#but its just balanced enough to hang there long enough to let you realize your mistake

[aninipanin1]

How about Young manager with ADHD (continuously gets lost within Blue Lock, interrupts Ego using the PA system (accidentally) about trivial things, misplaces objects, rather naive etc),,, lol

LOST SHEEP

Notes: I personally do not have ADHD and my knowledge about it is quite small, so please forgive me if I misrepresent it here! I do not have any intentions of doing so, and if I do make some mistakes, please let me know! I am genuinely interested in being much more knowledgeable about this topic. Thank you!

"Y/n-chan...? What are you doing there..?"

Hiori asked, blinking at the rather bizarre scene in front of him. The midfielder just finished his daily training routines when he stepped inside of the laundry room to place his laundry basket.

But when he did walk in, he found their precious manager crouched down, hugging your legs as your eyes focused intensely at the small window of the washing machine, eyes boring at the spinning clothes inside the contraption.

In fact, you were too focused to even notice or hear the music of the other machines that alerted the room about how the process was done. You were just sitting there, staring, eyes blinking rarely, as if the rotation of the washing machine was a rare circus show to your eyes.

Everyone in the facility knew of your...tendencies and are more than understanding and ready to help you return your attention to whatever you were currently doing. Hiori was no different as he approached your crouched figure and lightly held your shoulder to take your attention back, but he made sure to be gentle enough to not scare you.

"Y/n-chan, earth to Y/n-chan. Are you okay?" He said in the softest voice he can muster, his hands supporting your crouched figure that almost lost its balance. You looked a bit dazed still from your previous episode, blinking at the sudden interruption. Turning to the blue-haired player, you tilted your head.

"Hiori-kun? What are we doing here...? What's happening?"

"Everything is fine, Y/n-chan. You just got a bit distracted with the washing machine." He explained, raising one of his hands to your hair, softly patting it in a comforting manner. He guided you up from your position and helped with the laundry that had long been done.

"Oh, I didnt notice that the rest were done..." you said in realization, looking at the washing machine with wide eyes. Hiori, who could not help himself, pinched one of your cheeks.

"Its fine, let's just get the rest of the laundry and hang it up, yeah?"

'Geez, she's too cute to be even real...' he inwardly gushed.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Ego said, glaring at a worried Anri the moment he received the news. Apparently, you have been missing for more than an hour now, with no one from any stratum knowing where you were or even seeing you pass by.

"I'm a little worried. We all know how she gets when she's super distracted."

Ego sighed, rubbing his temple and not even adjusting his glasses that fell off the bridge of his nose. Out of everyone in there, he knew, especially how you can get. Being the one you always worked alongside with, there were times when you would be too focused on something trivial like a moving object or a rather miniscule detail that you would end up forgetting everything you were currently and supposed to be doing.

Now, most of the time, he encourages this. Ego cannot count how many times you ended up helping him and the players as a whole because your fixations on even the most minute of details always ended up being the root cause of a problem.

Hence, why, starting then, he always trusted your mini hyperfixations, no matter how dumb it may sound. You were naive, yes, but you are also a genius, something most people around you know of. So, early on, Ego trusted these said instincts and fixations and revolving them into something that would benefit everybody.

However, there are times like these where those hyperfixations end up disadvantageous. Somehow, you always get lost in the worst times in the worst places possible. Once, the whole facility literally had to work together in order to find you, only for Niko to find you crawling around the storage room near the cafeteria, chasing a ladybug that got your attention while you tried to find your way around the facility again.

There was no time for that kind of thing, however, seeing as to how the day after tomorrow was the last games for the Neo Egoist League, and the staff desperately needed to arrange everything and anything under the sun to make sure the games and livestream are all smooth sailing.

And, they definitely needed you, the overall manager of the teams, there.

"What do we do, Ego-san?"

"I'll look around in my cameras. Try to find her in the usual spot and rooms she crawls and runs on, or those rooms that have a lot of things she can fidget with." He sighed, feeling so done with everything that happened that day.

"Okay. I'll ask help from the rest of the staff."

Just as they were about to start looking for you though, the PA system was suspiciously turned on.

"Huh? It's not even 12 in the noon yet."

Anri said, confused, but all their questioning were answered when they heard the loud feedback of the mic before hearing small scratches and fidgeting noises in the mix. There were even times when they heard some buttons being pushed about. Ego sighed again, but it felt more like a breath of relief.

"That's her. Get that problem child and bring her here." Ego said, spinning his chair to face the cameras. And would you know it, when he went back through the CCTV cameras' previous footages, he saw you in the PA room, fidgeting with the buttons of the system. If he were to be honest, he felt a huge sigh of relief that you were not doing anything that may have harmed you of sort.

After a few minutes, Anri opened the door to his office but alongside her was Don Lorenzo who was smirking as he held you by the scruff of your jacket. Carrying you like a lost kitten, while you only blinked at the predicament you were in, constantly asking Anri about what you were supposed to do again and just babbling stories to Lorenzo and Anri.

"The lost sheep is here." He said, bringing you on the ground as carefully as he could, nodding along to whatever you said about how microphones actually worked and how you were just curious and wanted to experiment if your knowledge and hypothesis were actually real or whatever your mind was thinking about currently.

"Y/n." Ego said a bit sternly, making you stop talking as you looked at the man.

"Try to bring someone with you when you go on your little adventures sometimes." He said before turning his swivel chair once again to face the many monitors, turning his back to you.

"Okay, Ego-san!" You cheered happily, not even bothered about what had just transpired as you went back to your notebook to continue writing and working.

'This girl is going to be the death of me. This is why I don't want kids.' Ego thought, shaking his head.

"Rin-kun. Have you seen Mr. Boba?"

"Hah?"

Rin said, his usual frown in his face. But, this was more of a frown of confusion. He knew you had the habit of naming normal objects with names you found either fitting or adorable, by your standards of course. So, when you approached the striker about a supposed 'Mr. Boba,' he had no idea what the hell you were even looking for.

"Mr. Boba! He has tons of dots that's why he's Mr. Boba." You insisted, your face in a frown because you can't find what you were looking for at all and it was starting to thin your patience a bit.

"Look, I don't know what your Mr. Boba is. What even is it? Is it a hairpin of a boba, or a keychain?" Rin asked. He really did want to help you find Mr. Boba, but you were not exactly helping your case as you kept insisting Mr. Boba was Mr. Boba.

That was until Karasu and Shidou entered the field that helped him and you.

"Y/n-chan! Hi! Why are you sad?!" Shidou asked as he jumped to hug you, before frowning himself, not liking that you were clearly upset by the look at the frown on your face.

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?" Karasu added, patting your hair.

"Did Rinrin over here make you sad? I'll beat him up for you if you want, Y/n-cha-"

"Shut the fuck up, lukewarm idiot. I didn't do crap." Rin intercepted Shidou, feeling the veins on his head pop.

"No, no, Shidou-san. I just can't find Mr. Boba. What do I do? I need him." The frown on your face deepened into a pout. Karasu was confused as hell who was this Mr. Boba you were talking about. He turned to Rin, who only glared at him.

"I dont know who the hell her Mr. Boba is."

But, Shidou seemed to understand who your Mr. Boba was as the grin on his face widened and he pulled your phone out from your jacket pocket and extended it to your hand.

"Mr. Boba!" You cheered happily at the phone.

"Silly Y/n-chan. It was in your pocket all along!" Shidou said as he pinched your cheeks and stretching it. Meanwhile, Karasu and Rin were just left confused to the side, wondering how the hell was a phone comparable to a boba.

"That's Mr. Boba? What the hell. I don't see it." Karasu commented, but Shidou only stuck his tongue out at both of them.

"You all are blind losers. Can't you see the phonecase design? It has black circles in the bottom and since its a clear case, you can see the (f/c) of the phone! So its like boba." Shidou explained, pointing out the small design of the phone that somehow made it look like a boba in both your and his eyes.

"Yeah! Like Shidou-san said!" You cheered as you hugged the male, thanking him sweetly for helping you find your Mr. Boba.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Rin said, facepalming as Karasu just laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Rin-rin! You can't say that to Y/n-chan!!!"

"Who said I was also talking about her?"

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Since everyone in the Blue Lock facility found out about your disorder, they became much more protective of you overall.

You are waiting in line for food? No, youre not. Everyone is letting you get your food first.

You have bad time management? They'd help with that. They'll be your personal alarm clock.

You are feeling so bored and want to fidget with something? They'd let you play with their hands while they listened to Ego's damn lectures.

It's all about maintaining your attention span yet enabling you to become a better person as a whole. To improve your mental health and also make you feel that you are more than your disorder.

But, of course, they can't help but spoil you every once in a while. No biggie!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[anxieci]

icarus is when you lean too far back in school chairs

[eowynstwin]

peristalsis - ii.

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

previous

You sleep long enough that, when you wake up, you have enough energy to cry.

It’s a big one. The kind of cry that threatens to turn your throat out, with how hard you sob. Alone in the cottage, far away from anything resembling civilization, you wail like wounded animal, choking on your own tears and mucus, losing track of your body buried underneath the covers—

But it happens at a remove. You watch yourself implode from someplace deep inside, not entirely sure why it’s happening at all—but long past trying to figure it out.

This is how it’s been for a while. There’s nothing special about it anymore. Nothing urgent. Most of the time, you are a blank space of a person, a vacuum where joy or rage or fear should be, but occasionally some maelstrom or another kicks up to fill it in, and your only course of action is to ride it out until it ends.

You’ve stopped trying to fix it. And you’ve stopped hoping anyone else can, either.

So you cry, until at last, you’re empty again. Or you’re too tired to continue. The difference is negligible, but functionally irrelevant. Once it’s done, you get out of bed.

The pressure in the shower is as weak as Johnny reported, but the water is indeed warm when you turn it on; you stand naked under the flow, arms hanging at your sides.

The day stretches itself out before you with nothing to occupying it, just as you’d planned. Nothing to work towards; no effort to put forward. Nothing, thanks to your choice of locale, to feel guilty about not seeking out.

A day of peace and utter quiet.

Suddenly—violent banging, somewhere in the cottage. It startles you; you jump so sharply at the noise that you smack your wrist on the soap caddy attached to the shower wall. The banging comes again—annoyed, you realize with no little bemusement that someone is at the front door.

You wrap yourself in a towel and hobble out of the bathroom to answer it, a piece of your mind on your tongue, dart-shaped and ready to fly—

Of course it’s Johnny.

Johnny, big and burly in a sweater, kilt, and pelt once again, two paper cups balanced in one large hand and a grocery bag hanging from the other. Whose dark brows shoot up his forehead as his eyes travel with surprise, and blatant appreciation, down the dripping length your body.

“Well, good mornin’, bonnie,” he purrs.

“What,” you grunt. A cold breath of wind chooses that moment to force its way through the door, gasping across the shower water still running in rivulets from your hair to the rolled edge of your towel. Goosebumps erupt from your bare skin in millions of simultaneous pinpricks—you flinch bodily at the chill.

“Ah, hell’s bells, don’t just stand there,” Johnny says, following the wind. “It’s freezin,’ go on, let me get in, hurry.”

You let him step inside, for some reason, and he shuts the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wastes no time after that, heading to the kitchen to set down his things.

“Brought breakfast!” he says cheerfully. “There’s this bakery on Barra I thought you’d like, fresh doughnuts and coffee. Dunno how you take yours, but there’s sugar in the pantry and cream in the fridge.”

“I don’t want breakfast,” you say.

“What? ‘Course you do. I’m no’ takin’ you seal-watchin’ on an empty stomach.”

He starts unpacking the grocery bag and setting things on the counter while your jaw hangs open. Several things occur to you to say—I never agreed to that and what the hell is wrong with you, for starters—but your stomach growls at him before you can. The aroma of fresh-baked pastry wafts through the kitchen when he opens one box, and he turns to grin at you, cheeks dimpling.

“Do you get dressed, bonnie,” he says. “It’ll still be here when y’get back.”

It is less polite than he perhaps intends it to be, given that his gaze travels appreciatively across your bare shoulders. You cross your arms fruitlessly over your chest and, nothing else for it, retreat to the bedroom, feeling his eyes on you the whole way.

You return to the kitchen after having pulled on wool leggings and the same fleecy sweater from the day before. Johnny, one hip set against the counter, has a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a half-eaten cruller in the other, crumbs at the corner of his mouth.

“Got anythin’ heavier?” he asks around a chewed-up mouthful. “Gets cold out there.”

You look down at his bare calves, broad and taut and covered in a down of dark hair. “You seem alright.”

“I’m used to it,” he says, shrugging—the muscles flexing under your gaze.

You purse your lips. “I don’t have anything.” You hadn’t intended to leave the cottage overmuch.

You approach the counter. Johnny does not move a centimeter, forcing you to stand close as you pick through the two boxes of doughnuts and feel the body heat radiating off of him, displacing the scent of fried dough with his musk.

“That’s all right,” he says. You’re close enough to hear the way his voice hums deep in his chest. “I can keep you warm.”

You snatch a plain glazed from the box and take two very large steps away from him. The hair on the back of your neck lifts as you press against the sink behind you. If he notices your reaction, it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest—he lifts the cup to his lips and drinks, eyes sliding closed with simple, obvious pleasure, dark lashes curling against his cheek.

You take the brief respite from his gaze to stare at him. In the morning light, on a full night of sleep, you can almost believe that whatever you’d seen in him yesterday had been nothing more than a misfire of exhausted synapses. An overlay of a dream; a circadian prompt to rectify nearly seventeen hours of sleeplessness. You’d been cold, and tired, and hungry. That was all.

You bite down on your doughnut, not really tasting it. The nerves along your spine twitch and contract around the memory of his flashing gaze.

His eyes open again, and he smiles at you. “Good?” He flicks a look at the single bite you’ve taken, looks at your mouth, and then waits for your reply.

“It’s fine,” you grumble. Then, “How did you get here? I didn’t hear the truck drive up. Do you live close by?”

“Sometimes,” he says. He looks pleased that you’ve asked, that you’re interested at all, and you immediately regret inquiring. “Live on a boat, me. Moored in the cove right now.”

“A…boat,” you say.

“Aye.” A wisp of dark hair, something he must have missed when he gelled his mohawk this morning, flutters as he nods. “Nice and cozy. Not as grand as all this, mind.” He gestures around with coffee and doughnut at the less than five hundred square feet of the cottage. “But it’s still a sight nicer than some other places I’ve slept.”

He’s likely hinting at his military service. “Okay,�� is all you say, unwilling to entertain it.

He smirk—undeterred. “We’ll take her out once you’re ready.”

“I never said I was going.”

Dark brows lift. “Got somethin’ else planned for today?” he asks, incredulous, as if he never imagined you wouldn’t want to hang out with him.

“No, I—”

You wrack your brain. You have no intention of explaining to this complete stranger that the last thing you’d wanted to do, when you booked this trip, was really anything at all—and in fact, you hadn’t even considered that that might be something anyone else would care much about.

Much less proactively address.

“No,” you repeat, sulking.

Johnny considers you, chewing. His eyes do not stray, this time, to places they don’t belong; but there’s an insight to them. A sharp awareness. A perception in his gaze that is just as undressing, as if whatever is going on with you is visible to the naked eye.

“I figure,” he says, slowly, as if to coax, “you put your wee shoes on, an’ I’ll pack this back up, and we take it along.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you grouse. “I don’t need you to, like—be my tour guide.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean I don’t wanna,” he retorts, smiling.

He shoves the last bite of cruller in his mouth and gazes patiently at you as he works it with his jaw, the muscles flexing along his temples as he chews.

Exhaustion, your constant companion, stares you down alongside him. It would take so much more energy to fight him than to go along with whatever he has planned. Energy you just don’t have anymore. And going along doesn’t mean you have to pretend to enjoy yourself—it’s not like you care enough about Johnny’s self-esteem to conjure up a happy face to show him.

You can go, and be a bitch about it, and once you do maybe he’ll realize you’re not at all worth the effort he’s making, and then finally leave you alone.

“Fine,” you say, which is how you end up on a fishing trawler headed south toward, ostensibly, a colony of breeding seals.

It’s an old vessel—that much is obvious. Its edges and corners are dull with the passage of time and constant maintenance, scuffed by innumerable passes-over with cleaner and cloth. Mildew competes with the aroma of fresh varnish as Johnny leads you onto the bridge, which is mercifully closed in from the ocean wind.

The interior is mostly wood of a warm, orangish variety—you can’t tell if that’s a decision made with aesthetics or function in mind. The space comprises a kitchen, surprisingly well-appointed with a stove, sink, countertop, and fridge, and a small sitting area with both couch and booth seating. Surrounding windows allow in the grey light of the morning.

“Bought it off an old bloke on Lewis,” Johnny says, taking his place at the wheel, which is in a little alcove off the kitchen.

If you’d thought steering a boat would have curtailed his chatting, you’d have been wrong—he seems to have no trouble with that and talking, incessantly, at the same time, as he pulls the vessel away from the cove and into the open water.

“All his family moved to the mainland, he told me, an’ this is after generations fishin’ these islands, even makin’ it through the Clearances! No money in it anymore, he said, not like you could make in some office somewhere countin’ someone else’s money.” He checks something on the dashboard in front of him, but it doesn’t distract him for long. “Held on for a while, but people just kept leavin,’ an’ he was gettin’ too old to go out on his own. Got such a good price on it, I think he was just happy someone else was gonna take up the tradition.”

“Did he sell you the cottage too?” you ask, and then dig your nails into your wrist for encouraging him.

“Yup,” he says. “No one else wanted it, but me? I saw somethin’ special about it.”

He turns to smile at you—no doubt pleased you made the connection. You avert your gaze.

“Imagine someday I’ll have my own family here,” he continues. “Good place for it. Nice and slow, not like city living. Can hear yourself think out here. Perfect place to have a few wee ones.”

“If people stop leaving,” you mutter.

He turns to you again. “I’m no’ worried about that,” he replies. He’s still smiling. “You came here, after all.”

You have nothing to say to that.

The trip is a short one—Johnny brings the trawler alongside an island he informs you is called Mingulay, a square mile smaller than Vatersay’s tiny dot in the North Atlantic. Unlike the latter, he says, this island has not been inhabited since 1912, and has been completely reclaimed by the ocean and its wildlife.

After he drops anchor offshore, Johnny disappears down a steep flight of stairs below deck, which he had not offered a tour of, and emerges a short time later with a large, bulky coat.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he says proudly, holding it out by the shoulders. “Here, turn ‘round.”

You pause in the middle of reaching for it. You don’t know exactly why you comply—it occurs to you that if you grabbed for the jacket, he could simply not let go of it, and you would end up exactly where he wants you anyway. So you lower your arm and, resigned, give him your back.

He steps up behind you. Warmth pours off of him, more than you think any human body should be able to generate.

You hear him inhale, deeply, as he brings the jacket to your back. As you slide your arms into the sleeves, you feel his exhale on the nape of your neck, teasing through individual follicles of hair.

“There w’go,” he murmurs, much closer than you expected.

You can hear the low hum of his voice in his chest; his hands linger on your shoulders far longer than they need to, heavy, big enough that his index fingers brush along your collarbones.

When his hands make to slide down your back you step away from him and fumble to zip the jacket up; he chuckles lightly behind you. When you turn to face him, his lips are curled—smug.

“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s get out there.”

He rows the two of you to shore in a small kayak, two pairs of binoculars in your lap as you huddle away from the wind. You’ll be walking to the haul-out, he says—getting too close to the breeding grounds, which he calls a rookery, would spook them, possibly causing a stampede.

“It’s grey seals we’re gonna see,” he explains as the two of you pick your way across the rocky landscape. “Not the biggest haul-out you could see, some colonies get into the thousands, but we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

He insists on taking your elbow every time the two of you cross particularly uneven terrain, even though you don’t need it. You think he takes your attempts to shake him off as proof of your lack of balance, because he grasps you all the tighter every time.

“I’m not a child, Johnny, I can walk on my own,” you finally snap at him.

“Just bein’ a gentleman, bonnie,” he replies nonchalantly. He does not let you go.

As you get closer, you hear the seals before you see them, and when their voices reach you across the open island, you stop dead.

Groaning, grunting, hissing in a cacophonous chorus. Some part of your hindbrain double-takes, reshuffles itself—some ancestral instinct always on the lookout for predation. If you’d been given a chance to guess what a colony of mating seals might have sounded like, you’re not sure you could have guessed what they sounded like.

Certainly not like what you hear now—

Like people.

Johnny grins at you when he notices. “Aye, it’s a right ruckus, innit?”

He leads you up a small rise, where he has the two of you settle belly-down over the machair to overlook the wedge of rocky coast that the colony has claimed for its own.

And when you finally see it—it’s underwhelming.

Perhaps two hundred long, fat bodies, in varying shades of brown and grey, lay indolently along the rocks, in groups of three or four, some heavily galumphing from one place to another while others roll occasionally from side to side. The shifting winds catch their scent and blow it uncaringly into your face; you nearly gag at the admixture of dead fish and ammonia.

