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chrisevansonly · 7 months

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Playing With Fire

Max Verstappen x Female Reader

summary: you and stella are max’s world, and he’d be damned if he let his father speak ill of either of you.

warnings: angst, jos (ew), angry max, slight mentions of crying, fluff at end

a/n: this is a re-upload to see if it shows up in the tags 🥲

When Stella was born, it was one of the best days ever for Max, seeing his baby girl come into the world, and the way she practically latched onto him from the minute she was welcomed into the family. He knew right then and there he would be the absolute best father to his daughter, just as he was the best husband to you, and always had been.

If there was one thing Max nor you completely enjoyed it was family events when everyone got together, including Jos. Max’s father.Max and his father have a complicated relationship, in a way they seem close but there’s always that edge to his dad that keeps all of you on the edge of your seat. You in particular seemed to still be an issue to him, and every once in a while, you’d become the punching bag at the dinner table.

Stella was sleeping in your arms as you sat next to Max at the dinner table, Jos across from you both and his mother on the other end with the rest of his family and some friends that had joined for the monthly get together.

“So when is the next Verstappen coming?” His father asked looking at you. Stella was only 6 months old so you and Max were happy to just enjoy the time you have with her now, not even thinking about another baby.

“Oh, well i’m sure someday we’ll have another…”

“We’re in no rush” Max butted in, assuming it would stop his father’s line of questioning.

“Yes well, it’s just you had a baby girl…there has to be a boy in the equation…”

You furrowed your brows, fixing Stella’s blanket as she continued to sleep, oblivious to the rising tensions in the room.

“I don’t think so? There’s nothing wrong with having girls..”

“Who’s supposed to carry on the name?”

Max sat up straighter, his hand squeezing your knee gently

“Stella will just as our next baby will eventually, regardless of their gender.”

Jos shook his head taking a sip of his water as he sighed, before looking back at you.

“All i’m saying is you should be trying for a boy.”

“Well it doesn’t work that way.”

The table was getting quieter as the father and son squared off, Jos not backing down and Max not about to let his father attack you in anyway. Not on his watch.

“I knew the second you had a daughter it would make you weak, let alone marrying her and having that baby! She’s useless if she can’t have a boy! You’re wasting your time Max, I knew from the second I met her it would ruin our family.”

Used to his harassment you didn’t cry, but it didn’t stop tears from welling up in your eyes as you almost deflated in a way, hugging Stella closer to your chest. The minute your eyes looked to Max, long gone was his soft stare and gentle smile, replaced was a look almost predatory as he looked to his father.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking about the mother of my child.”

“Max-”

“No, get out.”

“Excuse me?” Jos’s eyes widened and he shook his head

“GET THE HELL OUT!”

Max yelled, slamming his hands down on the table, seconds later Stella stirring before whimpering in your arms. The dutchman froze and looked apologetically at you as you excused yourself to go up to the nursery, only then turning back to look at his father.

“If you ever so much as think about speaking about my wife and daughter again, it’ll be me coming after you. Now get the fuck out.”

Jos didn’t even offer to say anything else, pushing back his chair and storming out, effectively cutting the dinner to an end as everyone left, Max’s mother sticking around to help clean up and of course comfort you afterwards. She had always been close to you and Max and in a way she was like a mother to you too.

“Baby?”

Turning at the sound of your husbands voice you smiled, still holding Stella in your arms, only this time she was much calmer, her eyes lighting up as she spots her dad.

“Hi, everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that…”

Shrugging you let him take Stella from you, his demeanour much more relaxed with his baby girl in his arms as he placed a few kisses to her cheeks.

“I know what your father is like, yes it hurts but I love you and you love me and that’s all that matters…we have a beautiful baby girl, and that man will never be able to change what we have.”

Max nods, bringing you into his side and leaning down to kiss you softly

“You’re right, he can’t. I’ll never let him ever disrespect you like that ever again. No matter what I have to do.”

“I know you won’t Maxie…and I love you very much for it, Stella too, huh baby?”

Stroking her cheek gently she babbled happily, leaning on Max’s shoulder, her hand patting his chest gently

“My girls…I love you both so much, i’ll always protect you both, with my everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said in the moment, all Max needed was his girls and he felt whole. Nothing else mattered because to him he had everything he’d ever wanted in his life. Despite what he went through growing up, Jos had never made his heart turn cold, he made it big enough to hold the love he had for you two, and would always hold, no matter what happened.

Besides, everyone knew messing with the Verstappen girls, was playing with fire.

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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

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Secret relationship and they find out you're being transferred to a different team.

Anon...how DARE you. But really, the angst that this prompt is giving is everything. I want to warn readers now that I was not nice with this one. There is a lot of angst happening here. There is nothing spicy about it. It's all pain with a little comfort sprinkled in for a few of our boys.

(Sorry not sorry)

These are presented in four individual double drabbles.

Content & Warnings: angst, mild emotional hurt/comfort, secret relationships, yearning, heartbreak, 141!reader

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“We’ve got two weeks!”

“Soap.”

“Can you believe that?”

“Johnny.”

Soap’s smile remains but melts slightly. “What?”

“I’m leaving.”

He chuckles. “We both are.”

You shake your head. “No. I’m leaving the team.”

Soap frowns slightly. “Retirement?” He shrugs. “Seem a bit young.” That smile returns and he saunters forward, his large hands grasping your hips. “Means we can go public.”

He leans in for a kiss, but your heart isn’t in it. Soap realizes the reluctance the moment your lips meet. “It’s something else,” he says.

You nod because that is all you can manage. Originally, Captain Price said he wanted to tell the team together, but he doesn’t know about you and Johnny. Soap needs to know first before the rest. If not, it’ll come as a blow and a betrayal. You can’t do that to him no matter what Captain Price says.

“I’m being transferred,” you murmur, voice breaking slightly.

Soap does not retreat. He rests his forehead against your own, eyes closing as he inhales. His arms slide from your hips to your back, drawing you against him.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says rubbing your back. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle enters the meeting room. It’s the last one before everyone breaks for a month.

But there is someone missing.

Laswell and Captain Price talk quietly, their heads bent in conversation. Soap is showing something to Ghost on his phone.

You are not among them. You are not in your usual spot.

Laswell glances up and Price clears his throat. “We can start.”

“Hold up, Captain. We’re missing one.”

Kyle gestures toward the chair you usually sit in and Price frowns.

“Transferred on another mission,” interrupts Laswell.

Kyle says nothing, sinking into his chair. He listens but most of it slips right out of his head. The only thing he can think about is that you’re not here and you didn’t say anything.

When Laswell and Price are finished, and everyone begins to exit, Kyle lingers, intent on talking to Price.

“Not gonna talk about our missing team member?”

“Nothing to say,” shrugs Price. “Transferred this morning.”

Kyle swallows down the emotion rising in his throat. No one knows about the two of you, and if he pushes too much, he might reveal something he shouldn’t.

“Coming back?” asks Kyle.

“Eventually,” answers Price. “Not sure when.”

Eventually. There’s hope then.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You’re leaving.”

“Simon.”

“Did you plan on telling me?” You remain silent and Simon shakes his head. “Waiting for Price to do it?”

“That’s not true.”

Simon takes a step forward, entering your space. “I saw the transfer on his desk. I saw the date. How long have you known?”

“Does that matter?” you ask.

“Of course it does,” he snaps.

Simon is never angry, not with you. His anger is subtle which makes it more terrifying. This is something else. Simon is hurt, and you’re the cause of it.

“I’m sorry you found out like this. I planned on telling you.”

“When?” He’s closer now, towering over you.

“When I had more information.”

“More information?”

“I don’t know where I’m going or with who,” you add.

“Might not tell you until you get there. Happens all the time.”

You understand his meaning and know that Simon is right. Would you have left without telling him anything, only saying something once you’d left?

No. This thing between you might be tangled but he is the only one you want.

“Are you upset?” you ask.

Simon deflates. “Not with you.” He tugs you against him, creating a cocoon of warmth. “Never.”

John Price

The transfer papers mockingly stare at Price.

All this time, he believed he could have you without repercussion. Didn’t matter that you were another member of the team and his subordinate. You were his, and Price could protect you.

But these papers came from someone above him, and he cannot refuse them. No matter how much he wants to.

And no one knows what the two of you do when there isn’t anyone looking. But now, that’s shattered. Broken. And Price must grieve for your departure in silence. Price has already raged. He punched the wall until his knuckles bled.

After that, he walked until he came to terms with it.

You don’t know yet. You have no idea. Telling you will be the hardest part. What will happen? How will the two of you move forward? Can the secrets remain, or will it all need to be out in the open?

Price sighs and runs his hands over his face.

This is a punishment. Must be. Why else is it happening?

There is a loud knock at the door. Again, Price sighs, knowing that he has to face the reality of the situation.

You are on the other side.

taglist:

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@childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666

@unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath

@enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu

@thewulf @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos

@enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project

@burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @contractedcriteria

@lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @dakotakazansky

@hantheconqueror @sapphichotmess

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0310s · 3 months

Note

perv!leehan who can’t stop staring at his gf’s boobs 😵‍💫 i feel like he would start bouncing his leg just to try and focus and avoid getting a hard on

members: leehan x gender neutral reader

genre: smut, but intimacy also i promise!!!!

tags: dry humping, breast/nipple play

wc: 2.0k

a/n: anon just know i decided to pull an all-nighter to write this because i couldn't get it out of my head... thank you for this amazing idea.

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

During the start of your relationship when you’re still not intimate, Leehan decides to go at your pace; whatever you’re comfortable with dictates how everything else will go. Still, perv!Leehan is easily turned on by you—specifically, your boobs.

Leehan legitimately can’t stop staring at them and it’s becoming a problem, because you never wear a bra around him when he visits you in your apartment! The first time he comes over, he notices something is different about you—then he notices the natural curves of your breasts and wonders about how it would feel like to cup them in his palms. When it’s cold and your nipples poke out from your shirt, Leehan’s mind goes haywire and he can’t stop thinking about taking them into his lips. When you’re cuddled up with Leehan innocently on your bed, Leehan can feel how soft your chest is pressed up against his and has to awkwardly turn his body to the side so you don’t feel his growing hard-on.

One time, when you’re wearing a loose, oversized shirt and lean over him to get something across him, he accidentally gets a peek of your bare chest. It’s only a second, but the flash of round flesh and nipple he sees is imprinted into his mind. He’s incredibly turned on yet immensely guilty. He has nothing to cover his crotch, so he ends up bouncing his leg so hard to will his hard-on away that you have to ask him if he’s alright. He says he is. You won’t know he’ll end up jerking off every night to thoughts of that memory, whether that be by furiously fucking his fist or humping his pillow.

