, I was wondering…”

A small grunt leaves his lips as his body is forced forward, directly into yours. The jock that just shoulder checked him mutters a “watch it, freaks” under his breath before continuing past you into the cafeteria.

The shove has closed the remaining distance between you, your faces merely inches apart now. Your palms rest against his chest, feeling how his breath slightly quickens beneath your fingertips. You could so easily kiss him like this, all you have to do is tilt your head up…

But you choke, eyes darting back down nervously toward your feet when you take a small step back.

“Are you alright?” you ask, meeting his eyes once more.

Eddie doesn’t even seem phased by what just occurred, his warm eyes entirely still focused on you.

“Oh, that’s nothing, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can handle myself.”

Eddie motions to his torso, lifting the lapels of his jacket as if to prove his point.

“See? Not even a scratch.”

And it takes all your self control to keep your eyes from wandering lower, past the soft cotton of his shirt, over the handcuff buckle of his belt…

Focus.

“Now, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” his voice raises in volume, eyes throwing a pointed glare towards the jocks table before they settle back on you. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Eddie nods towards the Hellfire table, your eyes drifting across the cafeteria. The familiar group of males are already seated at their usual spots, engaged in a heated debate over something.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eddie can sense your hesitation, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I promise they don’t bite.” He grins, beginning to lead you toward the lunch table. “Can’t say the same for me though.”

He whispers that last part, his lips playfully grazing over the shell of your ear. Eddie can feel how you shiver in response, thoroughly satisfied with himself as you try to compose yourself once you reach his friends.

The guys barely spare either of you a passing glance, still deep in their conversation when Eddie pulls up a chair for you. Right at the head of the table next to his own.

You take a seat with a polite smile, each of the members of Hellfire now noticing your presence. And they can’t hide their utter shock and surprise as Eddie takes his seat beside you. He introduces you properly, going along the table until he reaches the two youngest members of Hellfire.

“While we haven’t been able to coax Sinclair back from the dark side,” he sighs, resting his arm on the back of your chair. “You obviously know Wheeler and Henderson already…”

“Oh, Mike knows her alright,” Dustin interjects, mischievously glancing over at his best friend. “He used to have the biggest crush—”

Mike elbows Dustin in the side before he can even finish his sentence, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as he hangs his head.

“Would you shut it?” he hisses, already noting the way Eddie’s gaze hardens as he tugs your chair impossibly closer to his own.

“No… Henderson, please continue.”

A brow quirks up from underneath his bangs, and suddenly the whole table has gone silent, all eyes on their fearless leader.

Dustin nervously swallows, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It was… really stupid kid stuff, not important! Just forget I even brought it up. It was just a dumb— ”

The younger male’s voice raises an octave when he laughs, his nerves shining through.

“— right, just a dumb little crush,” Mike finishes, but Eddie doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

When you suddenly rest your hand on his knee under the table, his composure begins to slip. His eyes soften when he looks down at you. The whole table is practically holding their breath, in anticipation for Eddie’s next move.

But you beat him to it.

“Someone had to be the president of my fan club, right?” you giggle.

Mike just groans in response, head falling to the table while the other guys begin to chatter amongst themselves again, that underlying tension now beginning to melt. Much like you are under the weight of his gaze.

“Well, I’d gladly take over that position, if you’d have me.”

Your breath hitches at the underlying meaning behind his words, and, god, you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you do right now.

When Eddie slowly begins to lean in, Dustin practically gags, the chiming of the lunch bell stopping everything in its tracks.

“Saved by the bell,” he mutters under his breath.

The brunette unwillingly rises to his feet and reaches out a hand for you to take, keeping you closely tucked into his side while he walks you to your next class.

Your mind was racing the rest of the afternoon, impatiently watching the hand on the clock tick by ever so slowly— desperately waiting for the final bell to ring.

After Eddie had walked you to history, he planted a playful kiss to the back of your hand. Giving you a dramatic bow before heading in the opposite direction toward Ms. O’Donnell’s classroom.

You were a fumbling mess once when you took your seat next to Nancy, and you could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to know everything.

So you spilled the beans during your walk to English afterwards, a plan beginning to form in your head with each step closer to Ms. O’Donnell’s.

Three failed kissing attempts was all your poor heart could take, so you spent the entirety of the last period plotting how you’d be able to get Eddie alone.

Which was how you found yourself pacing back and forth on the football field, eyes scanning the trees for any possible signs of movement. The palms of your hands are sweaty despite the crisp air, the fabric of your sneakers dampening with each step you take through the wet grass.