It doesn’t escape you that this is a rare thing to witness; you are not wholly immune to the fact that you are only a hundred meters away from something most people only encounter on a screen. It’s just that without a swell of awed music in the backdrop, or a narrator’s breathless wonder at the miracle of pinniped life, what’s left for you to observe is a population of wet, stinking animals, shitting where they lay, vocalizing without cease while they laze about doing basically nothing.

Johnny does not seem to notice your disillusionment; he hands you one pair of binoculars, and directs your attention to activity along the shoreline. You follow to where he’s pointing; one larger seal is hassling a smaller one, which snarls at the aggressor as it thrashes around with its substantial bulk.

“Little one there—” Johnny says, “that’s a female, probably obvious. Big one knows she’s ready to mate, can smell it on her.”

The female bares her teeth and lunges at the bigger male, which flinches back but holds his ground.

“Doesn’t look like she agrees,” you mutter.

“She’s just givin’ him a hard time. She’s all in heat, see? Just makes her cranky,” Johnny says. You feel his eyes on you, and lower your binoculars to look at him. “She’s got to fight to feel all in control.”

You flush. “Right.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” you say. “He’s—he’s just bothering her.”

He gazes at you for a moment, contemplative. Corners of his mouth quirking upward. He does not reply for a long moment, long enough that you have to avert your gaze from his.

“Nah,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’re imagining the low, sultry note in his voice. “She wants it bad as he does.”

You scowl, uncomfortably perceived, and return your binoculars—the pair is still facing off, gurgling and growling at each other. The female is slim, almost sleek, unlike most of the other seals populating the rookery.

“Is she sick?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, she’s alright. The mums lose a lot of weight when they nurse. Takes three weeks, and they don’t eat in the meantime.”

“Jesus.”

“Be nice if the dads ever brought ‘em a bite, aye?” Johnny agrees. “Deadbeats, the lot of them.”

The two of you survey the colony in silence for a moment. As the morning wears on, the cloud covering thins overhead, allowing cool sunlight to filter through. The temperature doesn’t rise in response; begrudgingly, you tug Johnny’s jacket a little tighter around you.

Then, suddenly, his hand lands on your back, between your shoulder blades.

“Got some pups over there,” he says. “Look, by the kelp.”

You find them; smaller bodies, white dinged with wet sand and dirt, lounge near their mothers or wriggle with aimless difficulty. They’re fluffy and round as plush toys, with shining black eyes and noses, and once Johnny’s pointed them out you can differentiate the higher, sweeter pitch of their cries from the overall cacophony.

“Sometimes,” Johnny murmurs, “search and rescue’ll get called out because someone thought they heard a baby crying. Some kid stranded or lost, right? Turns out to be a baby seal.”

“That’s kind of scary,” you say.

“Aye,” says Johnny. “Always makes me think that’s where the old legends come from, about seal people or mermaids.”

A small ways away, some of the mothers lay with their pups far into the surf, letting the waves break over them. You watch as one mother thunks her large head overtop of her pup’s as the water rushes toward them; the pup wriggles, and then, as the wave engulfs them, it begins to thrash, whipping up a panicked froth.

“Time for swimming lessons already?” Johnny muses. “Seems early.”

You’re horrified. “She’s going to drown it!”

The hand still on your back pats you consolingly. “Just watch,” says Johnny.

The wave reaches as far up the shore as gravity allows, and then begins to recede. The pup’s thrashing calms as the air meets its face once again; the cow allows the pup to lift its head, and after a few sputters, the pup seems no worse for wear.

“They’re hardier than they look, bonnie,” Johnny says.

His hand, heavy and warm even over his borrowed jacket, slides down from your shoulders to your lower back, and then he rubs, slowly, side to side, as if to comfort you—but the knobs of your spine contract at his touch.

“Last of the births this season, looks like,” he says. “Mum’s getting ready to leave—probably not the only one.”

Something hard drops into your stomach.

“They leave their babies?” you ask.

“Aye. Once they’re done nursing, they mate, and then they go.”

You look back at the other cows with their pups. One baby has its muzzle to its mother’s belly, quivering and suckling, while she lays with her head on a patch of grass. She looks uninterested—more, she looks disinterested. As if how voraciously her pup is nursing has nothing much to do with her, and she’s bored of even having to think about it.

Bored—and already looking forward to the next part of her life without a baby in it.

“That’s horrible,” you say.

“They’re solitary animals, bonnie,” Johnny says, not ungently. “The only time they’re really all together is for this.”

A line tightens between your stomach and throat, and you feel it start to build between your ribs. A tremor—foreshocks. The wind picks up, bringing a sharp chill off the ocean and up the rise that cuts into your stinging eyes, abrades the naked skin of your hands and the exposed part of your neck.

When you look through your binoculars again, you wonder how many of the pups you see have already been abandoned.

“Aw, bonnie,” Johnny says. There’s a kind of pity in his voice that has your hackles raising.

“I want to leave,” you say, yanking away from his touch and shuffling down the incline. “Take me back to the cottage.”

“Bonnie, it’s okay!” Johnny protests, rolling to his back to look at you as you stand. “The pups make it, they figure out how to fend for themselves.”

You glare at him, vision blurring. “All of them?”

Some part of you knows you’re being irrational—knows that nature is a cruel home, and that many children face worse fates than the seal pups. Abandoning the young, the needy, is no aberration; it is, in fact, far more the standard than the human practice, which lingers for decades—

Most of the time.

Johnny has no response. He holds your angry gaze, brows drawn low, mouth pressed into a thin line. It’s the first time that cocky aura, which seems to rest in every fine line on his face and every angle at which he holds his body, is completely absent.

He isn’t reflecting your anger back at you, though—he’s internalizing it. Letting it hit him, you think, and trying to use it to figure you out.

You do not want to be figured out.

You scoff again. “Take me back,” you repeat, and then you start walking in the direction you came, without waiting for him to follow.

Johnny drops you off in the cove, and thankfully does not linger this time before he departs—he bids you farewell after rowing you to shore, contemplation on his face, and then leaves you to yourself.

You retreat, seeking the cottage’s empty quiet.

As you perch on the couch you listen to the radiator hum—the wind blow over the reeds in the thatch roof—your own heart beating a drum in the arteries of your neck.

Percussive. Quick and hard. Like heavy knockers on a door. Pounding as if to burst through.

You realize you’re still wearing Johnny’s jacket, and you throw it off, disgusted with yourself. You get up and pace, and try to ignore it lying in a heap on the floor.

You do something you swore you wouldn’t do the moment you set foot on the island—you turn your phone back on.

True to Johnny’s word, there’s no signal. You picked this island, this part of the world, for a reason; for the past several years, a slow exodus from the British isles has vacated the need for dedicated cell towers or satellite or internet access, especially given that the only ones who remain are too old now to want it or need it or know how to use it.

It’s isolated. Cut off. Left behind by anyone with better options, and only clung to by those trying to preserve the only way of life they know.

Some kinder part of you belongs with that demographic; the part that was telling your mother the truth, before getting on the plane.

The rest of you holds your phone up and starts walking around.

In the furthest corner in the bedroom, you find a single bar of signal. A tiny chip of connectivity—a thin, frayed thread. Something you lied to yourself about cutting.

It’s a weak connection. Unstable. It could take a while—you stand there, waiting.

The screen dims. You tap it again.

Blank.

You unlock it, look through your apps. Wonder if maybe your notifications are bugged by your new SIM card.

Nothing—

No one.

You whip around and, with a cry, pitch the thing at the far wall—it hits the stone with a crunch, falling to the floor in pieces.

You’re out of the cottage then in a mad dash, door slamming behind you, driving yourself back into the wind. Far away—you want to be far away, far from everything, so far that nothing could possibly reach you. You trudge down the path toward the beach, banding your arms across your chest, shivering in the cold, and yet you hardly feel it.

Not worth it. No point. Waste of your time. Energy. All of it. Stop trying. Stop wanting. Nothing. Nothing. You want nothing.

You’re halfway down to the shore, not really knowing what you’re going to do when you get there, when you catch sight of a body on the sand.

You gasp, a sharp breath down your larynx, and freeze in a dead halt.

The body is completely still.

A swimmer? A diver? It’s dark, like it just pulled itself out of the ocean—or washed up—

Then, it moves. A twitch, a ripple across its bulk, and your chest rapidly decompresses.

A seal. It’s a large seal, lounging alone on the beach.

You stand motionless. You’re very close—much closer than you and Johnny had been at the rookery. You hadn’t contended with the sheer size of the animals, tucked safely up and away from them, but there is no illusion of distance now.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen today, you’re sure of it. Bigger, you think, than most adult men. Its pelt is a riot of every shade of grey, splashy, like liquid paint thrown across a canvas. Black speckles scatter overtop of marbled white and cool slate, and down the center of its back is a broad, dark line, soft at the edges, which reaches all the way up to the top of the seal’s head.

The bull—it must be male—turns over. It lifts its head, and opens its eyes—

Fear suddenly zips up your spine as it looks right at you.

You stumble backward and trip on your own feet, landing hard on your ass. Johnny’s care with keeping enough distance from the colony rushes back to you, along with the warring couple’s bared teeth.

They can’t move that fast on land, right? They aren’t interested in people, right?

You scramble backward. It’s so much bigger than you ever would have imagined. If it got to you—threw itself over you—it could crush you with its weight alone—

The bull watches you placidly. Unperturbed.

You pause.

Its small eyes are dark and glossy—watchful and focused. The whiskers on its muzzle twitch a little as it takes you in. It breathes, deeply and evenly, huge body expanding and contracting at a slow, calm tempo. Its—his—nostrils flex, widening and narrowing, as he blinks docilely.

Unafraid.

If anything—curious.

Then he snorts, and wriggles in place. It startles a laugh out of you, more reaction than humor. Still watching you, the bull lowers his head back down, resting it again on the sand.

Your heartbeat abates. He doesn’t move again—nor does his attention leave you. Slowly, you sit up.

Wary. No sudden movements.

He doesn’t react; only continues to watch you.

You draw your knees up. Wrap your arms around your shins, and dust a bit of sand from your leggings. Rest your chin in the crevice between your knees.

There’s an intelligence in the bull’s eyes that is fathoms deep. There is a massive gulf between his experience of the world and yours, millennia of evolution separating your species from his—and yet…as you hold his gaze, you recognize the look in it.

Him, seeing you. And seeing you see him. The pendulum swinging between awareness of each other, and recognition of that shared awareness.

An empty space in the cloud cover passes overhead; sunlight touches the earth, warms it briefly before disappearing again. You wonder a little why this bull isn’t with the other seals.

Johnny would probably know.

“I didn’t come for you, you know,” you grumble at him.

The seal blinks. Awareness notwithstanding, you don’t share any language.

You sigh. “I guess you didn’t come to see me either,” you say.

But you don’t move away.

And you stay like that for a long while, you and he—regarding each other as the wind breathes out across the shore.

next

a/n: follow for more seal facts™

Also huge thanks to Lev for trawler listings/info. Didn't explore it much this chapter but Soap's boat will show up more soon :)

[mercillery]

ASL BROTHERS WITH A SHY S/O

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Ace + Sabo

NOTES: Do Luffy haters exist? It’s a dumb question, yes—but I’m genuinely curious. He’s so cute and dumb, I find it hard to not love him.

LUFFY

Luffy wouldn’t really “get” shyness in the conventional sense. But here’s the thing about Luffy: he’s all about accepting people as they are, no questions asked. He treats you with the same bright-eyed, wide-grinned enthusiasm he shows everyone. The idea of you needing to be more outgoing wouldn’t even cross his mind because, to him, you’re already perfect as you are. Shyness? Never heard of it. Just pass the meat, please.

Now, Luffy’s approach to social interactions is, well, 100% Luffy. He doesn’t really adapt his wild and carefree style to match anyone else’s comfort levels. If you're quiet and reserved, that’s cool—Luffy just goes on living life at full volume like it’s another Tuesday on the Sunny.

At first, you might be left wondering how in the seven seas you’re going to survive the endless hurricane of chaos that follows this rubbery captain around. But soon, and without realizing it, you start to find that his reckless antics and headfirst approach to life are... kind of charming. Sure, it’s like living next door to a tornado, but it’s a tornado that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and never lets you get too deep into your own thoughts.

What’s funny is that while he doesn’t actively try to make you feel more comfortable, he ends up doing it anyway. It’s his Luffy magic. You find yourself smiling more often, your shyness loosening its grip bit by bit as he does dumb stuff and throws himself into trouble that only Luffy would consider fun.

He’ll walk up to you, grin stretching from ear to ear, holding out some bizarre, questionably edible snack and say, “You gotta try this!” And just like that, the nerves you felt melt away—not because he’s making an effort to make you feel at ease, but simply because he’s himself.

And sure, sometimes his energy is a lot. We’re talking sprinting-across-decks, yelling-about-meat kind of “a lot.” But in the middle of all that noise, you come to realize that you feel safer and more at ease when you’re around him. Why? Because Luffy has this way of making everything fun and natural, and soon enough, that includes you too.

Before long, your shyness isn’t something you worry about around him; it’s just another thing Luffy accepts without blinking, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And in his eyes? It is.

It’s cute because you two really are like the sun and the moon, with Luffy as the blazing, never-stopping sun, and you being the more reserved, quiet moon. It’s like a cosmic duo—he’s all light and energy, and you’re the calm, cool reflection of it all. You balance each other out in the weirdest, most wonderful way.

And when people catch wind of the fact that Luffy is dating someone—let alone someone as shy as you—it’s like watching a cartoon character’s eyes bug out of their head. Yeah, they’re not wrong to be surprised, but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s already busy thinking about what’s next on the agenda, probably involving meat or some kind of treasure hunt.

Luffy is anything but shy. He could probably talk to a rock and think it’s the best conversation he’s had all day. So when it comes to affection, he’s not exactly one to shy away from it. He might not be the clingiest partner out there—he’s not going to be hanging off you like a koala (okay, maybe sometimes)—but you can bet he’s there, always.

Whether it’s randomly giving you a hug in or tossing his arm around your shoulder like it’s no big deal, he’s just Luffy—and that means showing affection wherever and whenever he feels like it, no matter who’s watching. Basically, he’s like a “here’s my arm, it’s yours now” kind of guy.

While Luffy doesn’t exactly get what makes you shy, he’s surprisingly good at picking up on your feelings. If you’re feeling anxious, or if you’re shrinking back into your shell a little bit, Luffy has this unbelievable ability to sense when you need a change of pace. Without even thinking about it, he’ll grab your hand and drag you off on some wild adventure, just to get your mind off things.

He doesn’t even need a reason—he just knows that you could use a distraction, and he’s the perfect person to provide it. Besides, that just gives him more time to spend with you! And, of course, he might offer you one of his beloved snacks or a full meal if you’re feeling off. Seriously, do you know how big that is? Luffy parting with his food is like a miracle in itself, so if he’s offering it to you, you better believe you’re special.

And let’s talk about the food thing for a sec. Do you even realize how big of a deal it is that Luffy shares his food with you? Like, do you know how many times he’s turned down offering a bite of his meat to anyone? Probably never. So when he hands you a piece of his prized food, you know it’s a huge honor. We’re talking sacred territory here.

If you ever doubted your place in Luffy’s heart, just remember: he shares his food with you. That’s a level of trust and affection that not even the grandest feast can outdo. Trust me, you’ve got a special place in his world, and it’s right next to the meat and maybe a little bit of the chaos.

Luffy’s naturally the type of guy who’d include you in absolutely everything—because why wouldn’t he? To him, you’re part of the crew, part of his world, and that means he’s going to drag you into every single bit of it.

You’d be minding your own business, maybe sitting quietly with your book or trying to sneak in a nap, when suddenly—BAM! Luffy's in front of you, grinning like a madman, already talking about the next big adventure or game that everyone’s playing. “C’mon, join us!” he’d say, and before you could protest, he’s already tossing you into the mix.

It’s not that he’s forcing you to join, though—Luffy just has this way of making you feel like you should be there, without ever putting you on the spot. His carefree, inclusive attitude makes it feel like the natural thing to do. You never feel pressure; you just feel... valued. Like you belong, whether you’re quietly cheering from the sidelines or joining in with your own brand of awkward enthusiasm.

It’s like Luffy’s energy is so contagious that you can’t help but want to be part of whatever insane thing he’s cooking up that day, even if it’s just watching him eat his weight in food and making random, nonsensical decisions.

If anyone ever crossed the line with you—teased you, made you uncomfortable, or said something that got under your skin—Luffy would flip the script faster than you can blink. That goofy, carefree grin would disappear in an instant, replaced by a rare, uncharacteristically serious expression.

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you like a human shield, ready to take down anyone who dared upset you. He’s usually a chaotic force of nature, but mess with his loved ones, and that’s when you see a side of him that is all about protecting you.

He wouldn’t hesitate to confront the person, his voice firm and unwavering. “Hey! That’s not cool! You don’t mess with my crew!” He’s not one for subtlety or second-guessing, so you’d know right away that Luffy’s on your side. If someone’s being rude or making you feel small, he’ll make sure they know they’ve messed with the wrongggggg person.

The crew’s used to this by now—because Luffy, despite his childish nature, would go to the ends of the earth to defend the people he cares about. You’d feel like the most important person in the world in that moment because, in his eyes, you are.

Luffy’s loyalty is on another level entirely. Once he’s decided he cares about someone, they’re in—no questions, no conditions, just pure, unfiltered loyalty. If you’re lucky enough to be someone Luffy loves, you’d know it in every grin, in every spontaneous gesture, and in every single, joyfully shouted “Let’s go!” You’d never have to second-guess where you stand with him, because Luffy’s affections are as clear as day, as honest and unwavering as the sea he dreams of conquering.

So whether you’re officially part of his crew or not, in his mind, you’re always one of them, and he’d tell anyone who’ll listen, “Yeah, they’re with me!” with a pride that’d make your heart swell.

The best part? Luffy would constantly invite you to tag along on whatever wild journey or ridiculous stunt he’s about to pull. There’d be no hesitation; it’d be, “Hey! Let’s go on an adventure!” as if going on an impromptu quest was as simple as taking a stroll to the market. It’s almost like Luffy has this unspoken rule: every exciting, crazy, fun thing has to be experienced with you.

From treasure hunts that end up in unexpected fights with sea kings to races through bustling ports (where he definitely has no idea where he’s running but is laughing the whole time), Luffy wants you there, right in the middle of it all. You’d probably sigh at the thought of jumping headfirst into another unpredictable situation, but Luffy’s enthusiasm is like a gravitational pull—it’s impossible to resist.

And thank goodness for that, because your timid self wouldn’t stand a chance at taking the lead in any of these wild endeavors. Luckily, Luffy’s the type to charge forward, dragging you along by the hand with zero doubts and zero plans. He makes all the decisions for both of you, which, sure, sometimes means ending up lost on an island full of very angry, very large monkeys because, “They looked friendly!”

You’d feel a mix of exasperation and endearment at his antics. He doesn’t realize it, but his willingness to be the fearless leader—even if his plans are sometimes made with the strategic prowess of a rubber chicken—takes the pressure off you. You don’t have to stress over decisions or worry about whether you’re doing the right thing, because Luffy’s already ten steps ahead (probably literally sprinting) and dragging you along with a confidence that borders on reckless.

And honestly? That’s part of the charm. His “plans” might be half-baked and a little foolish, but he makes up for it by being completely and unapologetically himself.

You’d find yourself smiling more than you ever expected, getting swept up in the whirlwind that is Luffy, and realizing that being with him means never feeling alone, even if you’re quiet or shy.

His laughter, his outbursts, and his impulsive decisions would all become things you cherish, because with him leading the way, life feels a little less scary and a lot more exciting.

ACE

Ace is all warmth and energy, like a bonfire on a chilly night, and he’d go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable in his presence. Despite his natural tendency for excitement and spontaneity, he’d be mindful of your shyness, making a conscious effort to dial down the volume when needed.

You’d catch him lowering his voice a bit, softening his laughter, or even sitting a little closer with a reassuring grin. His laid-back nature would do wonders for your anxiety, melting it away bit by bit like ice under the sun. He’d take a more casual, playful approach when he’s with you, balancing his liveliness with a kind of gentle attentiveness that makes your heart feel at ease.

Ace has a knack for starting conversations, even if the topic is completely random. He’d sense your hesitance and jump in without skipping a beat. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook for the crew and accidentally set a whole forest on fire?” he’d start, eyes twinkling as he watches your reaction.

His stories are always ridiculous—stories of clumsy mishaps, epic pranks gone wrong, or that one time he fell asleep mid-battle. You’d find yourself laughing in spite of yourself, the tension in your shoulders easing as you realize he’s making himself the butt of the joke, just to make you feel more at ease. He’d keep talking until he sees that spark of amusement in your eyes, and then keep going, his smile growing wider every time you giggle.

And Ace’s teasing? Oh, he’d be a master of that fine line between making you laugh and making you blush. He’d lean in, smirking just enough to be charming, and say, “What’s this? A smile? I knew it was in there somewhere.” His playful comments would come with a wink and a laugh, just enough to make your face warm, but never enough to make you feel like you’re being put on the spot.

