#i actually watched it a few days ago in prep to do this one but. alas. gara may be very pretty but they were not invited to girl week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strangersteddierthings · 2 years ago

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What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Alright y'all. We had the hurt, let's get some comfort started.

Steve leans against his door, expecting Eddie to follow him upstairs to continue their argument because Eddie's never been one to back down from an argument as far as Steve can tell, so he's using his weight to keep the door shut. It takes about five minutes of just leaning against the door before he hears a few light knocks on the door. He pretends he didn't hear them and soon starts to hear Eddie monologue-ing on the other side. He thinks he hears a 'sorry' and an 'I fucked up' but he doesn't really tune in until Eddie says something about cancelling Hellfire.

Spinning quickly, he yanks the door open and says, "You better not fucking cancel!"

"What? Don't you, like, want me out of your house?" Eddie looks startled and sounds confused.

"What I want is for the kids to get to play Dungeons and Dorks for an afternoon, just getting to be kids and fight against monsters that can't actually kill them," Steve says as he goes to put his hands on his hips (a move that Robin calls his Bitch Stance) but realizes he can't while still holding a book, so instead he folds his arms across his chest, cradling the book to his body.

He waits for Eddie to call him out for saying dorks instead of dragons, but Eddie just blinks at him, quiet for a moment before he says, "Oh. Uh, okay then. I'll just, uhh, I'll be back closer to noon, then. For the game."

"Don't you have prep to do?" Steve knows he's trying to pick a fight now but he's angry, and sad, and hurt underneath it all. Also, he doesn't understand the change in Eddie suddenly. Ten-ish minutes ago Eddie had shouted back I wasn’t exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even! Where is that anger now?

"No. Not, uh, not really," Eddie says, avoiding meeting Steve's gaze, face turning a very light pink. "I was- I mean, yes, there was prep, but I did a majority of that already and what's left will take maybe three minutes so..."

Steve's confused now, still trying to cling to his anger. "But you called and asked if it was okay to come early specifically for that reason."

Eddie doesn't respond right away. He turns around to walk to the wall opposite Steve's door and thump his forehead against it. Steve is perplexed by the behavior (but he's been perplexed by Eddie since finding him at Reefer Rick's) so he just watches in silence as Eddie heaves a sigh and turns around to slump against the wall, facing Steve once again. He runs a hand through his hair, then drags that hand back forward and down his face. "Yeah. I did do that."

"So, what, you lied? Why?"

"I just wanted to hang out," Eddie whispers, like it almost hurts him to say out loud, which is such a weird thing to hear because it makes Eddie seem small in a way Steve's never seen him. Even during spring break Eddie was never small or quiet; his fear manifested as shouting, for fuck's sake. It chips away at the last of Steve's anger. He's long past the days of kicking someone when they're down.

"You... wanted to hang out," Steve repeats before heaving a sigh of his own, long-suffering man that he is. Maybe it is time to bury the hatchet and actual deal with this. If nothing else, it'll result in Steve being less defensive around Eddie when everyone hangs out, like for movie night or BBQs. Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to so he says, "Listen, I think we've got some shit to hash out, or whatever, so that should probably be done or, like, things are going to be weird when we all hang out, but I can't do that right now, man. So, stay or go, just make that game happen at noon. I'm going to stay up here."

Eddie nods, weirdly sullen and quiet again, as he says, "Yeah. Umm, maybe after the game? If you're feeling up to it."

"Sure. After."

Eddie raps his knuckles against the wall behind him twice before pushing off and heading back towards the stairs. He pauses to look over his shoulder and say, "If you wanna watch, or listen in, or something, I don't think anyone will mind." And then he's heading down the stairs.

Retreating back to his room, Steve tosses the book onto his bed before flopping face first next to it. He groans into his comforter before reaching for the book. He props himself up on his elbows and stares down at the cover before opening it to see Christopher's handwriting on the inside cover.

It's been years since he thought about Christopher and even longer since he's laid eyes on the books. He was so sure his mom had just gotten rid of them. All this time, they'd been right where he left them, shoved just far enough back to be out of sight on the shelf. His last link to Christopher.

That's not true, Steve scolds himself. His cousins, Amber and Robert, are still alive and in Washington. His grandparents still live on that farm in Michigan. Steve just hasn't seen them since the funeral.

He hadn't gone back to the farm the summer after freshman year, or any year since. His parents thought he was old enough to stay home for a whole month in the summer alone now, instead of paying to ship him off to his grandparents. Steve's old enough now to know that was why he'd spent a month every year out on the farm; so his parents could go off on longer work trips. Once they'd decided Steve was old enough to stay alone for the summer, that quickly reached other seasons and by the time Steve was a junior, the were gone more than they were home.

He doesn't even remember when he last spoke to them in person. He thinks the last phone call was right after Starcourt. It was just to make sure Steve got to job hunting, since his place of employment had burned down and the bills wouldn't pay themselves. Which is true. He doesn't have to pay rent, but all the utilities are in his name now.

Jesus, he doesn't want to be thinking about them.

He goes back to the book, flipping through the pages absently. Halfway through the book he finds a couple folded pieces of paper tucked close to the spine. He doesn't have to open them to know exactly what they are.

It's the character sheets he'd made.

He closes the book back atop them and rolls over to face his ceiling. He wants to call Robin, but the phones are downstairs and he doesn't want to go down there just yet. He also kinda wants to cry. To get rid of all these emotions about Christopher, and Freshman First Day, and Eddie.

Fucking Eddie. Who haunts Steve's thoughts more than he'd like because despite the grudge Steve has been holding, Eddie has been fun to be around and so good with the kids, especially Dustin. Fuck, after having watched Dustin break down when they thought he was dead- but he'd had a pulse. It was weak but it was there.

After Eddie'd been cleared of the charges and the months rolled on into summer, they'd spent lots of time together as a group. Steve will admit he tried to avoid Eddie as best he could (he knows he's petty, okay) but could still see how he blended smoothly into their group.

If this Eddie had been the one he met on Freshman First Day, instead of the dick that mocked him, they might very well be friends now.

That's the crux of it all, Steve thinks. That he wouldn't mind being friends with Eddie if not for that bottled up grudge he'd been holding onto. He can't bring himself to let it go and Steve's not even sure why. Thoughts and feelings aren't something Steve processes quickly, and it usually helps to talk it out with Robin. She lets him stumble through his thoughts, and doesn't mock him for messing up, or mixing up, words.

Goddammit, if he's really going to try talking this out with Eddie, he's going to have be open and honest and maybe a little vulnerable and he doesn't know if he can do that.

But he'll have to. For better or worse, he can't just keep Eddie at arms length. They need to either come to the conclusion that they can be friends, or not, and then go from there. (Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to.)

In the end, Steve's not sure how long he just stares up at the ceiling but a sudden shout breaks him from his trance. It sounded like Dustin. Hellfire must have started.

Steve leaves his room to go lean against the half wall of the hallway, so he could look down to the dining table where everyone has gathered to play. No one notices him, so Steve sinks to the floor and turns, so he can lean against the wall, closes his eyes, and listens in.

The room below is filled with noise. Shouts of excitement, and groans of pain, and sighs of relief. Dustin yells at his dice when it rolls a Nat 1. Mike curses up a storm over a barely missed perception check that makes the party fall into a surprise round. He hears Lucas whoop happily and then what sounds like him taking several victory laps around the table.

He used to be an imaginative kid, able to easily conjure castle, and knights, and dragons in his mind's eye. Listening to Eddie describe a new location, or NPC, or monster makes it easy to bring that part of himself back. Eddie is descriptive and uses so many voices that Steve would be embarrassed to even attempt. But because Eddie is being descriptive, so is everyone else at the table. Erica has adopted an accent of some sort for her character. Dustin and Will go into great detail describing what they want their character to do. The older members of Hellfire do the same, and one of them is using an Irish accent that if he used while talking to Steve, he'd would think it was his first language.

Steve's not sure how long he sat there, long enough that they've taken a snack break and are back at it again, before he decides he might as well watch, too. He gets up and goes downstairs. There's a pause at the table when he wonders in and plops down on the couch. He makes eye contact with Eddie and offers a small half smile. Eddie grins back, and starts back into the game, pulling everyone's focus.

Watching is interesting. He gets to see the Party jab at each other, or lean over and whisper about something. It's nice, to see them being kids. Having fun.

They end around five and Steve is surprised at how quickly five hours had passed.

"So, Steve, how was watching your first DnD game?" Dustin asks, pausing on his way to the door to do so.

Steve considers teasing him, but he goes for honesty instead. "Pretty interesting. It might not be my last time observing. I gotta see you get killed sometime, right?"

"Rude, Steve. Rude," Dustin is grinning though.

"Tell your mom hi for me, and let me know when she's making pork chops again. I'd like to crash that dinner."

Dustin rolls his eyes and shakes his head but he hugs Steve before leaving. Between all the older Hellfire members, they all have rides home that aren't Steve or Eddie.

Speaking of the latter, he's slowly packing things away at the table. Clearly killing time so it won't look like he's intentionally staying after everyone's gone.

Soon, the house is empty again.

"So, I'm not sure... how to start this conversation," Eddie admits to the silence. He's still at the table, standing behind where he was previously sitting, fiddling with a die. "But, I'm sorry. For that day. You were right, you know? When you said I was lashing out at you first."

"Thanks. For the apology," Steve stands from the couch and moves to the table, toying with the tablecloth instead of looking at Eddie. "I, uhh, I'm not sure where to go from here, either? I spent such a long time angry at you. For pointing out all the things I'm bad at in front of everyone there. For making me feel like an idiot."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Now Steve looks up at Eddie. "You say that, but like, why? Are you sorry because what you did was shitty, or because you want to be my friend now?"

Eddie blinks, apparently thrown by Steve's question.

"Because, like, you were pretty dismissive of Lucas before Spring Break and he helped save your life. So, it's like, are you okay with being shitty if the people you hurt aren't people you like? 'Cause I used to be that way, and I'm not going to be friends with someone who is."

"Yeah, no, you're right," Eddie nods. "For all that I scream about conformity, and how stupid it is, I've been rather quick to dismiss everyone outside my own... group. I held rather close to that nerds verses jocks crap for too long. Lucas is a jock, but he's also a nerd, and so very loyal to his friends. And you- you're really fucking awesome."

"I am," Steve interrupts with a cheeky grin.

"Ass. But yeah, you're pretty awesome, and I've been feeling all fucked up today because, we could have been friends, couldn't we? In high school. If I'd just let you take the damn flier and kept my mouth shut."

"Hey, that's not all on you," Steve says. "I would have still joined the basketball team, and the swim team. And, like, I was so desperate for any shred of attention from my parents that I would never have picked Hellfire over sports meetups. I could have joined and still ended up a bully by sophomore year."

"Well, I didn't help-"

"I made those choices, Eddie. And it doesn't matter because it's in the past. So, like, we can just move forward. Start over, or whatever."