And you’re wondering if maybe this was a stupid idea, that maybe you heard Jeff wrong.

You knew Eddie dealt weed, the whole school did. But having never dabbled with the leafy substance yourself, you weren’t exactly sure where he made his deals at. So it was a stroke of luck when you overheard Jeff mention it in passing to Grant during English.

Something about how he was going to be late for rehearsal because some jock wanted to buy a bunch of reefer behind the football field. And who was Eddie to refuse a good sale? Especially when the douche was offering him a lot of money.

You’re abruptly broken out of your thoughts when you finally see his lanky figure emerging from the tree line and your heart kicks into first gear— about ready to burst out of your chest with each step he takes towards you.

His curls are a little damp from the mist hanging in the air, that signature dimple indenting his cheek when a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

And despite your nerves, it’s a welcomed sight.

“Well, I didn’t take you for a stoner, sweetheart,” he begins.

But you don’t give him the chance to give you a proper greeting before you’re springing into action. Your fingers curl into the collar of his denim vest, meeting him halfway as you lean up to press your lips to his…

Only to end up knocking your heads together instead.

A small grunt of pain leaves him and your stomach twists in embarrassment, fingers gently pressing against your forehead as you wince.

“Oh my god, I am so—”

Those words barely have a chance to slip past your lips before he tilts your chin up and carefully molds his mouth over yours. His movements are slow but steady, as if gauging your response.

Your body reacts before your mind can fully process what’s happening, instinctively reeling him in closer and pressing your lips more firmly against his own. He hums softly, the sound setting your whole body alight.

As Eddie slips one of his hands around your waist, the other reaches up to tenderly cup your cheek. And when he begins to guide you backwards, you let him. Only stopping once your back is flush against the goal post. But even then, he doesn’t stop kissing you.

You can feel the cool metal seeping through the thin layer of your jacket, causing goosebumps to rise on the surface of your skin. But even with the cool air continuing to nip at your exposed skin, you feel like you’re on fire.

His lips are like molten honey, sugary sweet and practically melting you to your core. And you swear this is the closest to heaven you’ve ever felt.

When he eventually pulls away and you take a shuddering breath in, your eyes remain closed. You’re practically on cloud nine, basking in the lingering tingles that prickle over your lips. His hand remains on your cheek, thumb brushing over where his lips just were.

Eddie suddenly lets out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating against your chest while his breath washes over the apples of your cheeks. Only then do your eyes flutter open and you realize the reason behind his amusement.

Your vision is completely obscured, the round lenses of your glasses fogged over from the heat of his breath. You can just barely make out his smile through the frames, but the silliness of the moment has you letting out a giggle of your own.

“May I?” he asks, the tips of his fingers grazing over where the arms of your glasses meet your temples.

You nod immediately, allowing him to remove them with the utmost care. He untucks his Judas Priest t-shirt from his jeans, using the soft cotton to clear the fog away from your lenses. Even with your blurred vision, you manage to catch a glimpse of his tummy before it’s hidden away beneath his shirt again.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours, he can’t help but feel like he’s really seeing you for the first time. Not hidden away behind a book or the thick wire frames of your glasses. Just you, in all your unbridled beauty.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he carefully places your glasses back onto the bridge of your nose.

Eddie just grins, leaning his forearm on the goal post above your head. He smells faintly like weed and peppermint gum, and you really want him to kiss you again.

“How’s about I give you a ride home, hm?”

You can’t hide your smile, nodding your head enthusiastically.

“I’d really like that.”

Eddie leans down to press one more searing kiss to your lips before he slips his hand in yours and pulls you along. The two of you now walking hand in hand across the football field.

“So, sounds like I’ve got some competition with Wheeler, huh?” he teases, squeezing your hand a little tighter in his.

“Oh come on, you’ve never had a crush on a babysitter before?”

Eddie takes a step in front of you, beginning to walk backwards while simultaneously guiding you forward.

“Well… considering my only babysitter was starting to bald and my uncle,” he practically shudders, “I’m gonna say no, sweetheart.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld

#the freak writes 🫧#my series: let’s go- don’t wait 🫧#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x shy!reader #eddie munson fic

838 notes · View notes

tacticaldiary · 1 year ago

Text

It All Comes Crashing Down

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

She presses the metal radio against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon.

A/N: The classic 'bomb my location' fic you've all been waiting for! This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks, so I'm glad I finally got it out- I'm thinking about a part 2 where she wakes up and it's some extra fluff, maybe?

Masterlist

She takes a shaky breath in as her hands grip her rifle tighter, but when she speaks her voice is as steady and firm as ever.