If he ever saw you growing quiet or noticed that hint of panic in your eyes, he’d immediately back off, switching to a softer tone and throwing in a quick “I’m just messing with ya” followed by that disarming grin of his.

Ace would be incredibly in tune with your reactions, watching for the tiniest signs that you’re feeling overwhelmed. The moment he picks up on it, he’d change gears—maybe suggesting a quiet spot on deck where you could sit together and watch the stars, or offering to take a walk to get some fresh air. He’d brush off the seriousness with a light, “Hey, it’s just us. No pressure, alright?” The way he says it makes you feel safe, like it’s just you and him against the world, no expectations or worries allowed.

Ace is the definition of a warm hug in human form, so being a tactile person comes naturally to him. But when it comes to you, he’d show an impressive amount of restraint—not an easy feat for someone who’d usually throw an arm around a friend without thinking twice. Well, you’re not just his friend but his lover, obviously—but what I’m getting at us that he’s a pretty affectionate guy.

He’d start small, easing you into it with light touches: a friendly pat on the shoulder when you share a joke, a playful ruffle of your hair that would leave you smiling and maybe a little flustered. You’d catch the subtle glances he’d shoot you afterward, as if he’s silently checking, Was that okay? Did that make you uncomfortable? It’s endearing how he’s so in tune with your comfort level, his natural affection turned into a gentle dance of patience and care.

As time went on and your confidence around him grew, Ace would start to introduce more meaningful touches. He’d sneak in side hugs when you’re sitting together, leaning into you with that easygoing smile of his that made your heart race. And when the day finally came that you leaned into him on your own, whether it was out of exhaustion or just because you felt safe, the soft, proud look on his face would be priceless.

Ace would make a big deal out of it in the quietest way possible, his hand finding yours in a reassuring squeeze as if to say, Hey, look at you, being brave. Eventually, he’d graduate to full-on snuggling when you were comfortable, and the first time he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close, you’d know just how deeply he cared.

And when social situations become too much—because let’s face it, Ace has a lot of friends and a magnetic personality that draws people in—he’d be the first to notice if you’re starting to feel overwhelmed.

In those moments, he’d spring into action without making it obvious. He’d tell a ridiculously over-the-top story, one that would steal the spotlight from everyone else and have the whole room’s attention fixed on him, leaving you a moment to breathe.

Ace would always throw himself into being the distraction, whether it meant cracking jokes or reenacting a failed stunt that ended with him pretending to trip over his own feet. He’d shoot you a quick wink in the middle of it, as if to say, See? I’ve got you.

It’s not that he wanted to be the center of attention—okay, maybe a little, but only when it’s for you.

He’d take on the role of court jester, chaos-maker, or even reluctant hero if it meant taking the pressure off you for a while. If anyone questioned it, he’d brush it off with a laugh and a shrug, all while keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay.

And if things really got too much, Ace wouldn’t hesitate to steer you away from the noise altogether, leaning in close and saying, “Let’s get outta here for a bit, yeah?” He’d lead you somewhere quieter, a hand on your arm or fingers interlaced with yours, the simple touch grounding you as you walked.

You’d both end up somewhere peaceful, maybe under the stars or by a flickering campfire, where he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder and say, “You don’t have to explain. Just take your time.” And you would, with the steady thump of his heartbeat right next to yours, knowing he’d take on the world just to make sure you felt comfortable and safe.

Ace would be your number one cheerleader, hyped beyond belief over every little victory you achieved. You managed to say something in a group conversation? He’d beam at you like you just solved world peace. “Look at you go! You’re amazing!” he’d shout, probably a bit louder than necessary, with that signature grin that lights up his entire face.

If you reached out to touch his arm or, heaven forbid, initiated a hug, there’d be a solid five minutes of him staring at you in delighted disbelief before breaking out into an excited, “Did you just—? You did! You did!”

What you might not notice is that whenever you step even half a toe out of your comfort zone, Ace is in the background punching the air with all the subtlety of an over-caffeinated kid at a birthday party.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a tiny thing, like making eye contact with someone new, or a big step like saying a few words in front of the crew—Ace is celebrating it like you just discovered the One Piece itself.

He might look a bit unhinged to anyone passing by, but he’s never cared about that. You’re his person, and your wins are his wins. He’s just out here being the proudest guy alive, punching invisible foes and mouthing, That’s my partner!

And the way he looks at you? It’s like you’re the most priceless treasure in the world, and not just in the fleeting, pirate-wants-your-gold way. No, Ace’s gaze is full of warmth and genuine awe, the kind that makes you feel like you’re wrapped in a blanket of sunshine.

When you speak, whether it’s a confident statement or a hesitant mumble, Ace is all ears. His eyes would fix on you with this almost comically serious expression, nodding along like you’re revealing some ancient, life-altering secret.

You could point to the sky and say, “That’s the sky,” and he’d respond with a deep, earnest nod and a wide grin, “Exactly! I love that you noticed!” The rest of the crew might shake their heads and mutter things like, “Here they go again,” but Ace doesn’t care. If it matters to you, it matters to him—simple as that.

It doesn’t matter how mundane your observation is or how shyly you say it; to Ace, every word is golden. He’d hang on every syllable as if you were weaving a tale worthy of a bard’s song. You’d catch him repeating things you said back to you later, just to show he’d remembered, saying things like, “Oh yeah, like you said the other day, the sky really was a perfect blue.”

It’s almost ridiculous, but that’s Ace—he’d make you feel like every tiny thing you did was extraordinary, because in his eyes, it truly is.

SABO

Sabo is the calm breeze compared to the whirlwinds that are Luffy and Ace, which makes him the perfect blend of approachable and comforting.

With his natural ease and warm, diplomatic demeanor, you’d find yourself feeling more at peace around him sooner than you’d expect. Sabo’s the kind of person who could have a conversation with anyone, but when he’s with you, you’d feel like you’re the only one in the world that matters.

He’s just got this knack for making everything feel safe, like he’s a sturdy anchor in a storm. If you ever started to feel overwhelmed, Sabo would be the first to notice, with a quiet attentiveness that doesn’t scream I’m watching you but more like I’m here if you need me.

He’d be a master of subtlety, paying close attention to what made you nervous and what helped you open up, all without making it seem like he was analyzing you. You’d catch him making mental notes when you shifted uncomfortably or lit up at something specific. He’s probably like, “Write that down, write that down!” in his head.

And he’d use those observations to make your interactions more comfortable. If he noticed that certain topics or big crowds made you anxious, he’d steer conversations towards lighter things or find a reason to take a quiet walk somewhere less crowded.

Sabo would never rush you into sharing more than you were ready for. He understands that trust is built slowly, like adding logs to a fire, not dumping gasoline on it and hoping for the best.

Sabo would show his affection in the most considerate ways, taking into account what you’d find comforting rather than overwhelming. That being said, grand and dramatic gestures aren’t his style when it comes to you; he’d save those for his other acts of rebellion.

With you, he’d stick to smaller, more intimate actions. He’d brush his fingers across yours before holding your hand, always making sure it was welcome. He’d lean in a little closer when you’re talking, eyes fixed on you with that soft, attentive gaze of his that makes you feel like you have all the time in the world.

There’d be moments when he’d reach out with a light touch on your arm, or just the simple press of his shoulder against yours when you sat side by side, enough to let you know he was there but never too much to make you uncomfortable.

It’s like he has a sixth sense for what was just the right amount of closeness. And if you ever looked unsure or nervous, Sabo’s eyes would catch yours, full of warmth and encouragement, like he was silently saying, Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.

The patience he’d show would be unmatched; you could almost hear him mentally cheering you on even if you were just picking your words slowly or taking a deep breath before saying something important.

And the way he’d support you? Subtle but powerful. If you ever found yourself second-guessing or fumbling, he’d quietly step in to help redirect the conversation or offer a reassuring comment. “I think that’s a great point,” he’d say with genuine enthusiasm, giving you that extra boost of confidence.

And when you’d catch him watching you speak, the look in his eyes would always be one of admiration—never judgment, never pressure, just pure, patient support. And whether it’s a simple chat or a quiet walk together, Sabo’s presence would be your reminder that you’re valued, seen, and cherished, just as you are.

When it came to conversations, Sabo would be your guy for deep, meaningful talks, but with a healthy dose of humor to keep things light. He’d pick the coziest, quietest corner on the ship or at a café, leaning in with a thoughtful smile and saying, “Alright, you ready to hear some top-secret stories about Ace and Luffy’s greatest flops?” And he’d be off, recounting tales of Luffy trying to eat something he really, really shouldn’t have or Ace’s legendary nap times that ended in near-disaster.

His stories are designed not just to make you laugh, but to remind you that even these larger-than-life brothers were and still are total dorks sometimes. And before you know it, you’re easing into sharing a few of your own stories, prompted by his gentle encouragement and the safety his presence provided.

If there was ever a moment where you hinted at wanting to join in on an activity or step outside your comfort zone, Sabo would light up like someone just told him there was free cake on deck. But instead of jumping up and down and looking crazy, Sabo’s celebration would be the dignified, internal kind.

Picture a boardroom in his mind filled with 10 tiny Sabos all jumping out of their chairs, high-fiving each other, and throwing confetti in the air. On the outside, he’d just offer you that calm, reassuring grin and a simple, “You’ve got this. And if not, we’ll laugh about it later, yeah?”

He’d be your biggest silent cheerleader, always ready with a patient hand to guide you or a subtle nudge if you needed it. If you wanted to join in on a game or join a conversation but hesitated, Sabo would seamlessly include you, making it feel natural and not like he was pointing out your shyness.

He’d say things like, “Hey, I think Y/N would be perfect for this—what do you think?” and then shoot you a wink that says, See? Not so bad, right? And when you took that first step, whether it was a comment or a hesitant laugh at a joke, Sabo’s inner cheering squad would be losing their collective minds.

So while Ace might be punching the air and Luffy would probably shout, “You did it!” at full volume, Sabo would play it cool—at least on the outside. But don’t be fooled. The minute he see’s you trying something new or making a move outside your comfort zone, those 10 tiny Sabos in his head would be throwing a full-on carnival, complete with fireworks and dancing.

And he’d just keep giving you that look that said, You’re amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Because to him, you’re always worth celebrating, no matter what.

If there’s one thing Sabo doesn’t tolerate, it’s someone messing with the people he cares about. So if he spotted you feeling uncomfortable or noticed someone trying to be intimidating, he’d swoop in with the subtlety of a master diplomat. Sabo wouldn’t make a scene, but instead, he’d redirect the situation like an absolute pro.

Maybe he’d throw out a well-timed joke, ask a question that shifts the focus, or suddenly develop an urgent need for your opinion on something random, like, “Hey, didn’t you say you know a lot about… apples?” The offender would be left blinking, and you’d find yourself in a new conversation before you even realized what happened. Crisis averted, all thanks to Sabo’s suave social maneuvering.

And then there’s Sabo’s sweeter side—his covert operation of affection. He knows that grand, dramatic proclamations can sometimes make you want to dive head-first into the nearest bush, so he’s perfected the art of subtle, heartfelt gestures.

He’d leave little handwritten notes tucked in places he knows you’ll find, maybe in your favorite book or slipped under your plate at breakfast. Each note would be filled with the kind of genuine, thoughtful words that would make your heart do an embarrassing little flip. They’d say things like, I know you’re stronger than you think, and I can’t wait for the world to see it, too, or The stars were beautiful last night, but not as much as seeing you smile today.

And don’t even get started on the letters. Oh, the letters. Sabo would write you these intricate, beautifully crafted notes that read like they came straight from the heart of a poet who’s just returned from a victorious battle.

He could have just finished a day of intense Revolutionary Army missions, covered in dust and exhaustion, but you’d still get a note that starts with, Hey, you. I’m thinking about you, and ends with some metaphor about how your presence makes the world brighter, even when he’s knee-deep in chaos.

You’d find trinkets, too—maybe a small charm he found that reminded him of you or a pressed flower from somewhere he thought was pretty. It’s the little things that would make your day and remind you that, no matter what chaos he’s wrapped up in with the Revolutionary Army, you’re always on his mind. And when you’d look up at him, cheeks flushed from finding yet another one of his notes or small gifts, Sabo would just grin that charming, lopsided grin and say, “Did you find it? Good. I meant every word.”

He’s protective, thoughtful, and romantic in a way that feels like it’s tailored just for you. And even if he’s balancing the weight of revolutions and strategic plans, Sabo makes sure you know that you’re not just part of his life—you’re the best part.

[mydearlybeloathed]

── ᴘᴀʀᴅᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: usually, he hates being bothered when at work--unless its you, of course.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: dan heng x gn!reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.7k

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: nothing to note

𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕙𝕤𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

A knock on the archives door jolted Dan Heng from his thoughts, gaze lazily gliding to the source. He blinked, eyes threatening to slam shut under the weight of exhaustion. Again, a soft rapping of knuckles spooked him to life, along with a gentle, “Dan Heng?”

You were always so gentle with him, even when he didn’t deserve it—even when he pushed you away like he had that evening. Just before you knocked on the door Dan Heng replayed the crestfallen look in your eyes as he snapped at you and locked himself away.

“Come in.”

The door slid open and there you stood in all your glory. Dan Heng held his breath, lest you realize how it always hitched at the sight of you. This hold you held over him was both infuriating and encapsulating, and he couldn’t afford to let you become aware of how deep it flowed.

You offered him a scant smile, stepping inside and casting a disapproving look around. You didn’t approve of him making the archives his room—you’d told him so several times since you joined the Express. Shaking your head, you swept over to stand over where Dan Heng sat on his makeshift bed. 

“Busy?” you quipped, tilting your head.

“Not anymore,” said Dan Heng, suppressing a grin. 

Your smile became more natural, not tentative like you approached a creature that might skitter off at any moment. You took to standing at his side, hands behind your back as you scanned over the expansive archives. “Having fun?”

While you didn’t particularly understand how organizing information in the archives could be fun, you still smiled every time he answered a mumbling yes. You knelt down, arms folded atop your knees, and quickly lost your balance. You yelped as you tilted into him, giggling away as Dan Heng instantly reached to steady you, winding up with you half on his lap with his arms around your shoulders.

You seemed to be all too pleased with this outcome, a sneaky grin on your face. You relaxed entirely, laying your head in his crossed lap and folding your arms over your chest, gazing up at him softly. Meanwhile, Dan Heng sat stiff as a board, barely breathing, until you gently reached up and tapped the tip of his nose. He blinked quickly, abruptly jerking his neck to stare down at you, and all at once his shoulders, arms, and chest sagged in content. 

He would never be used to this, he thinks. Being with you. Dan Heng barely withheld a shiver when he began to play with your fingers, momentarily occupied before turning half of his attention back to his task; the other half still clutched onto your hand. He was always a quick learner, so he swiftly got the hang of one-handed typing. 

“Dan Heng?”

He glanced down. Your eyes fluttered, absently fiddling with his hand. “Yes?”

“Could I sleep here tonight?” Oh, if only you knew what kind of acrobatics his heart was doing now.

He nodded, tight lipped, his voice huskier as if holding back what he really wanted to say. “Of course. You’re always welcome.”

You gave him a dopey sort of smile and dropped your hands on your chest. You liked to think you had him figured out by now, knowing all his little tells and just what was going on in that busy head of his. Reaching to take his hand, you wrapped it in both of yours, reveling in his soft gasp as the warmth of your skin chased away his cold. 

Shifting to curl further into him, you clutched his hand to your chest, closing your eyes and releasing a gentle sigh. All Dan Heng could do was stare down in awe. This… understanding between you had been going on for some time, long enough for Dan Heng to lose that shock whenever his heart stopped around you. Still, he liked to think he held some of his cards loosely to his chest…

But now it was quite obvious; you weren’t bothered by his aloofness… because you saw right through him. And as Dan Heng quietly shut down his work and shuffled around to lay on his cot, pulling you to rest against his chest, he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

[sixosix]

requested by anon!! hope u enjoy, warning for profanity, fluff

As soon as Wanderer’s eyes laid upon the ball of fluff in your palms, he had said with a disdainful glare to “discard of that at once.”

But you aren’t having any of it. The little kitten curled up by your chest is looking up at you so adorably that you simply can’t discard it, no matter what your boyfriend might say. In fact, the shade of the cat reminds you of his eyes—but saying that would provoke him further, and you’re already on thin ice, letting the cute stray run around your shared home while he makes a face at each sight of its fur.

You coo as the kitten licks your nose when you hold him up to your face. “Do I name him after you? Can I name him after you? I’m naming him after you.”

His eyes narrow, glaring at the impossibly tiny space between you and the animal. “You are not naming it after me.”

“Kuni,” you negotiate. Not that he has a choice anyway because you already have your mind set on it. “Kuni, baby, are you hungry? Do you want some food?”

Your Kunikuzushi bristles, hackles rising. “Seriously? You’re doing this?”

The cat, as if beckoned by his voice, paws at him. “Meow,” the little kitten says softly. Wanderer, to the cat’s dismay, doesn’t respond; he simply rises from his seat and leaves.

So it’s established that you’ve long accepted that Wanderer is not fond of your new pet.

A crying shame because the cat adores him. You don’t know if there’s anything deep to his hatred for your new stray or if he’s just jealous that your undivided attention is no longer on him, but you took pity and decided to own the responsibility of taking care of it.

Which makes it a surprise to come home one day and see your boyfriend nestled against your bed with the kitten curled up on his chest, meowing as he smiles faintly and rubs its head with a finger.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re hungry again?” he murmurs. If you had been in another room, you wouldn't have heard it yourself. “Don’t get too greedy.”

Your breath hitches, too afraid to shatter this moment by bursting into the room. Then again, you should’ve realized that the cat has been sticking too long around him too often without something at play. Perhaps the reason why it’s so fond of your boyfriend is because of secret tender moments like this.

“Your owner will get mad at me if I overfeed you,” he says conspiratorially, rubbing his finger against the cat’s chin while it purrs and nuzzles its face further into his palm for more.

Your heart melts, a tiny noise escaping your lips at the sight of the ever-so-haughty Wanderer on the bed, all but cuddling with your pet.

Wanderer’s eyes snap the crack of the door, perfectly meeting yours as if he knew all along that you were there. “Not a word.”

You gasp, enough to startle Wanderer and make him jump but not enough to wake the sleeping kitten on his hat. Lambad’s Tavern is a little empty, with only an adult or two hanging around to drink their sorrows away or loosen up to their heart's content. And you and your boyfriend are tucked in the far corner, where no one would bother to peep.

“Kunikuzushi!” you cry out, hands hovering around his head in panic. “Kuni, careful, what if Kuni falls?”

Kunikuzushi the human(?)’s face twists in confusion. “You should have never named it that.”

“Kuni,” you hiss as his movements have caused the cat to stir, yet miraculously not wake. “Don’t let him fall, ‘kay? God, I can’t bring myself to even leave my seat.”

He sighs, long and heavy. “I’m not going to drop him. Have more faith in me, will you? I have a better sense of balance than any of you in this Tavern combined.”

“But what if he falls and you accidentally attack him by trying to save him?”

“I’m not gonna wind blade the fucking cat.”

You’re staring at the kitten, who is, unfortunately, looking all too much at home on Wanderer’s hat as if it’s more comfortable than his own bed at home. It’s even worse that Wanderer spoils the cat rotten and lets him sleep wherever he wants. Now, wherever he walks, he has a tiny animal asleep on the top of his head.

Wanderer huffs, squeezing your mouth with a hand to prevent you from arguing. “If you love the cat, you will get us food and avoid waking it up with your yapping, got it?”

“Aw,” you smile, “you don’t wanna wake him up?”

He scowls. “Are you going to let us starve?”

The sight of him and the kitten looks too adorable. You can’t resist from agreeing to whatever Kuni the human is ordering you to do. You rise from your seat, leaving but not forgetting to kiss the cat’s head and Wanderer’s cheek, who flushes brightly and grumbles but doesn’t complain.

[checosbluespring]

finally → ln4

lando norris x plus size!fem reader

genre: best friends to lovers

cw: 18+ MDNI, smut, p in v, oral (fem receiving), slight angst, slight dom lando, slight dirty talk, pls let me know if I am forgetting anything

word count: 4.9k

sidenote: hi everyone! this is my first fanfic that I have ever written so please excuse if its not the best, I hope to get better with time. I want to take requests so if ya'll have any lmk! this is also not beta read, sorry if there are little mistakes. I also tried to not make the reader self deprecating but insecurities are a thing so it was a bit hard to find a balance.

♡♡♡♡

You and Lando had been friends for as long as you could remember. It was a crucial part of your weekends growing up hoping in the car with his family and watching his karting tournaments. You knew from a very young age Lando would be one of the greats, he would make it to f1. That always scared you, not because you didn't want him to achieve his dreams but because you were scared of losing him. But throughout your friendship he had stayed loyal to you. 