Eddie looks him up and down before giving one sharp nod, then breaking out into a wide grin, sticking his hand out for a handshake. "Hi. Name's Eddie Munson."

Steve laughs, reaching out to shake Eddie's hand. "Steve Harrington."

"Great, pleasure to meet you. Do you wanna hang out? We can play 20 questions. Get to know each other."

"Sure," Steve chuckles, extracting his hand from Eddie's. "Let me order some pizza first."

First time hanging out with Eddie alone. Guess they'll find out if they can be friends after all.

#steddie #my fic #what's eight plus seven?#just one more part #not fully edited because im at work so apologies for that

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k-zuzu · 5 months ago

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홍중 k.HJ

kim hongjoong 𖹭 fem idol!reader

DESTINY.

synopsis: idol!reader is very open about her love for ateez kim hongjoong, scandal breaks, they end up together. (feat. bang chan of skz being wise.)

content: eventual smut mdni, cringe/crack, angst if u squint, strangers2friends2lovers, reader uses she/her pronouns, slow burn?, this is shit, choppy storyline lots of time skips and anticlimactic, fluffy?, lots of use of the pet name 'baby', cuddling, big sexy hongjoong, swearing, not proofread, lowercase intended. explicit warnings: in the studio couch, handjob, p in v, no prep, vanilla, unprotected, creampie, sub/dom undertones?, virgin/inexperienced reader

guide: italics in dialogues are used when they speak in korean. chat fonted dialogues are comments and exchanged texts. long blocks of dialogues are used during lives because they're not really doing anything apart from speaking!

zuzu's note: main masterlist. the girl in the picture is just a reference/icon to get the overall vibe of the "idol aesthetic." also, because it's difficult to make things neutral, i created your group and fandom's name, and also put in a groupmate's name in as placeholders because it's difficult to write without mentioning them lol.

you spent two years honing your skills as a trainee at a modest, struggling company before rising to fame as the leader of your own group, DESTINY. your impressive duality on stage, seamlessly transitioning from intense, commanding dance moves and mature raps to the charming, feminine aegyo concept, quickly won over fans. your first award was hard-earned for your sultry debut song titled "Sit." (in which you would subtly imply that you want to sit on someone's face).

you, in particular, gained a significant international following because of your hilarious bedroom lives where you would often deliver sassy comebacks to fans, showcase your impressive english language skills, and share random chatter that fans couldn't help but love. Initially, you became known for your goofy on-screen personality. however, as your talents and stage presence shone through, it was no surprise that people fell for you.

DESTINY has cemented their status as THE 5th generation girl group, making waves in the music industry. numerous renowned idols you adored in the past (one of which, was Kim Hongjoong) have taken notice of your group's bold lyrics and praised your distinctive style and captivating concept.

one day, you decide to hop onto instagram to go live and have a casual chat with your dedicated fans, also known as fates, during a brief pause from rehearsing the dance routine for your upcoming comeback album titled "idgaf." despite having beads of sweat clinging to your forehead and being slightly winded from the dance, you maintain a casual conversation with your viewers;

"so, a few days ago i was on my phone and i was watching these uh, these compilations of other idols talking about me—" you pause to catch your breath and slightly chuckle at how ridiculous you sound. "someone made one of those cute videos on youtube." you repeat in korean. "my favorite part was when they showed ateez reaction to me casually rapping that one part in WORK during one of my lives..." you took a deep inhale and looked away as you thought about it some more. "hongjoong-sunbaenim was sooo, aaaagh! he was— i mean, okay, so, don't like, make a big deal out of this, but i had a hugeeee crush on him for so long, so long, like, before i debuted, i swear, his charizzma is unmatched!!! aaaaaGH, he COMPLIMENTED MY RAPPING IN THE VIDEO! and then i began to wonder if, like, was my rapping even good? damn, i could've done better if i knew hongjoong-sunbaenim would watch it. he was also, actually my inspiration as a leader and a producer..."

you continued chattering on, unaware that your manager would soon reprimand you for discussing that particular topic, citing potential negative consequences. however, it wasn't a major issue, since your fans actually valued your candidness. sure, there were a few hateful remarks scattered among the positive comments, but many responded positively, with remarks such as:

"help she's so real 😭"

"waaah, wishing i was hongjoon rn"

"she can't have hongjoong! he is dating atiny" — "she is atiny tho?" someone replied.

"totally ship them" and it was all enough to make your day.

it's not too long before you come across a reel on instagram that many fans tagged you in; hongjoong reacting to a clip of you simping over him on your livestream. your heartbeat picked up its pace and you sat up properly, raising the volume on your phone as you mentally prepared yourself for the video.

"yahh, i already saw this." he says and you pause the video. fuck. you play it again. "honestly, i thought it was a bit cute." you blush and kick your feet until he speaks again. "it's rare to see junior idols showcasing their admiration for their seniors, but it's really nice, i really like it... especially when they admire me," he shows a heart to the camera. "y/n, if you're watching this, please continue to show your love and support to ateez!"

you were a little disappointed because he seemed to spin it off that you were just a supportive junior/atiny, but you decided to brush it off.

weeks pass and the topic dies down until a photo of you and hongjoong chatting while he signed your album at their fansign event was spreading around the internet and rumors began — you didn't think it would be hidden since it was a public event, but you also didn't think that it would be a scandal. it's your first time being able to chat with hongjoong at all and the dating rumors are just ridiculous. your manager gives you the go signal and you decide to address the rumors by going live in your iconic bed, the lights are dim and you're bare faced, wearing glasses —

"helllooo..." you adjusted the camera at the foot of the bed and you laid on your stomach in front of it. "yesterday... i met kim hongjoong-sunbaenim of ateez..." you paused as you thought about what to say next — you didn't want a script, you wanted to stay yourself: authentic and genuine.

"and today, i was very disappointed because many fates say that we are dating and expressed their hatred for the idea... i would like to point out that i only admire him now as my senior and inspiration for being an idol! i would like to address that, honestly, the dating rumors are a bit ridiculous just because i said i had a crush. it was my first time meeting hongjoong-sunbaenim," your tone was a bit defensive and pouty, you paused as you fiddled with your earring and stared at the camera, snivveling.

"it was my very first time meeting him, it was awkward. more awkward than if he was with a regular fan, maybe because i am an idol and i expressed my admiration for him very publicly, but he was very kind and considerate about it. he really expressed his appreciation for me as his junior and atiny and that was the extent of our interaction. i hope you guys don't spread rumors like this again even if it's true, it would be private business and you shouldn't gossip about someone's love life like this. if you guys like it so much, i suggest you guys focus on your own." you make a light joke of the situation, slightly hoping you don't get hate for that as well. soon after that live, you posted a selfie you took with hongjoong at the fansign event with the caption "forever atiny! 🫶" and you decided to stop and stray away from the whole hongjoong topic because you didn't want to cause him any more trouble.

luckily, after that, many fates decided to come forward and be more open as they showed a lot of support for you and hongjoong.

"this is ridiculous! she shouldn't have to address those dumb rumors, please respect them! they are idols, your baseless rumors could ruin their career."

"i feel so bad for her and hongjoong. i love their innocent chemistry and i believe they should interact more often! male and female idols should be able to interact without being "accused" of dating. like she said, even if they are, it is none of our business! so sad that she'll probably have avoid him after this. so disappointed in whoever made the rumors."

months later, your group and ateez both were in Chicago, USA for your comeback world tour at the same time and while you were there, you decided to attend their concert and you screamed at the top of your lungs and went along every fan chant like a pro, you were far away from the stage so there were no hopes of being noticed — since it was convenient, your managers decided that your group and ateez should collaborate on dances of your comeback title songs, and naturally, you and hongjoong were paired together by your managers in hopes of using this dance as a warning for fans not to mess with the two of you. much to your convenience, the title track of your comeback album is "idgaf."

"hongjoong-sunbaenim!" you slightly jogged over to him and the staff and group members and bowed as deep as you could, your manager and fellow DESTINY members following close by.

"there's no need for that," hongjoong waves you off as you came back up and you chuckle slightly as you awkwardly look around the silent room — you often gossiped with your members about how you'd 'let hongjoong do things to you' among other questionable remarks, and right now you silently hope they wouldn't say a word about it. "i already learned the dance earlier, it's really good! i heard you choreographed it? " hongjoong attempts at small talk and you nod politely in response, holding your hands together, noticing the ateez members behind him glancing at you guys, whispering, and chuckling.

"yes, it took me a month to perfect the choreography before i taught my members." you explain, but before hongjoong could continue, one of the staff unknowingly interrupts your chat.

"okayyy, let's get started! in your positions, please."

you guys complete the dance on the second take, and once it was posted, the fans absolutely adore your chemistry (just as you did) they fawn over the idea of you and hongjoong together (just as you did).

after the posting of the dance, you have a casual live featuring your group mate, nina, who also spoke english. the theme; "doing face masks in my bed and eating ramen." during that very live, you receive a notification while your friend talks to the viewers. you picked you your phone to check what it was, your heart almost literally stopped.

kim hongjoong...

was...

following you back on instagram.

your eyes almost popped out of your head and you let out a really long high pitched screech.

"what? " nina looks at you, befuddled but laughing at your odd reaction. after a few seconds you still don't respond to her as you kick your feet. "ya, what is it? " she attempts once again and lean over your shoulder to check your phone but you slam it down on the bed. you slowly turn to her, trying and failing to contain your smile as you whisper so the audience couldn't hear.

"hongjoong-sunbaenim is following me on instagram..."

her eyes widen and she smiles. "are you sure?" she asked in a high pitched voice and you nodded frantically, showing her your phone. her smile widens and the two of you couldn't hold it in anymore — you both begin squealing and grabbing each others hands live and the fate's comments kept coming in.

"what are you two talking abouttt???"

"i didn't hear what she said!"

fans would soon understand what you were screeching about and this time, instead of dating rumors, it was "feeling" rumors. fans would gossip and speculate about how you two obviously had feelings for each other, other speculations include your "random chemistry" with hongjoong to be a marketing strategy — to always put you two together to gather more attention, likes, and fan reactions.

what they don't know is that they are correct on both accounts; because you and hongjoong so obviously had feelings each other the staff would always put you together.

the tipping point.

hongjoong posted a picture on his story of a ticket purchase to your world tour comeback concert.

the concert is coming to an end.

DESTINY is singing the encore, which is also your last chance; ever since hongjoong posted that on his story you made a plan. but you told everyone that it was in the heat of the moment when you did it. that's what you told yourself — the adrenaline, your sore muscles, your vocal cords beginning to strain, the screams of fate, the sound of your heartbeat, the thought of hongjoong. your lines in the song were coming close — before the beat drops, you skip toward the center and you raise your hand, microphone close to your mouth, you screamed.