Another time you accidentally brush up against his arm and you squeak, and Leehan is immediately concerned, asking you what’s wrong. Upon more prodding on his end you shyly confess your nipples are sensitive, which sends Leehan down a deeper rabbithole of fantasies about teasing and pinching and and sucking and pulling at your nipples until you’re crying. But the last thing Leehan wants is for you to not feel comfortable and safe in your own body around him, so he gently says it’s alright and that he’ll be more careful next time, not dwelling too much on the topic so you aren’t put on the spot.

Still, you eventually notice Leehan’s staring as it grows more and more frequent and blatant (even if he thinks he’s being subtle about it). So one day in your apartment, when you spot him gazing at your clothed chest with an unreadable expression, you cover your chest with your hands in self-consciousness. Leehan shamefully realizes he’s been caught, so he rushes to beg for your forgiveness with red cheeks—but his heart breaks when you apologize first. “Is there something wrong with my … chest?” you ask, turning away to hide your chest. “You keep staring at them that I’m worried you think they look… weird. I know they’re not perfect or anything… I’m sorry.” And when he hears a sniffle come from you, he feels like the worst boyfriend to exist.

“No, no, love, I’m sorry, I promise it’s not that,” Leehan pleads. Still, you don’t look back. You’re hunched over, rubbing at your eyes while the sniffles continue. “Please… Can you look at me?” You slowly shake your head. Leehan, not wanting the misunderstanding to hurt you even more, takes ahold of your shoulders and gently turns you to face him. “I’m sorry my staring made you uncomfortable, but what you said is so far from the truth. To be honest…” When you look up at him with teary eyes, Leehan knows he has to tell you the truth, even if it’ll mortify him, so he tells you how much your boobs turn him on that he can’t stop looking. His face grows even redder in the wake of his confession and your silence. He’s ready to apologize again and give you space when you let out an “Oh! Oh. Ohhh….” And you end up being extremely shy around each other for the rest of the day.

The first time you let Leehan touch your chest is in the heat of you making out. You’re in Leehan’s lap on your couch and he’s kissing you so sensually you’re becoming lightheaded with pleasure. He’s got one strong arm around your waist, and the other cups your cheek. When he lets go of your face, his hand accidentally brushes against your chest. Leehan’s quick to say sorry and is about to move his hand away, but you clutch his hand in time. You shyly ask him if he wants to touch—while Leehan is so turned on by the thought, he asks you multiple times if it’s something you want and if you’re sure about taking this next step. You admit that ever since the day Leehan told you the truth, you’ve been thinking about it. Extensively.

You lead his hand to touch you; he cups at one clothed breast experimentally, feeling the weight and shape in his hand. You sigh and lean into his touch, and it gives him more courage to explore. He squeezes your chest and you moan, he slowly circles a nipple with a fingernail and you whimper, involuntarily pressing your pussy down on his dick. Leehan can’t believe he’s really touching your boobs, something he’s fantasized about for months on end. As he fondles you, you both desperately grind against each other, and when Leehan firmly sucks at your nipple through your shirt, you gasp in pleasure at how warm his tongue feels against you, even with a layer of cloth obstructing him from your bare skin. The contact is intense and overwhelming to you and you orgasm, Leehan following not long after.

After several repeats of clothed stimulation across weeks, you grow to become more comfortable in your own body. Soon enough, you find the courage to take your top off in the middle of a makeout session with your boyfriend. When you’re free of your shirt, your first instinct is to cover yourself, but you’re unable to when you catch Leehan’s honest reaction. Your tits are face-to-face with Leehan as you kneel on the couch, your thighs on the sides of his own. Your boyfriend’s staring at you with his mouth agape. Your eyes follow his pretty throat bobbing up and down as his stare trails down to your bare chest. Leehan’s silent for a moment as he takes in your soft flesh, memorizing your lovely curves, but eventually breaks the silence by letting out a deep exhale. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, “so pretty for me.”

Your cheeks heat up at his sweet but erotic words, then embarrassment hits you as you register the implications of taking off your shirt so abruptly. You’re about to retreat into your shell of shyness and insecurity, but Leehan holds your wrists firmly, still loose enough so you can break out of his grip if you wished to. “Let me look at you properly, okay?” Leehan glances up at you, waiting for your answer.

You nod once. At your signal, Leehan trails a finger down the side of one breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Gorgeous,” he sighs dreamily, “How could you think I wouldn’t find you perfect as you are?” Your boyfriend’s words serve to bolster your confidence as you lean into his touch. Leehan smiles at this, cupping both breasts with his palms, giving you a light squeeze and eyeing your reaction. You melt into his hold.

“More?” You nod again, and he acquiesces. Leehan lightly brushes his pointer finger over a nipple and you gasp at the direct contact. He traces a circle around your slowly stiffening peak, doing the same to its pair and humming in satisfaction when they’re both hard. “Tell me if this is too much, okay?” Monitoring your reaction, he takes one pebbled nipple between his fingers, rolling it gently, then administering the same treatment to the other. They’re indeed sensitive. You let out a high-pitched moan and clap a hand over your mouth in mortification, but Leehan pushes your hand back down. “Don’t hold back… I want to hear your moans when I take care of you like this. Don’t be ashamed—you sound pretty.”

Leehan then uses both hands to tug at your nipples, and you unabashedly whine at the pressure, clutching at his shoulders for support. You squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction—you can feel how wet you already are, your underwear uncomfortably clinging to your folds. At this, Leehan grinds his crotch up into you to remind you he’s perfectly available for your pleasure. You stop kneeling up and drop your hips to grind into Leehan’s cock, and you both moan at the contact. To your surprise, he’s rock-hard… all he’s been doing is touching your chest and he’s already this…?

You must have said that out loud, because Leehan lets out a tiny huff of disbelief. “What do you mean? This is everything I’ve been dreaming about for months, of course I’m turned on.” (The thought that you occupy your boyfriend’s fantasies makes you feel faint.) He gives your nipples another firm twist, and a helpless keen comes out of your mouth. Leehan lets go and observes his work proudly—your nipples are hard and reddened. Still, it’s not enough for you, and you grind your pussy down harder so your boyfriend gets the message. “Can I…?” You thrust your chest into Leehan’s face. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Almost instantly, Leehan takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking slowly. When you tangle a hand in his hair and angle his head closer, he increases the pressure ever so slightly. The firm suction on your nipple feels heavenly, paired with how he lightly teases at your other one with a thumb, while the rest of his hand cradles your ribs. Leehan draws a sob from you as he tongues at your peak, circling it lazily. Looking straight into your eyes, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your puffy nipple, blowing air on it, and you squeal at the sensation. To relieve some of the frustration, you roll your hips insistently against Leehan’s, earning a muffled groan from him and sending a vibration of pleasure through you. He must feel your wetness through your shorts, because the hand on your side tightens minutely and presses you down onto his lap.

When your grip on his hair increases, Leehan turns to your unattended nipple, giving it the same attention as he laves over it sensually. At this point, both of you are rocking frantically against each other, searching for release. The friction is driving you crazy. You greedily wish you had Leehan’s cock deep inside you—you can already imagine the stretch with how long and thick it is from your ceaseless grinding. And when Leehan’s teeth slightly graze your nipple, you let out a loud cry, your orgasm taking you by surprise, washing over you as you grind down once more. Then Leehan freezes, letting out a ragged moan as his hips jerk up harshly once, twice, until he relaxes.

It takes you a minute or two to recover your breath when you realize Leehan probably hasn’t come yet. “Do you need help with—?” When Leehan shakes his head no, you look at him questioningly. Weren’t you on the same page with all this?

Still, Leehan’s response is one you didn’t expect. “Um, I already came,” he says sheepishly. When you tilt your head down, you’re greeted with a sizeable mess at the front of his pants. “Didn’t take much for it to happen… this was too hot.”

“Well. It was. Is. Hot,” you admit, your chest heaving from exertion. “Um. You’re hot.” Could you be any less awkward?

“Oh! You too,” Leehan giggles, sending you one of his signature crescent-eye smiles. Your eyes follow his as they trail down from your face to your chest, which makes you realize you’re still—ashamedly—topless.

“Oh my god!” You rush to shield your chest from view, but Leehan beats you to it, nuzzling his face into the valley of your breasts and inhaling deeply. “Don’t do that, I’m all sweaty…”

“Smells good. Smells like you,” Leehan’s reply is muffled by your chest. He leaves a soft kiss on your sternum and your heart flutters at this display of affection. “You have nothing to be worried about.” You know he means more than just the sex, and for this, you’re infinitely grateful.

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defectiveporcelaindoll · 2 months

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Chapter 1: The Manuscript

“He thought about how they said-

Since she was wise beyond her years everything had been above board. Now he wasn’t sure…”

series masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader

summary: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

genre: slow-burn romance?

cw: age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is 24), a couple y/n’s (I’m sorry, I know I’m sick of it too.), fake marriage, possibly eventual smut in later parts we’ll see, female reader she/her pronouns, bad writing! lemme know if I missed anything! And as always, lemme know what you think!

wordcount: 1.3k

“The professor said the write what you know”

Spencer sat at his desk, anxiously scribbling away at a case file that he knew he simply wasn’t ready to hand over just yet. Not ready to let go or say goodbye. The office was deserted with the exception of Emily still fussing around in her office like she always was these days, just like Hotch before her, and Gideon before him. Back in the days when he was the youngest member of the team— god how things had changed.

“Looking backward might be the only way to move forward-”

six months prior:

"Come on, Em. She’s too young. I’d hardly say she has any real-life experience, and as helpful as she’s been, she certainly doesn’t have the field experience. And you want to drop her into an undercover operation at a university thousands of miles away? I just can’t logically wrap my mind around how you think this is our best option,” Spencer sighed, anxiously pacing the length of Emily’s office. Maybe it was the lights, but more likely it was the outlandish plans being laid before him that were bringing on the all-too-familiar throb of a migraine.

Emily cleared her throat, glancing up at Spencer with a tight-lipped, not-quite smile. “If you would let me finish, I wouldn’t be sending her alone. I’d be sending her with you. The unsub—or rather, unsubs—are targeting couples where the man,” she pointed to him, eyes widening as if to say keep up, “in the relationship comes from a position of power above the woman.” She wildly waved her hand toward the door, motioning to the woman sitting just outside the office.

“You’d be posing as a professor, which technically isn’t anything new for you. Though we might have to rub a little dirt on your good name.” She shrugged, glancing back down to shuffle through the pile of files on her desk until she found the one she was looking for, holding it out for Spencer. “A handsome professor and his new, albeit young, ex-TA of a wife... forced to move after your relationship went public. Tragic.” She quirked a brow, offering Spencer a playful smirk. He did not return it, instead rolling his eyes as he thumbed through the file containing what could be his life for the next couple of months.