Growing up, it was like Lando was your protector, he still kinda is to be honest. You were a big girl, there was no hiding it. Now that you are older, you’ve began to love and accept your body, but it took a lot of practice. So much so that even Lando has had his fair share of putting his two cents in. He was never embarrassed of you or tried to hide you away, even as he got more popular. 

You remember when you were around 15, you were sitting in the stands next to his mom when you overheard some of the other drivers' friends talk about you.

 “God how is he not embarrassed to be hanging out with someone who looks like her” and so on. You had felt mortified that day, you went home and cried to your mom. When the next weekend came you made up an excuse why you couldn't go and the same went on for the next couple of weekends until Lando showed up at your doorstep. 

“You're ignoring me, and don't say you aren't” said a pouty 15 year old Lando. “I'm not ignoring you, Lando, just maybe it's best if I don't go to all your karting tournaments”. You immediately regret what came out of your mouth because the last thing you ever wanted was to make Lando feel like you have, less than. 

“Who are you to decide what's best and what isn't?” you weren't used to this type of Lando, he never got mad at you or raised his voice. Being the emotional teenager you were, tears welled in your eyes and a few strayed away down your cheeks. Suddenly Lando grabbed you and pulled you into a hug. You have always been bigger than him but shorter as well. You felt small in his embrace. Even if in the back of your head you knew that was a lie.  “What happened y/n, tell me so I can make this better”

“ I don't want to embarrass you” you said into his chest. “embarrass me how?”. 

“I overheard some of the other driver's friends talking about me and my weight, and they are right, I don't want to embarrass you, racing is your life, Lando, I can’t ruin that”.

 You felt his chest rise and fall. “Tell me who told you that, now” he said in a cold distant tone, Lando never got angry, except on the track. “No I'm not going to tell you, because I don’t need you getting in trouble”. He looked a bit deflated after you refused to tell him but he continued to talk.

 “Y/n listen to me, you are one of the best things to happen to me, your weight has and will not ever matter to me. The fact that you think it would tells me that I haven’t been doing a good enough job at showing you how much you mean to me. Racing these past weekends without you have been hell, i need you, you are my best friend” the friend part rings in your ears. You realize that’s what you’ll only ever be to him - a friend. Even if you desperately wanted more.

Things get a lot better after that. You got to his tournaments loud and proud, and now 9 years later you are still doing the same. The problem is that you are still desperately in love with your best friend. Having to see Lando date girls who looked nothing like you made you feel a pit in your stomach. You knew you never had a chance with him, but it hurt so bad. The kind of hurt that made you want to cry and throw up. You couldn’t lose him though, so you played the role as his bigger best friend, that he just couldn’t shake off.

Lando once called you his good luck charm, saying that race weekends where you weren’t in the grandstands were ten times harder. Once he made it to formula 1  it made it harder to go to all his races, but you tried. Even when Lando would have his girlfriends you were still there, sitting right next to them. If people knew how you felt, they would pity you. That’s why you knew it was time to try and find a boyfriend, you couldn’t pine after Lando for the rest of your life, even if your heart wanted to. 

As you’ve gotten older you’ve learned to love and embrace your body. You know you looked good when you put on a dress that showed your thick thighs. Every race weekend you are dressed to the nines, make up, hair, everything done. You do this for yourself but also because you want to look good for Lando even if you tell yourself that’s not the reason. 

It wasn’t until this year you finally started taking dating seriously. At Silverstone this year, Lando had given you paddock tickets. You always tried to deny them by saying it was important that his family had paddock tickets but he insisted. This is when you met Mark, one of mclarens engineers. He was sweet, funny enough, tall, cute, everything a girl could want, but he wasn’t Lando. You followed him though on instagram because you told yourself you were not gonna pine over Lando this year, you were gonna find a partner who loved and supported you. 

It didn’t take long before Lando had found out that you were following each other. Asking curious questions “hey how do you and mark know each other?” He questioned. “oh we met at silver stone and he asked to follow” in hindsight maybe you shouldn’t have told him that because he proceeds to tell you how Mark is a terrible person, boring, mean all of the above. A part of you knew Lando was lying but you wouldn’t jeopardize his career by dating one of his race engineers.

It’s race weekend in Austin and you were able to fly out and watch Lando race. He had an amazing race, to celebrate he wanted to go clubbing which was a rare occasion after his DJing side career. You looked in the mirror before you left your room and you looked so good. Your dress showed off all your features and your makeup looked great. You weren’t the type for one night stands but you were gonna find someone tonight.

After arriving at the club with Lando and his friends you found yourself alone at the bar. Lando was a popular person and you don't need his attention constantly. You took this opportunity to look cute and hopefully approachable. It wasn't long before a guy had offered to buy you a drink, and another one, and another one. After your third vodka cranberry you had started to feel tipsy but you were still fully aware of your surroundings so when the handsome guy in front of you pulled you on the dance floor you obliged.

You felt good and it was rare you ever let yourself go like this. The club started playing Spanish music and you found yourself grinding on this stranger. Your body felt flushed, like you needed to be touched and this random man was doing the trick. His hand gripped tightly on your hips and his head placed between the junction of your neck and shoulder placing hungry kisses. Just as you are about to suggest you guys get out of here, a pair of strong hands pulls you out of the man's grip. “Come on y/n where are leaving, the cars are here” Lando whispered in your ear, you couldn’t quite place his tone. 

“It’s okay Lando, you go ahead I’ll meet you guys there” you said hoping he got the hint but of course he didn’t. “No i'm not leaving you alone with this guy, come on let’s go” he said, slightly tugging at you. The random guy, whose name you still don’t know, steps in,  “dude she doesn’t want to go, let her stay with me”. You see something shift in Lando, something possessive? “Mate she’s mine so I suggest backing the fuck off”. 

That sobered you up real quick. Instead of feeling happy he called you his, you were fueming. He had no right to do that, he wants to cockblock you and for what. At this point you walk past them and head towards the exit, it’s not long before Lando is at your side in the car trying to talk to you. “Y/n I’m sorry, talk to me”, you don’t, you ignore him the entire way back to the hotel. You let tears fall down your face because all you wanted was to have a random hookup, something that you could leave back in the states and forget about, someone that you didn’t have to worry about his opinion on your weight afterwards. But Lando went and did this and you don’t know why.

He followed you to your hotel room and you finally let him have it. “ How dare you do that, you had no right to do that Lando” he opens his mouth to say something but you stop him. “ No, let me talk, I just wanted one night where I could be with a guy carefree and not have to worry about what others thought, Lando I’m a grown adult I don’t need you to save me, you don’t understand what it’s like to be like me. I love you Lando but I can’t keep myself available forever hoping and waiting that you’ll finally love me ". That last part wasn’t meant to come out but you were so mad at him you didn’t care. 

You see a shift in his face. “You can’t say I’m yours when I’m not, because I never have been, the girls that are yours don’t look like me Lando. And I’ve accepted that because I love you and will always support you, even if it feels like there is a knife digging in my chest every time I see you with a new girl”. Tears again are welling in your eyes but you are doing your best not to let them fall. 

“I love you Lando but I can’t be your friend if you don’t let me go, you can’t keep stringing me along as your best friend who acts like your girlfriend, do you know how pathetic I look next to your past girlfriends, pining after you. I was the one who made sure you were prepared before every race, I  was the one who stayed up late picking you up from clubs, I was the one who held your neck up after your first F1 race because it hurt so bad. Not once did I ever ask for something in return because you are my best friend and I love you, but Lando I’m begging you, I can’t be alone forever you need to let me try and be with someone. You mean the world to me Lando and I need you in my life, but I can’t go on like this” he looked stunned. But found the words he wanted to say.

“Can i talk now y/n” he looked angry, you nodded. “Not once have I ever forced you to be there for me, but I know you were there because you cared for me and I care for you too, even though you think I don’t. But not once have I ever wanted you to feel pity or pathetic, y/n you are the most important woman in my life besides my mom and sisters but you mean everything to me and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it. Seeing you with that guy made me physically sick, not because of how you guys looked, god y/n you looked so good tonight but he was grabbing on you and touching you, but I knew I couldn’t be mad because he was doing what I have been wanting to do for years, he just had the balls to do it, oh my god I can’t believe you thought I would ever think of you like that, y/n I’m in love with you and I have been for years, I was just too much of a coward to show it, I want you to be mine” 

In that moment everything seemed like it would be okay, you didn’t think about what the press would think or his other friends, all that mattered was him. You nodded. “Lando that’s all I’ve ever wanted was to be yours” before you knew it he was walking towards you and placing you in a firm kiss. 

You have had your fair share of kisses but none of them like this, this kiss made your knees weak, it made you want to crumble to the ground. He moved his hand from your cheeks down to your waist giving them a hard squeeze, sending shocks of pleasure down your pelvic area. 

You both pull away panting when he places his forehead on yours, “you don’t know how mad I got when he was touching you, the way you let him grind up on you and kiss your neck, I wanted to beat the shit out of him”. You rebuttal by saying “while now you know how I’ve felt for years seeing you with girls, even the ones who talked shit about me, I wanted to fight them all”. 

This seemed to catch Lando by surprise “which ones talked shit about you?” “Babes half of them did, I chalked it up to them being jealous but it didn’t hurt any less”. “Fuck y/n I’m so sorry I never even loved any of them that’s the worst part of it, I was just trying to feel a void in my heart”. You went to hug him, placing your head on his chest. 

“Y/n I’m sorry I was an idiot and it took this long for me to realize my feelings and I’m sorry you got hurt in the process” said Lando

“No don’t apologize, deep down a part of me knew that if we were ever together, it would make things harder for your career, you would get so much hate” 

“Even if it did, I would walk to the ends of the earth for you, no public option would change that” 

Something hot grew inside of you and you crashed your lips to his, you wanted him. He fisted his hand in your hair lightly pulling it, that made you moan into his mouth. You could feel him smirk. Your hands settled under his shirt, mostly because your hands are cold but because you want to feel him. All of a sudden Landos hands traveled their way down your back and settled on your ass, gripping hard he stopped kissing you and whispered, “this ass is mine, don’t forget that”. You gasp and nod, you want nothing more than for Lando to take you right now. 

You slow down your kiss to talk “ Lando I want you so bad” “ I do to baby” with that you start to pull off his shirt showing his toned chest. It’s not like you’ve never seen him shirtless before because you have but this was different. You stare “you like what you see baby?” lando asked in a teasing tone. You bite your lip and nod. 

Lando starts to take your dress off and you panic. You grab his hands, “wait can I keep my dress on”

Lando gives you a look, and you can already tell what's going to come out of his mouth. You want to stop him because he knows you are pretty and your body is pretty but being naked in front of your best friend of 17 plus years is intimate. And it's not that you don't trust him but you can't help but feel the slightest bit insecure. Let's be honest you knew deep down Lando has never been with a girl who looked like you. Lando starts to say “if you want to keep it on you can, I would never pressure you to take it off but I want you to know I think you are the prettiest girl in the world. You don’t know how hot and bothered you would get me showing up to race weekends dressed in short skirts and your tits about to pop out”. In the back of your head you want to keep hearing his vulgar mouth, it does something to you. In response, you nod, slowly taking off your dress. You were left in nothing but your bra and underwear. “Fuck” you hear Lando whisper. Suddenly he’s attacking your neck, leaving harsh kisses.

You feel his stubble, his goatee rubs against the base of your neck. “You look so fucking good y/n, can’t wait to have you wrapped around me” You feel yourself get shy, you’ve thought about this moment a lot and now that it’s finally happening you want to do so much. Lando seems to notice your timidness and asks what’s wrong. “Nothing, I’ve just played this up in my head so much I want to be good for you” you reply. 

“Yeah you want to be my good girl huh? Don’t worry baby I have no doubt in my mind you are going to be amazing and listen to me” you feel yourself falling into a submissive space.

Lando continues to kiss you all while walking you both to the bed and gently laying you down. You have your hands loosely attached around his neck, so him breaking away is no surprise. “Gonna eat you out baby, can I?” Lando asks licking his lips

You nod your head furiously, it’s been forever since the last time you’ve had sex and even longer since someone has gone down on you.

As Lando kisses his way down your body, you feel a flood of wetness starting to pull at your core. Your body felt like it was on fire. “Lift your hips up” he commanded. You listen and do what is asked.

You feel the cool air make contact with your pussy, sending shivers all throughout your body. “You have such a pretty pussy, so wet just for me huh? I bet you taste so good y/n'' Lando speaks in a seductive tone. 

All you can do is let out a strangled whine. Desperate to have his mouth on you. He makes you wait a bit longer, he’s a tease at heart and you knew this. He sends kisses up and down your thighs, your stomach. Finally he places a kiss directly on your clit and proceeds to blow a puff of air. “Please Lando please, I need you” you beg, who knew you would be this far gone. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take care of you” and with that he attaches his lips around your clit sucking lightly. This makes you arch your back and your hands fly into his hair, gripping it tight. It’s almost too much, he notices and starts to lick around your vulva getting you more wet than you already were. 

You are a moaning mess at this point, your hands keep pulling at his hair getting a moan out of him. He looks up at you and asks “gonna stick my fingers in you is that okay” you already feel so fucked out that all you can do is nod dumbly. 

You feel his middle finger slowly sink into your heat. Lando didn’t have the thickest fingers but they were long, you let out a gasp when the single digit sinks in.

Lando continues to suck and lick around your clit. It’s not long before you start to feel a coil tighten in your lower stomach. If he continues to do what he’s doing you know you are going to come within the matter of minutes. It almost makes you sad because if this was a one time thing, you want to come around his cock, to be close with him. You open your mouth to voice your concern “Lando I’m going to come soon, stop, wanna come around your cock” 

He looks up at you, “you can come more than once right? Want you to come all over my face then again on my cock. You can do that right? You can be a good girl for me”. You nod desperately, his words send you further over the edge. You feel his lips engulf your clit and moan sending vibrations throughout your body. He has since added another finger slowly rocking back and forth into you. 

You feel your coil snap and a gush of wetness leaves you. You couldn’t even announce that you were coming but Lando got the gist. But he wanted to be a little bastard and play rough. He continued to suck and lick around your bundle of nerves, despite you being sensitive from your orgasm. You whine and try to close your legs around his head. But he only forces them open with his hand. 

“Lan please, I want your cock, wanna come again” you hear yourself slur your words. You don’t care at this point because all you want is to feel his body flush against yours. 

“How can I say no to you, pretty girl” when Lando  comes face to face with you, you see how slick and wet his mouth and chin is. Something primal takes over you and you grab him roughly kissing and licking into his mouth. Lando moans into it and says “you like tasting yourself on me huh? You are so fucking dirty, who knew my best friend and the girl I am in love with would have such a nasty fucking mouth and like such dirty things”.

You can’t even bring yourself to reply because all you want right now is to have his cock in you.  You settle for a nod and slowly bring your hands down to his boxers and begin to pull. At some point when you can’t pull them off anymore, he takes over and does it. His cock springs out and all you can do is stare at it. 

You are a bit ashamed to say you had imagined what it looked like, but the real thing was 10 times better than what you could ever imagine. He was average in length, but thick and curved to the right slightly. He was well groomed just like you knew he would be. Your mouth watered at the sight, if you weren’t in such a hurry to have him in you, you could sit with him in your mouth for hours. You want to touch so you bring your hand to wrap around the base of his cock. 

The first drag up there is a little resistance because he is dry, so you reach down and grab some of your wetness and lubricate him up. This makes the motion go much smoother. When he sees you do this, he moans. “Fuck y/n you are so hot, I can’t believe we waited this long to do something. I need to be with you”. 

You want him to go bare but as much as you love Lando you know you both should be tested before you do it. “Condom?” You manage to croak out. He nods and hops over to his jeans and fishes one out of his wallet. You want to make fun of him for having one stashed away there but you let it slide. While he's doing this you pull off your bra, hoping to surprise him.

As he comes back to the bed his eyes are wide. “You have the prettiest tits y/n, they drive me crazy, I felt like such a perv getting hard in my fireproof seeing you in the paddock, talking away. You had no idea huh? No idea that you made me feel this way” he questioned

You shake your head no in response.

As he’s in front of you, you see him roll the condom over his shaft. This is really happening. “I want to see your face when you come, can we stay like this?” Lando questions. “Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way” you say in a soft tone. 

He slowly starts to enter you. The stretch is tight, it burns in the slightest. It feels like the air is being punched out of you. It’s been a while since you’ve had anyone in you so the burn is to be expected, but it’s not unwelcome. You grab Landos arm for support, he notices your discomfort. “Do you want me to stop, baby? You are so tight, you feel so good”. You shake your head, that’s the last thing you want. 

“No, just been a while since I’ve had anything in me, you are so thick just give me a minute to adjust” you say

“Of course, take your time” Lando says while kissing your neck, it helps distract you from the pain. He’s fully in now, it’s just a matter of when you are ready to let him move. You let your body adjust for about a minute when you say “you can move”.

Lando slowly starts to rock back and forth in you. The burn is still there but it’s a delicious kind of sensation. Something you feel like you could get addicted to. You look between your bodies and see your stomach. For once you like the contrast of how your bodies look together. Only Lando could ever make you feel this way, you were sure of it. 

You feel Lando breathing heavily into your neck, soft moans slipping out every so often. You can’t wait to do more with him. One particular trust has you clenching around him, he lifts his head and says “fuck you feel so good around me, like you were made for me y/n, you pull me in so good” 

This almost brings tears to your eyes, for so long you had been there for him, helped him through thick and thin and he’s always been grateful but his praise is making you melt, pushing you closer to the edge. 

Your hands are currently at his back slightly clawing away, you know you couldn’t leave marks but you needed something to grab on to. You felt so full, you knew in a matter of minutes you were gonna come around him. “I feel like i'm gonna come soon” you say. “Same, you feel to good around me I can’t hold it off much longer”

He reaches between your bodies and starts to rub your clit, slowly in circular motions. This sends a shot of pleasure through your body as a reaction you wrap your legs around him.

Suddenly he pulls all the way out and you begin to whine but he slams all the way back in. You moan at the abrupt roughness. He moves back and forth with vigor, determined to get you both off at the same time. 

“I'm gonna come” you say when you feel pleasure finally reaching its highpoint. You are clenching, you can feel it. Only seconds later Lando mumbles in your ear that he's reached his high as well. Taking a moment before he pulls out he kisses you all over, your cheeks, forehead, lips. You don't want to let him go but you know you need to go pee and he needs to take his condom off. 

When you both return to bed you nestle your face into his neck, his scruff scratching the side of your head. There was no other place in this world you would rather be than in his arms, and yeah that may sound dramatic but he was everything you wanted. 

He looked down at you with the warmest eyes. “You are amazing, you know that. If it wasn’t clear before, I want it all with you. You are everything y/n and it’s time for me to start showing you how much I love you and appreciate you. If you’re in, I’m in” 

“Of course I’m in you muppet” 

You bring your lips to his for a soft peck. For once in the 17 years of your friendship, everything seemed to finally feel like it was going to be okay, and you couldn’t wait for the wild adventure it would be to be Lando Norris’ girlfriend.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,773 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: The Whisperers Warnings: language, violence, references to injuries and blood Summary: Trouble arrives in the middle of the night. A/N: This is part of a series. You can find all parts on my Master List.

Previous part here

Daryl felt as if he’d just closed his eyes when they shot open again. Dog was beside him, growling. It was a low, warning growl, and his attention was fixed toward the back of the dark cabin. Daryl swung his legs onto the floor, planting his boots, and reached for his crossbow. The interior was cloaked in shadows, the fire having dwindled to coals covered over in a blanket of ash, but he was unsure of whether or not he should risk turning on the lantern on the little table in front of him. For now, he simply stood, butt of his bow tight to his shoulder, and strained his hearing. Dog let out another growl and stood, his ears sharp on alert. Daryl thought he could hear some faint rustling outside the back of the cabin, but it could be an animal for all he knew.

Then suddenly your bedroom door was opening and you stepped out, wide-eyed, clutching his knife in your hand. Achilles sat perched on your shoulder, his feather somewhat puffed up, making him look even larger than he already was. “What’s going on? I thought I heard something,” you whispered, realizing both Dog and Daryl were also awake and on guard.

Daryl only shook his head, still straining to hear anything over Dog’s continued low growl. You could barely make out the shape of him in the dark. Dog’s growling seemed to suddenly be growing louder and then it burst into a crescendo of barks, causing both of you to jump and Achilles to take off from your shoulder with a startled squawk. He soared somewhere into the darkness near the ceiling. Dog lunged toward the front door, snarling and barking, his hackles raised and teeth bared.

Your heart thudded loudly in your ears and time seemed to slow with each breath that dragged in and out of your lungs. But you didn’t have to wait long before the front door, already partially busted in earlier by Daryl, was now completely ripped from its hinges. A figure charged forward, the glint of a long silver knife breaking through the darkness. Dog was on them in an instant and a strangled scream rippled through the air as his teeth sunk into the arm wielding the weapon. Dog dragged them to the ground and Daryl followed up with a bow shot to the head, impressive considering how dark it was.