"HONGJOONG-SUNBAENIM!" you scream out, your voice echoing through the arena. "this one's for you!" the fate fans erupt into a frenzy of deafening screams and cheers. the stunned expressions of the DESTINY members are captured on the iphone cameras held by fans. "FATE! let me hear you FUCKING SCREAM YOUR HEARTS OUT!" you shout, launching into the chorus of the song. as the beat drops and the intensity kicks in, everything around you becomes a hazy blur, and for a moment, your mind goes blissfully blank.

as the concert reaches its finale, the members of DESTINY retreat backstage to catch their breath and decompress. you immediately seek refuge in the nearest chair, plopping down and exhaling a loud, tired sigh.

"ya, y/n, what were you thinking?" nina sits on the chair next to you. "we don't know what could happen now."

that was the worst possible feeling to have as an idol. the anxiety of what comes next.

...it reminded you of the time mingi swore to jongho on a live.

"it's not that big of a deal," you say as you chug and finish an entire bottle of water. "it's to feed fate's hunger..."

"yaaah, how you think hongjoong-sunbaenim would react? " she ponders and you shrug, choosing not to think about it. despite your nonchalant demeanor, you completely regret it. 'how would everyone react?' sure, you constantly openly express your admiration for him everywhere else, but onstage was something else, 'what happened to professionalism?' you sigh and put your hand on your forehead. you're going to get in a lot of trouble with your manager now.

that nonsense yet iconic line would get you the title of the "most ballsy k-pop leader of the 5th generation " which is also the headline of the hit article that would later accuse you of being "too forward" with your "poor attempt" at bringing modern media and standards to korean culture and k-pop. back then, your line at the concert would not be acceptable, but now there are so many of your fans — your fates defending you, supporting you, and fighting all of the haters and closed fates who openly express their distaste and negativity for your unprofessional behaviour. you still believe that you deserve at least half of it.

it's no surprise that hongjoong doesn't share or post any public reaction to your iconic line of 2024, unlike you, an immature newer idol, he has been in the entertainment industry longer and is an expert on how to maintain professionalism, especially when it comes to dating scandals. agh, he probably lost his respect for you after that moment.

another few weeks pass. to your surprise, even after your unprofessional behaviour, DESTINY was invited to an award show, and during one of the performances, nature called, so you got up to head to the bathroom. in one of the hallways, the smallest of small chances and the most cliche of cliches happened. you and hongjoong stood in front of each other at the hallway that led to the bathrooms, you bow deeply and greet him softly, a bit embarrased you hunch in shame. "hello..."

"y/n-ah! " he's surprisingly relaxed, he raises a hand forward and you awkwardly double check it before high fiving him and he puts it back in his pocket. "how are you? i've actually been a bit of a fate myself these past few weeks and that thing you said at the concert wasss, wow."

'okay, so he addressed the elephant in the room just like that. was it even the elephant for him? it seemed like a koala, or... a chipmunk or something.' goes through your mind. you awkwardly chuckle and push your hair away from your face. "yeah... i'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable, i've regretted it ever since—"

"no! you don't have to be. it was cool. really cool. i liked it." he says. his cute, reassuring smile remains and you can't help but smile back.

"really?" you ask, you don't how pathetic you sound asking it but hongjoong liked how it came out of your mouth — your personality now is so soft-spoken and different from the "ballsy 5th gen leader" the internet made you out to be, he adored the duality. "i was actually super nervous, i was afraid you would think i ruined the face of my group or something and unfollow me on instagram..." you ramble nervously.

"ya, i would never! " he said and took his phone out. "i am a certified fate from here on out, you and are- are the fate-inies." he handed you his phone. "i was actually wondering if we can exchange contacts?" you look at him, shocked painted across your face.

"really???" you ask and don't hesitate to grab his phone. "of course!" you try your best not to sound too eager but of course, you fail. hongjoong laughs at your innocent reaction and you return his phone. he smiles, satisfied, and lifts it up and shaking the screen in front of you.

"i'll text you," he says casually. "will you reply?" you nod, trying to contain your smile because you don't wanna scare him away.

"of course! why else would i give you my number?" he makes way for you in the small hallway and mumbles a farewell as he waves his hand and he begins to walk away, you turn and watch him until he's out of sight before you run to the bathroom, slam the door behind you and scream your lungs out in the mirror. you totally lost the urge to pee and you return to your groupmates immediately after, already gossiping about what went down. later that night, DESTINY wins an award, you celebrate, and head back to your dorm, wash up and fall on your bed where you would receive a text from hongjoong.

hongjoong: "yo! congratulations on your win! i was very happy when DESTINY was announced and saw you onstage ㅋㅋㅋㅋ."

you bite your nail, thinking of your response.

you: "hi! tysm! congratulations on your award as well. it's expected of ateez-sunbaenim, i already see it coming ㅋㅋㅋ"

hongjoong: "ah, don't be like that. it's hard to live up to expectations"

you chuckle at his response. his typing style was different than you expected. you got ready to type out another response until he messaged again.

hongjoong: "btw, when r u available? we should celebrate our win together. as leaders."

your heart skips a beat... or two. is he asking you out?

you: "how about tomorrow night?"

hongjoong: "oh, no can do. ateez celebration party tomorrow with a few close friends."

you sigh and you're about to put your phone down for the night when you reel another vibration.

hongjoong: "unless u wanna come? ur more than welcome"

you: "idk, it might not be the best choice. will there be other female idols there?"

hongjoong: "uhh, ur being kinda dubious. do you want there to be female idols?"

you: "yes pls"

hongjoong: "then there will be female idols there. why? are you going to choose them over me?"

you: "ㅋㅋㅋㅋ only if the entirety of blackpink are there."

hongjoong: "it might seem crazy what i'm 'bout to say..."

hongjoong: "sorry but lisa was all we could book 4 the night"

you: "U FR?!"

hongjoong: "no"

hongjoong: "ateez is not made of gold. lisa-sunbaenim is also busy with more important matters"

hongjoong: "ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ"

hongjoong: "...are you still coming?"

hongjoong: "..."

hongjoong: "y/n?"

you: "yes! it sounds great"

hongjoong: "great. i'll send u the details, see u there ;)"

...is that a fucking winky face? you swear this man is the bane of your existence.

you go to the party alone — and surprisingly, it isn't the small gathering you expected, there were so many recognizable faces, not just of idols, but actors. the venue is a large vip lounge of an underground club in the city. the interior was obnoxious and practically made of gold —you look around and see choi san leaning on a wall, alone. he's a familiar face that you're comfortable talking with. you make eye contact across the room and you walk your way toward him confidently. "hello, sunbaenim!! congratulations on your win~" you give him a soft smile and he smiles back, taking a sip from the glass in his hand — is that brandy? you watch as he silently puts the cup down on the table next to him without so much as a thanks to your greeting, he puts his hands on each of your cheeks, and you wonder if his drunk until you're flustered as he forcibly turns your head 90° to the right.

"hyung is over there."

you easily recognize your hongjoong.

he is chatting with who you recognize to be bang chan of stray kids but your eyes just lock in on him — everyone else around is suddenly blurred and he's the only one you see. you focus on the way his lips move as he speaks, the way he softly nods — this is him when he thinks you're not watching and it's so damn hot, him being himself. the mere fact that he breathes is hot. damn, you're so in love. san chuckles at how you already forgot he was next to you, he conks you in the head and walks away.

you walk toward hongjoong and excuse yourself to their conversation. "y/n!" he says enthusiastically and places a hand around your shoulders. "bang chan, i'm sure your familiar," hongjoong says casually and he makes eye contact with someone in the room — getting distracted, he walks away. of course, it's his group's celebratoon party, you weren't the only guest he would tend to. you awkwardly look up at bang chan and wave.

"hi, sunbaenim! i really love maniac and superbowl, amazing songs!" you give him two thumbs ups and he giggles bashedly, almost blushing — you knew bangchan to alwayd be a flustered mess, he never knew how to react to compliments. "also, i subscribed to your bubble once, wowwww." you tried to make small talk and he laughed once more.

"yeahhh, i can get pretty crazy there. you know, i would also watch your lives sometimes, you're funny!" he says, and you smile.

"you really think so? aaah, i know i have a lot of cringe moments, especially when i first revealed my crush on hongjoong."

"oh yeah, no, it wasn't cringe at all! everybody in the industry already saw your chemistry from before you mentioned it. i totally support you guys haha." he speaks casually and your eyes widen.

"wh-what? support our what? what do we have? what chemistry?" you ramble and bang chan chuckles.

"relax, relax — it's nothing, just, we see your flirting here and there and you two would be so cute together. but, if you want my advise, i wouldn't recommend going public with it, honestly. DESTINY— it's DESTINY, right? you guys just debuted, i don't think having a public relationship with an idol older than you is the right career choice this early on." he says and you nod along, you totally understood where he was coming from but when you stayed silent too long for comfort, bangchan tilted his head. "hey? did i say something wrong?"

you snapped your attention back at him. "hm? yeah, i mean NO! i completely understand what you said and i agree. plus, there's nothinggg between me and hongjoong, we're just... i don't know we're, okay, so there might be a little bit of a thing, but it'll take a long time until it actually becomes something~" you giggle and bangchan giggles as well and the two of you are just a giggling mess and hongjoong comes back to join your group.

"hey, what's all the giggling about?" he moves his head to look at you, then bang chan, then you, then bang chan — "isn't this your first time being acquainted? why are you two having so much fun without me? " then bangchan just smiles, then looks at you, then hongjoong, then you, then hongjoong.

"i'll get going nowww~" he says in a goofy tone and walks away.

"what's with him?" hongjoong mutters and looks at you. "have you eaten? eat! there's plenty of appetizers and foods around—"

"hongjoong-sunbaenim," you interrupt him. "ah, no... hongjoong-oppa." you look up at him, and he stares at you, expression blank but clearly flustered at the new title he got from you. "what are we?" you decide to live up to your title as the most ballsy kpop leader of the 5th generation and he chokes on air, eyebrows raising and eyes blinking repeatedly as he processes what you said.

"um," hongjoong looks around the room nervously, maybe concerned if anyone overheard what you just said. "i... like- hm? huh? i-" he can barely get a word out and you tilt your head, maybe you shouldn't have been to forward, it was wayyy too soon.

"sorry, you don't have to answer." you say calmly and he lets out a very obvious sigh of relief and you chuckle.

"felt like i was trying to defuse a time bomb." he laughs, holding a hand over his chest and you smile as not to ruin the mood, but your next question would do just that for you.

"but... be honest, this is more than a friendship, right? " you can see his smile falter ever so slightly and the silent pause is way too long for comfort. maybe you shouldn't have asked.

"...we'll see where it goes, yeah? " hongjoong smiles. you nod in understanding and he pets your head ever-so-softly as not to ruin your hair. "let's go, let's enjoy the party."

later that night, he takes you to your dorm in the same car he is being driven home in — he waves goodbye and you bow politely. "i'll text you!" hongjoong says, loud enough for you to hear. the car drives off in the distance and you smile and wave. "i'll reply!" you yell back.

your relationship lasted in the talking stage for a few months. rumors were nonexistent because you and hongjoong didn't have to express your attraction to each other through lives and posts and stories anymore, fans assumed it was because the staff felt the tension between you two died down and stopped using it for clout, little did they know that it all began hiding behind closed doors through hundreds of flirty texts and phone calls, cute selcas, handmade gifts, ordering food for each other, occasional video calls, and personal dates throughout your busy schedule. you were practically dating now but you and hongjoong never had a label.