“Look, if we place you both at the university, she’ll fit in with the students, you’ll fit in with the professors, and now we have eyes and ears everywhere we need them. It’s logical enough, Spencer, and she’s already agreed as long as you’re up for it.”

There was a long pause as Spencer’s mind ran wild, figuring the probability of everything that could and likely would go wrong if he agreed to this plan.

“Look, we’ll even count this towards thirty days of teaching if that sweetens the deal at all?” Prentiss let out an exhausted sigh. Clearly, this was her only option, and everyone else, even the higher-ups, had approved this plan. It all now sat on Spencer’s shoulders. All he needed to do was agree.

“Fine…” he mumbled, his palm digging into his eye socket briefly trying to dull the growing pain behind his eyes. If Prentiss noticed, she chose not to address it. “Great! See, maybe it’ll be good for you? The faculty housing looks nice-ish..? And you’ve gotta admit, Y/N is sweet. I think she’ll learn a lot from you.”

Before Emily could finish her statement, Spencer turned on his heels, stalking out of the Unit Chief's office past the probie, her doe eyes fixed on him like he was a predator. Her gaze startled him in a way that sent him tripping over his own feet. He quickly righted himself, not daring to glance back at the younger agent on his way to the kitchenette.

An hour and several cups of coffee later, Spencer Reid found himself at the round table, sitting perfectly still as his breath caught in his lungs, watching the young woman in front of him sign her name on the dotted line. It’s official; Doctor Spencer Reid is officially a married man—sort of.

It felt so absurd, having to sign a marriage license. Though, logically, he understood. If they were using Spencer’s name and reputation as a backbone for this assignment, there should be a paper trail. At least when it came to this, he knew Penelope could fabricate anything and everything else they might need, but this silly piece of paper, declaring them man and wife—that was free and public information that needed to be real.

“So…” Y/N's voice was soft as it attempted to cut through the heavy weight of the awkward atmosphere. She fidgeted, tapping the pen against the table.

Spencer cleared his throat, eyes raking over her as the voice in his head told him once again that this was an awful idea, that she was too young, that she had no field experience, and there were far too many ways this could all go south. He tried his best to shake them off. “If you don’t mind me asking, I don’t mean this to be rude. I was a young agent—actually one of the youngest agents the BAU has ever had—” he caught himself in his ramble, his eyes searching her face for any kind of discomfort before blinking harder than necessary in an attempt to focus. “Sorry—uh, how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’ll be twenty-five in October… so twenty-four.”

"Right..." he chuckled, shaking his head, "that means...w-when you were born I already had two PhDs and was nearly finished with my third."

She groaned, a slight blush covering her cheeks as she fought the embarrassed grin threatening to take over her lips. “Doctor Reid—”

“Spencer.” He cut her off, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I—Uh… you can just call me Spencer. I don’t think couples typically use such formality when they’re addressing each other…”

“I guess you’re right,” she said, offering a little nod. “Spencer,” his name felt too personal on her lips, “I—” a rosy blush creeping up her neck as her mind went completely blank, every thought she’d ever had lost in the warm glow of his golden eyes.

As if on cue, Emily entered the room, a smirk on her lips as she observed the younger, seemingly awestruck agent gawking at her favorite genius. “Hope I’m not interrupting, but I thought these might be useful?” She shrugged, placing a velvet box down beside Spencer before sliding the other across the table to fall into the younger woman’s lap. “Congratulations. I now pronounce you man and wife or whatever they say—beware, Penelope is likely going to throw rice or glitter or whatever she found in her desk at you as you walk out of this room. You’ve been warned. And I’d say kiss the bride, but frankly, I don’t want to see that. Wheels up in thirty.”

With that, she offered the new couple a nod before retreating back out of the conference room, back to her office, leaving them to open the velvet boxes. The rings were simple, nothing too flashy, like something you’d expect a professor to be able to afford without breaking the bank.

“Right…” Spencer said, sliding his own ring onto his finger before rising to his feet, his fingers awkwardly clenching and flexing at the unfamiliar weight. “Maybe if we don’t leave together, Garcia won’t ambush us.” He turned towards the door, hesitating a moment to glance back at the woman he could now call his wife. “Unless—unless you’re ready to go… we could, uh, head out together?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Y/N nodded quickly, jumping to her feet as she organized the pile of papers back into their folders and into her bag. She crossed the room, stopping beside Spencer. She glanced up at him, her own ring feeling heavy on her finger as she hesitantly reached out, offering him her hand. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes going back and forth between her waiting palm and her eyes before reluctantly accepting the offer.

“Shall we, Mrs. Reid?”

“Now and then he re-reads the manuscript. Of the entire torrid affair~”

Chapter II: Guilty as Sin

Thanks for being interested in my silly little concept 🩵

@flowerpott1978 @olives-and-sunshine

#mgg #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds evolution #spencer reid imagine #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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freelancearsonist · 5 months

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so scarlet, it was...

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader - series masterlist

➔ 1.3k words

➔ “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

➔ Rated MA for dark fic kinda, a/b/o themes (alpha joel, omega reader), established... situationship? i guess, pregnancy/contemplation of termination, contemplation of self harm, reader is not in a good headspace. one instance of vomiting, joel is not very nice, this fic in general is not very nice. takes place three years post outbreak. [please let me know if i missed any warnings so i can add them in :)]

➔ thank you so much to my darling @bitchwitch1981 for the prompt, i'm so sorry this is probably very much not what you wanted 🤣 extra special thank you to @perotovar for making this wonderful joel gif for me, if ur reading this ily <3

You’ve never actually used one of these things before. You’ve only read about them in books or seen them in movies from years ago, and they’ve only ever been an object of abject horror.

You understand why now, looking down at those two little lines on the stick cradled in your hand. You’ve never been quite so terrified in your life.

You never should’ve pocketed this test when you found it in that miraculously untouched drug store. You could’ve stayed blissfully unaware. Better yet, you should’ve been more careful. Three years of living like this has been more than enough to make you firm in your decision to never bring life into this broken world. This isn’t a place for a child, this is barely even a place for you. Every day is a fight, every waking moment is a nightmare. But you’ve been so careless with him and now it’s all crashing down, this blissful bubble where you can pretend that everything might be okay because you have the pack and, more importantly, him.

You won’t have him for much longer when he finds out about this.

You wonder what it’ll take to right this wrong before he finds out about it. It must be pretty early, so maybe it won’t take much to reverse it. Maybe all you’ll have to do is bump into something just right, or trip over the right log.

The thought makes you sick–more stomach bile than anything else coming up because you’ve hardly had more to eat than stale beef jerky and some precarious berries in the past few days. Resources have been so slim; another reason this can’t be happening. You hardly have enough to tide you over, much less a child. And it’ll be even worse once the pack abandons you.

You bury yourself into the haphazard nest of blankets and his worn clothes, letting the heavy, musky scent of him soothe your wracking sobs.

Maybe you should just accept your fate now, sacrifice yourself for the good of the pack. Everyone is going to die eventually, after all–sooner rather than later in this world. You’ve only been postponing the inevitable. They never have to know why you do it, and it’ll be one less mouth to feed. Two, technically, but they’ll never have to know that. He won’t even really miss you, it’ll be one less burden on his hands. On all of their hands.

You don’t hear them return early from scavenging–maybe because the volume of your own sobs drowns out any other noise. Or maybe because he can sense something is wrong as he enters the run-down little shack you’ve been holed up in for the past few weeks, and he softens his approach because of it.

Joel has never been quite as tender as he is when he takes you into his arms, pulling your face out of the pile of fabric to wipe at your tear-streaked cheeks.

“My omega, shhhh, I’m here. It’s okay,” he murmurs, wrapping you into his big, strong, safe arms. He doesn’t know. Maybe he thinks you had a nightmare, or you just missed him, or a million other things except the truth. But he doesn’t know, and you know he doesn’t know because you feel the moment he connects the dots. His eyes drop to the little white stick clutched tightly in your fist and his entire body stiffens like a board. Suddenly there’s no more warmth or comfort to his touch, nothing soothing about the pheromones drifting from him. He pulls away like you’re infected, and maybe you are. Maybe the thing that’s taken root in you is worse than cordyceps could ever hope to be.

You’ve never been terrified of him before. Joel is dark and brooding and imposing, but he’s only ever fought to protect you. His omega, who wormed their way under his skin despite him fighting it every step of the way. His omega, who’s been the only source of anything remotely close to comfort he’s had since outbreak day. His omega, who’s given him purpose in this dark world.

His omega, who’s betrayed him in such an unforgivable way.

“What the fuck.” There’s nothing but venom in his tone–he looks at you with pure disgust and your resolve crumbles.

Maybe there was a little, tiny, miniscule part of you that hoped it would be different. That he would be excited to be a father, or at least be understanding. But that hope dies so suddenly when you look up into his scowling face. He towers over you, dark eyes flashing with anger, and for the first time since you met him two long years ago you’re scared.

“You were supposed to be careful.” His voice rises further and further with each syllable, as if this isn’t partially his fault too. As if he wasn’t the one in such an uncontrollable rut last month that he kept you in bed all week, losing the willpower required to pull out with each powerful thrust of his hips. As if it isn’t his seed blooming in your womb as you speak.

“What do we do now, huh?” He growls, eyes darkening, fists clenching at his sides. “I’ve fucking marked you, I can’t turn you loose! And we barely make it by as we are! How the fuck are we supposed to handle this?”

He rants for what seems like hours and you flinch with every booming word, curling tighter around yourself in a desperate attempt to simply disappear; to not have to deal with this any more because your heart shatters with each irreversible word he throws at you. You shrink and shrink and shrink in hopes of vanishing because this is undoable. No matter what happens, nothing will ever go back to the way it was and that’s the knowledge that crushes you completely.

Your voice is so small when he finally quiets enough for you to speak. “Go ahead, yell your fucking head off. That’ll make everything okay, won’t it?”

Joel stops in his tracks, white knuckles unclenching for the first time in minutes. He sees the fear and regret in your eyes, and he almost lets it soften him. He loathes himself for this look on your face–for making you scared of him.

His omega. So small and fragile, curled in a pile of his clothes because his scent brings you comfort. He’s dedicated two years of his time and effort to keeping you safe and comfortable, if not happy. He’s supposed to protect you, not hurt you. He’s supposed to give you children and raise them with you, be a family with you. That’s what being your alpha means, and he has so sorely failed you.

But he knows he can never do that again. That’s never what this was supposed to be. He didn’t mark you out of anything but necessity–if he had let your uncontrolled scent waft every time you went into heat, every alpha in the country would be targeting your little pack of four. You’re his omega out of biological necessity–a warm hole to fill when his rut threatens to tear already strenuous ties with his brother and Tess. That’s what he tells himself because the alternative is so startlingly incomprehensible that he won’t allow himself to even consider the fact that he might care about you; that the urge to care for you and protect you is more than primal, biological instinct; that you mean more to him than anyone ever has.