You hardly had time to process what was happening before two more silhouettes were hurrying in. The moonlight now streaming in through the open door at least allowed the two of you to better see the attackers and the wrinkled and grotesque skins over their faces made it clear who they were. Daryl was rounding on the second figure with his bow as the third charged toward you. He had no time to reload a bolt and dropped it to the floor, drawing out his knife.

You stepped back as the last Shepherd rushed you and you only had time to reflexively duck the broad stroke of their knife, sinking down almost to the floor as your torso erupted with pain. Achilles swooped low over their head and struck them with his feet before disappearing again into the darkness overhead. You must have called out, and that was enough to draw Daryl’s attention away from his own fight. “Y/N!” he called out. “Hang on!” A fist connected with the side of his face, knocking him slightly off balance. Dog lunged at Daryl’s attacker and sunk his teeth into the Whisperer’s leg, causing them to drop their knife. Daryl plunged his blade into the side of their head and the figure went limp.

When he again turned, his stomach dropped. The last Whisperer had you pinned on the floor with your back against the stone hearth, the edge of it digging into your shoulder blades and spine. You were struggling to keep their knife away from your chest, shaking with the strain of it, your teeth gritting together. Daryl turned to grab his bow and fumbled with the bolt he pulled from the body of the first intruder, rushing to set it in the flight groove with hands shaky with adrenaline.

Your strength was waning rapidly and you could see and feel the point of the knife getting closer and closer to your chest. You looked around desperately, your mind whirring as you searched for a plan. Daryl’s knife had clattered away on the floor and you suspected it had gone under the couch, well out of easy reach. You did the only thing you could think of—continuing to block the attack with your dominant hand, you used the other to reach into the fireplace and plunged your fingers into the still smoking pile of ash and hidden coals. The heat seared your skin but you hardly felt it as you reeled back around and ground it into the eyes of the Shepherd leaning over you. They recoiled and dropped their knife, screaming and stumbling backwards blindly. You scrambled forward on your hands and knees, propelled by the instinct and will to survive, and grabbed hold of their knife off the rug. You swiftly jumped up and plunged it into their chest at the exact same moment the characteristic sound of Daryl’s bolt snapped through the air and buried itself into their head. The body dropped heavily.

You collapsed back down onto the floor yourself, your chest heaving. Achilles landed beside you, cawing and picking at your sleeve with his bill, turning his glossy head and bright eyes this way and that. Daryl rushed over to you, clicking on the lantern as he passed the coffee table, his expression grim. “Fuckin’ hell… Are ya okay?”

You hurriedly nodded, still completely unaware of the damage to your hand, though you were instinctively cradling it with the other. He nodded, though looked unconvinced. You watched as Daryl charged back to stand in the doorway, peering out into the night. He whistled to Dog and the Malinois took off outside, Daryl moving behind him with his bow, checking for any others. Not that he could be 100% sure… the surrounding trees cast the understory in deep shadow and only slender fingers of moonlight reached the forest floor. But Dog seemed calm and trotted back to his side, unconcerned, not a single hair prickling on his back, and that gave Daryl some comfort.

He let out a huge sigh and dropped his bow to his side, shutting his eyes for a brief moment before crossing the little porch and stepping back in. He glanced at the shattered door and then back to you, where you were still on the floor trying to catch your breath. He could see that you were shaking, probably with adrenaline but perhaps also from residual and now new pain.

After he dragged the bodies outside, he shoved the door back in place as best he could and then pushed a heavy wood desk in front of it as a makeshift barricade. He made his way over to you and you looked up at him, your eyes still a little wide. Daryl gulped. “Can I help ya up?”

You nodded slowly. You’d already tried to right yourself, but your side and ribs protested too much and your muscles gave out.

Daryl gripped you gently under the elbows and helped you to your feet. He stood you up merely 6 inches from him, his fingers not leaving until he was sure you were steady. “Alrigh’. C’mon and sit down,” he drawled, guiding you over to the couch. His hand ghosted behind your back the whole way.

He helped you sink down onto the couch carefully, though you still winced a little, and then arranged himself beside you. He leaned his bow up against the couch. “Lemme see that hand,” he said, his brow furrowing deeply. Daryl put his own palm out flat on his knee, waiting for you to make the first move. You eyed it, slowly uncurling your uninjured hand from around the other. “If—if tha’s alrigh?” he asked.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face and between his concerned blue eyes and then you laid your hand in his, a peculiar sensation prickling in your stomach.

He drew in a hiss of breath as your fingers uncurled and he pulled the lantern over more closely. Achilles took off from the top of armoire in the corner again and came to land on the back of the couch behind you, looking over what was happening. “Shit,” Daryl murmured, turning your wrist gently in the light so he could better see. There were shiny red patches scattered over your palm and fingers, interspersed with areas that were blistered or gray with scorched skin.

You seemed to be looking on impassively as he examined you, the back of your hand flush against his rough palm. You worried your bottom lip with your top teeth absently. His touch was surprisingly gentle considering the ferocity with which you’d just seen him fight.

“Fuck,” he swore again, softly, his eyes closing for just a moment against the image of your burned hand. “‘M sorry. I shoulda been faster,” he said.

You looked up at him again, with surprise this time. “This isn’t your fault,” you said, shaking your head. “It was them. The Shepherds.”

He sighed and relinquished his gentle hold on your hand. “‘M still sorry,” he said. “I’ll get some cool water from the kitchen. We should bathe this and wrap it in some sterile bandages to keep it from getting infected.” He dug in his pack and drew out a flashlight and set out some supplies from his first aid kit.

“Daryl—there should be a small, brown glass bottle with an eyedropper in the top of the pantry,” you said suddenly. “It’s lavender essential oil. You can add a few drops to the water. It’s good for burns,” you said. He nodded and then stood and you watched his broad shoulders and the wings on the back of his vest disappear into the kitchen.

Achilles hopped closer and wiggled his long bill into your hair, tickling you. You turned and looked at him. He cocked his head at you and let out a low grating sound. “I’m okay,” you whispered to the bird, scratching behind his head gently with two fingers. “I’m okay.”

Daryl returned with a bowl of cold water and a clean cloth. He sank down on the couch again and set the bowl between you, swirling the cloth through the dispersed sheen of lavender oil on the surface. “Alrigh’. Should help,” he drawled. “S’pretty cold.”

You sunk your hand into the water and couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left your lips, your eyes closing as the coolness quenched the burning. You held it below the water surface, watching the shifting shapes and colors of the reflected room wavering in the bowl.

Daryl’s eyes were fixed on your wrist, on an angry red mark cutting across perpendicular just below your sleeve. “Can I take a look at that?” he asked, gesturing to it.

“Oh,” you said. You hadn’t even noticed it before. “Yes.”

He nudged your sleeve up and stared at the burn. “Must be from the fireplace grate,” he said, dipping the cloth into the cold water and lifting it to let it trickle over the wound. He barely pressed the cotton across it, and you felt the satisfying coldness slowly growing warmer and warmer. Daryl dunked the cloth again and repeated the process, over and over.

“Luke and Alden were righ’,” he said suddenly.

Your brow furrowed and you gave him an unreadable look. “Hmm. What do you mean? About what?”

“‘Bout you bein’ a badass,” he said, dipping the cloth back into the cool water again and replacing it on your wrist. “I mean—I kinda suspected it from what they said ‘bout you fighting out there, and then ya punched me in the face… Pretty much cemented it right there. But this? Badass.” You could tell he was attempting to lighten the mood.

Your expression changed, softened, and you shook your head. “No. I’m not. I’m just—trying to stay alive, like everyone else.”

“Not ev’rybody would think to shove their hand in a pile of coals, damn the consequences,” he said.

You didn’t say anything and he let the silence stretch. Finally, he gently lifted your hand from under the water and set it on a towel he’d tucked beneath, dabbing at the skin delicately to dry it. It was peculiar, having someone else tending to you in this way after so much time alone. You didn’t quite know what to do with the restless energy building up in your midsection or with your facial expression. He grabbed a roll of sterile bandaging and ripped it open, starting to wrap it over your palm and up around your wrist.

“They know ‘bout this place? Before, I mean,” he said.

You shook your head. “No. They didn’t. I don’t think so. I haven’t stayed here in a very long time. They must have been watching us today, followed us here. Wouldn’t exactly have been hard. I was slow. And not alone,” you said. “Traveling openly on the ground.”

Daryl felt a twinge of guilt, but it was quickly followed by the realization that they perhaps still would have found you if you had been alone, and then it would have been you trying to fight off three of them while injured, and what if you’d been hurt worse? He cleared his throat. “How is the rest of you?” he asked.

You gave him a questioning look, not realizing at first what he’d asked as you were lost in your own thoughts about the Shepherds.

“Your stitches, your forearm? Your head? Alrigh’? Nothin’ bleedin’ again?”

“Oh. No. No, I’m alright,” you said, glancing down at your side to make sure you truly weren’t bleeding again through your shirt. You weren’t. “Just—sore. And tired,” you sighed.

He nodded and tucked the end of the gauze underneath itself when he was satisfied that your hand was well wrapped. “Yeah… ya should get some more rest. ‘M gonna sit up a while, stay on watch. Just in case there are any more of them. Dog will hear ‘em if there are, and I’ll be ready this time,” he drawled.

You nodded as he set the bowl of water on the table and dimmed the lantern. He climbed to his feet and hesitantly offered you some help getting up again, which you accepted. The aches in the rest of your body seemed even more pronounced now, and the hum of pain in your hand was sharpening. “Achilles,” you said softly, and the bird fluttered up onto your shoulder again. You glanced at Daryl, standing in front of the couch.

“Thanks. For patching me up,” you said.

He nodded and then started—struck with a thought. “Where’s yer knife at?” he drawled, glancing around.

“You mean your knife?” you said. One of his matching set. “I’m not sure. It slid away somewhere when I fell. I thought under the couch maybe?”

Daryl grabbed his flashlight again and shown it around the floor, finally spotting the handle poking out from under the side table by the back leg of the sofa. He retrieved it and held it out to you. “Ya better keep this close. Just in case,” he said.

You accepted it with a nod. “Night,” you said. “Um—I think I’ll leave the bedroom door open this time, if that’s alright,” you said. “That way I’ll hear Dog if he alerts. Just in case.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Course.”

“Okay. See you in the morning.”

Daryl watched your figure become swallowed up in the darkness of the bedroom and waited until he heard the silky rustling of the blankets. He let out a heavy sigh, his anxiety finally seeming to ebb completely. “Good dog,” he murmured, patting the Malinois as he passed him on the rug in front of the fireplace. The deep crimson swipe marks of blood on the wooden floor looked almost black in the low light and he cast them a sideways glance. He could still see the scattering of fine gray snow sticking to the drying blood from your desperate defense. His stomach churned. Then he turned back to the fireplace, blew the ashes from the coals, and added another log, ready to start his vigil.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning had you wandering out of the bedroom in a bit of a daze, wondering at first if you’d dreamt the Shepherds attack in the night, but the bandage and stinging of your hand told you otherwise. There was clattering in the kitchen and you stopped in the doorway to see Daryl at the little gas stove, a flame flickering under a big cast iron pan.

“Hey,” he said, finally realizing you were there. “Sorry. Was I bein’ too loud? Did I wake ya up?”

You shook your head. “No.” Dog trotted over to you and nudged your hand until you scratched behind his ears. He let out a satisfied noise when you hit the right spot and you couldn’t help smiling.

Daryl saw it. His eyes flickered over your face and back down to Dog. “Dun let him boss ya ‘round. He’ll have ya workin’ overtime on scratches,” he said.

Your smile widened just a little, but your eyes stayed on Dog. “I don’t mind,” you said.

“Where’s Achilles at?” he asked, noticing the raven’s absence.

“Out flying,” you said. “He needed to stretch his wings, and he’ll tell us if he sees any dead or people.”

Daryl nodded and stirred around whatever was steaming in the pan. “Uhh—I made some breakfast. And the kettle is hot,” he said. You wandered closer and grabbed a mug from a hook on the wall and glanced down at the food. “Yeah, uhh…” he drawled hesitantly, “hopefully it tastes better than it looks… ‘cause… it looks—”

“—like shit,” you interrupted him. It was a semi-liquid, semi-solid brown concoction bubbling in the bottom of the pan.

He glanced up and met your eyes and you both smiled a little, amused. Daryl let out a low huff of a laugh and stirred it around with the spatula again. “Yeah,” he said, scratching at the back of his head. “Hey, I never said I was a good cook.”

“But it’ll be edible,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “Last night’s was actually pretty good.” You went to the pantry and pulled out a jar of dried leaves and rose hips. You were staring down at it and then looked over at your bandaged hand. It stung and burned beneath the gauze.

Daryl was watching closely and set down the spatula. He gently took the mason jar from you and opened it up. “How is it?” he drawled. “Yer hand. And the rest of ya?”

“It’s—okay.”

Your hesitation was enough to make him worry. His brow furrowed as he handed you back the jar of tea leaves. “Prob’ly should change the bandage later today and check it over,” he said. “What about the rest, from the fight with Alpha?”

“I’m fine. Really. Just a little sore.” You dropped some leaves into your mug and Daryl grabbed the kettle before you could and poured the hot water into your cup. “Thanks,” you said.

You went and sat down (gingerly) at the little kitchen table and watched him busy himself at the stove for a little while longer. You stared as the wings on the back of his vest moved as he shifted. “Are you some kind of angel?” you asked.

“Huh?” He turned slightly to look at you over his shoulder.

“Your vest,” you said. “The wings.”

He shrugged. “S’just a design.”

“I don’t know. You seem like the hero type to me,” you said, blowing at the curls of steam rising off your tea.

Daryl gulped, completely unsure of how to interpret that. Was that supposed to be an... insult? A compliment? But suddenly you were smiling and then let out a light laugh at the expression on his face.

“Are you?”

He turned fully now, spatula still in his hand, and leaned back against the counter. “S’this some kinda test? Or—trick question?”

You set your mug down, warming your uninjured hand around the ceramic. “It’s just a question.”

He gave you a long look, and his blue eyes were intense but thoughtful. Something happened in that moment. It was just a feeling, but it bubbled up in your chest unexpectedly, and you found yourself almost startled at it. Connection. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Or was it something more than just a simple human connection. It felt different somehow.

At length, he ducked his head. “Nah, I ain’t no hero. I just—try to do what I can for my people.”

“I’m not your people,” you said quickly. “But you sat at my bedside, tried to calm me down, gave me your knife, attached yourself to me like a fucking barnacle... oh, and probably saved my life last night when those Shepherds busted in.” There was a pregnant pause for a moment where the air felt thick and electric. “You patched up my hand. You seem like you worry about me, which I can’t understand because—”

Daryl let out a sigh that you thought sounded annoyed if that was possible. “Ya are my people now.”

There was a beat before you could find your voice. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“I didn’t say ya did. Tha’s just how it works with us. Ya saved me and Dog, and ya saved Luke and Alden, even though it almost killed ya. As far as ‘m concerned, yer one of our people now. Even if ya dun think ya are. Tough shit. Deal with it,” he said with finality. He turned back to the food and you watched him curiously.

Soon, the two of you sat across from each other, almost bumping knees, and ate in silence.

Later that day, Daryl came back from hauling more water from the well to find you standing out in the open, staring out at the trees. He stopped beside you and set down the bucket. “Ev’rythin’ alrigh’?” he asked, following your gaze out toward the canopy.

You nodded. “Yeah. Achilles should be back soon.”

But the expression on your face had him worried. “Ya think more of ‘em are out there?” he asked.

“Oh, they’re out there. But hopefully not here,” you said. You looked over at him and his eyes seemed to land on the still dark bruise on your cheekbone and temple from Alpha’s boot. His face darkened. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine. You should be more worried about what’s happening back home,” you said. “If Alpha comes for her daughter—”

“Well, I ain’t back home. ‘M righ’ here. Tara and them can handle it.” He picked up the bucket again, irritated. The truth was that he was worried about what was happening back home. Henry was there. Jesus had just been killed. And they had a captive Skin freak in a cell. If only he could be in two places at once...

_ _ _ _ _ _

That night, Daryl couldn’t tell at first what woke him up. The cabin interior was nearly all deep black with the exception of a faint orange glow where the fire had dwindled down to coals cloaked in ashes. A soft sound brought his attention to the pile of old, faded newspapers stacked on the side of the hearth. He watched curiously as the corners of a few lifted in a current of air and fluttered before dropping into stillness again.

He sighed and rub a hand over his face, swinging his legs down onto the floor and planting his boots. He hadn’t even meant to fall asleep. He was still worried about more of those freaks showing up... His eyes drifted over to where Dog was curled up on the carpet in front of the fireplace. He raised his head at Daryl’s movement.

The newspaper fluttered again with the same soft sound and Daryl moved around the coffee table toward the hearth and grabbed a log. He blew the ashes clear resulting in a slightly brighter glow and stirred them with the end of the wood until it caught. Flames licked upward again, crawling over the dried bark and curling inside toward the heart of the wood.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the newspapers flutter again but this time it was accompanied by a cool breeze on his cheek. Considering how close he was to the fireplace and the direction of the draft, it didn’t make much sense. He held out a hand, stretching it toward the stack and cold air kissed his fingertips. It was coming from the direction of your closed door.

It didn’t make much sense that you would have opened a window… the night air was cold and the temperature inside the cabin was much more comfortable since you’d built the fire the evening before. Gulping anxiously, Daryl stood and went to stand at the door to the bedroom. He strained his hearing but could hear nothing but the continued occasional flutter of the papers beside him. He hesitated only one more moment before lifting a hand and knocking lightly. “Y/N?” he called out. “Everythin’ okay?”

Behind him, Dog whined and got to his feet.

It was probably only seconds before he knocked again but the silence felt ominously loud. “Y/N?” he called once more, his voice a little gruff still from sleep. “Are ya alrigh’?” Sharp worry seemed to pierce him. You’d been badly hurt and had exerted yourself far more than you should have since the surgery at Hilltop. Sure, you’d rested for most of that day but after the fight last night— “Look, if ya dun answer I’mma have to come in and check on ya,” he drawled, certain he was being loud enough to wake you even if you’d been deeply asleep. He stood still for a long moment, his heart pounding. Dog circled nervously behind Daryl and whined again. “Shit,” he murmured under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face again. But there was still no answer and his hand seized the doorknob and turned. The latch drew back with a metallic click and he pushed into the room. “Y/N?”

He was met with a draft of cool air that fluttered his wavy hair back as he stepped into the room. It was quickly explained by the window, which was left open a crack at the bottom.

Daryl sighed as he looked at the ruffled blankets on the bed. Empty. No sign of your pack. None of your belongings. No Achilles.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. Dog rushed past him and circled the room, sniffing and then sticking his nose into the gap at the windowsill and pulling in loud, deep breaths. Defeated, Daryl stepped farther in and caught sight of a small, rectangular scrap of paper sitting on the quilt. There was a glossy black feather sitting on top of it. He picked it up and spun it between his fingers before turning to the note. It was simple, just a few words.

“Thanks. And sorry.”

Daryl sighed heavily and chewed on the inside of his cheek before glancing at Dog. He walked to the window and shut it securely, locking it in place. “C’mon, boy. See if we can’t pick up her trail,” he said, ruffling the Malinois’ fur as he darted past him back into the main room. You couldn’t have been gone too long… He was shocked he (or Dog rather) hadn’t heard you sneaking out. He must have been deeply asleep for once. Daryl hastily threw on his pack and grabbed the rest of his gear. He doused the recently rekindled flames with water and closed the flue once the smoke and steam had diminished. He took one final look around the cabin. Everything was in its place. He wanted it to be in case you had to come back someday. Just in case.

He stared down at the note and Achilles’ feather once more before tucking them into his jacket. “C’mon,” he said to Dog again, opening the back door and following him out into the cool night. “Track her, boy,” Daryl commanded.

Dog immediately took off and Daryl raced after him, clicking on the flashlight on his bow. He almost didn’t need it. The moon was bright enough to light his way and he used the flashlight beam only to scrutinize the ground for your tracks. He strained his ears in case you were closer than he expected, but the only sounds were the distant calls of night birds and the drone of a few insects.

At first, Dog snuffled the ground and moved in a purposeful path, clearly following the trail of your scent, but after about 200 yards, the Malinois noticeably slowed. He circled and quartered, his nose to the ground and his determined bounding ended. His nose and paws stilled at the base of a large pine with branches that came within easy reach of the ground. Dog lifted his head and looked up. Daryl did the same. Dog stood on his hind legs and put his paws up on the trunk, whining.

Daryl shooed him back and stepped in close, resting his palm against the rough bark, two of his fingers landing in the sticky sap exuded from a wound to the trunk. The pine was dark overhead. He could hear and see nothing. He glanced down at Dog, who yipped anxiously. “Is she up there, Dog?” he asked in a whisper, patting his head. Dog’s paws pranced back and forth and he sat. But there was no urgency in his movements, and Daryl realized, even before he had climbed high into the tree, clumsily with his pack and bow slung on his back, that you had slipped away. No croak of raven or soft rustle of pine boughs, no snarky comment or annoyed glance greeted him when he reached the point where he could climb no higher. It was as if you had faded into a mist and blown away, swept off with Achilles’ wings…

As he climbed down, Daryl marveled at the fact that you had climbed at all, if that is indeed what you had done. He had seen your careful movements, your fatigue, your ginger stretching. He knew the extent of the wound in your side and that you’d had a serious concussion and bruising throughout your body. And on top of it, the burns to your hand were fresh and angry. And yet… you’d vanished.