"so, what are you guys? " wooyoung would ask.

hongjoong takes a moment to answer as he scrolls through his laptop. "...we're in a situationship."

"aren't you a little too old to be afraid of commitment?"

"ya, bastard—"

it wouldn't take too long for your "situationship" to spread among other idols and since everyone else was pretty closed off or "careful" it was the gossip of the industry.

about 6 months into whatever you and hongjoong had; you two were alone together in the living room of his dorm, everyone else was out and about, busy tending to their own lives leaving you two were finally alone together. one of the few moments you treasured. you laid comfortably into his chest as you both focused on wonka (timothee ver.) playing on the flat screen tv. hongjoong subconsciously pets your hair every now and then and you nuzzled deeper into his chest but there was a lingering thought in your head that you have been meaning to ask.

"hongjoong-oppa..." you mumble. hongjoong humms in response — you feel the vibration of his voice against your ear that rests just above his chest. you shuffled to look at him, he glances at you, seeing that you're a bit serious, he pauses the movie and he sits up a bit. "...is it still to early to ask what we are?"

hongjoong's expression doesn't change. it makes it hard for you to read him and how he feels about the question you have been too scared to ask these past few weeks. hongjoong doesn't respond however, just looking at you with clueless eyes. you sigh, expressing your disappointment and gently push him back into his position on the couch and laid back on top of him.

"nevermind." you murmur. you don't wanna force him into rushing the relationship or do anything he's uncomfortable with, but you don't want to wait too long either. shouldn't the two of you always be on the same page? you sigh again the more you thought about it, but your thoughts were interrupted as soon as hongjoong pushed you back up into your position.

"no," he simply said. "it's not too soon. in fact, it's a little late." he began and you started listening to him, pout evident on your face. hongjoong takes a deep breath. "the truth is, i have been thinking about this topic... me and some of the members would talk about it, and they kept telling me to "put a label on it," but my response was always that i was too scared." you looked at him, brows furrowed. "i really like you, y/n. it scares me." he whispers.

"...you don't... have to be scared." you say softly.

"i know, i know—" he rubs his forehead and he lets out a deep sigh. "but a label makes it so official, y'know...? "

"i know, oppa, but if our relationship, is not going anywhere then we might as well stop now." you can feel the anger in you bubbling up. "i don't date around, you know. you said yourself that you wanted to see where this would go, it's been months and after everything we've done together, i still can't believe we're not even called boyfriend and girlfriend," you pause to take a breath and calm yourself down. "i don't want to force you anything, but i just, i can't help but think that you don't want to continue this but you're too afraid to tell me. i don't want to wake up tomorrow and you change your mind and decide that you don't want me anymore, i need to propose an ultimatum." you pause, licking your lips nervously. "if you don't want to be my boyfriend now then maybe you shouldn't be my boyfriend at all."

you rambled on like you usually do, but hongjoong doesn't want to interrupt you, he never wanted to, he loves listening to you talk, but hearing the words that came out of your mouth upset him.

"...y/n, don't get me wrong," he began. "i want to be your boyfriend and i want you to be my girlfriend, i want a label, but you have to understand that it's hard for me..." he explained calmly, voice soft.

his words don't change how you feel, and you frown. "then why? what are you waiting for—? " your words are interrupted when you feel his lips smash into yours in a soft and wet kiss, it's almost aggressive but eventually, it melts into a tender, passionate connection before pulling away. you look at hongjoong, a little dazed but befuddled. that was the last thing you expected but somehow it calmed your nerves, unlike his words. you look away from him as a blush creeps into your face — that was your first ever kiss with him. "why'd you do that..? "

"because, y/n," hongjoong softly squishes your cheeks and guides you to look into his eyes. "you're beautiful. not just physically — your personality is beautiful, your passion is beautiful... you're a wonderful person and i am very lucky to have you." you're glad that you're looking at him because you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "...and i love how much you care and i- i know that i am ready to have a label, it's just that i told you... i'm scared... but, i guess, we don't always jump into things prepared..." he says and your expression softens. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him just a little bit closer. "y/n... can i be your boyfriend?" he asks softly.

"of course. what's wrong with you?" you playfully hit his chest and pull him into another short kiss. "i literally had a breakdown about the fact that you didn't wanna be my boyfriend and you're still asking me if i want you to be my boyfriend?" you laugh, hongjoong leans in, another small kiss.

"ya, don't tease me." he mumbles against your lips and you smile mischievously.

"or what~?" you ask, suggestively tilting your head as you look into his gorgeous eyes. hongjoong simply chuckles at your boldness and pecks your cheek, pulling you in for a proper hug and he whispers in your ear.

"don't push it," you were shocked at how deep his voice became. "i might not be able to contain myself..." he says casually and lays back down as if he didn't just leave you wet. "...right, let's continue the movie." he grabs the remote from the table and unpauses it. you just sit there, high and dry.

it's been a year since you and hongjoong have been together, fans are still unaware but catch on to random hints and slip-ups here and there but usually they are too far fetched to be considered a "soft launch" (like you accidentally calling hongjoong "oppa" on a livestream), and only ateez and DESTINY know that your relationship is official official (even your managers don't know, which made it super difficult to go on dates.)

their reactions include but are not limited to:

"finally. you two were beginning to be insufferable..." — DESTINY

"NO WAYYY!?!? THAT'S SO GREAT!!!" — Ateez

"oppaaa!" you yell loudly as you enter the dance studio hongjoong and a few of his members were practicing in. it was late at night and not many people were in the building at the time, you ran over to him and jumped in his arms.

"hi, baby! what are you doing here so late?" he kisses your cheek as he carries you by your thighs against him and you look into his eyes.

"why? can't i see my baby while he's working? " your arms are wrapped around his neck and you kiss his nose, he smiles and scrunches his nose, nuzzling it into yours like a rabbit.

"ahh, come on, you know you're my baby!" he says in a sweet aegyo voice and you giggle. he puts you down and seonghwa walks by.

"come on guys, seriously, i think i might barf..."

"i know, 'oppa, you're my baby, not just that — i want your babies~'" san decides to join in and mock you two with a skit and feigning a high pitched voice. pretending to be you and that seonghwa was hongjoong, playfully hitting his chest.

"ya, stop that, you weirdo—" seonghwa chuckles and hits san back.

you both ignore them, already used to their antics. you hold hongjoong's hands, looking into his eyes. "oppa, wanna go get a snack?"

"totally! let's go." he lets go of your left hand and holds on to your right as he leads you out the dancing studio and into the corridor. "so, where are we going?"

"what? why would i know? i thought you knew." you say, dumbfounded.

"why should i know? you're the one who suggested that we go out for a snack!" he exclaims.

"okay, okay! sooo... let's just go back to the dancing studio? " you turn around and hongjoong pauses, his smile remains the same.

"...actually, i have something else in mind." his voice is soft yet deep — you tilt your head in curiosity as he leads you to the end of the corridor and to the elevators, clicking the down button.

"...soo, are you going to tell me or..?"

"let's hang out in my studio."

this was undeniably the smartest idea Hongjoong had come up with since the beginning of your relationship (considering your surprise). it was incredibly rare for the two of you to get some precious alone time together, so you vowed to savor every single moment. laying on the couch in your favorite position (with you comfortably sprawled on top of him), a soothing silence enveloped the room, where the sound of your synchronized breathing patterns filled the air.

"'joong," you mumble, almost falling asleep, eyes closed. you shift on top of him and feel something rather peculiar down there. your eyes shot wide open. "'joong?!" you playfully hit his chest and sit up. "ya, i thought we were just chilling!"

"sorry! sorry- i couldn't help it, you were positioned so-" he pauses, staring at you as you urged him to continue with a smile and furrowed brows. "nevermind, nevermind, lay back down. it's chill, i promise."

"no," you suddenly say.

"no???" hongjoong questions. "wh- what do you mean?" he tries to laugh it off.

"i mean no, you said it was my fault. i have to help you," you innocently said and slid off of him, going on your knees on the floor.

"woah, woah, woah, wait- no, y/n, i can't let you do that," hongjoong attempts to pull you back up, but you refuse, your hands rest on his thighs, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, eagerly waiting for him to say yes. it's difficult for hongjoong to say no to that expression, he curses under his breath, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "ahh, shit." he grumbles. "have you ever even sucked a dick, y/n?" he looks down at you, and you shake your head.

"no," you innocently respond. "but i can learn with you right? it's difficult for me to have a sex life, y'know, with our schedules and all."

"yeah, yeah…" he looks away, hand covering the flush of his cheeks.

"…wait," you suddenly stood up. "is this your way of telling me you've been sucked off before?"

"was that your way of telling me you've never been fucked before?" hongjoong quipped.

"is that your other way of telling me you've fucked someone else before?!" you shot back.

he chuckles, "c'mon, baby, this is a good thing!" he runs his hands up and down your arms, attempting to soothe your annoyance, although he's not quite sure whether you're joking or serious. "i could teach you a thing or two, you know? how does that sound, sweetheart?" he stands up and spins around, gently guiding you to sit on the couch with him. despite your earlier irritation, you can't help but giggle as he showers your face with kisses, eventually kissing your lips and coaxing you to lay down on the couch as the make-out session intensifies. he climbs on top of you, grinding his hips into yours, you whine into his kiss. "you like that?" hongjoong mumbles in between kisses, abruptly pulling away to rid of his clothing, prompting you to get rid of yours.

you were practically drooling over his cock, already waiting for him to trace it to your entrance as he wrapped his hand tightly around himself, but he didn't. instead, he leaned back on the other end of the couch, head thrown back as he pumped himself hard. as much as you were disappointed, you gotta say, what a fucking sight. the kim hongjoong was masturbating in front of you, to you. eager, you leaned forward and wrapped your hands around his hand that pumped his cock, wanting to make his job easier, hongjoong stared at you blankly for a moment, considering what he should let you do, slowly, he guided your hands to wrap around his thick girth, urging you to pump up and down, occassionally squeezing at the tip, watching as his precum escaped.

"fuck," hongjoong cursed under his breath. "ah, shit, shit, wait," he pulled your hands off of him. concerned you might've hurt him or done a bad job, you pulled away and watched as he ran a hand through his hair. "sorry, i was just so close to cumming." he mumbled, covering his face with both hands in shame.

you tilt your head, confused. "that's a good thing, though."

"no, no, i wanna make you cum first, baby…" his hand met your cheek, stroking it gently. "you want my tongue or fingers?"