"Bomb my location."

The words are acrid on her tongue, but they feel right to her heart. Her mind is in disarray, trying to piece together any other solution that won't have her ending up under dead under pounds of rubble, but she knows deep down that there's no other way out of this.

An entire enemy organisation eliminated at the expense of one soldier.

It was a win-win for everyone but her.

And that was alright. She's made her peace with it, made it the moment she signed her name on those documents giving her life away to the tang of blood and the scent of gunsmoke.

"Level the building." She continues, wincing at another hail of fire that rains upon her. Heavy footsteps and orders barked in Russian move around her location. Steadily being surrounded, there was little hope for a smooth extraction or escape anyway. "Have Soap blow the charges, Captain. Then send in the airship and raze this hellhole to the ground."

"Like hell we're doing that." Gaz's voice comes through her comms, frustrated. "We're not leaving her, Price." They must have rendezvoused successfully, because Gaz doesn't speak through the comms, rather it sounds as if he's turning away his head to speak to the man directly.

It brings a small smile to her face despite the circumstances. Her boys would get out of this, at least.

Simon. Her mind flashes to her Simon and she thanks whoever's above that they had split up before everything went to shit.

It had been fine at first. She was setting the charges they needed to bring the building down while he fetched the intel from somewhere else, and really, she should have been suspicious when it all went smoothly.

She'd planted the last charge before the enemy started closing in.

Like rats, they seemed to emerge out of nowhere shooting her down and pinning her until she had no choice but to slip away and barricade herself in one of the nearby rooms. The entrance and exits were likely swarmed with people and here she sat, in the heart of it all.

Unreachable, untouchable.

She sort of tunes out the muted conversation on the other end, lets the ringing on her head take over. Loud angry cursing, yelling in distinctive Scottish, the harsh rasp of her Captain telling everyone to calm down...it all floats through her mind.

Everyone but Ghost.

She doesn't hear his voice...but he was alive, wasn't he? She'd seen him slip out of the building through the window in front of her, so she knows he must have gotten out. The thought makes her gut curl up, brings her back to the present.

"Negative, Sergeant." Price's voice cuts through her thoughts, much louder than the others. "We're mapping out a route to come get you-"

"Price, it'll be suicide." Perhaps it's the way her voice softens and quiets, the gentle way she talks so different from the harsh way she's spoken earlier. It's as if she's accepted it, is content to lay down and allow herself to be swallowed by the dirt she came from. "I'm one soldier. Don't make yourself visit more than one coffin."

"I'm going to-"

"Set off the charges."

There's a beat of silence, painstaking silence where nobody speaks. Even the gunfire outside the room she's barricaded in seems to fade out for a moment.

"Copy."

A death sentence coming from the man she considered family.

It cracks a smile out of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, lets her head fall against the blood spattered wall behind her.

"Make sure my replacement's just as much a pain in the ass to you, alright?" If the way her voice breaks at the end of her last sentence is noticed, it's not brought up. "Simon's gotta have someone to push around, yeah?"

"There's no replacing you."

There's arguing. Soap and Gaz are yelling, and it's startling because she's never heard either of them shout the way they are, at their Captain nonetheless.

It's comforting to know she was cared for, even if she's about to die.

A sudden bang on her door makes her jump. Muffled Russian filters through the old wood. Someone ramming at it with something, trying to break it down.

But it doesn't really matter, does it? She'll be going out on her own terms even if they find her now.

Ghost...Simon. Where was he? If there was one thing that'd settle her mind right now it'd be hearing that gravelly voice, even if it was merely yelling at her, telling her how stupid it was to suggest what she has.

A desperation claws at her chest, deep down. She wants Simon, wants to spend the night in his bed again, wants to hug him, feel his skin, wants to see those rare smiles of his one more time.

Just once.

Just one more time before she-

"Charges setting off in 5-"

How cruel was the world?

She hopes Simon knows that she didn't mean to leave him. That she wanted him to go on without her, to not fall into the void of 'what-if's.' It wasn't his fault.

Her eyes burn but she refuses to let out the helpless sob clawing its way up her throat. She wants...she wants so much. Wants to do so much more, wants to live, and breathe and smile and laugh and experience and live. Simon. She wants to tell him so much more.

If she could go back in time and fill their silences with all the words she wants him to know right now, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

It's an impulsive decision, how her hand shoots up to grab at her radio frantically. Switching it to the private line between just the two of them, she presses the metal against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon."