He wandered back and forth in the area with Dog for some time, hoping to pick up your scent somehow, scanning the ground for a trail to track, but the undergrowth was thick and made moving miserable and completely impossible in some places. He could see why you’d climbed into the trees.

Eventually, defeated, he and Dog turned back.

By the time they reached the little cabin again, the dawn was already growing over the tops of the trees and there was nothing else to do but head back to Hilltop. He was needed there. Time to go.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Tara was standing with Enid and Alden just inside the gate when Daryl came strolling in after Dog. “Daryl!” she yelled with surprise, trotting over. Enid and Alden followed behind. “Are you okay? What happened? We weren’t expecting you back so soon.”

“How is she?” Enid asked urgently, desperate for an update on your condition.

Daryl let out sigh and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. He shrugged. “Well, she was exhausted and sore but—doin’ alrigh’ last night. But, uhh…” he trailed off.

Tara frowned. “But what?”

He was almost embarrassed to admit it. “She, uhh—left. Without tellin’ me. In the middle of the nigh’… Just slipped right out.”

“What?” Tara asked, her eyebrows lifting, concern painted all over her features. “Why?”

Daryl thought back to what you had told him about your last settlement, about the betrayal and the devastation. “She just ain’t used to bein’ ‘round other people. Same reason she didn’t wanna stay here.”

Enid looked thoroughly worried and Alden gently put a hand on the small of her back.

Daryl did what he could to assuage Enid’s worry. “Look, she’s tough as hell. ‘M pretty sure she’s gonna be just fine. Somethin’ else happened though... Some of those Skins must’ve followed us to where we crashed the day we left. Three of ‘em. They broke in that night and attacked us. We fought ‘em off but one of her hands got burned pretty good.”

“Oh my God,” Tara said, her face falling.

Enid looked thoroughly upset. “You should have brought her back here,” she said. “We could have treated her.”

Daryl shook his head. “Enid, you and I both know there was no way she was comin’ back here unless she was forced to. I helped her get it cleaned up and patched up. She used some lavender oil on it. I think—I think she’s gonna be alright. Really. She’s tough as hell.”

Alden let out a laugh and the three others looked over at him. It seemed like an odd time to be laughing. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just—not only did she get a hit in on Daryl Dixon, but she snuck away without you knowing? Or being able to track her? If I hadn’t seen her myself, I’d say she is a damn ghost.”

[strwbmei]

Kinktober : Level 2.

summary: as a loyal servant, you've grown tired of the archon taking your work for granted.

contains: gn reader, reader has a dick, anal, dubcon, brat taming, semi-public sex, spanking, crying, degradation, humiliation, you write on her, no aftercare, rough sex

pairing(s): furina x reader

a/n: uh. accidentally scheduled to post this for the 15th and just realized now. oops. hope the dialogue isn't too cheesy...

thats all for now, i'll be a bit busy this weekend so i can't promise that i'll be able to respond to asks/messages

NSFW below the cut !

"Unhand me right this insta-!"

"Shut. Up."

You had your Archon's wrist pinned to the wall; petite and feeble arms uselessly flailing as she made what could only be called a pathetic attempt at resistance. "Do you think you're getting away with this?! Just wait 'til this is over, you..!"

You roll your eyes. "Me? Do you even know my name?" You'd been such a loyal servant— obeying her every whim, working tirelessly because of the impossible demands she had set, and yet; she didn't even know who you were. Not once has Furina spared you a second thought. You were merely one of her servants. Hers to command and control as she pleased.

She let her mouth hang open for a second before closing it again, biting back a retort that she can't think of. "What's wrong, dear Archon? Aren't you going to fight back?"

Furina had always acted so high and mighty, but merely cornering her in a dusty, secluded warehouse had her feeling so weak and small— at least, in your presence. Wait, no— she's an Archon! What right did you have to treat her like this? You should be groveling at her feet for forgiveness if anything!

Though, as much as Furina wanted to... she couldn't deny how aroused she was getting. You scoff seeing her clench her thighs together. "Of course, this whole situation gets you wet. Fuckin' slut." Before she could make up a comeback, you let go of her wrists.

"Bend over and put your hands on the wall."

"I don't wanna!"

"I wasn't asking. Don't make me repeat myself." You ordered, using a tone full of authority that made Furina's heart skip a beat. She's been the one ordering and bossing people around for as long as she can remember, and she certainly doesn't mind, but she had no idea that giving someone else control could feel so... freeing.

Begrudgingly, she followed your orders; turning around and resting her palms on the dusty walls.

A second passed, nothing. Furina found a sort of thrill in the anticipation of what you'd do, but it was still nerve-wracking nonetheless. A few more seconds passed, and as Furina was about to speak, her words were cut off by a moan she didn't even realize she let out when you spanked her ass.

Her body threatens to lose its balance, knees faltering and hands slightly slipping. You rub the spot where you had hit in a mockingly soft way. "Aww, too much for my spoiled goddess?" You cooed into her ear; her frustration evident. Just then, an idea pops into your head. "Mm... I know, why don't we play a game?"

"Since you forgot my name," She looks at you with a confused expression from over her shoulders; heterochromatic eyes already glossy and wet with tears that threaten to spill onto her smooth skin. "I'll give you a name, instead." The game sounded simple enough, but the sadistic smirk you had on your face spoke volumes.

"From now on, I want you to refer to yourself as my personal cocksleeve. Not the Hydro Archon. Not Furina. When you're in my presence, you don't serve any other purpose but to take my cock. Got it?"

The Archon, the respected and feared Archon of Fontaine, meekly and hesitantly nods; so weak suddenly. Her obedience, though unexpected, pleased you— unlike her silence. What happened to the loud, irritating voice she used as she bossed and ordered you around? Where did all that strength go?

Slap.

Furina yelped. "I asked you a question." You're sure that her body would have tumbled over if you weren't holding her ass up. "I-I uh," Embarrassment filled her as she stuttered. Slap. "Yes..!" You snickered at her whiny tone, which you're sure wasn't on purpose.

You pulled her shorts down, a string of her slick connecting her cunt to her now ruined panties. Fuck. "Are you really getting wet from this?" You mock. Your finger ghosts over her entrance, and you can feel it throb and flutter around nothing.

"No, I'm not..! Do you really think that-"

Slap.

"I didn't give you permission to speak." The second you take a step back, it feels as if the weight of the world was lifted off of Furina's shoulders. "Tell you what, since I'm feeling generous..." This time, you slap her cunt, making her whine from the mix of pain and pleasure.

"I'll give you three seconds. If you run away, you can throw me in a jail cell or do whatever you want to me. But if you don't," Her ass is an angry red from the sheer force of your slaps, and you take it upon yourself to rub it in teasing circles before slapping it once again. "I'll humiliate and fuck you until you're a good-for-nothing slut."

"Three." You stay completely still, arms crossed as your figure loomed over the other woman. "Two." Furina stays unmoving, and you can see her cunt glisten with arousal. "One."

As she looked back over her shoulders, her stomach churned with both excitement and nervousness once she saw the sadistic smirk on your lips. "Fuckin' brat. You're fucking disgusting." Although your words sounded like you were insulting her, you couldn't be more proud to have the Hydro Archon bending herself over for you, wet pussy on display— all for a servant she never even gave a second glance at.

No matter how much Furina wanted to deny it; fight back... she was incredibly desperate and horny— and even if she didn't want you to know that, her body told you all about it. The weight and consequences of her decisions don't hit her— at least, not until she feels your thick cock, hard and as rigid as stone from her doing, resting on her back.

Just an hour ago, she was going on about her day as usual. Under no circumstances would she imagine that she'd be getting her ass pounded by you in a dirty storage room, praying to whatever other gods existed out there that you wouldn't get caught.

"Shiit..." The death grip you have on her waist doesn't relent, still as strong as it was before your first orgasm. How many times has Furina cum? None. It doesn't matter. She'll take any scrap of pleasure she can get at this point— she just wants to be filled. "So tight... just for me." You can feel her balance faltering as you slap her ass again.

And you don't even fulfill that. You're completely selfish; the only reason you chose to fuck her ass was solely because while it was tighter, she receives little to no pleasure. Plus, not many people can say that they've fucked an Archon in the ass. You wanted her to learn that she's merely a toy— and that it doesn't matter if she doesn't cum as long as you do.

At least, that was what you intended.

You chuckle darkly through heavy breaths, seeing Furina squirt and make a mess everywhere. "Seriously? You're cumming and squirting like a whore from getting your ass fucked? How pathetic can you get?"

Just then, a thought crosses your mind: how pathetic can she get?

Looking over at the pile of boxes next to you, you spot a marker on top of some documents that you hope were unimportant, seeing how some of Furina's juices got on them. You don't check to see if the marker is washable or permanent. You spread her legs even wider, and the last thing she hears is the cap getting removed before feeling a short, cool sensation on the back of her thighs.

"Every time you cum from me fucking your ass," Slap. "I'll write something on your body." Furina doesn't respond. She doesn't trust herself to run her mouth; remembering how that was the reason this encounter happened in the first place.

You lift her off your cock, making her whine at the loss of contact. She quickly realizes what you were trying to do as soon as you turn her to face the door. "N-no... please!" The Archon tries to make use of the rest of her feeble strength, kicking— though her actions tickled you more than it hurt.

"Oh, baby..." You cooed. Your tone almost reminded her of your meek, monosyllabic replies to her bossing you around— but now, there was an added sultriness and authority. "You can fight back all you want if that makes you feel better, but we both know you want this."

"Look. Even if you don't want to admit it, at least your body is honest." You rub on her still-sensitive clit, prolonging and coaxing out more of her orgasm. Tears start streaming down her face as soon as you bring her down on your cock, ass stretching to accommodate your size.

"Please, 'm sorry!... I'm... mhmff... Your personal cocksleeve is sorry! If we get caught..." Her words are cut off by a particularly hard thrust knocking the air out of her lungs. You smile at her words, but your pace doesn't relent. In fact, it gets even faster. "Oh? You know your name. I thought you were too dumb for even that." Besides, the way she clenched tighter once you positioned her in front of the door of the warehouse didn't go unnoticed.

She keeps on begging and apologizing through sobs and moans, feeling herself close to passing out with the sheer force of her incoming orgasm. With a loud sob, her body grows limp and her cum forms a puddle on the ground beneath you two.

"Tsk. All that talk, and she couldn't even last two rounds." You groan, laying her slack body on the floor. Her legs are trembling, and her thighs are a sticky mess. Her gaping hole is filled to the brim with your cum, just as it should be. There are numerous writings on her previously sacred body; namely words such as 'slut' and 'whore.'

With a few jerks of your cock, warm ropes of your cum shoot out and cover the woman beneath you. You zip up your pants, leaving her both physically and sexually ruined for the next person who would be unfortunate enough to find her.

╰┈➤ taglist ; @nbdaddykink , @teethoftheeditor , @roninraccoon , @commandercarbs , @sapphic-simp4015 , @truculentbantam , @vrachis , @dukemira , @arbiteriey , @krowbyss

[gvnvks]

arguing with zb1 boys …

> pairings: non-idol!zb1 x fem!reader

> warnings: angsty, mentions of break up and insecurities, lowercase intended, not proofread

> song recommendation: astronomy by conan gray

> note: this is my first and last post THAT long lmaoo 😭 I spent a good week writing this pls don’t let this flop or else ill kms

김 jiwoong.

the air in the room feels heavy, charged with tension like a gathering storm. the once warm and comforting atmosphere has been replaced by a cold, hostile energy. you and jiwoong stand face-to-face, the distance between you filled with a chasm of misunderstanding and jealousy. his eyes burn with a fire you've never seen before, seething with an intensity that sets your heart pounding.

”i can't stand it anymore!” he shouts, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and desperation. ”i can't stand the way he looks at you, the way he touches you. it's driving me insane!”

you feel a wave of confusion wash over you, your mind struggling to make sense of jiwoong's sudden outburst. ”he's just a friend,” you reply, your voice trembling. ”you know that. there's nothing more between us.”

jiwoong shakes his head, his expression twisted with jealousy. ”i see the way he smiles at you, the way he makes you laugh,” he says, his voice laced with bitterness. ”i see the connection you have, and it eats me whole, tears me apart.”

you take a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm, but he recoils as if your touch burns. ”jiwoong, you have to trust me,” you say, your voice pleading. ”you have to trust that my love for you is real, that you're the only one who holds my heart.”

he turns away, his shoulders tense with anger. “how can i trust when all I feel is this overwhelming fear?” he says, his voice filled with anguish. “i can't bear the thought of losing you to someone else.”

your heart breaks at his words, at the depth of his insecurities. “jiwoong, love isn't about possession,” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “it's about trust, about believing in the strength of our bond. i chose you, and i choose you every day.”

he looks at you, his eyes filled with pain. “i want to believe you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “but these feelings, this jealousy, it consumes me. im afraid it will destroy us.”

you take a step closer, your hand trembling as you reach out to cup his face. “let's work through this together,” you say, your voice filled with determination. “let's communicate, let's find a way to heal these wounds. i don't want to lose you, jiwoong. i want to fight for us.”

for a moment, there's a flicker of hope in jiwoong's eyes, a glimmer of the love that once bound you together. but then, he pulls away, his expression hardened. “i don't know if I can,” he says, his voice heavy with resignation. “i don't know if i have it in me to let go of this jealousy.”

and with those words, the fragile thread that held your relationship together snaps, shattering into irreparable fragments. the pain of the argument hangs heavy in the air, suffocating the love that once bloomed between you. you both stand there, wounded and broken, realizing that sometimes, love alone isn't enough to overcome jealousy and insecurities.

장 hao.

in the twilight hour, the world around you seems to hold its breath, suspended in a fragile balance between darkness and light. the air crackles with tension as you and hao stand face to face, your voices rising in a crescendo of anger and frustration.

the sky above is a canvas of swirling clouds, mirroring the turmoil within your hearts. each word spoken is like a thunderclap, echoing through the depths of your souls, leaving cracks in the foundation of your once-unbreakable bond.

“why, hao? why can't you see what we have?” you cry out, your voice raw with pain. “we've shared laughter and tears, built dreams and held each other through the darkest nights. how can you doubt us now?”

hao's eyes meet yours, his gaze filled with uncertainty. “i wish I had the answers,” he responds, his voice strained. “but lately, i started questioning whether we are truly meant to be.”

your heart clenches at his words, a torrent of emotions crashing against the walls you had built together. “but what about the promises we made, the vows we shared?” you plead, your voice trembling. “are they just empty echoes now?”

hao's voice wavers, his defenses crumbling beneath the weight of his doubt. “i never wanted it to come to this,” he confesses, his voice laced with regret. “but I can't deny the gnawing ache in my heart, the yearning for something more.”

the tears well up in your eyes, each drop a testament to the agony of a love on the brink of fracture. “what more could you possibly want?” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “i've given you all of me, poured my very soul into this love. is that not enough?”

your boyfriend’s expression softens, the pain etched across his face. “it's not about you not being enough,” he murmurs, his voice carrying the weight of his own anguish. “it's about me and the uncertainty that shadows my heart. i need to find my own path, even if it means leaving you behind.”

the words strike you like a dagger, piercing deep into your wounded heart. the world around you blurs as the storm within intensifies, the anguish and fury mingling together in a symphony of shattered dreams.

“how can you say that?” you cry out, your voice breaking. “to forsake all we've built for the sake of your own uncertainty? don’t you see the pain you'll leave in me?”

hao's shoulders slump, his voice barely a whisper against the roaring tempest of emotions. “i see it all too clearly,” he murmurs, his gaze filled with regret. “but i can't continue to live a lie, to cling to a love that no longer feels true. we both deserve better than that.”

silence falls upon you both, heavy and suffocating, as the reality of your crumbling love hangs in the air. the path ahead is uncertain, veiled in shadows and unanswered questions. the bond that once held you together now threatening to break.

and so, in the dying light of a love that once burned so bright, you stand on the precipice of a heart-wrenching decision, knowing that even if you fight against the current, you may have to learn how to let go and find healing in the depths of your shattered souls.

성 hanbin.

the room feels suffocating. you stand there, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling. hanbin, your boyfriend, stands across from you, his eyes filled with regret and realization. but it's too late; the damage has been done.

a delicate veil of silence hangs between you, shattered only by the echoes of your racing thoughts. the words he uttered, meant as a joke, pierced through your soul like a thousand arrows. they struck at the very core of your insecurities, tearing open wounds you thought had healed.

tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you find your voice, shaking with anger and hurt. “how could you?” you whisper, your voice a mere thread of sound.

hanbin's face contorts with remorse, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. “i didn't mean it like that,” he stammers, his voice strained. “it was just a joke. i didn't realize...”

but his words fall on deaf ears, drowned out by the roaring storm within you. “you didn't realize?” you shout, your voice breaking through the silence. “you didn't realize how much those words would hurt me? how they would reopen old wounds?”

the room vibrates with the intensity of your emotions, each word a lightning strike in the darkened sky. the weight of your pain hangs heavy in the air, choking the both of you. hanbin takes a step closer, his arms outstretched in an attempt to comfort, but you recoil, your body a fortress protecting a fragile heart.

“don't touch me.” you cry out, your voice sharp and filled with anguish. “not after what you've said. not after tearing me apart with your thoughtless words.”

hanbin's face crumples, his shoulders dropping with the weight of his mistake. “i'm so sorry,” he whispers, his voice laced with desperation. “i never meant to hurt you. please, give me a chance to make it right.”

but the echoes of his apology are met with the bitter taste of anger, of wounds that run too deep. the tempest within you rages on, each gust of emotion pushing you further apart.

“you can't fix this,” you say, your voice trembling with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. “not with words, not with empty promises. the damage has been done, and it will take more than apologies to heal these wounds.”

the room falls silent once more, the quietness enveloping you like a heavy fog. hanbin stands before you, his face etched with regret, his eyes a reflection of the pain he has caused. but as you look into those eyes, you realize that sometimes love is not enough to mend what has been broken.

with a heavy heart, you turn away, your steps faltering as you leave the room, leaving behind a love that has been scarred by insensitivity. the door closes behind you, sealing the chasm that has formed between you, and the tears finally spill over, mingling with the shattered pieces of your heart.

석 matthew.

in the fading light of the evening, the atmosphere inside the house is heavy, like a storm ready to unleash its fury. the clock on the wall ticks relentlessly, each passing second fueling the mounting frustration within you. you sit on the edge of the couch, anxiously awaiting matthew's return, your heart pounding in your chest.

as the minutes stretch into hours, your worry transforms into anger. the promises he made, the reassurances of punctuality, now feel like nothing more than hollow echoes in your ears. your patience wears thin, frayed by the passage of time and the unanswered questions lingering in your mind.

finally, the front door creaks open, and matthew steps inside, his presence igniting a volatile mix of relief and fury within you. his face is flushed, his hair tousled, and the faint scent of alcohol clings to his clothes like a bitter reminder of his tardiness.

“where have you been?” you demand, your voice laced with a mixture of frustration and concern. “you said you would be home hours ago!”

matthew's eyes meet yours, and a flicker of guilt passes through his gaze. “i'm sorry,” he replies, his voice strained. “things got out of hand, and I lost track of time.”

your anger rises like a tempest, swirling within your chest, threatening to consume you. “lost track of time?” you repeat, your voice rising with each word. “do you know how worried i’ve been? how much i've been waiting for you?”

his eyes drop to the floor, unable to meet your gaze. “i didn't mean to make you worry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

a surge of frustration courses through your veins, your words turning sharp as you confront him. “it's not just about the worry,” you say, the bitterness staining your tone. “it's about respect. it's about honoring your word and valuing our time together.”

your boyfriend’s shoulders slump, the weight of his actions settling upon him. “i know,” he says, his voice laced with remorse. “i messed up. I didn't think about how it would affect you.”

the room feels suffocating, the air thick with unspoken emotions and shattered expectations. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the anger within you refuses to be quelled.

“you can't just keep doing this,” you say, your voice shaking with intensity. “you can't keep disregarding my feelings, my trust.”

matthew's eyes glisten with regret as he looks up at you, his voice filled with anguish. “i don't want to lose you,” he pleads, his words a desperate plea. “i'll do better, I promise. Just give me another chance.”

your heart wavers between anger and love, torn between the desire for resolution and the pain of disappointment. you take a moment to gather your thoughts, the silence between you stretching like an infinite chasm.

“i need time,” you finally say, your voice weary. “time to heal, time to rebuild the trust that has been broken.”

matthew nods, his face etched with remorse, his voice a whisper. “i understand,” he says, his words heavy with regret. “i'll do whatever it takes.”

and with that, the echoes of your argument linger in the air, as the two of you retreat to your respective corners, unsure of what the future holds, but aware that the bonds between you have been strained, leaving scars that will take time to mend.