"mmh, cock…" you mumbled, laying on your back and spreading your legs, showing your pretty, tight hole on fully display for him to use. "i want your cock, hongjoong…"

"fuck," hongjoong cllimbed over you and eagerly placed his tip at your entrance. who the hell was he to say no to his innocent baby? he stuck two fingers inside you, collectine some of your arousal to wrap around his cock as lubrication, "fuck, will you be able to take me?" he slowly pushed his tip inside, already struggling as your poor pussy hole fluttered around him. "baby, i don't think it'll fit-" he almost laughed.

"it'll fit!" you whined, grabbing his bare forearms. "i've fingered myself thinking about this moment many times, baby, it'll fit, make it fit, please, i want this, rip me apart, baby-"

slowly, hongjoong bottomed out inside you. the stretch stinging you — he almost came at your mere words and he didn't want to hear another second of it, so he patiently settled inside you for a moment, letting you get used to the sensation before he couldn't take it anymore. he might accidently cum inside you with the way your tight virgin hole squeezed around his long, fat cock. his pace started off slow, he pulled out at his tip before harshly slamming back inside you. you whined. "j-joong," you blubbered. "not too hard."

"okay, baby, i'm sorry," hongjoong leaned down, placing a kiss on your lips before slamming back inside you, slowly and gently. he set the vanilla pace. fuck, fuck, fuck, he was fucking you so good. you hated the thought that he had done this with other girls, but then again, if he didn't then he probably wouldn't have had the skill to fuck you like this right now.

"aah- faster," you whined and hongjoong complied, wanting nothing but to please you, to make your first time memorable. he thrust harder into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot you never even knew existed. "aah! ahhh~!" you involuntarily whined, you had never felt so good in your life, you never felt this before, the desire to reach your climax and the desire to never want this feeling to end. "i-i'm cumming, 'joong-" you whined as he fucked harder into you, abrupt thrusts, his head rested in the crook of your neck, letting out soft groans, his warm breath against your skin.

"cum for me, baby, that's right," he groaned as you squeezed tightly around him, creaming around his cock. "fuck, fuck, that's right baby…" he whispered, reaching his climax as well and painting your insides whiter than they have ever been.

"mmng…" you moaned, you couldn't get a word out even if you wanted to. too fucked out to form a coherent thought, hongjoong stayed inside of you until he softened. he pulled out, placing a kiss on your lips and nose.

"fuck, you took me so well, baby, you know that?" he made his way to face your pussy and began pushing the cum back inside your small hole. "mmh, your first time, you had a creampie? what a dirty slut you are, hmm?" he whispered, kissing the inside of your thigh before grabbing your discarded panties from the floor and sliding it back up your legs. all you could let out was a helpless whine, hongjoong dressed himself up, climbing into the couch wiht you, cuddling your naked, fucked out form into his fully clothed one. "sleep, baby, i'll clean you up at my dorm tomorrow, m'kay?"

"y'sure..?"

"yes, baby, don't worry."

236 notes · View notes

lonelystarrs · 2 years ago

Text

The Pudding

Barou Shouei x FemReader (Ft Isagi Yoichi)

Barou was acting like you’d been winding him up to brat tame, however you’d been on your best behaviour since Isagi came to crash with you guys for awhile, who knew he’d be such a homewrecker and not even release it was his fault. That pudding Barou was obsessed with do be good though!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • DomBarou • smut • Barou being Barou. • dirty talk -filth • this do be spicy get your face fans out• 5 years after Blue Lock • Isagi temporary house mate causing arguments • crack • established relationship • the ending tho 💀 isagi you homewrecker.

Frantic, aggressive and a borderline bully -Barou Shouei was showing all these traits when he’d stomped his way over to you, red eyes glowing as his figured shadow drew closer.

Normally you’d do something to warrant this kind of a reaction from him, brat taming you was something he enjoyed and something you found amusing to draw out in him.

Today however? You hadn’t done anything, in fact since Isagi came to crash a couple of days ago with you both for a few weeks you’d been pretty good. Barou only allowed it because Isagi was easy to live with, he knew this from his days in blue lock, collecting laundry and at least trying to aid his level of OCD with cleaning. He was respectful and he, unknowingly to you or anyone else owed Isagi a favour.

Why? That secret would die with Barou -and with Isagi if he kept his word on not telling anyone. Barou had actually asked him to try find out your ring sizes, which he had successfully done -fuck knows how he pulled it off and fuck knows how Barou bit his pride to ask. He wanted someone outside to get the job done, he himself or his sisters would be way too obvious. Apparently he took you shopping with Bachira who you had a soft spot for, the guys eccentric personality made it easy to fall for, he made you try on a load of stacking rings and Isagi remembered the one for your ring finger, clever little shit Barou had to give him that.

“W-wait Barou, s-slow down-“

You tried to tighten your thighs together in an attempt to block him but he’d only pushed his weight by his hips further into you causing you to spread them.

Normally Barou would prep you, much needed considering how thick and long this guy was, he was built like a god head to toe and taking him was always a stretch.

You were actually a little worried at how fired up he was, but equally excited by his sudden attitude shift, he was fine this morning but he was borderline feral at the moment.

Barou snorted a laugh, red eyes looking up to you as he held himself over you. Hands planted by your sides as you gripped onto his forearms to brace yourself, his huge biceps bulging as he held his own weight above you. His shoulders looked fucking huge, pure muscle hovering over you as sweat dripped from his body from his wound up he was getting not even cooling down after he finished a work out. His cock rested hard on your stomach, leaking at the tip.

“Huh? Where’s that cocky attitude gone, girl?”

Eyes returning down he watch himself as he lifted his hips, flexing his thick, heavy cock to hit his stomach watching the pre cum link between him, before dropping it down to press the thick tip to your entrance. You clenched around nothing as he pressed against you, easing the head in.

His deep voice making bumps rise on your skin, there was nothing unmanly about this guy, he oozes testosterone and gruffness, but that voice? God it got you every time, especially when he was threatening you.

“I’ll warn you now-“ he glanced up at you, his gaze harsh as he kept eye contact “-I’d find something to hold onto if I were you. You’re getting devoured, teach you to stop pissing me off.”

You swallowed and he was drinking in how vulnerable you looked under him, eyes glazed and doe like, it sent his ego soaring. The growl that left his chest was feral, eyes flashing as he tried to control himself from pushing himself in with one thrust.

Barou was mean, but not a complete sadist.

You moved a hand to press against the headboard behind you, the other remaining on his forearm.

He felt the tight ring of your cunt protest as he pushed the head in, you were so tight he couldn’t pull the head back as it gripped onto him and it was game over for you when he felt it sucking his cock in.

He pushed through to the hilt, bullying this thick cock through your velvety walls as they gripped him, milking any precum he had crawling up his dick.

“Fucking hell s’fucking warm, how you stay this tight huh? This cock not fucked you enough times?” he breathed out, not once dropping that gruffness his voice carried. He pressed his forehead against yours looking down at his cock buried in you. Barou was big, he had the length and the thickness but this man knew how to roll his cock into you.

“B-Barou s’too much please just -“

“Tch, thought you knew what you were in for? Acting cocky and now whinin’ cause you can’t take me? Suck it up princess, wanna help yourself? Reach down and play with your clit as I fuck you, it’s the only mercy you’re getting.”

You whimpered under him, your hips twitching to try angle yourself better as your pussy clenched around him.

Despite years of being together he was still a stretch to take especially when he’d been away for a few weeks for soccer and you’d not had him. This time, it was because he’d remained rather tame while Isagi was crashing at your place whilst he moved into his new one.

You had no idea why Barou was so pissed off, he only got like this when you’d been teasing him or winding him up until he entered his brat taming mode.

This time though -you hadn’t.

You pussy was soaking, drooling to your ass and over his cock and balls, he tilted his hips so the hilt of his dick rubbed your clit and you threw your head back with an unholy moan.

He withdrew slowly, a deep groan leaving him as he watched his thick dick slide from you covered in slick.

“You’re a mess, acting like you can’t handle it but she’s drooling for me-“ he thrust sharply, hitting that spot in you that made your breath hitch, your mouth fell open as you looked down in slight worry, your hand on his forearm quickly pressed against his six pack.

“Found it already huh? Tch, too easy thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

He rolled his hips beautifully into you, setting a pace that was borderline cruel -hard but not quiet fast enough to build your orgasm as quick as you’d want it.

Barou watched your tits bounce with each thrust into your pussy, hugging him begging it to fill you with his cum, but he wasn’t done yet.

Your vision blurred as he shifted you, only to focus again as he looked down on you folded beneath him. He had hooked both arms under your knees to push you upwards under him, folding you in half as his hands grip the head board behind you to stabilise himself.

Your eyes widened at what he was about to do, tears gathering in your eyes as he moulded you into his own version of a mating press. Mounting you like some animal as he stared down at his prey.

“You’re fucked now, woman.”

His first thrust hit so deep you almost seen stars, head kissing your cervix as he pushed to the hilt whilst rotating his hips in circles.

“Your safe word, you got it?” You nodded dumbly and he pressed a kiss to your leg, a fleeting moment of showing his softness before his annoyance for whatever triggered this took him over again.

Your hand moved to press a finger to your clit and Barou’s eyes followed to watch you rub circles into it, matching his pace to each round.

He was impossibly deep even he could feel resistance to how deeply he’d managed to bury himself into you -actual pride swelling in his chest at you being such a champ and taking him like this. Your clit was hard and burning under the pad of your finger as you eased towards cumming for him. Each squelch of his cock bullying into you, each slap of his skin as his balls hit your ass every moan that left your throat as you begged and spurred him.

Slurring words of adoration for him as he drank everything you gave him, his ego soaring with his heart as he started to rut into you violently. Knuckles turning white as his gripped the head board, sweat dripping from him onto you under him as he pushed himself physically.

“Fuck,” a frustrated growl left him, “-fuck you’re too fucking good.” His words through grunts as he kept up a feral pace. “-you’re fucking made for me.”

“Y-yes!”

“Yeah? You made for this king? Made to take this dick?”

“M-made for you- Ngh-Barou I’m gonna- hah- please I’m cumming, Barou- y-yes there, please-“

“Yeah? Keep fucking begging n slurring all dumb like that, makes me wanna devour you.”

He felt you start to roll your hips under him, your spare hand blinded reaching for his on the head board, finding it you gripped it, fingers laying over his. The finger on your clit started stuttering, picking up a fast messy pace.

“Cummin’ f’you- Bar-King, fuckfuckfuck!”

He smugly watched you lose it under him, body tightening and your toes curling, feeling your pussy clamp around him made him buckle slightly, edging him towards his own release. He didn’t ease you down, instead Barou shifted another gear as his pace turned fast and hard.

“S’Kings gonna fill that pretty cunt up-“

He flipped his hand, twisting it to lace his fingers through yours and planting beside your head, letting one of your legs lower. Barou pressed his lips to your leg still held up by his other, placing wet kisses between bites, panting through his nose as he groan into your skin holding between his teeth.

His thrusts turned sloppy but kept their hardness fucking into you like an alpha fucking his mate through a rut.