Not just his omega now, but his mate. His unborn child is growing and growing and growing with each passing second inside your womb and he’s powerless to stop it.

“We’re thirty-seven miles from the Boston QZ,” he growls from somewhere deep in his chest. “We leave at first light.”

You don’t get a chance to argue or plead your case before the door slams shut behind him.

➔ beta: @beskarandblasters and @fhatbhabie

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #alpha!joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #dark fic #the last of us #tlou #joel tlou #cece writes #series: maroon

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that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction · 6 months

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Remember that one scene where Arthur is training with Merlin and Merlin is fighting for his life while Arthur repeatedly knocks him on his arse? I can’t remember what episode but it was early in season 1.

I like to imagine Merlin starts being sarcastic with every hit in hopes it’ll piss Arthur off enough to storm off and leave him alone. It backfires when Arthur starts replying and it turns into a venting session.

Like, Uther said some dumb shit about Arthur? Merlin starts a fight about it.

The knights can’t follow orders? Merlin is disobedient enough that Arthur starts yelling about how dangerous it is when his men don’t follow orders.

Arthur’s feeling bad about someone he couldn’t save? Merlin makes him see why he’s doing enough by arguing with him about it and reminding him that he’s only human.

And Arthur knows what he’s doing, he catches on eventually and will occasionally walk up to Merlin, push his shoulder only enough to be annoying until Merlin stops whatever he’s doing, then Arthur will just say “Fight me.” and Merlin will either say something he knows will get Arthur angry or he’ll throw a punch he knows Arthur will block and they’ll start sparring. (Merlin learns to fight eventually, neither of them realise it’s happening until he sucker punches a bandit and he’s out cold)

Anyway, it becomes something they do to help Arthur vent his frustrations.

The best part? It works.

So Arthur sees Merlin upset. It goes on for about a week when Arthur realises what’s going on. He sits down next to Merlin on the floor one night, nudges his shoulder like he would if he wanted to fight, and says, “why are you upset? It’s not like you’ve got anything to worry about.” In a purposefully taunting way.

Merlin scowls and keeps working, and Arthur tries again, “Really. All you do is follow orders. It’s not hard.”

And so Merlin looks up, clearly angry until he sees what Arthur is trying to do, so he puts down what he’s doing and starts fighting back, “no, just exhausting when those orders are given by a prat.” Or “Maybe if I had a day off once in a while.” I don’t know, I suck at dialogue.

It goes on for a while, until they get too close to the issue, Merlin snaps, tells Arthur he’s a dick and sobs, yelling about magic, and the great dragon being manipulative, loosing his father, loosing Freya, Gaius lying to him about his father and thinking Uther is a good king and a good man, and literally everything else that’s gone wrong.

Arthur pulls him in and hugs him, then tells Merlin they’re fighting together from here on out. It takes a while, but they work it out.

There’s plenty of “fights” about Arthur feeling betrayed by Merlin keeping secrets and Merlin being mad at his situation in Camelot and then being frustrated that he can’t get himself to feel angry at Arthur (I’ve got a half baked character analysis for Merlin and Arthur’s codependency somewhere in my drafts. I’ll come back to it eventually.) but they’re okay and they figure it out and end up stronger for it.

I’m holding back on sharing the major character death/dark!Arthur angsty alternate ending for this, but let me know if you want to see it :)

Edit: Part 2 - (the angsty alternate ending)

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #merlin bbc #headcanon #fic ideas #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #i’m bad at tagging #i'm procrastinating #another idea for a rainy day #said while it’s raining like that’s a rare thing here #another fic idea for when I don’t have other wips to finish first #fic writer #merlin x arthur #merlin and arthur

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xoxoladyaz · 3 months

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locked in lowercase (inside a vault)

For @steddie-week Day 3: Longing (1,032 words)

Tags: Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending

“Eddie, man. I think you should talk to him.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, really? What’s with the sudden change of heart, Emerson? That desperate to knock me down a peg?”

“Dude,” Gareth sighs, and the defenses he’d so easily garnered up fall just a little. “Look, I know I wasn’t all that thrilled about Harrington in the first place – ”

“Oh, that’s the understatement of the fucking century, Gare-bear - ”

“ – but,” Gareth ignores Eddie’s attempts at cutting him off, “that was before I saw how miserable you are without him. Like, dude. We made it. We’re on tour right now, and all you wanna do when we’re not on stage is sit on the bus and play Patsy Cline. You,” Gareth taps Eddie on the chest, “you should be having the time of your fucking life right now, but it’s like you’re not really here with us, man.”

Eddie lets Gareth’s words sink in for a moment. The kid’s not wrong, of course, but he doesn’t get it. He can’t. Eddie barely has the words to describe how the feelings started or what his feelings even are, but any time he bumps into anyone that has that look in their eye, that whole I wanna take an up-and-coming rock star for a ride shine, Eddie turns tail and practically runs the other way. It’s not to say that he hasn’t tried – oh, he tried, especially in those first few cities after first leaving Indiana – but it either didn’t happen or it didn’t end well for either party and eventually he just stopped trying.

Because none of them were Steve.

And the worst part is, it’s fucking hopeless. The King never, ever gave Eddie even the slightest inclination that it wasn’t just “babes” for him. (Although, to be fair to Steve, Eddie himself didn’t really know until he was too far away to do anything about it, and that’s assuming Eddie’s balls got big enough to even fucking try something.) Steve was kind to Eddie, sure; hell, he was even calling Harrington his best friend at the end, before they left for tour. But then Eddie started wanting and, even worse, started knowing that he wanted any eyes that looked at him in pleasure to be big and brown and belong to Steve and – well, he hasn’t been playing on this side of the field for long, but even a newbie like him knows just how this is going to play out.

(Which translates to: he slowly stops calling Steve until he isn’t calling him at all. He takes “Head Over Heels” off the set list. He puts the swim team sweater he stole from Steve’s closet at the bottom of the “extra clothes” pile in the back of the bus. And instead of going out after every show, instead of trying and failing to find some peace in the bottom of a bottle like his dad, he sits in the tour bus and plays Patsy Cline on his acoustic under his fingers bleed.)

“It’ll only make things worse, Gare,” Eddie replies, fishing aimlessly in his pockets for the last of his Camels. “I’ll get over it. Eventually.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you will, but he won’t.”

Eddie’s fingers still in his pocket. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. You don’t think Robin chews my head off every time I call to check in?”

(It’s just Eddie’s luck, of course, that Gareth’s first-cousin-and-childhood-best-friend happens to be Steve’s other half.)

“Then why don’t you stop calling?” Eddie finally finds a cig and pulls it out of his pocket, only for it to get snatched out of his fingers.

“Because I’m not an asshole, asshole,” Gareth snaps. “And I’m getting really sick and tired of getting yelled at every time I call home because somebody refuses to man up and deal with his feelings.”

Eddie turns in place, glaring at Gareth. “I am dealing with my feelings!”

“By not dealing with them, dumbass! And for the record, you’re making it even more noticeable by notdealing with them! Hell, even Byers asked me about it the last time he called, because why else would you just drop Harrington all together? It’s been like a year, man, you have to deal with this at some point.”

“I – I didn’t know until a month and a half ago, Gareth, what the hell do you mean by the last year?”

Gareth snorts. “Seriously? Seriously. Holy shit, you’re serious. Fucking – really, man? Now I owe Jeff money.”

“GARETH!” Eddie snaps. “What do you mean, the last year?”

Something is on Eddie’s face, some expression that he can’t control, because Gareth’s eyes soften and grow sad. “Eds, man, you wear your heart on your fuckin’ sleeve and your feelings all over your face. All anyone gotta do is see you look at Steve and know.”

“Know? Know what?”

Gareth’s voice is almost a whisper now. “Do I really need to say it?”

The wounded beast in Eddie’s chest shudders. “No.” He pulls his eyes away from Gareth, refocuses on the rings on his hands – and more specifically, the ring made from an antique spoon that Steve had made him when they were going through his parents’ shit.

(It was the only piece of Steve he couldn’t bear to hide away these last six weeks.)

“Does – does he?”

(Eddie can’t finish the question; hell, Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s asking.

Thankfully, somehow Gareth does.)

“Go call him, Eds,” Gareth says. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, a benediction for courage, and then leaves the tour bus, leaving Eddie alone and staring at the phone at the end of the bus.

(Maybe there’s a world where Steve feels, can feel, has felt the same. Maybe there’s a world where, when he told Eddie that he’s taking a break from dating that it meant taking a break from dating someone who wasn’t Eddie. Maybe Steve’s been trying and failing to get past this too, and is spending his nights by the phone like Eddie, waiting for someone to call.)

The phone only rings twice.

“This is Steve.”

(And maybe that world is this one.

But he won’t know until he tries.)

“Hey, Stevie. Got a minute?”

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #steddie angst #steddie week #guilty as sin?

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dmwrites · 1 month

Text

Gem died annoyed. She died to a sharp sting, a triumphant laugh, and a voice off in the distance saying “Get her, Scar!”

Gem opened her eyes to find the ghosts of her friends around her, arms reaching to help her up, eyes locked over her shoulder. She looked too, saw a purple cloaked being and a red cloaked being locked in battle.

“You get it now, don’t you.”

Everyone else went on to watch Pearl and Scar’s fight, but Gem and Cleo held back, watching from a distance.

“She was my friend! We promised…”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

Gem watched Pearl cut through the grass, arrows and red marks littering her body. She stalked and fought Scar with the same wild grin Gem had been so excited by in life.

“It does hurt.”

“That’s Pearl for you. She gave you more grace then she ever gave me, to be fair. But god is she brutal,” Cleo said. Gem glanced at Cleo. She was watching the fight, eyes narrowed at the figures on the ground. “Terrifying.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Gem complained. “Me and Pearl were friends- why did she do that?”

“We’re all a little impartial to our true alliances, at the end of the day. You stood with yours, she with hers, even if it was hastily formed. I think, if things were slightly different, it would be you and her down there right now. It just happened that way,” Cleo sighed. “You have to admire her loyalty. Even if it’s at our own detriment.”

Gem thought back to her final moments alive, turning and realizing that it wasn’t just one, but two people stalking towards her. Scar had leapt at once, a hungry beast to fresh meat, calling Pearl on.

“Let me think!”

Pearl had held back, sword in her hand but uncertanty in her eyes. At least, Gem had hoped it had been uncertanty. Hard to tell when Scar was hitting her again and again. But she had come eventually, swinging and hit Gem with the deadly accuracy that made her so scary to others. But never to Gem, not until now.