김 taerae.

amidst the dimly lit room, you stand with your heart racing and your eyes brimming with tears. taerae, your boyfriend, stands opposite you with a scowl etched onto his face, his voice hoarse with anger. the air is thick with tension, and you can feel your chest constricting as he spits out the word that cuts you to the bone - “clingy.”

you feel a surge of anger rise within you as his words strike a nerve. how could he say such a thing? you're only trying to show him how much you care, how much he means to you. but instead, he sees it as a weakness, a flaw that he can't stand.

“you're suffocating me,” he says again, his voice dripping with disdain. “i can't breathe when you're around. you're always there, always in my space, always wanting more from me. i need space, i need time alone. can't you see that?”

you feel your heart breaking as his words sink in. is that how he really sees you? as a burden, a nuisance, someone who can't give him what he needs?

”i don't understand,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. ”i'm only trying to be there for you, to show you how much i care. why can't you see that? why can't you appreciate what i'm trying to do?”

taerae's face darkens as he steps closer to you, his eyes blazing with fury. ”because you're smothering me,” he says, his voice low and menacing. ”you're suffocating me with your neediness, your constant demands for my attention. can't you see that you're driving me away?”

you feel a lump form in your throat as you realize that he's serious, that he really does feel this way about you. all the love and affection you've poured into this relationship, all the sacrifices you've made, and it's still not enough. you're still not enough.

”i don't know what to do,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. ”i love you so much, but if this is how you feel, then maybe we should just... end things.”

taerae's face softens as he reaches out to touch your cheek, his fingers gentle against your skin. ”no,” he says, his voice low and soothing. ”i don't want to end things. i just... i need some space, some time to breathe. can you give me that? can you understand that i need some time to myself?"

you nod, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. you don't want to lose him, but you also don't want to be a burden. you want to be the kind of partner he needs, but you don't know how to be anything else.

”i’ll try," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. ”i’ll try to give you space, to let you have some time for yourself. but please... please don't give up on us. please don't leave me.”

your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you, his embrace warm and reassuring. “i won't leave you,” he whispers, his lips pressed against your hair. “i love you too much to let you go. we'll work through this, together. i promise.”

and as he holds you close, you feel a glimmer of hope in your heart. maybe things can work out between you after all, maybe there's a way to bridge the gap between your needs and his.

리키 ricky.

amidst the flickering candlelight, the atmosphere teeters on the edge of tumultuous uncertainty. the restaurant's ambiance, once a romantic haven, now feels heavy with the weight of accusation and doubt. you and ricky sit across from each other, the tension palpable, like a tightly coiled spring.

your eyes narrow as you watch your boyfriend engage in conversation with the waitress. her laughter dances through the air, a melody that sends ripples of unease cascading through your heart. you can't help but notice the way ricky's eyes linger on her, his smile widening in her presence. the seed of jealousy takes root within you, its tendrils twisting and knotting, threatening to strangle the love you once held so dear.

“i can't believe you're flirting with her,” you say, your voice laced with accusation, your words cutting through the charged silence. “am i not enough for you? do you find her more interesting?”

ricky's eyes widen in disbelief, his voice rising to match your own. “how dare you accuse me of such things?” he exclaims, his words dripping with indignation. “i'm simply being polite, engaging in casual conversation. is that a crime?”

your heart pounds in your chest, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirling within. “it's more than just casual conversation,” you retort, your voice quivering with hurt. “i see the way you look at her, the way you make her laugh. It's like I don't even exist.”

ricky’s face flushes with anger, his voice now tinged with frustration. “you're being paranoid,” he snaps, his words sharp as shards of glass. “i can't believe you would think so little of me. you should trust me.”

trust. the word hangs in the air like a bitter reminder of the cracks forming in your once-solid foundation. your eyes well up with tears, a mixture of anger, sadness, and confusion. how did you reach this point, where doubt has become the unwelcome intruder in your love story?

“i want to trust you,” you say, your voice choked with emotion. “but right now, all i feel is this gnawing uncertainty, this fear that i’m not enough.”

ricky's eyes soften, a flicker of realization crossing his face. he reaches out, his hand trembling as it hovers in the space between you, wanting to bridge the growing divide. “i never meant to make you feel that way,” he says, his voice now gentle, his eyes pleading for understanding. “you’re more than enough for me.“

the room seems to sigh with the weight of those words, as if a storm has finally been unleashed, cleansing the air of its stifling tension. your heart aches, torn between the desire to believe and the fear of being hurt.

“i need you to show me,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “i need you to prove that my fears are unfounded, that our love is stronger than any temptation.”

your boyfriend’s expression softens, his hand finding its way into yours. “i will show you,” he promises, his voice filled with a newfound determination. “i will prove to you that you are the one who holds my heart, that no one else can compare.”

김 gyuvin.

you stand before gyuvin, your eyes filled with a mix of frustration and hurt, longing to be heard, to have your feelings acknowledged.

“you care more about your games than you do about me,” you say, your voice trembling with an undercurrent of pain. “it feels like I'm competing for your attention, constantly playing second fiddle to a virtual world.”

gyuvin's eyes narrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans back, as if your words are nothing more than a joke to him. “oh, come on,” he retorts, his voice soaked with condescension. “you're making a big deal out of nothing. it's just a game. don't be so dramatic.”

his words strike you like a dagger, each syllable carving deeper into your heart. how could he belittle your emotions, dismiss your concerns so callously? tears blurry your vision, but you refuse to let them fall, determined to stand your ground.

“it’s not just a game to me," you reply, your voice trembling but defiant. “it's about the time and attention you invest in something, while leaving me feeling neglected and unimportant.”

your boyfriend rolls his eyes, his dismissive gesture cutting through you like a gust of icy wind. “you're overreacting,” he scoffs. “it's not like i ignore you completely. can't you see how ridiculous you're being?”

you feel the walls closing in, the room growing smaller with each passing second. the pain within you intensifies, a symphony of emotions crescendoing in your chest.

“i’m not being ridiculous,” you say, your voice shaking with a mixture of hurt and anger. “i deserve to be with someone who sees me, who values my presence, not someone who mocks my feelings and belittles them.”

gyuvin's expression wavers, a flicker of realization crossing his face. for a moment, silence hangs heavy between you, the weight of unspoken truths swirling in the air. the room feels heavy, as if the gravity of your words has anchored you both to the ground.

“i didn't mean to make you feel that way,” gyuvin finally admits, his voice softer, the arrogance in his eyes replaced by a hint of remorse. “i guess i got carried away. i didn't realize how much it was affecting you.”

your heart softens, the storm within beginning to subside, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. slowly, you take a step forward, your voice filled with vulnerability and yearning.

“all i want is to feel seen, to know that my feelings matter to you,” you say, your voice a gentle plea. “can we find a way to balance your passion for games with the love and attention i need?”

his gaze softens as he nods, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. as you reach out to touch his hand, a newfound understanding blooms between you.

박 gunwook.

the room feels like a battleground, the air charged with the electricity of an impending clash. gunwook stands before you, his eyes ablaze with frustration, as you struggle to find the right words to convey the storm brewing within your heart.

“can't you see?” you exclaim, your voice quivering with a mixture of anger and hurt. “i need my private space, my personal sanctuary. it feels like you're invading every part of me.”

gunwook’s jaw clenches, his voice rising in response. “i'm just trying to be close to you,” he retorts, his tone filled with equal parts defiance and exasperation. “i thought love meant being open and sharing everything.”

a wave of frustration crashes over you, like a torrential downpour threatening to drown your very soul. you take a step closer, your eyes locking with gunwook's, searching for a glimmer of understanding amidst the tumultuous sea of emotions.

“but love also means respecting boundaries,” you say, your voice laced with a mix of determination and pain. “it means understanding that we are two separate beings, that we need our private spaces.”

his eyes flash with resistance, brows furrowing in stubborn defiance. “i just want to be a part of your world,” he replies, his voice tinged with desperation. “i want to know everything about you, to be there for you in every moment.”

you take a deep breath, your chest rising and falling like the crashing waves against jagged cliffs. you want to make gunwook understand, to bridge the gap between your hearts, but the words feel like thorns on your tongue.

“it's not like i keep anything away from you,” you say, your voice softening, tears threatening to spill over. “it's about having the freedom to nurture our own passions, our own dreams, and to come together as stronger individuals, supporting each other.”

gunwook's gaze falters, the hard edges of his defiance slowly eroding. the room becomes an echo chamber of silence, as the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air. time seems to stand still, as you both stand at the precipice of a choice that could alter the course of your relationship.

“i didn't realize,” gunwook finally admits, his voice breaking with vulnerability. “i never meant to invade your private space. i just... i love you so much that I wanted to be a part of every aspect of your life.”

your heart aches, caught between the fierce love you hold for gunwook and the need to protect your own sense of self. slowly, you reach out, your fingertips grazing against his trembling hand, as you seek to bridge the divide between you.

“i love you too,” you whisper, your voice filled with a delicate tenderness. "we’ll get through this. together. you just need to respect, that sometimes i need my own space.”

gunwook's shoulders relax, a flicker of understanding finally shimmering in his eyes.

한 yujin.

the room is filled with the sound of crashing waves, the tempestuous storm of your argument raging on and on, with no end in sight. you and yujin stand on opposite sides, your words sharp and cutting, your voices raised in anger and frustration. the real reason for the argument has been lost in the tumult, the source of your anger and pain now nothing more than a distant memory.

“you just don't get it!” yujin shouts, his eyes blazing with anger. “you never listen, you never understand, and i'm sick of it!”

“i don't get it?” you reply, your own voice rising in response. “you're the one who's not making any sense! we're arguing about nothing, and yet you still find a way to blame me!”

the heavy weight of air presses down on you, suffocating you. you both know that the words you're exchanging are born from a deeper pain, a wound that refuses to heal. but in the heat of the moment, all that matters is the anger, the frustration, the hurt that boils within.

“why can't you just see my side for once?” yujin shouts, his hands clenched into fists. “why do you always have to be so damn stubborn?”

“why can't you just let it go?” you reply, your own hands shaking with anger. “why do you always have to make everything so difficult?”

the words feel like barbs, cutting deep into your heart, each one a reminder of the pain that simmers just beneath the surface. you both know that this argument isn't about the trivialities that you're fighting over, but about something much deeper, something that you've both been trying to ignore for far too long.

and yet, even as you hurl insults and accusations at each other, a small part of you wonders if this is it. the end of the road, the point of no return. you wonder if the love that once bound you together has finally reached its breaking point, shattered by the weight of your pain and anger.

but then, just as suddenly as it began, the storm subsides. you both stand there, panting, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, as you realize that the real reason for your argument has been lost in the chaos. you both feel the weight of regret settling upon your shoulders, the ache of loss and pain washing over you like a tidal wave.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice hoarse with emotion. “i didn't mean any of those things.”

“i’m sorry too," yujin replies, his voice softening. “i just... i don't know how to make things right.”

you both stand there, the silence stretching on for an eternity, as you both realize that the love you share is worth fighting for. even when the winds of anger and pain threaten to tear you apart, you both know that there's a love that still binds you together, a love that refuses to die.

and as you reach out to take yujin's hand, you both know that the road ahead will be long and difficult, but that you're ready to face it together, hand in hand, united by a love that will never falter.

gvnvks © 2023

[nickeverdeen]

Sink or Swim | Joel Miller x gn!reader

Pairings: Joel x reader (platonic)

Type of fic: Fluff (I think?)

Warnings: Some cussing

Summary: Not knowing how to swim is a huge problem in the world you libe in today and after an incident Joel decides to help you

———————

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the wilderness as Joel and you made your way through an old hiking trail. The air was crisp, and the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling filled the otherwise quiet surroundings. It had been a long trek, and you could feel the tiredness creeping into your legs, but Joel, as always, was pushing forward without much complaint.

The trail led you along the edge of a lake, its water calm and reflecting the sky like a mirror. It was a peaceful scene, and you found yourself distracted by the beauty of it—until you felt a nudge from behind.

“Hey, watch it!” you yelped, stumbling forward.

But before you could regain your balance, Joel gave you another nudge, and this time, it sent you toppling right into the lake with a splash.

“Joel!” you cried out as you hit the water, immediately feeling the coldness of the lake surround you.

Panic set in. You flailed, your feet kicking wildly beneath the surface, and the realization hit you hard—you didn’t know how to swim. The weight of the water pulled you down, and for a few terrifying moments, all you could do was struggle.

“Shit!” Joel’s voice sounded distant through the water.

You felt his hands grabbing onto you, pulling you up to the surface. You gasped for air, choking on the water you’d inhaled in your panic. Joel’s grip was firm as he guided you back toward the shallower part of the lake, his face twisted with concern.

“What the hell, Joel?” you sputtered, still coughing up water as you clung to him.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t swim!” Joel said, his voice rough with guilt. “You alright?”

“Do I look alright?” you snapped, your heart still pounding in your chest.

“Just breathe. I’ve got ya,” Joel reassured, his hands steadying you.

Once you were calmer, he seemed to relax a bit. “Y’know,” he began, his tone shifting, “now might be a good time to learn. Could save your life one day.”

You blinked at him, still shaken from the experience. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shook his head. “Nope. You don’t need to be Michael Phelps, but you should know enough to keep your head above water.”

You hesitated, unsure whether you could trust yourself to stay afloat. But Joel’s expression was serious, and despite the scare, you knew he was right. With the world the way it was, knowing how to swim could be a lifesaver.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But if I drown, it’s on you.”

Joel chuckled, patting your shoulder gently. “I won’t let that happen. Come on, I’ll teach ya.”

He moved back slightly, positioning himself in front of you in the waist-high water. “First thing’s first: relax. You ain’t gonna float if you’re tense. Just breathe, take it easy.”

You gave him a skeptical look but tried to follow his instructions, letting out a slow breath and trying to loosen up. The water lapped at your skin as you let your body sink a little more, the cold still biting but not unbearable.

“Good. Now, keep your hands out in front of ya, like this.” Joel demonstrated, stretching his arms forward. You mimicked him, trying not to feel too ridiculous. “Kick your legs gently, keep your feet movin’ like you’re ridin’ a bike.”

You nodded, kicking your legs under the water. For a moment, it felt like you were starting to get the hang of it—until your leg cramped and you nearly went under again. But Joel was quick, catching you and holding you steady.

“Easy,” he muttered. “Try again.”

It took a few more tries, and each time, Joel was patient. He guided you, giving you tips, correcting your movements, and even when you felt like giving up, he didn’t let you. Slowly but surely, you started to get the rhythm, your body staying afloat longer than before.

By the end of it, you were tired, your arms and legs aching from the effort, but you felt a small sense of accomplishment. You weren’t about to swim across the lake anytime soon, but at least you could keep yourself afloat.

Joel gave you a nod of approval. “Not bad. You’re gettin’ there.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit proud of yourself despite everything. “Thanks, Joel. Even though you threw me in.”

He chuckled again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess that was a bad call, huh?”

You smirked. “Yeah. But I’ll forgive you this time.”

The two of you made your way back to shore, dripping wet and exhausted but feeling a bit lighter after the unexpected lesson. As you sat on the bank, the sun beginning to set behind the trees, you couldn’t help but feel a little closer to Joel. He had been there for you, just like always, and now you had one more thing to thank him for.

Maybe the next time you saw a lake, you wouldn’t be so scared.

[she-who-the-river-could-not-hold]

lapidoso [a Bellamy-centric ficlet]

lapidoso - full of stones, said of roads or of the bottom of a river [from this prompt list] Bellamy Blake POV | tags: medieval AU | wc: 670 ▸ part of an exercise for a future fic that’s currently being planned, though I’m not sure if this will be a canon scene or just character background work

Bellamy knew the journey back to the mountains of Arkadia better than he even realized, despite the passing of years. The way the forest sprung up just past the valley, growing alongside the rugged terrain that slowly but surely cut up into the horizon. Which inns had the best ale and which ones to avoid if you wanted a genuine night’s sleep. 

It left a rolling feeling of resentment in him if he considered it for too long.

When he made the final turn onto the road that went straight to the castle, he carefully guided his horse over to the river that ran beside it. The pause was just as much for Etherea as it was for him. A moment to catch his breath and gain some composure. Possibly a fruitless endeavor, but one he had to attempt nevertheless. 

The movement of the water over the stones that blanketed the soil beneath was enough to lull his vision unfocused. Thoughts softened at the babbling and bubbling of the water, the sound of nature rising up around him, hidden amongst the trees. He’d walked in this very river before––though much closer to the castle. Walking in it was better than getting stuck in muck and mud, but still risky if you didn’t place your steps assuredly. It wouldn’t have taken much to twist an ankle on the slick, smoothed out riverbed below even if you never touched the ground below there were so many rocks. 

The memories of it came upon him regardless of what he wanted. 

Clarke’s face as she carefully collected pebble after pebble. Handing them off to him to put in the satchel he wore around him so that she could continue to grow her collection. The way they’d carefully hold onto each others’ arms whenever her matron didn’t bother to keep up with the two of them. The trust in him to look after the young lady of the house wasn’t lost on him, even when he’d been younger. But in those moments back then, it hadn’t been about her status and his role in the household. They’d been two friends, out in the woods, keeping each other balanced and as dry as possible as their laughter floated up amongst the trees.

He could almost hear the echo of it now, his mind lost to the memories as he stared down into the water.

Before he could help himself, Bellamy found himself kneeling down and reaching into the water.

Plunging his hand into it without first testing it pulled a punched out grunt of surprise at the frigid temperatures. Icy cold, enveloping his hand in a tingling sensation. He frowned, brows furrowed, as his fingers brushed against the uneven river’s bottom. He hadn’t done this in years, committed in his efforts to remove even these small memories from his mind. So it was purely rooted in the sensation that his fingers could feel that made him choose the rock that he did.

Beside him, Etherea snorted and huffed as Bellamy observed the stone he’d selected. Mostly black, some streaks of gray across it like lightning. Completely smooth, a signal of its age and time it had spent in the riverbed. 

Before he could question his motives, the ones that had led him to be here let alone what had made him pull out the stone, he shoved it into the bag hanging off of the side of his horse.

He couldn’t risk putting it in his pocket.

He didn’t want the water to ruin the carefully folded letter that hadn’t left his chest since receiving it a fortnight ago. The intricate writing that had requested for him to return to Arkadia and to come be by her side as he once had, all those years ago.

Bellamy had lost track of how long he’d studied Clarke’s handwriting, amongst questioning the authenticity of her offer, and he’d be damned if he ruined it.

Not if it ended up being the last tangible thing he held of hers.

[realchanslaptop]

Bang Chan's reaction when you breakup

Genre: Angst

Bang Chan

Chan has always been the sweetest most lovable person there is. He loved being with y/n, anytime he came home from a long stressful day at work his face would light up the moment he saw y/n. Y/n was his light, his world. Y/n was now sitting on the couch looking through the photos of her and Chan on her phone with tears in her eyes wondering where it all went wrong. " we were so happy, what happened" y/n thought to herself. Y/n's heart clenched as she looked at the photo of her and Chan where Chan was smiling while hugging her, while at the same time she thought about the way Chan has been ignoring her and the way he's been speaking to her lately. About 3 months ago when all of this started, Chan had started acting different. He wasn't acting like his usual self he wasn't smiling and hugging y/n like he used to, he started to pretty much ignore y/n all together except when she would ask him questions, he answered her questions very vaguely. Y/n tried everything to figure out what was wrong. Y/n tried asking him what was wrong and trying to talk to him about it, but unfortunately his reaction was the same every time, "nothing' he said. "Something is bothering you and I can't help you if you don't tell me" y/n said as she went to hold his hand. "I don't want your fucking help" Chan exclaimed as he threw y/n's hand off of his. ever since then he's been quiet distant and acts like your the problem. *Fast forward to present* y/n starts thinking about it " what if I'm the problem, he can't seem to stand it when I'm around" y/n thought. " if i just let go of him he will be much happier" y/n said this as Chan walked in the door, she heard the sound of the front door shut and the sound of Chan taking off his shoes and hanging up his car keys. At this point y/n has tears in her eyes. "Chan" y/n calls out, Chan lets out a frustrated sigh " what now y/n, I just got home and you can't even give me 5 minutes of silence" Chan says. "Well, here's the thing I'm telling you we need to break up, I'm tired of being ignored and treated like shit, you want your silence so bad guess what you can have it I'm done with this bullshit" y/n says as she stomps upstairs to start packing. Chan stands there frozen in shock, your words have finally registered in his brain, tears start to well up in his eyes as he runs up the stairs after you. "y/n please I'm sorry don't do this" Chan says. He walks into the bedroom and sees you putting all of your belongings into your suitcase. " I've put up with this for long enough I've tried talking to you, I've tried to figure out the problem and what to do to fix it and now I realize that its me, so yes Chan I will do this because I'm not going to stay here and continue to be treated like fucking trash because I don't deserve that, you don't deserve to be unhappy either so this is a good thing for the both of us" y/n yells. "y/n you're right you don't deserve that,but you're not the problem I've been so fucking stressed out at work there's so much to do and i don't have enough energy to balance work and everything else, I'm so sorry for acting like a dick, I wont do it again please y/n I'm begging you don't leave me, I can't imagine my life without you" Chan said sobbing. Y/n had just finished packing and she picked up her suitcase " I'm sorry Chan but this is for the best, goodbye Chan" y/n said as she walked out of the bedroom with tears streaming down her face, Chan followed her down the stairs and out to her car sobbing begging her to stay, he watched through his teary eyes as she pulled out of the drive way and drove away all he had left to remember her were the pictures of all the good times they had in his phone.