“Take it all -fuuuuuck!”

He hunched over you pressing his hips to yours as he spilled into you, cock flexing inside you as he moaned into your leg, red eyes half hooded and glazed. His hips twitched against you as you clenched around him, stomach muscles flexing in little spasms as he came hard emptying into you.

The room was filled with both your panting, coming down from your highs and Barou released you, sitting back onto his folded legs spread. You whimpered as his cock pulled from you now half hard as he softened. Your legs bent up and still spread, shaking as you felt the tremors start to inch up your body. Hands shaking you sat up onto your elbows, Barou was still breathing heavy, red eyes fixed on your swollen pussy starting to leak out his cum and he groaned again. It was the only kind of mess he deemed somewhat acceptable. Running a hand through his hair you could see him shaking lightly, a smug smirk made it’s way to your face.

“The fuck is with that smug smile? Knock it off,”

“You’re shaking.”

“I fucking wouldn’t be if you hadn’t ate the last pudding!”

“What?” You deadpanned at him, “-I didn’t.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I didn’t eat it and it was there this morning.”

“-wait, Barou did you just fuck me like that cause you thought I ate your last pudding?!”

“Hardly the first time, you act like a brat to get fucked like one. Got what you wanted now go out and replace it!”

“I can’t fucking walk! You literally just beat my pussy up!”

“Yeah? I’ll do it again until you stop stealing my shit!”

“I didn’t eat it Barou!”

Meanwhile Isagi sat in the spare room listening to you both from across the hall. -completely forgotten about that he was currently residing with you guys and was actually in the building.

An impressively raging hard on at the inspirational rough sex he’d just heard whilst looking down at his hands, one with a spoon and the other holding an empty container for pudding. He’d been eating it whilst you guys fucked like animals in your bedroom. Like popcorn at a cinema.

Man, Barou really liked his damn pudding, Isagi didn’t think he’d heard him that angry since he called the king a donkey back in Blue Lock 5 years ago.

He shrugged and cleaned the spoon off, ah well Barou didn’t know it was actually him who’d stolen the last pudding, ‘sides it was worth it listening to that.

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cosyvelvetorchid · 4 months ago

Note

Tommy’s dad comes to visit unexpectedly. Unsurprisingly he is still an asshole. Your choice of abuse poor Tommy will have to endure. Buck walks in on the abuse and defends Tommy. Buck comforts Tommy.

Tommy/ Buck Angsty/ fluffy

This was a really meaty one to get into and I loved writing it. Thank you. 🩶

***

TW: Homophobic language // themes of abuse in the form of emotional abuse and descriptions of trauma as a result of former abuse (no actual descriptions of physical abuse)

———

Tommy was busy in the kitchen prepping dinner whilst waiting for Buck to come home from work. The thought of his Evan coming home to him still made him giddy 8 months into their relationship. He still had trouble believing that this was his life - that he got have this. Got to have happiness and contentment with someone as beautiful as Evan.

He’d spend the majority of his life hiding who he was, never imaging living a life where he would get to be who he wanted. And even when he grew up and he finally found the courage to come out and forge some semblance of life on his own terms, he thought it was too late to actually find someone special enough to want to spend his life with.

Then he met Evan.

6 weeks in they shared i love you’s. 5 months and Evan was moving in. Now, 8 months after first laying eyes on Evan in the middle of the harbour station hangar and there was a ring box hidden in a box of old photographs in the garage. He just needed to figure out the perfect way to do it.

The doorbell chimed and Tommy wiped his hands on a dish towel before making his way to the front door. He opened it and his heart and stomach dropped a thousand feet.

He hadn’t seen the man for almost 8 years; hoped he wouldn’t ever see him again. The man was greyer around the temples than he had been the last time he saw him, maybe a few more wrinkles to his face but otherwise there was no difference. Certainly not in the feeling the man conjured in Tommys stomach. The same twisted, nauseating fear that Tommy was all to well acquainted with.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. He tried to sound firm but he couldn’t hide the shakiness in his voice.

“That’s no way to speak to your father, Thomas.” He said in the same deep gruff voice Tommy had spent years trying to forget. He wanted to tell him to leave; to slam the door in his face. But his father’s eyes firmly staring into his own, still, after all this time, had a hold on him. A hold he thought he’d broken free from after his mother’s funeral 8 years ago.

“Are you going to invite me in?” It wasn’t a question and Tommy knew it. As though forced by an invisible entity Tommy stepped aside and let his father into his home.

He closed the door behind them, not failing to notice his hands, palms already beading with sweat, were shaking. His adrenaline was soaring as he watched his father walk slowly down the hall; his eyes scanning his surroundings. Everything his father’s eyes touched somehow now felt dirtier.

“You got anything to drink?” The old man asked as he walked into the kitchen.

“Beer.” Tommy answered from behind. He walked to the fridge and removed a bottle, handing it to his father. The man scoffed when he saw the label.

“IPA. Figures” he said. “Can’t even drink like man.”

Tommy looked down at the ground. He was desperate to say something to his father. He’d gone over in his head a thousand times all of the things he wanted to say to him but never had the courage too. He always believed that one day he would be able to say something. But his father showing up at his door out of the blue threw him off.

Thomas senior walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, continuing to look around. He stopped in front of the fireplace looking at the picture frames stood on top of the mantel.

The whole mantel was filled with photographs. Evan had insisted, when he’d moved in and found a box of photographs in the hall closet, that they should be displayed. He’d said that they - Tommys photographs and his own - told their story, and that they should be proudly displayed.

They chose their favourites to put up. Tommy chose a picture of him and his armies buddies stood in front of a helicopter, one of his mother and himself when he was 10 in front of their Christmas tree, his maternal grandparents on their 40th wedding anniversary, and one of him and Sal in their dress blues the day they both graduated from their LAFD training.

Buck had chosen a picture of him and Maddie when they were kids, another of the two of them on Maddie and Chims wedding day, one of him holding a 6 week old Jee-Yun, another of Evan, Eddie and Christopher with the skateboard that they’d built for him, and a group shot of the 118.

In the centre of all of them, pride of place, was a photograph of Evan and Tommy, wearing medals around their neck and proud smiles on their faces.

Tommy saw his father looking at it and a part of him was tempted to grab it and hide it away; to not expose their happiness in the picture to his father’s derision.

“And who do we have here?” Senior said lifting up the picture of the two of them. Tommy felt a rare moment of confidence in front of his father and took the photo from his hands, placing it gently back to where it belonged.

“My partner.”

“Partner.” His father repeated, his disgust at the term evident. “Does he have a name?”

Tommy didn’t want to give it. He didn’t want the name that he spoke like a prayer to be heard by his father’s ears. If the world was just, the two would never be connected. His father and Evan wouldnt be associated in any way shape or form. Even in such a small way as his father knowing Evan’s precious name.

“I asked you a question, boy.” He turned quickly as he said it, so quickly that his movements triggered in Tommy a deep, long forgotten reaction and he flinched. It didn’t go unnoticed and his father laughed.

“Pathetic.” He said. Tommy did his best to swallow away the bile that was rising up from his stomach.

“Why are you here, dad?”

“I have some business in the city and I’m not paying the ridiculous fucking prices for hotels around here so I’ll be staying with you.”

Tommy’s stomach, along with what felt like every other organ, twisted painfully. He didn’t want to be within a thousand miles of his father and there was no way he wanted Evan in the same universe as him, let alone letting him stay in Evan’s home.

“We-we don’t have room.” He told him.

“What do you mean “we”?”

“Ev-my partner and I.” He answered nervously. Thomas senior’s face changed into something that Tommy recognised from his past. It was a mixture of disgust and anger. Tommys heart raced as he prepared for the inevitable verbal assault he was going to endure. His father had frequently used his fists to inform his son on exactly how he felt about his ‘perversions’, and there was a time where that response was the worst he had to endure.

But the older Tommy got the more the beatings became more preferable to the onslaught of violent rhetoric his father would spit at him. He would rather deal with black eyes than have to hear how disgusted his own father was at his existence. The worst his dad would ever make him feel was when he would be screaming at him that God made a mistake when they made him - that he was defective; unlovable. A failure of a man. Words that even today, when he was happier than he’d ever been, still had him doubting his worthiness of good things sometimes.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Thomas. Your dedication to this.. lifestyle is.. admirable. If only you had such dedication for normal things you could have made something of your life.”

Tommy was desperately trying to muster up the strength to fight back against his dads words but the simple act of that man standing in front of him, spitting out his disgust at his son, made Tommy feel like he was 10 years old again - too afraid to talk back out of fear of the consequence.

“I thought that enlisting in the army would toughen you up; turn you into a real man. I almost felt proud of you when you told your mother and I. I thought finally, this pansy-boy of mine was going to grow up.” Tommys eyes stared at the floor, not having the inner strength to withstand the look on his father’s face as he spoke.

“Imagine my disappointment when I found out that you had been discharged. Couldn’t even hack it for long, could you?”

Tears pricked at his eyes. Even after all this time his father still had control over his emotions. Still knew exactly which buttons to press to cut him down.

He stepped forward into Tommys space who in turn stepped back two steps and his back it the wall.

“I asked you a question!” His father yelled stepping towards him. Tommys instinctively raised hands to protect his face.

“Babe? What’s going on? I heard yelling.” Evan appeared in the doorway to the living room. Tommy felt a mixture of fear and sadness that Evan ever had to be in the presence of his father, and also relief that he was here.

“Babe?” Thomas senior repeated, his repugnance dripping from the word. He looked at the photograph of the two of them, then back to Evan. “I’m guessing you’re the.. partner.” Revulsion painted on his face as he looked Evan up and down.

“Excuse me?” Evan said, a hint of irritation on his tongue. “Tommy, what’s going on? Who is he?”

Tommy opened his mouth but his throat was tight and dry and no words could escape. His eyes dropped from Evan back to the floor in shame.

Shame that he couldn’t speak. Shame that Evan had to be near his father. Shame that even at the ripe old adult age of 42 that the man could still make him feel like he was 5 years old again.

“Thomas Kinard.” He said. “Senior.”

Evans posture straightened and his jaw tightened. Tommy had told him about his father and the abuse he put his son through. It was taking everything in Evans will power to not beat the piece of shit within an inch of his life for what he had done to Tommy.

“What are you doing here?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Visiting my son.” He said.

“Why?”

“That’s none of your concern or business.” Senior told him.

“When you’re standing in my living room it is.” Evan argued.

“Thomas, tell your bitch here to leave us alone.”

“What did you just call me?!” Evan tried to step forward towards the man but Tommy grabbed onto his shirt. Evan turned his head to Tommy who silently shook his head.

“It’s okay.” He tried to convince Evan. But there was nothing about his words, tone or body language that could remotely convince anybody that it was okay.

“No, it isn’t, Tommy. This is our home and he is not welcome here.” He looked back at Tommys father. “You need to leave.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are talking to?!” He stepped towards Evan. Tommys breathing was getting heavier as his heart was pounding harder and harder in his chest. This was getting out of hand. He was terrified Evan was going to get hurt.