“She encouraged him to kill me,” Gem said. “She hurt me.”

“Of course she did. She’s Pearl,” Cleo spoke with such certainty, like Pearl’s name explained everything. “You can’t have thought she would spare you, Gem. You adored her, and it doomed you. Don’t let adoration get in the way, it’ll only break your heart.”

There was cheering, off in the distance. Scar had won the game, Pearl was dead. The others reached for Pearl as her soul climbed out of her body, patting her on the back and clamoring about her skills. Pearl didn’t look happy. She hugged Mumbo tight, punched Joel on the shoulder playfully, and put a hand to Bdubs’ face, telling him something Gem was too far away to hear.

And then she turned, and she was looking right at Gem. All the fight seemed to drain out of her, the tired smile fading. She walked over to Cleo and Gem, while everyone else went over to watch Scar.

“Congrats, Pearl. Almost a two-time winner.” Cleo said as she came near. She had a hand on Gem’s shoulder.

Pearl just looked at Gem. Here, in the place after death, Pearl looked so innocent. No bow or sword in her hand, no red clothes and sharp cut down her face. She was Pearl, her friend Pearl. Pearl who had turned on her. Pearl who had had a hand in watching her die. Gem turned away, a bitter taste on her tongue, but Cleo dug her nails into her shoulder to stop her.

“Don’t take it personally, Gem. Take it from me. You would have done the same thing if you were in Pearl’s place and you know it.”

Gem turned to argue, but Cleo walked away, towards the group gathering to watch Scar, still on the ground, alone and still alive. Pearl met her eye, and Gem knew Cleo was right. Without saying a word, they both turned and walked further away from the group. Pearl reached out a hand, and Gem took it. Their footsteps were heavy, and Gem was so tired. One day, they would talk about what had happened, but for now, they walked, hand in hand, feeling relief that their suffering had ended for now.

#geminitay #pearlescentmoon #zombiecleo #secret life smp #trafficblr

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deadsetobsessions · 8 months

Text

Danny Phantom Writing Prompt:

When she comes to, a silver haired man with a matching goatee greets her. Kind of. He’s disappointed.

She’s surrounded in neon green and she is so, so, so confused.

——

Her name is-

Well. It was something else.

What matters is that Vlad doesn’t call her by anything other than “Danielle” and “you.”

She thinks if she wasn’t who she is- if Vlad hadn’t ripped her out of her own life, poured her tattered soul into this imperfect body- she’d believe the father like figure he’s poorly pretending to be. But she knows. This is a show she’s watched many times. Vlad, even if she hadn’t had years of actual life and the foreknowledge of Danny Phantom, she’d eventually clock him as a villain.

“You can do it, Danielle.” He says.

“Obey, or suffer the consequences,” she hears. She knows manipulation when she hears it. Vlad thinks it’ll work. After all, little pod baby Danielle would know no different than the confining walls of her room. But she does know, and the voices of her loved ones bolster her in this delicate balancing act.

So, she pretends to let him mold her. Let him shape little Danielle into a puppet he could pilot as he wishes.

To act like her body’s template, but to be obedient in ways Danny would never allow himself to be. To turn trusting blue eyes up towards the drawling billionaire and pretend to take his word as gospel.

In return, he gives her more freedom. He thinks it’s control, that she returns even when he gives her ample chances to leave. She knows it’s a test, and she’s always been good at those.

She collects evidence, slowly. Because Vlad might have overshadowed people and signed their companies over to him, but he was sloppy. He was sloppy and she was a paralegal.

——

Vlad gives her the mission she’s been waiting for. She goes to Danny with a neutral mask and acts like a person who knows nothing of normal social cues.

It’s what Vlad expects of her.

The time is not yet right.

——

So when the time comes, Danielle makes a decision. She was never the baby Dani. She will never be. When she punches Vlad, she tears into him with everything she has. She makes him bleed and she breaks him and she slaps the anti-ghost belt on him to lock his ability. And she breaks more, just to make sure he might not heal all the way, all the while Danny watches in horror.

And then she starts the process of legally beating him up. Danielle bankrupts Vlad in two months with legal fees, and she takes vicious pleasure in rendering him destitute.

Hah. Try creating clones of your one sided love now, you creepy motherfucker.

——

She’s melting. She makes a joke, because Danny looked terrified and she got attached. Well, it’s hard not to get attached, considering he risked his neck for her even after learning she was there to…

Well.

He saves her. She knew he would.

She’s whole again. Stable. But something in her breaks, because she knows, with a sense of unfathomable knowledge, that she will never rid herself of the name Danielle again. She’s bound to this world. The price for her life was an eternity of imprisonment in a realm where she will never see the people she loves again.

——

“I’m not… I wasn’t always Danielle.” She admits to Danny, Tucker, and Sam.

“What does that even mean?”

She sighed, leaning against the window sill.

“The reason I was stable and my… siblings weren’t was because Vlad ripped my soul out from my body and shoved it into the body of a clone. He killed me.”

Danny stuttered to a close. Grief. She smiles at him.

“Technically, I’m older than you and Jazz.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam says, head buried in her hands. Tucker just stares at her.

“Yeah. Me too. But you shouldn’t blame yourself, Danny.” Danielle knows that look on his face. “I hate him, yeah. But… I can’t change it now. So, I’ll see what this world has to offer.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny says to her.

“I get it.”

And she does. Because Danielle knows what it is to die, now. So does he.

So she flips off the window sill, enjoying her always novel powers of flight, and laughs.

“I’ll be Nellie. You can call me Nellie.”

#danielle phantom #danny phantom #dp writing prompt #you can pry my reincarnation/Isekai stories out of my cold dead hands #reincarnated as Danielle phantom #everything changes #but nothing actually changes #vaguely canon compliant?#danielle fenton #Sam mason #tucker foley #Nellie Fenton

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d3sserts0ul · 28 days

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I would like to order a fresh, DOA members, Poe, dazai, chuuya, tecchou and mori reacting to Reader wearing pheromone perfume? Well done with extra sugar please, we are very hungry. ❤️

𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜... Fresh cookies with extra sugar coming right up!

mori will not be there though due some reasons and the DOA will be done in a separate post!

“ 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚, 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚. ”

𝘉𝘚𝘋 𝘔𝘌𝘕 ( 𝘋𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘪 - 𝘊𝘩𝘶𝘶𝘺𝘢 ☆ 𝘗𝘰𝘦 ☆ 𝘛𝘦𝘤𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘶 ☆ [DoA will be in Part 2] ) 𝘟 𝘎𝘕！𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙.

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩; 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧 ‘𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜’ 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙪𝙢𝙚/𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚, swearing

－ 𝘋𝘈𝘡𝘈𝘐

• Immediately notices a pleasant smell when you walk in the room, and towards him. It’s different from the usual scent you put on, and he knows that.

• You’ll notice dazai being extra flirtatious and talkative, he’d also want to be around you often that day. Will definitely mention you smelling so nice, even getting handsy with you.

• He loves the smell of you, and you’d act clueless on the way he’s acting, but unbeknownst to you, he knows the perfume/cologne you chose today. He can’t wait to see the look on your face when he says he knows you wore such a scent.

• His behavior was genuine, you smelled way too good and it was hard for him to keep his hands to himself and not doing anything else, let alone not whisper dirty nothings in your ear. He thinks you’re adorable for trying to seduce him in such a way, a creative one at that. (It’ll be to the point where it’ll make you irritated.)

• If Dazai still could scent your fragrance once you two get home, it’ll be quite a pleasant night for you both. He’ll finally be able to release the tightness in his pants, the tightness you caused.

Dazai’s arms were wrapped around you, cradling your body. It didn’t matter if anyone walked into the office, right now all he could think of was how you smelled at this moment. It was an addicting and he wanted more of it. “ You think I wouldn’t notice? ” He mumbled to you with a smirk growing on his lips. “ Notice what? ” You responded back, knowing damn well what he was talking about.

Acting clueless is part of the plan, and you hoped at that moment that he wouldn’t see through such a facade. “ You know what I’m talking about. You smell nice right now, too nice for your own sake. ” He said, his hands going down to your hips, then thighs and then back up again. That compliment sounded backhanded and although it wasn’t, you didn’t bother to respond back to him.

“ Don’t ignore me now, I’m so very tempted already and not saying anything will make me even more. ”

~ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

－ 𝘊𝘏𝘜𝘜𝘠𝘈

• Like his love for dogs, and considering dogs have good noses, he does too. He’ll notice you suddenly smelling extra nice that day, but just can’t pinpoint what perfume/cologne you’re wearing. He buys you stuff oftentimes, with it being jewelry, outfits, and in this case, fragrances. You always use them whenever he gets you any and those are the only ones you use whenever you go to see him. This isn’t a scent Chuuya bought you, and he knows it.

• Though the suspicious smell he can’t figure out isn’t the main thing he’s focused on, it’s actually how damn good you smell right now. You’ll notice the perfume is working by how clingy he is, and just like Dazai, he’d want to stay around you whenever you have it on.

• Way more talkative, and glances down at specific areas of your body while he’s with you. Eventually it’ll get to a point where Chuuya just wants, no, needs to make out with you. You’re driving him mad and he’s starting to get frustrated with how you make him feel right now.

• Once you tell Chuuya that you were wearing pheromonal perfume, it all started to click to him. It explained why he felt so needy to have his tongue intertwined with yours, why his pants felt so tight all a sudden.

• Now although Chuuya isn’t mad, he is confused on why you didn’t just ask to get intimate with him. Afterall, he wouldn’t deny you anything, not even sex.

Chuuya grunted quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “ Ugh, fuck... ” He mumbled to himself out of frustration. “ Are you okay? ” You ask him, despite knowing what the reason is anyways. He looks up at you, blushing and trying to regain his composure. “ Yes, I’m just getting a little tipsy from the alcohol. ” Chuuya sighs. That was an obvious lie, his glass still filled with the beverage he poured for you two. “ Two sips make you tipsy? ” you chuckle, his face scrunches out of anger in response. “ It isn’t because of me? The perfume? ” Chuuya’s eyes widen a little, you knew about this and refused to give him an explanation.

“ You fucking—, shit… Can you at least help me, this is your fault you know. ”

~ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

－ 𝘗𝘖𝘌

• Poe, like the rest, will smell the perfume and will become addicted to it. This isn’t something he feels everyday, let alone sense from you everyday so he’s going to be curious on what is causing this sudden arousment.

• Poe knows he’s in love with you, he’s knew that from the moment he started to develop feelings and see you differently from others, is this another effect of experiencing love? Suddenly feeling aroused from just the faint scent of you?