The ground crumbles beneath her, the world turns to black.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Slipping out of the small shed, he tucks the papers into his vest. For a multi-national organisation, they sure were stupid as hell when hiding their intel.

Scanning the grounds for any movement, Ghost moves out, keeping to the shadows until he reaches the edge of the field that morphed into the woods farther down.

"Intel secured, moving to rendezvous point now." He says into his comms. He frowns when he doesn't get an answer back, grabbing his radio and speaking again, casting a glance back into the foliage in the distance where he knows the others have staked their place to operate from.

Price, Gaz, and Soap were operating remotely, dealing with drones and distant detonation devices, whereas the other two had infiltrated the building separately.

Plant the charges and secure the intel. Simple tasks made difficult when they both realised that the intel wasn't in the building, but instead in the shed attached to the side of the complex instead. Splitting up had been the most logical thing to do, even when Ghost had refused at first.

"It'll be fine. Quick and easy, right?" She'd told him with a grin. "Get that intel before I'm out of the building and maybe I'll give you an extra treat when we get back." Ghost had rolled his eyes at her suggestive wink.

"Does anyone copy?" He says into the object. He's met with nothing but muffled crackling and garbled speech, tinny and indecipherable. Ghost scowls at the machine, ripping it off of his vest and turning it over. It crackles and pops with bursts of sound but nothing cohesive enough to interpret

"I-...ou...Simon"

"Fucking thing's busted." He mumbles to himself, shoving the item back into his vest, his hand brushing against the folder of intel he's successfully recovered from the shed attached to the main building.

He can spot one of the convoy vehicles near the edge of the woods, but he doesn't let his guard down even as he crosses the field towards it.

Ghost barely takes a step through the dead grass before the building behind him goes up in an explosion that makes even him unsteady with the force of it. Flames lick up the east side of the massive structure and Ghost takes a second to watch as it crumbles in on itself sending up clouds of dust and debris.

Good fucking riddance.

He's looking forward to getting the hell out of this place once he rendezvous with everyone else. This mission had stretched on for far longer than it should have, the elusive bastards slipping away through their fingers time and time again with dirty, underhanded tactics.

The foliage grows thicker as he steps into the woods, rifle at the ready. A click of a safety had him raising his weapon and spinning around immediately.

When he sees a very familiar mohawk, however, he lowers his weapon instantly. "Blue!" He says loudly, bringing up a hand to half Soap. "Just me, Johnny."

Soap follows suit and lowers his weapon, his shoulders visibly relaxing the tiniest bit. "Welcome back." He says, but something about his voice makes Ghost uneasy. "Price and...and the others are prepping exfil." He gestures towards the clearing.

"Everyone else made it back?" He asks as they push through the meager trees and into the open space where soldiers are rushing around tying up loose ends.

"Aye." Soap chokes out.

Ghost would question it, but he's too busy doing a sweep of the clearing, putting names to faces. Price and Gaz were there, going back and forth over something. It strikes him a little odd how furious Gaz looks, Price looking so resigned but he pushes it away in favour of catching a glimpse of the person he's more inclined to spot.

"We tried what we could, but she was pinned down." Soap breaks the silence, misinterpreting the reason behind his silent staring at Gaz and Price. "We didn't...Laswell's insisting immediate evac, but Gaz wants to at least find a body to bury." A bitter laugh that makes Ghost's stomach drop like a stone.

"What?"

Soap rakes a bloody hand through his hair, shakes his head, and continues on like he's in some sort of shock. "I don't want to. I think she'd rather us leave her buried there than dig out bits and pieces and bury her again." His voice cracks.

Bury...?

There's only one woman in their team.

There's only one person he hasn't accounted for in the clearing.

There's only one person he hasn't reached on his comms before they broke.

The world spins, his mind screams and falls silent, a crescendo of noise and denial. The ground shifts beneath his feet, rocking him into a state that makes him feel like he's walking on string.

"MacTavish." His words are so calm and even, it's eerie. "Is my girl still in the building?" He feels detached from himself, perhaps a way to distance himself from the pain of the implied.

Soap looks at him for a long moment, then croaks out one, broken word.

"Was."

And it all comes crashing down.

He's been through torture before. Had his skin marred, his fingernails torn off, been hung from his ribs but nothing, nothing has ever come close to the way his heart twists.

Nothing had ever made him panic in a way that has his throat closing up.

"Christ." Johnny breathes, and it's a sound that drags him back from the brink of something horrible. Soap's eyes are fixed on the empty spot on his vest that holds his radio on normal days, horrified. "You didn't bloody know." He states.