[mysticinsightstarot]

Hello! Can I get a free reading I want to ask:

How I'll grt wealthy?

Thank you 💗 and have a good day 🍀

Yeah sure dear 💖 💖

Oh, hey there! 🌟 So, let’s break down how you’re going to get wealthy in a way that feels super fun and true to you! I’ve pulled these cards for your financial journey, and lemme tell you, you’ve got some serious magic going on! 💸✨ Get cozy and let's dive in!

1. Current Financial Situation: 10 of Cups

Okay, so right off the bat, I’m seeing that things are actually pretty solid for you emotionally! 💖✨ You’ve got this 10 of Cups vibe, which means you’re in a good place emotionally, surrounded by love and support. It’s not all about the money right now, but trust me, that happiness is going to help you manifest some serious abundance. 🌈💸 You’ve already built a strong foundation with your emotional well-being, and that is such a big part of attracting wealth. 💕

2. Main Obstacles: 3 of Cups

Ooooh, here’s the tea 🍵—3 of Cups tells me you might be having a liiiittle too much fun! I get it, life’s a party, and honestly, I love that for you! 🍻✨ But! You might be spending a bit too much time socializing or celebrating and not enough time focusing on those financial goals. 🥂 Don’t worry, though—it’s all about balance. Keep the good times rolling but make sure you’re carving out time to work towards that cash flow. 💼💪

3. Hidden Opportunities: 2 of Swords

Okay, this is super interesting. 👀 2 of Swords means you’ve got a decision that’s been hanging in the air for a while. You might’ve been avoiding it, but guess what? That decision is like a gateway to some major financial success. 🌟💡 You’ll have to take off the blindfold and just go for it. Trust yourself to make the right choice, because it’s going to unlock some hidden opportunities for you, boo! 🔮✨

4. Necessary Action: 4 of Wands

YASSS, 4 of Wands energy is everything! 🎉 This tells me that you need to focus on building something solid—think long-term stability, like investing in property, starting a business, or even teaming up with someone close to you. 🏡💼 You’ve got this amazing foundation, and now it’s time to build on it. Maybe get the family or friends involved, too, because partnerships are gonna be key in your wealth-building journey. 🤝✨

5. External Influences: 4 of Swords, 7 of Pentacles & The High Priestess

Okay, so the universe is sending you MAJOR “slow and steady” vibes here. 🧘‍♀️💤 4 of Swords is like, “Rest up, boo, this is a marathon, not a sprint.” You don’t need to rush—everything is happening in its own time. ⏳ And 7 of Pentacles is all about patience—wealth is going to grow, but you’ve got to give it some time. 🌱💸 And HELLO, High Priestess energy! 🌙✨ This is all about trusting your intuition. You already know deep down what moves to make, so listen to that inner voice. You’re more in tune than you realize. 💫👁️

6. Long-Term Strategy: Page of Cups & King of Cups

The universe is saying: Master those emotions! 💧💖 Page of Cups tells me you need to stay open to new, creative ideas. Be playful with how you approach wealth—it doesn’t all have to be serious business suits and spreadsheets, right? 😂💼 And with the King of Cups, the key is staying emotionally balanced. No chasing after money out of fear or greed. 🧘‍♂️ Stay calm, cool, collected, and you’ll be making moves that bring wealth and happiness. 🌊👑

7. Wealth-Building Talents: 9 of Wands & The Magician

HELLO, The Magician! 🧙‍♂️ You are LITERALLY magical. You’ve got all the skills and tools you need to manifest wealth—like, you can literally pull it out of thin air. ✨🪄 But also, 9 of Wands says you’re a fighter. 💪 Even when things get tough, you never give up, and that’s one of your biggest strengths. You’ve got resilience for days, and that combined with your manifesting powers? Money is gonna flow, babe. 💸🔥

8. Timing of Wealth: Knight of Wands, 2 of Wands, Page of Wands & Ace of Wands

Okay, so when’s the money coming in? FAST! 🚀🔥 Like, all these wands mean things are happening soon! You’re on the brink of something huge, and once you make that key decision (remember that 2 of Swords?), it’s gonna be full steam ahead! 💨 Expect some exciting opportunities and fast-paced growth. Don’t be afraid to jump on them when they show up! 🌟🔥

9. Wealth-Mindset Advice: Page of Pentacles, King of Pentacles & Queen of Pentacles

You’re entering your Pentacles Era! 👑💰 The advice here? Embrace abundance, babe! Page, King, and Queen of Pentacles together is like hitting the jackpot. 🎰👑 They’re saying you’ve got the mindset of a true money magnet. 💸✨ Keep learning, stay grounded, and trust in your ability to create wealth in a steady, reliable way. You’ve got this earthy, practical energy that’s perfect for building an empire. 🌍💎

10. The Outcome: 2 of Cups

Awww, 2 of Cups as the outcome? 💖💰 This tells me that not only will you build wealth, but you’re also going to do it in partnership with someone who totally gets you. 🤝 Whether that’s a business partner, friend, or significant other, you’re building this empire together. It’s all about balance, mutual respect, and shared goals. 👯‍♀️✨ And let’s be real, it’s going to be beautiful and successful! 💕🔥

Bottom of the Deck: The Fool

Let’s go, The Fool energy! 🌈💫 This is all about taking a leap of faith and trusting the journey. You’re about to step into something new and exciting—maybe even a little unexpected—but it’s going to lead you straight to abundance. 🌟 So take that leap, embrace the adventure, and trust that the universe has your back. 🎒💨

Okay, that’s all I’ve got for you! 🤩 You’ve got this incredible wealth-building journey ahead, and the cards are so on your side. Let’s make it happen! 💰💖 #WealthGoals #ManifestingMoney #BuildingThatEmpire

[beargyuuu]

World begins with W, mine begins with U

ik a place writing (832)

warnings; mentions of smoking, drinking, suggestive (no smut)

<3

April 6, 2023

“you’re actually going to hang out with him” you mumbled through rina’s pillow that you’re laying your face on.

you and rina are currently in her dorm watching her get ready for her to hang out with some guy your friends were putting her on with, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little jealous.

it’s been too long since you’ve dated anyone, and way too long since you’ve been on a date alone.

rina rolls her eyes and turns to you giving you a look you know a little too well “you know you have soobin right?” you groan at those words.

sitting up from her bed you reach for the half lit blunt and take a small hit letting the gas burn your throat just how you like it. “you know-“ you move your fingers to signal rina to come closer, she lets out a giggle knowing what’s next. grabbing her face gently and letting out the smoke into her mouth you place the blunt back onto her bedside table. “it’s not.. it’s not like that”

letting out a small cough she shakes her and and reaches for the bottle of orange soda that has probably gone stale from how long it’s taken for her to take ready. “i know i know all i’m saying is he’d be good for you if you gave him the chance”

you let out another groan not of out annoyance from how often this has been said to you but of how right she was.

soobin was just too good of a guy, too sweet, too caring, too fucking lovable. you know he’d promise you the moon if he could but he’d also do that to rina, tae, hyuka hell even yeonjun.

that last name that popped in your head made you loose your balance for a second and lucky rina was there to keep you still.

“still thinking about them?” you look into her now low eyes that gives rina her signature look.

“don’t you just think it’s crazy how he’s back after years?”

“well yeah but that’s cause he was our best friend, but you know i never had the bond you guys had so i don’t feel exactly how you feel..” she gets on her bed laying next to you, holding you close and choosing her next words carefully. “do you not want to be his friend anymore?”

you subconsciously curl deeper into her side deep in thought. yes you would do anything to be his friend again. his best friend. his world just like how it was but you know you can’t go back to that, not now at least, not the same as it was.

losing him was probably worst than any heartbreak you’ve ever had, now that you finally have him back into your life after spending countless of nights praying for just one day that you’d be able to talk to him again it all feels surreal.

“i know you do, don’t trip about it dummy” rina mumbles before planting a kiss on the back of your neck then moving to the edge of her bed grabbing the roach you left on her table. she holds it out to you with a quirked eyebrow.

sitting up next to her you grab it while taking out the lighter you kept in your pocket “grab that bottle over there..”

“this is so ghetto” you let out a small laugh smacking her arm as she gets up silently agreeing with her. “you guys won’t fuck right?” you asked and you get an empty orange soda bottle thrown at your face as a reply.

“you think one blunt is enough to get me to sleep with a man” you roll your eyes passing the roach back to her.

after making the makeshift bong and placing the tail of the blunt inside it lighting it for its last round you finally take a look at the outfit she’s wearing and you realize you really doesn’t care, making you wonder why she really is going.

wearing soobin’s black jacket that you brought, grey sweatpants stained with the smell of weed and a white cami revealing the hickey you gave her a few nights ago from your game of dare or drink you played with the boys.

“pussy is so much more better anyways” wiggling her eyebrows at you, to that you lightly punch her shoulder face turning warm knowing what she’s referring to.

“yeah yeah get out of here before you end up with me on this bed instead of that guy”

“you know that doesn’t sound too bad”

“RINA”

letting out a huff and finally getting up she reaches for her car keys and starts heading out the door. “don’t miss me too much i’ll be back by 3, love you jagi ”

“love you more”

as you hear the front door close shut you look at the clock she had on her table reading 12:21AM in bright bloody letters. it’s your turn to let out a huff reaching under rina’s bed to grab a pre roll and light it knowing it’s going to be a long night.

masterlist prev next

(A/N): when their worlds finally meet

taglist: @captivq @mackjestic @run2seob

[ophelia-jones]

"Mom! Your booty call is back!" Remy called out the back door to Adalia that Thursday afternoon. She was in the backyard hanging laundry out to dry.

"Remy Joseph Monroe, I'm going to take away that phone if you're gonna keep talking to me like that!" Adalia returned.

"Whatever," Remy huffed and disappeared into his room, leaving Daryl standing by the open front door in the living room. Jenna and a friend of hers were giggling in the kitchen as they looted the cupboards for snacks.

"Is that your dad?" the friend asked in a not-hushed-enough whisper.

"Naw, he's a friend of my ma's," Jenna replied, both girls staring at him.

"You harassing the company?" Adalia asked Jenna when she returned through the back door and saw them staring.

"No mama. Just getting a snack," Jenna said, but there was a weird emphasis on the way she said snack, and both girls were still giggling loudly as they disappeared back into Jenna's room.

"Hey, there," Adalia greeted Daryl with a soft smile, trying not to fuss over the fact her hair was up in a messy bun and she was walking around barefoot in a pair of gray leggings and a New Orleans Saints t-shirt.

"Hey," he greeted her with a nod and that little smile - the one that seemed a little shy and made every nerve ending in her body light up. "I had a few hours to myself, thought I could take care of that stuff for you if you want."

"I won't complain," She said. "There's plenty to do, what did you have in mind?" she asked, feeling completely off balance with this new aspect of Daryl and their relationship. Suddenly, there was the sound of a chainsaw starting up. Adalia jumped at the sudden noise and leaned to peer out the window at Merle as he began clearing some trees that had fallen in a storm earlier in the year. She and Remy had managed to push them off to the side enough that the driveway wasn't completely blocked, but they were still in the way and an awful eyesore.

"That's a good place to start," she smiled at Daryl, now standing beside her. "Nice of Merle to help."

"He owes me a few favors," Daryl told Adalia with a shrug. She gazed up at him silently for a long moment. "What?" he asked when he realized he was being stared at.

"Why are you doing this, shug? Hmm? Cause you found out I had kids?" she asked, sincerely baffled by the change. Not that she was complaining.

"Naw, it ain't like that," Daryl told her, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at his feet. "I just, I dunno, I just… wanted to."

"Well. I guess that's as good of a reason as any," Adalia said softly, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Daryl stepped up and put a hand on each of her hips. Adalia's chest hitched in surprise and pleasure. He looked down at her with those blue eyes of his.

"You gotta work tonight?" he asked.

Adalia was scheduled to work, but at that moment she'd have burned the Rendezvous down to its foundation to be able to spend some time with him.

"No, not tonight. If you're planning on winning g the karaoke contest, I'll be sure to be there though," she lied, hoping he might have other plans and that they included her.

"Merle's buddies, the ones we're working with right now, they're planning on lighting a bonfire, having some drinks. If you felt like coming out," he told her, leaning in to kiss her neck and sending sparks flying all through her.

"Let me just check my calendar," she joked, sliding her hands up along Daryl's back. He chuckled and drew back up to look into her eyes again. "Looks like I'm free tonight." she smiled. As they lost themselves in the moment, they hadn't heard the chainsaw stop.

"When you said we were coming here to get wood, that is not what I thought you meant!" Merle grumbled after poking his head in the open door to see what was taking Daryl so long.

"Shut up! I'll be there when I get there," Daryl replied, scowling at his brother.

"Hi Merle," Adalia said playfully, giving him a little wave.

"Hey Betty Boop-oop-oopsie-doop," Merle flirted back. He had started telling her she looked like Betty Boop one night at the bar and would not call her anything else now.

"Go on, I'm right behind ya!" Daryl told him, waving his whole arm at him. Merle laughed as he went back out and started the chainsaw once again.

"You didn't want the wood from that tree, did you? I thought we could take it.." Daryl was saying, and Adalia finished his sentence with him.

"For the bonfire tonight, yeah. It's a good thing you invited me at least," she teased.

"It's not the only reason I came out," Daryl defended himself. "I'm gonna hang that screen door right so it'll stop swinging and slamming all the time, fix the shutter on that back window, and anything else you need to be done."

"Anything?" Adalia asked, biting her lip at him.

"Stop," he said, waving her off and heading outside to get to work. As soon as he joined Merle, Adalia grabbed her phone and called in sick.

********************************

As Daryl and Merle were tossing the firewood into the back of the truck, Remy came stalking up to them, his teenage boy swagger on full show.

"You know she's married, right?" he announced as he came up and leaned on the back of the truck, folding his arms on the edge of the truck bed.

"Who the fuck is this?" Merle asked in his most threatening growl. The boy stared him down without reacting.

"Adalia's boy," Daryl replied, continuing to chuck the wood into the truck bed without stopping to look at the kid.

"You think you got some mighty big balls on you, boy? Walking up on us like you 'as ready for a fight," Merle took off his gloves and started walking toward the kid, ready to teach him a lesson.

"Hey!" Daryl stepped in between them, "Naw, man. He's just a kid." Merle scowled but went back to working on loading the firewood.

"Listen, kid, you don't like me spending time with your mom, I get it.." Daryl started to say, but Remy interrupted.

"No, I don't like you coming here and making yourself right at home," Remy told him sharply.

"It ain't like that."

"Better not be," Remy said.

"You gonna be the man of the house, least you can do is work like it," Merle said, tossing a pair of gloves in the boy's face. Remy scowled but put them on and started helping.

************************************

That night, right about dusk, Daryl showed up in the driveway to pick Adalia up. His presence was declared to all by the rumble of a motorcycle engine. Jenna and her friend looked out the window and giggled madly. Remy even had to look out the window at the beautiful machine he was on.

"All right, Remy is in charge, clean up after yourselves, and don't burn the place down. I've got my keys, so lock up. I'll be home when I get home," she said, hugging Jenna and heading for the door.

When she stepped out, Daryl was still straddling the bike, waiting for her. He looked like something straight out of a teenage dream.

When they got to the party, she was introduced to several men in various states of information and their 'old ladies', the field full of motorcycles of various styles.

"You didn't tell me you were in a biker gang," Adalia whispered in his ear.

"Naw, they're harmless," he assured her. They sat with the others for an hour or so, laughing and chatting. As time went on, the music got louder and louder and it got harder to talk. Daryl stood and grabbed Adalia by the wrist, much like he had the first night they'd met, and led her away from the others.

There was an old barn that looked like it was ready to fall over, and when Daryl gestures to a ladder that went up from the outside to the big, open hayloft Adalia had to think about it for a moment.

"It's safe," he assured her.

Once they were up there, Daryl sat on the edge with his legs hanging over. Adalia sat nearby with her legs crossed, not quite as brave as he was. The moon was orange and full; it hung just above the trees and provided the perfect mood lighting.

"What's his name?" Daryl asked after a few moments of enjoying the moon and the quiet of their hiding spot.

"Who?" Adalia asked, her heart beginning to pound and her eyes searching for a safe way out. It was a reaction honed through years of abuse and jealousy. When Tim had said those words it meant he thought she was cheating on him (which she never had) and it would lead to an argument or a physical fight.

"Your husband. Remy said you weren't divorced." he asked, lighting up a cigarette.

"Oh, Remy." Adalia sighed. "It was hardest on him, I think when we left." she accepted the cigarette when Daryl handed it to her and took a long drag before passing it back.

"He's right though, I haven't filed the papers because Tim would get a copy and that would mean he would have my address."

"He hurt you?" Daryl asked, sitting with his head down, glancing at her sideways rather than looking directly at her.

"Yeah, he did," she admitted. "I just wish I would have wised up sooner."

"It ain't that easy to walk away from family," Daryl said. He stubbed the cigarette out on the boards next to himself. "I don't know what you're looking for, Adalia, and I ain't sure I have it to give. I just want to say that, I can't make you any promises."

Adalia smiled at his honesty, and at how hard it must be for someone as private as Daryl to open himself up like this.

"I'm not looking for a ring, or a new daddy for my kids or anything like that, Daryl Dixon," she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I don't know if I could even do any of that again. All those promises and expectations. I like this, though. I like spending time with you when you have it to spare. I like just knowing there is someone out there that thinks of me fondly from time to time. To think there is someone that smiles when they think of me," she told him.

"Yeah?" he said, wrapping an arm around her.

"Yeah," she assured him. They stared up at the moon for a while longer, then he spoke again.

"We're all done with that demo job. Merle says he's got something lined up for us down in Valdosta. He wants to leave in the morning." he told her eventually.

"So what you're telling me is you ship out tomorrow, Sailor? But we got tonight," she replied, her eyelashes lowered as she looked up at him.

"Yeah," he murmured, looking right back at her.

"That's enough," she told him, and he leaned down to kiss her as he had earlier in the week.

"C'mere," he said, standing and helping her up. A little farther back in the loft, there were some blankets and an air mattress set up, a radio, and a softly lit lantern.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" she teased, and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close.

"Yeah," he said simply before closing the distance and kissing her again, this time leading with that tongue of his and warming her right up. The music on the radio was slow and sad, and they were practically dancing as they kissed and slowly began undressing each other, running their hands over the curves and planes of each other's bodies until they could probably sculpt a statue of the other with their eyes closed.

Adalia settled onto the bed he had made for them, laying on her back without bothering to cover up with a blanket. Her dark hair was spread out on the pillow under her, and Daryl settled gently on top of her, between her legs. He kissed her again and again, one hand holding hers, pinning her arm above her head as the other hand reached down so he could slide two fingers inside of her slowly, the pad of his thumb flicking lightly at her clit. She rocked her hips against his touch. Her free hand was buried in his shaggy hair as he guided himself into her slowly. This was new, and it was so sensual - she was taken by surprise once again by this man. They had fucked several times now, but this? This felt like lovemaking. As he pushed slowly in his breathing started to come quicker as if he was as moved by the intensity of this as she was.

His hand was no longer necessary to help him join their bodies, he took her free hand in it and pinned it above her head as well. Every inch of them seemed to be touching as he moved slowly rocking his hips at a slow but smoldering speed.

Adalia closed her eyes and let the feeling of their bodies join at the center, at their hands, and even their feet were all tangled up. As he needed to move faster, trying desperately to make it last as long as possible, but the need built quickly despite his efforts.

As he rocked his hips and Adalia began to move with him, his face was beside hers, his breath in her ear. Every little gasp and groan from him drove her desire higher, hotter. Adalia opened her legs just a bit wider and the friction from his movements found her clit.

"I'm going to come, Daryl, you feel so god damned good. Don't stop, please don't stop!" her words came faster, louder as her release teased and built some more.

"I could live inside of you…" he murmured against her ear, nipping the lobe. She lifted her hips and spread her legs wide as he buried himself and she felt herself unravel around him, repeating his name over and over as she came. He picked up his pace then and she could feel his arms trembling but he didn't let go of her hands.

"Adalia?" he breathed her name. "say my name again."

She obliged gladly, whimpering his name into his ear letting him feel her breath against his skin, letting him hear her every moan of pleasure at the way he felt inside of her. When he came, she could feel every muscle in his arms and legs tense and flex around her. She closed her eyes and tried to memorize every single moment of this to get her through the lonely nights.