• He will compliment your look, telling failed pickup lines to you, and just unconsciously getting a bit handsy (in a way that’s normal, such as hands on your hands) . If you don’t like it then Poe will stop, but he needs to know, why does he feel this sudden urge to push your knees over your head.

• If you happen to be in the same room as him while he’s writing, oh the things that will be written in that story. It’s honestly surprising, coming from him even because you’d never expect him to write like that. Poe will soon come back down to earth and realize what he’s writing with that pen in his hand.

• After a pause of realization, his cheeks start to heat up and he quickly hides the work in his lap. When you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll yell nothing before leaving the room with Karl to go talk about his current odd feelings to him.

• Poe will ask you what trick are you pulling to make him feel like this, what sorcery or ability do you have to cause this?

• Once you explain that it’s pheromonal perfume, and that you put it on for him, it’ll all make sense. Now don’t get him wrong, he’s flattered but at least tell him or something from the start. ( he‘lol tell you to wear it on occasions, just for him at least. )

The pen moves elegantly, Poe’s hand guiding it where it needs to go. You sat in a seat in front of the desk, reading one of his mystery novels in your lap while Karl sat in Poe’s lap. He looked fine while he was writing, calm and focused even but in reality, his laps shake from the arousal that’s been hitting him all day, it’s getting unbearable by the minute. Of course, he wants to initiate some sort of relief, like a few kisses, but the thought stopping him is that it would be awkward, especially during this peaceful quiet time. Who is he to disturb this perfect moment of you two bonding, he can’t messed this up, he just can’t. Poe needed to know though… and getting up, he exclaimed.

“ What sorcery is this?! Why are you making me feel this way?! ”

~ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

－ 𝘛𝘌𝘛𝘊𝘏𝘖̄

• Tetcho is unbothered by the sudden pleasure in his stomach when you walk by him with a nice smelling ‘fragrance’. He feels that feeling anytime he sees you, so why should he worry about it?

• Though this feelings seems more intense than usual, but once again he isn’t fazed by it. Maybe when you two get home he can bend you over a bed or something, this arousal shouldn’t get in the way of his duties of a hunting dog. It’s weak of him to do anyways.

• The irritation will start to get to you, seeing that he doesn’t care at all, it makes you want to punch him so bad. Jonō’s motto started to make sense to you at this moment.

• If you didn’t lose hope by now, that’s a good thing. The more he breathes in the pretty fumes, the more he notices how pretty you really are, how nice you smell, and how sensitive his body is starting to get.

• Tetcho will start being a little bit more bold and flirtatious. It’s finally working on this man and he’s giving in to the desire, and he’s also given the ‘this makes me look weak’ motive a break.

• It’s advised that you let Tetcho know that you put pheromonal perfume before you even plan this out, he wouldn’t care but it would be preferred by request from him.

Tetcho’s fingers tap away at his phone, doing god knows that on there. You sat besides him, your fingers quivering out of irritation due to how unfazed he is, how he doesn’t seem to move an inch, despite the arousing perfume you wore today filling the current vicinity. You lay your head on him, hoping that will spark some sort of reaction but no, he answers with a little hand rub on the thigh. This was getting pointless, and even if he did know you had this perfume on, it was ineffective on him, bummer. “ Do you want anything to eat? ” You say ready to get up to go get some food for you two. Tetcho glances up then back at his phone. “ You. ” He responds with a smug look on his face. You felt heat rise up in your cheeks from such a comment.

“ What? You wanted a reaction from your little trick, so I’ll give it to you. ”

~ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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azzibuckets · 3 months

Text

the not so pleasant part of falling in love [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: it’s late at night and paige starts to spiral

a/n: ignore the fact that i haven’t finished part 2 of anything yet 😩

word count: 840

masterlist

Everyone talks about the pleasant parts of falling in love. The butterflies, the intimacy, the attachment. But no one ever bothered to tell Paige about the grappling fear that comes with it, the loss of power felt when someone has taken utter control over your heart. Paige thinks it’s beautiful in a way - loving someone so much that you trust them with the ability to ruin your life. But then her mind starts to wander, and her chest feels heavy with what-ifs. What if Azzi stops loving her back? What if Azzi eventually leaves her to find someone better? Because Azzi deserves everything in the whole fucking world, Paige thinks, and sometimes I feel like I’m nothing.

So Paige hates herself. She hates herself for being in love with Azzi’s innocent doe eyes and how expressive they are, always betraying her emotions.

Paige hates herself for loving Azzi’s smile. Because if Paige will do one thing, it’ll be make a fool out of herself just for a chance to see Azzi’s dimples. When they’re alone, she’ll make the stupidest jokes to keep Azzi laughing, so that she can reach out and cup her face and run her thumb over those damn dimples and kiss them over and over again. But most of all, Paige loves the way that Azzi has a soft smile reserved solely for her, where her eyes and nose will scrunch up and Paige’s heart will start careening out of control.

Paige hates herself for being utterly obsessed with touching Azzi. Their teammates roll their eyes whenever they show PDA, but it’s not Paige’s fault that she can’t help but slip her hands around Azzi’s waist whenever she’s behind her, burying her nose into Azzi’s neck in order to inhale her scent. She can’t help that she finds the baby hairs at the nape of Azzi’s neck so fucking adorable, running her fingers through it whenever they kiss. She can’t help the fact that in order to fall asleep in the car, some part of her has to be touching Azzi, whether it’s holding Azzi’s hand as she drives, or laying her head in her lap when they’re in the back seat. But wait, you can’t mention sleep, because Paige could start a whole tangent about how she loves napping with Azzi because then she gets to wake up to Azzi’s face, which is a glorious thing that no one else is able to experience. Paige feels bad for the rest of the world sometimes, that no one has their own Azzi, but then she feels pride, because of all the girls Azzi chose to be her person, it was Paige.

Paige hates herself for how she loves every little bit of Azzi Fudd. She could talk about her girlfriend for hours, about how hard she works and how she hasn’t let her injuries stop her. Or how kind and selfless Azzi is, always a shoulder for the entire team to cry on. Or how Azzi is the best basketball player in the nation world, and she hates that people don’t recognize Azzi for the pure talent and skill she has, but it makes Paige all the more excited for the next season, so that they can dominate the court together and finally prove it to everyone.

Paige hates the way she loves to bicker with Azzi. They could go back and forth, stuck for hours in the most useless and trivial argument, but because both of them are stubborn hard asses, neither of them will give up until Azzi inevitably threatens to make Paige sleep in her own bed that night, and Paige immediately crumbles because she can’t bear the thought of not cuddling Azzi to sleep. “You’re right about everything,” she’ll admit with a pout, letting herself fall into Azzi’s arms and showering kisses all over her face. “I love you. Don’t make me go to sleep in my bed, all cold and alone.” And Azzi will roll her eyes, but affectionately, and then smirk to herself because she knows that she’ll never actually do that to Paige, not for something as simple as a dumb argument. But it’s funny how much Paige believes it, and she also loves seeing Paige be a total simp.

Paige hates all of these things, she concludes as she stares up at the ceiling. But then she looks to the side, and Azzi glances up from her computer, meeting her eyes and giving a little grin before going back to her homework. And in that moment, as Paige studies Azzi’s goddamn gorgeous face lit up by the weak light of her laptop, she realizes that she doesn’t give a flying fuck about how she hates these things. Because Azzi Fudd is completely hers, and Azzi Fudd will never leave.

Paige rolls over and buries her face in Azzi’s shirt. The younger girl is surprised at first, but she laughs and starts stroking Paige’s cheek with the pad of her thumb. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Paige buries her head further. “Just thinkin about how much I love you.”

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconnwbb #pazzi #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #fluff #blurb #fic

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avocad1s · 1 year

Note

Which character do you think will be the easiest and hardest for the Creator to rizz up?(sagau)

You don’t understand how excited I got when I saw this in my inbox 💀

In my version of SAGAU there is not one being that doesn’t worship you. Some are more tame when it comes to their worship, while others will straight up kill for you.

While none of them are opposed to being with you romantically, some will definitely play hard to get.

So here’s a few characters;

Easiest ⬇️

Childe: Definitely falls into the category of killing for you. Wants any attention you’ll give him so expect his clinginess to skyrocket once you start flirting with him. Also the type to rub in others faces that you favor him over others.

Abyss! Twin: Completely downbad for you but can’t really spend time with you since when the other acolytes see you associating with anything related to the abyss, they’ll intervene.

Xiao: Even being in your presence makes his face grow red but if you flirt too much he gets really flustered and teleports away. Regrets it later because he could’ve spent more time with you.

Kaeya: Flirts with you but the second you flirt back with him he’s surprised and says how you’re gonna make him blush.

Diluc: Anytime the two of you interact he always keeps it professional… gets flustered when you flirt with him but always turns the conversation back to business about Mondstadt.

Yae Miko: She’d be the one making you flustered not the other way around. Try your hardest but it’ll never work she will always beat you in this “game.”

Hardest ⬆️

Another anon asked how jealous they can get and I thought it be best to add it to this one.

Unbothered. They’re happy to have your attention on them but won’t get jealous if you’re interacting with someone else. Are completely aware where they stand with you and they know you’ll be back eventually so they’ll just wait patiently: Rosaria, Kazuha, Itto, Yoimiya, Yae Miko, Dehya, Venti, Heizou

Rational. You’re their God and they cannot keep you to themselves 24/7 even if they want to. They are smart enough to realize that you will have to interact with other people for the betterment of Teyvat. (Don’t be surprised if they are watching or have other people watching you to make sure the conversation isn’t anything but business though): Ningguang, Alhaitham, Dottore, Tighnari, Pierro, Keqing, Kujou Sara, Kamisato Ayato

Worried. Thinks with their emotions rather than their head, they believe you might replace them as your favorite because they aren’t worthy of your attention or because of how busy they are: Xiao, Kamisato Ayaka, Kaveh, Sucrose, Raiden Ei, Kaeya

Angry. But they’ll never be angry at you because you are their dearest God. They think that the person who is stealing your attention from them is at fault and will most likely threaten them to stay away from you once you aren’t around. Wants your attention to themselves and is not afraid to express explicitly: Childe, Scaramouche, Arlecchino, Shenhe, Abyss! Twin, Raiden Shogun (during Vision Hunt Decree)

Note: I had to read Kaveh’s character wiki so I can get a better understanding of him since I don’t have him and I haven’t played Genshin consistently in like two months, but reading his story made me so sad 😭🙏

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin cult #self aware genshin #sagau x reader

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year

Text

I Won’t Stand By - Part One

(Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Summary: Steve has always been worth more. And you won’t stand by and watch him get his heart broken again. He needs to know.