Wasting time answering is useless. Talking, speaking breathing is useless because not a moment later Ghost is sprinting towards the rubble.

The rubble that he had just watched fallen. The building he'd stood there and watched fall down, had felt pride and relief in seeing.

His gear digs into him, the air thickens with smoke and dust but he doesn't stop. Vaguely he hears people yelling after him, hears Price and Gaz and Soap and every other motherfucker who stood by and detonated the charges. Friend or foe it didn't matter to him right now. If someone dared to get in his way he'd mow them all down, grind them into nothing and keep going.

They blew the charges.

The airship would be here any minute to finish the job.

No, he'd get to her by then. Ghost slams down into the ground somewhere near where they split off. He'd find her by then, and he'd bring her back, bring her to medical and she'd be fine in a week or two.

There was no other fucking option.

The debris rakes off the fabric of his gloves, splits the skin on his fingertips as he hauls and pushes and pulls and digs through stone and metal and wood, leaving evidence of his efforts in the form of his own blood behind.

She had to be okay.

Not her. Not like his mother, not like his brother, not like his nephew.

Not her.

He digs, calls out her name until his voice is hoarse, pulls away piece after piece of rubble until his fingers are torn to shreds.

Just as he hears the sounds of incoming aircraft, he spots something that makes the knot in his chest slam against his ribcage in pure and utter terror.

It's been a while since Simon has felt fear this pure.

Hair that he's familiar with, strands that he's gripped and gently soothes his fingers through peek out from under the piece of metal he's just lifted.

Unable to breathe, his attempts at moving the earth increase tenfold. He picks off stone after stone, brick after brick until more of her body is uncovered. Still, unmoving, bleeding. Once he's gotten her top half free, he hesitates for one horrible moment because what if he looks down to see a still chest?

Steeling himself, he bites the bullet and curls an arm around her waist, pulling her out of the debris.

The relief that slams into him when he feels her shallow, breaths against his palm is almost enough to send him to his knees.

"I've got you, love." He mumbles, half to himself as he adjusts her in his arms. She's dead weight, pulse barely there but present.

Cuts and bruises, Ghost can name at least five lacerations and countless other places she's bleeding from, a broken arm, leg, and who knows what kind of internal bleeding.

Alive.

But still alive.

And that was enough because like hell Ghost was going to let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers ever again. He'd drag whoever he needed to her aid, he'd go to hell and back just to make sure she got to open her eyes again.

With limps that ache and a heart that's heavy, he quickly moves them out of the rubble, just in time to see two aircraft circling their location. They hadn't dropped any explosives yet, which a far part of Simon's brain thinks might be Price's doing.

Uncaring of whoever was watching, because frankly everyone could fuck off right now and it would be preferable, Ghost presses his lips to her hair as he moves into the clearing with her.

"Medic!" He barks out. "Right fucking now!"

He ignores Gaz's strangled gasp, ignores the way the entire team approaches them and tries to help. Ghost is a little concerned that if he let the adrenaline that's pumping through his veins go, he might just collapse as well, and that was unacceptable at the moment.

A weak hand grasps at the front of his vest, his eyes snapping immediately to her at the movement.

"S...'mon?" She says, words so faint he barely hears them?

"I'm here." He confirms, pressing his face to her hair harder. "I've got you, darling." He whispers. "I've got you."

It soothes her, because she nods against him and lets herself relax. It's only then that Simon notices she's holding something in her good hand in a deathly tight grip.

Upon closer inspection, it's a radio.

"I-...ou...Simon"

Fucking hell. His grip on her tightens.

She'd been trying to contact him in what she thought were her last moments, and he'd never have known because his fucking radio was broken.

It doesn't matter, he tells himself, chants it over and over again in his mind. He's got her again, and like hell is he ever letting go now.

When the medics bring out a stretcher, Price has to talk him into letting her go down into him, practically ordering him to let the bloody medics do their jobs. He doesn't stray far, however, keeping a hand on her at all times. Sat next to where they were working on her in the helicopter back, never once do his eyes stray from her unconscious form.

She wakes up once or twice, whines, and fights against the medic's hands with a panic-induced haze. Every time Simon is there, holding her hand, muttering rough, soothing praise and assurances.

It calms her down immediately, the trust in those far away pain-addled eyes when they meet his is enough to make his heart twist.

Simon stays with her the entire time, and then takes residence in a seat next to her hospital bed on base, ready for when she wakes up.

Hell would freeze over before Simon would ever let them be apart again.

If that makes him selfish, then so be it.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(12/08/2023)

4K notes · View notes