“A coward.” Evan said plainly.

“What did you call me?!”

“What kind of a father beats his own kid?” He asked the man. Rhetorical question but Thomas senior couldn’t resist answering it nonetheless.

“A father who understands what it means to be a real man. Clearly I failed at teaching son that, giving this, quite frankly, disgusting life he leads.”

Evan looked at Tommy to see him standing frozen on the spot, staring at the ground with silent tears running down his cheeks. He looked.. small. His heart broke at the sight. Anger shot through his body and he turned back to Tommys father.

“He is a real man. A real man who, every day, goes out there and saves people’s lives. A real man who despite having to endure a childhood filed with violence and abuse at the hands of a pathetic, homophobic bastard like you, still turned out to be strong, kind, decent, loyal and selfless. A real man who would, and has, put his own life on the line for the people he cares about. You can think what you like about him, but you do not get to speak about him like that in front of me.”

Tommy looked up at Evan in awe. Nobody had ever stood up to his father like that. Not his mother or any of their family, or his teachers who couldn’t have missed the obvious bruises dotted around his little body.

Evan could have just told his dad to leave and be done with it but he didn’t - he stood face to face with him and listed off reasons he thought Tommy wasn’t the man his father told him he always was.

Evan didn’t see flaws in him. He didn’t see someone pathetic, someone not worthy of love or happiness. He saw him as a man who saves lives. A good man. A man worthy of giving his heart too. He saw Tommy as the man Tommy never thought himself to be. Maybe he was wrong about himself. Maybe he was strong enough..

His father stared at Evan for a moment before looking back to his son.

“Are you going to let this fairy talk to me this way?!”

The slur was enough. Tommy took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Please leave.” He said, his voice not quite on the stepping stone of confidence.

“What did you say?” His father asked, his lips pulled tight. Tommy took another deep breath and felt his confidence rise a small amount.

“Leave.” He said a little more firmly. Thomas senior took a step back and laughed in surprise.

“Well, would you look at that! Turned out you have some balls hidden in there after all.” He rubbed his hand along the greying stubble caressing his jaw and stepped forward again. “Shame I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

His arm pulled back then his fist surged forward. But before Tommy could react Evan shot across in front of him and the man’s fist made contact with his face. Evan fell to the floor with a grunt.

Something shifted inside of Tommy seeing his father assault Evan. Suddenly, all the pain and fear and trauma from a lifetime of suffering at the hands of his father was overtaken by something new.

Tommy didn’t see red; only felt his blood— white hot and searing, and coursing through every vein in his body. Without even thinking about it he surged forward, grabbing his father by the scruff of his shirt and shoving him backwards, pinning him to the wall.

It was so quick that Thomas senior didn’t even realise what was already happening until it already had. His confidence suddenly non existent, he didn’t fight back. For the first time in Tommys life he saw fear in his own father’s eyes.

“You don’t ever get to lay your hands on him, do you hear me? That man there is the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and though I may not have had the courage to stand up against you for all the things you’ve done to me, make no mistake there there is nothing i wouldn’t do to defend the love of my life. I would go to war with God himself for him.” His eyes bore into his father’s who was staring right back at him, his own blue eyes swimming in fear.

“Now.. I’m going to let go in a second, and when I do you’re going to stand up straight and walk out of our home. And just so we’re clear— if I ever see you again, not only is he going to press charges for assault, but I am going press charges for every single time you laid a hand on me as a kid. And don’t you ever think for a second that I’m bluffing, because I’m not. Do you understand?”

Senior just looked at him not saying a word. Tommy couldn’t tell whether that was due to him being a stubborn bastard or because he was genuinely scared of Tommy. Probably a bit of both Tommy thought.

Not getting a response Tommy shoved his dad into the wall harder. “I said.. do you.. understand?”

His father nodded after a second. Tommy held onto his shirt for a few more seconds before tentatively removing his father from his grasp.

The man grabbed his shirt and adjusted it back into place then his eyes flicked between Evan and Tommy for a moment. He slowly walked out of the living room and Tommy followed him down the hall to make sure he actually left the house.

The second the door slammed shut he immediately went to Evan who was standing holding his cheek.

“Baby, are you okay? I’m so sorry.” Tears were welling up again in his eyes as he inspected Evans cheek gently. There didn’t seem to be any real damage, just some redness coming up.

“I’m fine, Tommy. I’m more worried about you.” He put his hands on the side of Tommys face. His deep and worried earnest eyes looking at him was enough for his adrenaline to drop and break the dam open. Tommy’s face crumpled as all the emotion from the encounter with his dad fell out of him in the form of cries.

“I got you, I got you.” Evan put his arm around him and guided him to the sofa sitting them both down. He sat back and pulled Tommy into him, his face resting in the space between Evan’s head a shoulder. His arms tightly held on to Evan as his body vibrated with each cry.

Evan gently rubbed his hand up and down Tommys back, allowing him get everything out. After a while Tommy’s cries slowed down and eventually stopped. They stayed there for a little while as Evan continued to run his fingertips along Tommys back.

“Your shirt is wet.” Tommy eventually said sitting up and noticing the wet patch caused by his tears.

“Don’t worry about that, babe. How are you feeling? That was pretty fucking rough what just happened.” He slid the hand that was on his back up to his head and gently ran his hands through Tommys curls. It was something that he would do in bed at night sometimes when Tommy had had a rough shift.

“I’m.. honestly I.. you know the worst part about seeing him? It was that you saw me.. you saw that part of me that I never wanted you to see.”

“What do you mean?” Evan asked.

“Scared. Ashamed.. pathetic.”

“No. No..” Evan turned to face him, lifting his face gently with his hand. “Tommy look at me. There is not a single part of you that I don’t love, and I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t show every part of yourself, even the parts that you don’t like. I love you. All of you. You are my whole world. There is nothing that you can show me about you that would make me judge you or look down at you or love you any less. You never have to worry about me going anywhere for showing me those darker parts of you. You are the most incredible man I have ever met and there hasn’t been a single day since we met that I haven’t looked at you in awe. Like you said - you’re the love of my life. You’re it for me, Tommy.” He punctuated his words with a few soft kisses to Tommy’s lips.

Tommy just stared at Evan for a few moments. He had no doubt Evan loved him, but to hear him say so in such a beautiful way melted every part of him. He felt in that moment that there nothing that he couldn’t go up against in the future when he had Evan by his side.

“I wish I could make you fully understand just how much I love you.” He rested his forehead against Evans.

“You already do every time you look at me.”

He knew immediately that the time was right to retrieve the ring from the box in garage

#tommy kinard #911 abc #bucktommy #911 #911onabc #buck x tommy #911 buck #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #bucktommy fic #bucktommy prompt #bucktommy prompts #911 prompt #911 prompts #cvo prompts

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mphoenix-7 · 4 months ago

Text

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 14: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt. 5)

Summary: You and Soap go fishing, have some nice conversations, and get a little wet. Things seem to be changing between you.

Word Count: 8,311

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, animal death, fluff, mentions of poor past relationships

A/N: New chapter for you!! This one’s a little longer and full of nice moments 😊 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the Taglist!

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 14

By the time you'd gotten back to the cabin, you estimated it was nearing 1400-1500 hours. The sun was just beginning to move closer to the horizon, but there was still plenty of daylight left for fishing.

After dropping the backpack off inside, you found yourself back out in the woods looking for sticks that were both long enough and sturdy enough to fish with. So far you haven't had much luck. The sticks were either too rotted, too heavy, not long enough, or too flimsy.

Sighing softly, you toss another stick that turned out to be a dud to the ground. This one looked decent but felt a little too rotted. And sure enough, when it hits the ground, it snaps off about a fourth of the stick, making it too short now.

You grumble to yourself in frustration, continuing on with your search. You weren't expecting to catch any fish right away, but you honestly thought the preparation would be going a little faster than this.

Coming across yet another stick, you bend down to pick it up. This one actually feels sturdy and is a decent shape. You instantly start to get excited and hold it to show Soap.

"Hey! Would this work?" You ask, pulling him away from his own search momentarily.

He was a few yards away, searching out in the opposite direction that you had been. It doesn't look like he's found anything yet either. At least his hands are empty as he walks over to you to check out the potential spear. He glances it over really quick before taking it from you to inspect it closer.

"It's a little on the heavy side." He says, bouncing it a little bit in his hands to test out the weight. "If it's too heavy then you won't be able to thrust it fast enough to spear any fish. But I might be able to whittle away some of the weight to make it work."

"So does that mean it's good?" You ask slowly, hopefully. Any progression towards getting your fish dinner would be nice.

Soap chuckles softly and gives you a nod. "Yeah, this'll work. I'll start prepping it if you want to keep looking." He says, walking over to a nearby tree stump and sitting down.

You're grinning to yourself excitedly as Soap takes a seat on the stump. You only needed to find one more stick, maybe two if you wanted a backup, and then you'd out in the water.

Before you go back to searching though, you take a second to watch Soap as he lays the stick across his lap and as he pulls the knife from his pocket. He flicks it open with a practiced ease and gets to work on getting one of the ends into a sharp point. He's working quick enough that it looks like he's done something like this before.

"Where did you learn to fish this way?" You ask as you resume looking for suitable sticks.

Soap hums softly in thought, making three swipes with the knife before answering. "I think it was Price who showed me this way. Back a few years ago when I first joined up."

"Of course it was." You giggle. You could totally see Price being the kind of guy who liked to fish.

It was probably because of the boonie hat that he was always wearing.

“You do any fishing before that? The normal way with actual poles?" You ask, the question popping into your mind and leaving your lips without much thought.

Soap pauses mid-swipe, his knife hovering just above the wood. It's a brief moment, gone almost as quickly as it comes, but you catch the subtle hesitation before he resumes his work.

"Yeah... I used to go quite a bit with my dad." He answers slowly, returning to a steady pattern of swipes with the knife. "When I was young I remember going out a few times a month with him to go fishing. He was really into it, but after my mum died, I don't think we ever went again."

You stop your search for a moment to frown over at him. His eyes are glued to the stick he's working on though. You're having trouble reading him, not sure if this is a sensitive topic for him or not. He looked a little tense, but you can't tell if that's from the topic of your conversation or because he's hunched over whittling at a stick.

"Do you miss it?" You ask slowly, trying to keep up your search, but you're a little distracted now.

"Miss what?" Soap asks, finally glancing up at you. "Fishing? Not really." He shrugs, gaze dropping back down, the knife continuing its steady rhythm against the wood.

You frown a little bit. That wasn't really what you'd been asking. "I guess I meant it more like do you miss fishing with your dad." You elaborate.

"Oh, no. Maybe when I was a kid, but no. Don't really miss it now."