Warnings: Language, pining, unrequited (or are they?) feelings, heavy on the angst, happy ending… eventually.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x best-friend!female reader

A/N: After I made this post, I started thinking heavily on Steve, Nancy & Stancy, a little more than usual. And I just feel like I needed to write this and channel some energy into it, as it basically took on a mind of its own (we heavily into Steve, okay? He’s consuming me). It’s going to have one more part to it (which I’ve already outlined). It’s thick on the angst, but it’ll have a happy ending, I think? I tried some different stuff with Steve and his reactions, so I hope y’all like it? Lemme know ❤️💖

“Are you stupid?”

You’d never insinuated, nor had you ever called Steve anything that would suggest he was ignorant, and you had known him since elementary school. You never made him feel like anyone else could, by a joke or an offhand comment, usually a backhanded compliment. But as he sees you standing under the entryway of the Family Video — three lunches in your hand, your neon pink windbreaker covered in rain drops, eyes steady in their focus on him and Robin — he’s never felt more like his IQ is non-existent.

Robin looks briefly confused, tapping her purple painted nails on the cheap wooden counter, unsure where to look. However, her mouth opens before she can stop it. “Hey, what’s going on? Is that a ham croissant I smell?”

You’d laugh if your lungs weren’t full of a scream that you’re sure is about to rip itself free. Your heartbeat is thumping so hard against your ribcage that it’s echoing all around your chest, playing ping pong. Steve opens his mouth to speak, starting to shift his posture enough that he can work himself around the counter to get to you. He can’t stand to see you this upset, especially at him. You don’t let him come within an inch of your trembling form, afraid that you’ll say things you can’t take back, or you’ll vomit your breakfast all over his green vest.

You want to berate yourself for the way he looks struck, physically recoiling as if to console himself. His sneakers stop on the rug you’re standing on, your wet loafers drenched and dripping. Nike and leather. You can’t take how good he smells, the way that it always greets you with a hug, but instead, you walked into his conversation with Robin about his upcoming date with Nancy. He really meant it, he saw her as his future, he never got over her, and now that she’s realized what she lost — she wants him back.

Steve is about to call a code for backup, when you decide to say something, stepping around him, paper bags full of food clenched and wrinkled in your vice. You damn near spit the words, tone laced with acidic venom. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

His chest aches with the bitterness of confusion, a hunger to understand that’s clawing at his throat and attempting to seize his tongue. He’s fumbling for words and that seems to fuel your excitement. Robin, meanwhile, her irises widen, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. It's a simple & soft, “Oh, shit.” As she watches your feelings unfold in real time, understanding.

You throw the sacks onto the counter, Robin barely able to catch them before they can slide off, and you turn back, right as Steve shakes himself clear and attempts to meet you. Your finger jabs into his chest, breath getting caught in your throat. He bites his tongue when he sees your sclera is flooded with unshed tears. You know if you blink that it’ll all be over for you. How can you convey how you’re feeling?

Even if you weren’t ass over elbow for the guy, you still wouldn’t want him back together with Nancy Wheeler. She might be your friend too, but you were there for Steve. You saw everything he had to go through, and even though you didn’t leave his side, he was still dealing with their relationship and monster land — alone, trapped in his head. It wasn’t until he graduated that he was able to let go of each mental blockage that she and the whole situation caused him to put up (enough so), and truly let you in. She didn’t share his goals and Steve deserved better than a relationship that seems like nothing more than pure nostalgia.

Neither of them should settle. They are still vastly different.

Fuck, you really need to scream. Your chest is heavy with it, weighted. You’re sinking, choking on oxygen, your body rejecting it. Panic.

Steve practically begs Robin for help, jaw unhinged and tongue slicking across his lips. He tries to find something to say — anything. You roll your eyes and the tears finally salt your lash line, cooling and burning. “Actually, you know what? Fuck this right now!”

And if customers didn’t just come in, the little bell dinging and electrifying your anxieties — you’d have run right out the front door. But you do the next best thing — your only other option. You dart for the family labeled restroom in the back. Steve doesn’t even have to ask, Robin nodding her head. “Go. I got this.”

~*~

You curse yourself for not locking the door, for Steve’s thoroughly kind behavior (why can’t he just be an asshole and make this easier?). You’re practically bent over the sink, sobbing quietly into the fluorescent expanse, and you hear the door open and close. His cologne invades your senses — all delicate traces of woodsy spice. His freshly laundered clothing, even his minty breath from the spray you know he carries in his back pocket. It’s slow motion when you meet his concerned stare in the mirror.

His large palm clasps over your shoulder, wrist watch catching in the light. He turns you, but you find solace in the tile flooring and your loafer covered toes. His fingertips, ever-so gentle and calloused, filter beneath your chin — tilting. You try to look away but it’s a pointless effort. Steve’s brown is pitched high in an attempt to understand, to relate.

Your torso wants to give in and collapse, legs dead and heavy, stuck to the floor. Your mouth is dry, but your throat is wet with tears. It’s suddenly Tina’s Halloween party all those years ago, and you’re holding Steve as he’s crying, showing himself like you had never seen before. Your nose wrinkles into a scrunch, you reach up to swat his hand away. He catches your wrist with his other, and shakes his head, thumbpad caressing the healing cut on your cheek, even a month later it still remains.

When you went to battle with Vecna and the four of you were attacked by his little tentacle hive minds, you’d gotten the sharp end of one to the face. That very fear settles in his stomach at the memory, sloshing about with the gnawing worry over what’s currently going on with you. He tucks a strand of hair back behind your ear, a line of goosebumps shrouding your arms like invisible sleeves. His voice is so gentle with concern that you choke on an outright whimper.

“Talk to me, honey. What happened? What did I do?”

To a fault, this man is too good for anyone. And that’ll be his ultimate downfall. That’s enough to push on your anger, because you’re already riding the inevitable tidal wave of heartbreak, just waiting for the water to drown you. You don’t try to move his hold on you, you’re more than smart enough to know that he won’t budge if he doesn’t want to. You force yourself to talk to him, voice wavering and weak, and the word puke releases. “That’s the problem, Steve. It’s not what you did, but what you’re going to do to yourself by going back to her.”

“Wait, so you heard me and Robin—“

“I heard you in the RV, I heard you in the fucking upside down, and yes — I just heard about your stupid fucking date.”

He shakes his head, thumb tracing over your healing wound, a brief look of guilt flickering, his voice hoarse and tired. “So that’s why you think I’m stupid then, huh?”

“Do you remember when you cried all night after Tina’s party? When you spent money on flowers for her, or lost your entire friend group? Yeah, they were assholes, but you gave up everything because you thought something was wrong with you, that you needed to change.”

He’s briefly glancing at his own shoe wear, an audible swallow heard from him. How could he forget that night? He couldn’t stomach the word bullshit for months after.

You continue, unable to stop if someone duct taped your mouth shut.

“You dealt with torture, with trauma, with being cheated on. You became a more mature person, but that doesn’t mean you were ever an awful boyfriend, Steve. And now that she and Jonathan have grown apart, now that she’s seen you — it doesn’t make it okay for her to decide that you’re suddenly worth something again.”

He knows you’re right. Fuck, he can feel your statement carve itself into his every internal organ. He can’t disagree, he can’t fight you, because he fought with himself one too many times since Nancy destroyed him. His pride wants to argue, wants to blame himself, defend her, but he also knows you. And he knows you’re not taking shots at Nancy, nor are you trying to hurt him.

You’re surprised at how calmly you’re able to articulate yourself. You keep going. He needs to know.

“We were all kids when everything happened, and I don’t blame her for dealing with her own shit. I’m not excusing how she treated you. But I understand, and I love her. I just know that she doesn’t want the same things you want, Steve. It’s like you’re both trying to fit pieces into a mold that was never meant to work together, past what it was in the first place… So I’m fucking begging you, don’t do this to yourself.”

His hand drops, far too quickly than you’re ready for. His back falls against the door, his tresses dusting his forehead. Your body feels as if it’s been paved into the asphalt, unprepared for what he says next. “Any reasons other than that?”

“Steve—“ Your voice wobbles.

“No, you’ve made yourself clear. Me and Nance? Bad idea — I got that.”

“It’s because —“

“Why? There’s more to it than what you’re telling me, I know there is. Don’t fucking lie to me!” You’ve hit that spot in him, that wounded pride. He’s lashing a bit, arms crossing over his chest, biceps flexed beneath his white t-shirt.

“Because, I..” Your sentence topples.

He inches forward. “Because you what? Talk to me!”

Does he realize? Maybe he has an inkling, maybe he’s pushing it. You aren’t able to decipher, your emotions swirling, everything becoming too much all at once. Your instincts fly out the window, shattering glass, heart catching on your throat as it leaps out of your mouth and floats into the room. You lurch forward and grab Steve’s cheeks, his stubble tickling the backs of your fingers — and you press your lips to his.

He’s stiff at first, arms remaining tight and bound together. You’re crying, salting his mouth slick. He tastes like peppermint and coffee, with a hint of that creamer you’ve gotten him hooked on. His mouth is soft, becoming pliant. He begins to kiss you back, but it’s for a fraction, yet it’s there. His nose nudges yours, bumping, your lips parting with a smack as he uses his hands (arms uncrossing), to pull you away, cradling your face.

Heated, like a syrupy honey, he talks to you. He’s got it this go around. “Why didn’t you tell me that this was going on?”

You go to leave him, he won’t dare let you. His hold tightens, index finger rubbing along your cut. Your eyes flutter closed, fresh tears dowsing the raw skin of your cheeks. The moisture pours over Steve’s fingers.

“Don’t.” It’s him who is begging, chained undercurrents cutting into the depth of his voice. “Please don’t cry.”

The way that he strokes you, his grazing thumb soothing your cut, like you’re right back in the underworld and he almost died twice over seeing you hurt. He swipes at your tears, trying to wipe them away, but they blotch. More keeps coming. You’re dangling over that precipice of an anxiety attack that he can also sense. Like he’s coddling a wounded deer, Steve pulls you closer, bringing his lips to your forehead — pressing, voice gravelly, mouth moving away to utter, “Come here. Stay right here.” And helps you rest in his arms, your head sliding beneath his chin.

Whatever you attempt to say, it comes out as gibberish whimpering. Steve’s own chest cavity is scorched, throat blazing, eyes misty. You find solace in his broad physique, nose at his sternum. He’s confused, so many things running through his head, that it fucking aches at the base of his skull. Your cherry lip gloss-flavored kiss lingers, making him think of things he thought were just passing feelings for you a while ago.

There’s many things he wants to say, but his brain has a case of coward, working him into a settled question instead. “How long?”

“Everyday since I’ve known you, I think.” It’s an automatic whisper, a ghostly caress of your broken voice, but he still hears your answer.

He’s nodding, an annoyance filtering, a sadness. How could you not tell him something like this? All those nights you shared, talking about everything. He’s been more vulnerable with you than he’s been with anyone in his entire twenty years. This, he has to call you on.

“In all of the time you’ve known me, have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?”

Still buried in his embrace, you shake your head no.

“Is it — do you… Shit.” He isn’t sure how to phrase it, not wanting to make an ass of himself, the word also scaring the hell out of him.

He gets his answer, thankfully — when you speak. “Don’t ask me if I love —“ You cut yourself off briefly, before adding on, “— just… don’t, okay?”

His lids close, a sigh escaping. Holy shit, you love him. Someone else loves him, his best-friend is in love with him. And he could never see that? He talked about sex with other girls, about Nancy.

And not once did you ever stop him or act like it wasn’t alright. You hyped him up, you were always there to boost his spirits and his ego. He feels like a total asshole. His previous sigh has you shaking your head, especially after he lets out a quiet “I’m sorry.”

You break off his embrace, finding a hold on his forearms, squeezing. “Steve, look at me.” You find your courage again.

He complies immediately, rich hazel catching, nearly stealing your breath. You clear your throat lightly, inhaling through your nose to relax yourself. Steve’s hands are still on your face — unrelenting. “This thing with Nancy, it’s not even because of how I feel, not completely. You’re more than some trophy husband, you’re more than some minimum wage video clerk, even though I think your jobs have been pretty fucking cool.” His softened gaze dips off and he chuckles himself into that cheekily, familiar grin.

“Please don’t do this to yourself again, Steve. You deserve better than this. You always have. You’re the fucking heart of our group, don’t you understand that? Fuck the thumps on the head, fuck nostalgia. I’ve never stopped seeing what a good man you are, even when you used to be a bitchy jerk sometimes.”

He laughs again, music to your ears that gets you to stop crying briefly. You slide your fingers along his bare arms and he’s thoughtful, pausing, wanting to look away from you. Because what he’s going to say, he can’t bear the expression on your face. He just wishes, he almost begs the universe that Nancy hadn’t brought back her bullshit and confused him. And you kissed him and released a bunch of things he’d pushed away, things he didn’t even know existed.

Someone’s going to get hurt and he thinks it should be him, but as he’s gentle with you, fingertips splaying down the sides of your neck, he’s brought back down to the messy reality he’s a part of. “It wasn’t resolved on my terms. Honey, I have to try. Can’t you see things from my perspective, please understand?”

You decide instantaneously what you’re going to do, your ribs aching at the sudden drop in your heart rate, your throat feeling like it’s swollen to twice the normal size. Your hand leaves his wrist, combing the hair off his forehead — memorizing every mole and freckle, his cupid's bow, his jaw, those hauntingly warm eyes. He thinks you’ll get it, that you’ll stay. And you do get it, but the latter? You’re eerily firm, new tears seeping out, flooding your vision, making him a blurry silhouette.

It’s gonna be bad, he can feel the twisting in his gut. He tries to say something, beginning a reason. You cut him off. “I need you to understand that I can’t stand by and watch this. I care about you both, but you can’t ask me to watch you two try and sweep everything under the rug, and you can’t expect me to watch if your heart gets broken. I won’t watch you fall apart again. I can’t do it, Steve.”

“What are you saying?” He sounds pained, like you’d socked him in his stomach. It sure fucking feels like it. Even the tip of his tongue is aching, his own vision becoming cloudy. “How do you even know things won’t work?”

“If they do, then great. If she’s your person and that’s what was meant to happen, I hope it works for you.” If he’s happy, you mean that. But you just don’t think he deserves this, he deserves more, despite your feelings. And there’s some things that you just know.

He straightens himself against the door when he sees you reach around for the handle. He shakes his head and tries to keep your touch. You drop it, tears dripping off your lashes and onto the cheap flooring below. “Let me leave, Steve.”

“No, not happening.”

“Don’t do this.”

“You’re my best-friend, I can’t just be without you.”

“You have Robin. You can handle this.”

“I don’t wanna fucking handle this,” he lashes out, stepping forward and cupping your cheeks, making you look at him, his touch searing into your skin, “I want you.”

“Steve.” You’re a little heavier in your command, pulling his hands away, impulse leading. You lift onto your tippy toes and permit yourself a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

His breath is choppy, a sudden heat leveling off the room, his nose bumps, sliding off your peck, his lips crashing into yours. You kiss him back with everything in you, mouths wet and tear stricken. He’s crying too, everything wet, spit stringing as your lips separate.

“I really hope it turns out to be what you want.” You pant your sorrows against his mouth, drinking him in — seeing. You’re falling, abandoning emotions and nearing sobbing territory.

Steve’s hands drop as you say this and it gives you the leverage you need to leave him alone in the bathroom, one last pleading cry from him cut off as you close the door behind you. You keep your head down and you walk through the store alone, its popcorn and candy coated scent striking you. You only stop when you’re at the counter and Robin has a piece of her sandwich pinched between her fingers, a pitiful look on her face as she sees your tear-stained features. She doesn’t get the chance to ask you anything, not before you request, crushing her heart into pieces. “Make sure he’s okay. He’s gonna need you.”

And your presence is gone in mere seconds, that bell signifying something much more than anyone was ready to comprehend. You make it to your car, rain pouring around you, right as Steve leaves the bathroom pinching his nose and sniffling, watching you from the window. You don’t break down, not until you’ve driven away and found somewhere to pull over.

Over…

// Eat me paragraph //

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lunajay33 · 5 months

Text

Change Part.3

•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

Part.2

•Masterlist•

I woke up feeling groggy and exhausted from the events of the day before, rolling over to see Daryl still laid out on the makeshift bed of blankets on the ground by my bed

“Daryl?” I said reaching down and shaking his shoulder

“Hmm?” He groaned opening his eyes to look up at me

“It’s morning, do you wanna go get some breakfast?”

“Sure”

I got up and rummaged through my drawers pulling out a pair of black leggings and longsleeve white shirt that had a tiny pink bow on the collar

“Mind if I change here?” I asked seeing as Daryl was already looking at me

“Go fer it”

I turned around and undressed throwing my pajamas in my laundry bin then quickly putting on the new days outfit, when I finished I turned seeing him with a wide smile

“What?”

“Cute panties” he said laughing under his breath obviously talking about my pink panties with white little lace trimming

“Stop” I said lighting pushing his arm

“As if yours are any better” I said as we both looked at his plaid boxer

We went out to the diner and had some breakfast, I didn’t wanna stay in the house knowing Jackson was still there

May was there and took our orders when we sat at the counter

“Thanks again for staying with me last night” I said as I stirred my straw in my water hearing the ice cubes clink together

“ ‘s nothin, didn’ wanna leave ya there knowin those assholes were still there” he said shrugging

It was silent for a while after that as we got our food and ate in peaceful silence, then paying May and leaving

“Wanna come over?” He asked as the dinner door behind us rang as it shut behind us

“Sure I don’t have anything else to do!”

He showed me around, he lived in a little house on the edge of town near the woods, more like a cabin than a house and if it got cleaned up and decorated nice, it would make a cute home

“I know it ain’t much but it’s enough” he said obviously feeling ashamed as we sat on his bed facing eachother

“I’m not judging you Daryl” I smiled, he nodded as I saw a flush of red on his cheeks

I looked around his room never having been in a guys room before, but it seemed like the typical you’d expect, light brown walls, cross bow in the corner, plaids upon plaids hanging in his closet, a page ripped out of a busy magazine and tapped to the wall

“I see you got a type” I said trying to hide the laugh that was creeping up as he quickly turned to look at it by his bed post

He ripped it down and threw is in the trash in the corner of his room

“Damn Merle musta put that up”

“Suuuuuuure”

“Ain’t my type anyways” he grumbled under his breath

“Oh and what is?” He looked me up and down before looking back at his lap

“H/c, e/c, she gotta be nice a little bit more quiet, can’t stand lots o’ noise”

“Hmmm I see” atleast he kind of described me, I had the hair color, the eye color, I’m pretty nice I think and I’m pretty quiet but I’m not gonna read into it just to get my heart broken

“So Mr. Dixon what makes you Daryl, what do you like”

“Not much, like huntin, tattoos, bikes”

“Do you have tattoos?” I asked intrigued

“Got two on my back”

“Can I see?” I could tell he tensed up and wasn’t so keen on the idea

“Maybe another time” he said looking down again

“Okay no problem!” I said a bit cheerier to life the tension

It was silent for a while until he got up off the bed and crouched down under his bed by me pulling out a box and placing it infront of me and he sat back infront of me

“What’s this?”

“Got ya somethin, saw it in a store, cleaned em up as best I could” he was blushing again and I was beyond excited to even see what he got me

I opened the lid of the box and my heart stopped, it was a pair of ballet slippers, shiny pink with ribbons, the bottoms were a bit stained but it’s expected

“Daryl……..you got these for me?” I was stunned no one has ever done anything like this for me

“Was looking around hopin I could find somethin, don’t know if they’ll fit tho”

I hopped up taking off my socks and slipped them on, I stood up and they were a perfect fit, Daryl got on his knees before me and laced the ribbon around my leg tying it in a bow

“Ya like em?” He asked looking down at me as he stood up

“Daryl I love them, thank you so much!” I said so happy I threw my arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug, feeling his hands on my lower back, engulfing it, I pulled back slowly our lips so close I could feel his breath, smoky but mint

“Thought ya deserve ta feel like a ballerina” he whispered

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I leaned in ever so slowly our lips just grazing each others…………when the door burst open

“Damn it Merle” Daryl groaned as we stepped back from eachother

“Woah sorry brother, didn’t know ya had a lady over”

“Get out” he said trying to push him out

“Just came ta tell ya, dads comin home soon” he stiffened and looked back at me as I stood there embarrassed

“Do ya wanna go out fer dinner or somethin?” He asked with pleading eyes

“Of course! We can go to the diner again!” I took my slippers off and put the in the box as I pick up my socks and we went to the front door to put on our shoes, then walking quietly to the diner

“Are you okay D?” I asked worried

“ ‘s nothin, old man just ain’t the meetin type”

“Oh well, you know I’m always here for you, you can stay at my place whenever you’d like!”

“Thanks, might take ya up on that, yer gonna have ta show me yer moves with yer new slippers” he smiled as he placed his arm around my shoulder

I couldn’t believe all this was happening, it’s been such a short time since I’ve really known him and he’s already done more for me than anyone else, and made me feel more alive, I might really like this Dixon

Part.4!

Taglist: @pinchofthetwd @bigbaldheadname @strawberrykiwisdogog @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @l0kilaufeys0n7 @welcumetomyescape @severelykinky @tesfayera @daryldixmedown @secretsicanthideanymore @lettersfromyourlove @mordilwen-of-mirkwood @secretsicanthideanymore

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