His response comes so quickly, so bluntly, that it catches you off guard. There's no hesitation, no flicker of emotion, just a flat dismissal. The ease with which he brushes it off makes you pause and take a moment to think over his response. You'd figured Soap and his dad must have been close, especially given how he spoke about his mom, but now you realize that might not be the case.

"Are you and your dad still close?" You ask softly, your search for sticks now completely forgotten for the time being.

Soap continued on with indifference though, pausing only to turn the spear over a few times to inspect his work. He was mostly done. The only thing that remained was to take off some spots that had the potential for causing splinters.

"No, we had a... falling out? I guess you could call it that." He says, blowing a quick puff on air onto the spear before shaving away at one spot.

You hesitate, trying to find the right words to respond. The way he brushes it off so casually leaves you a bit uneasy, but confident enough to keep asking about it. He didn't seem too upset by the topic.

"Falling out?" You echo, raising an eyebrow curiously. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

Soap's expression tightens just a fraction, the subtle shift the only sign that this topic is more difficult for him than he's letting on. You regret asking now.

His eyes remain locked on the spear, and the silence stretches uncomfortably between you. For a moment, you wonder if he'll respond at all, and you're on the verge of reassuring him that he doesn't have to say anything. But just as you're about to speak, he breaks the silence.

"It's... complicated." He sighs, his tone carefully tight and neutral. "Kinda a long story. Not a great one. Let's just say a lot changed after my mum died."

He's getting more tense more. You can see his shoulders stiffen and the once smooth swipes of his knife become rougher, more forceful. Whatever happened between Soap and his father, it clearly left behind a deep, lingering anger.

"Alright. Yeah, we don't have to talk about it." You say gently, giving him a reassuring half smile even though he wasn't currently looking at you to notice it.

"So uh.. how many sticks do you think we'll need? Do you think two will be good enough?" You want to steer the conversation away from the topic that had clearly made him uncomfortable.

It seemed to actually work too. The second you get off the topic of Soap's dad, he seems to relax, his shoulders dropping.

"Should probably do three just in case one breaks or something." He says, sitting upright and rolling his shoulders out. It looked as though he was getting rid of any remaining stress. "You find anymore yet? This one is just about done."

He holds it up, showing off his work. One end of the stick looks extremely sharp, and he's done a good job at shaving off parts of the stick to make it more comfortable to hold and use.

The whole time he's been working, you'd been distracted by your conversation. You had yet to find another one, but you also haven't looked very hard. Forcing your feet to leave the spot they'd been firmly planted at, you start trekking back through the area to look for more sticks.

"No, not yet. Most of the stuff here is pretty rotted." It sounds like an excuse, but you're also not completely lying. Most of the options thus far had been rotten.

Then of course you just happen to find a perfect candidate the second those words leave your lips. "Oh, wait, here's one." You bend down to pick it up.

Soap laughs softly, and you miss that he rolls his eyes a little bit. He was fully aware you hadn't even been looking. "Well bring it over. Just one more to go after this."

He sets the finished spear down next to the stump he's sitting on and holds out his hand as you bring the next stick to him. Setting it in his lap, he starts whittling away at it once more while you get back to looking for one more.

As he does, his mind drifts a bit, thinking back to his father and what happened. His hand tightens on the handle of the knife, but he forces himself to relax. He doesn't want to be angry.

It's been a while since he's had to think about the things that happened in his past. The longer he's out here, the more stuff seems to come up—things he's buried deep for a reason. It's not something he really wants to think about... if he can help it.

He clears his throat, shaking off his thoughts and looking back to you. "So States, you uh... you ever been fishing before?"

Your face lights up when he asks that, and you start to ramble on about how you grew up in the city, so you didn't have the chance to go often, but you went once with your grandpa. A whole retelling of the trip occurs after that, and Soap just listens on with a smile on his face.

***

You're sitting in the grassy patch near the lake out behind the cabin, removing your socks and stuffing them safely inside of your shoes. Soap is already out in the water, spear in hand, but he hasn't waded too far out yet. He's standing right along the shoreline, just enough for his toes to be fully submerged, waiting for you to join him.

"Steaming Jesus, for someone who was rushing me through making that last spear, you sure are slow as hell all of a sudden." He grumbles, looking back at you with a somewhat impatient look on his face.

You shoot him a look as you roll your pants up a bit higher. "That's because I'm not just tossing my stuff around like that." You say, nodding toward his shoes, which are haphazardly kicked off with his socks inside-out and scattered randomly nearby. "You know honestly it's hard to believe you're in the military with how messy you are sometimes."

Soap scoffs at you. "I'm not messy." He claims, but you just fold your arms across your chest and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah? What about the suitcase in our room?"

The suitcase had remained unpacked by him. While you had neatly arranged your belongings in the dresser drawers, Soap hadn't unpacked a single item. Whenever he needed something, he'd dig it out, wear it or use it, and then by the end of the day, whatever he'd taken out was returned to the suitcase, tossed back into the growing pile that filled the entire bag.

"What about it?" Soap asks defensively. "That's not messy."

You can only drop your jaw at him, eyebrows raised in shock. "What do you mean that's not messy? It's just a big pile. You haven't put anything away since we got here."

"Better than it being on the floor. Besides, I see no need to unpack if we're only gonna be out here a week."

You scoff, shaking your head as you finish rolling up your other pant leg. "You could at least organize your stuff a little. That's all I'm saying."

Soap shrugs nonchalantly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the topic. "Eh, whatever. Just get your ass over here already before all the fish turn in for the night." He says, turning back to look out into the water to see if he can spot an area where they might be gathering.

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself up from the ground and grab your spear. The sun glimmers on the water, the wind creating gentle ripples on the surface. Despite the warm rays bearing down on you, the water is cool. As you step in, a shiver runs along your spine as the water laps against your bare feet.

The bottom of the lake is rather smooth, but there are a few sharp rocks that poke up into the bottoms of your feet. As long as you walk slowly though, it doesn't bother you too much. It's something you've gotten used to in your time here and during the few baths you've taken.

Soap looks back over his shoulder at you when he hears you enter the water, waiting until you're closer to him before he starts to wade out a little farther. "Come on, we're gonna have to go out a little deeper for bigger fish. Small ones probably aren't going to be worth catching."

"Alright, I'm coming." You call out, taking a few steps farther into the water.

When you get a little deeper into the water, you suddenly pause. There's a slight prickle at the back of your neck that makes you turn and reflexively glance back at the shoreline.

Last time you'd been out in the water, you'd been attacked by a bear. While you had managed to face your fear directly earlier, that didn't mean that the urge to check your surrounds to make sure it was safe was entirely gone. That urge would most likely always be there to some degree. It was just more manageable now.

When Soap doesn't hear the sounds of the water splashing behind him anymore, indicating that you weren't following him, he stops and looks back. You were still standing in the more shallow waters, staring off back towards the shoreline.

"Oi, States!" He calls out to get your attention. "You good?"

His voice pulls you out of your own head, and you jump a little bit as your gaze snaps back to his. You quickly try to shake off any remnants of fear and try to remind yourself everything was fine. Even if a bear did show up, you knew how to make it go away.

"Yep! Coming." You call back, trying to quickly catch up to him without making the water slosh too much.

Soap waits patiently for you to join him, his brows furrowed the slightly and eyes following your every movement. "Everything alright?" He asks again once you've caught up.

"Yeah." You nod dismissively, giving him a slight shrug.

You're about to just move past him, head out into deeper waters where the fish are going to be, but then suddenly Soap grabs your arm. The quick motion makes your heart leap in your chest, and the unexpectedness of it forces you stop in your track and look at him.

His eyes are sharp, analytical, and his grip on your arm is firm, but not painful. He pulls you closer, giving your arm a little tug, and your heart seems to start racing as you move closer to him.

"No bullshite. What's up?" He asks, eyes not leaving yours for a second. "Are you still worried about the whole bear thing?"

You honestly hadn't expected him to notice anything, let alone address it so directly, but the reply flies quickly off your tongue.

"No." You answer, shaking your head, but then think better of it. "Well, thinking about it, yes. Worried? Not as much as I was. It's just... It's still on my mind, just not as present." You try to explain. The fear is more of a shadow now, a subtle unease that lingers at the edges of your thoughts. More manageable.

"In other words, I'm fine. I'll be alright." You try to summarize. "Just can't completely turn it off."

Soap remains silent, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes you more nervous than the thought of another bear showing up. His gaze is so unwavering, so focused, that it feels like it's seeing right through you.

The longer he holds your gaze, the more your chest tightens, as if the air around you has thinned. You find yourself wanting to hold your breath, unsure if it's his concern or something else that's making your pulse quicken. Then he nods, a soft hum of acceptance leaving his lips.

"If being out here gets to be too much, just say the word. You've done a lot today, and I don't want to push you too much." His words cause an unexpectedly warm sensation to fill your chest, and your breath almost hitches when he squeezes your arm. "Deal?" He raises his brows, almost like he was saying he expected an answer.

"Mhmm." You hum, giving him a nod. You don’t want to rely on words right now. You don’t trust your voice.

Soap gives you a nod back, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Alright then." He mutters, his posture becoming more relaxed. His hand drops from your arm, and you notice there is a warm tingle left behind where he'd been touching you. "You ready to catch some dinner?"

You feel a sigh leaves your lips as you nod. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath. "Yeah, let's get going." You add quickly, trying to hide your sudden nerves behind a smile.

Soap either doesn't notice anything or he just doesn't care enough to. He just gives you a single nod back and then turns and continues walking. You follow after him, moving slower the higher the water gets.

You stop when the water comes up just a few inches above your knees. For Soap the water was only to his knees, but he was taller than you. The area isn't too far from the shoreline, and the water is a little cloudy from you kicking up the dirt at the bottom of the lake.

"We'll try here first." Soap says, coming to a stop. "Get into a stance that's comfortable cause you're going to be holding it for quite a while."

"How long?" You ask curiously, adjusting your feet shoulder width apart. It was the most comfortable stance you can think of. Almost like parade rest, which is a stance you'd gotten used to holding for hours thanks to basics.

"However long it takes for the fish to move into this area." Soap answers, adjusting his own stance as well. He holds the spear with a loose grip, the tip lowered toward the water, but there's no tension. His fingers grip the stick lightly, though he is ready to snap the spear up in an instant if he sees something.

You try to mimic the way he's holding his spear. This is your first time doing something like this, and as simple as it sounds, it was going to be difficult to move fast enough to be able to snag a fish. They were quick and used to responding to the most minute movements.

"Am I doing this right?" You ask, making Soap glance over at you. He observes your posture and then leans over, tapping softly at your hand closer to the butt end of the spear.

"Move this hand back just a little. No, too far. Right there." He says, grabbing at your hand and moving it into position when you move it too much. "Perfect. Leave it like that." He holds up his hand, making a gesture to not move it, and then turns his gaze back to the water.

"Cool, thanks." You mutter, shifting back into your "ready to strike" stance. Your eyes are trained on the water, looking for any signs of movements, but the water is still very murky.

"What kind of fish do you think are even in this lake?" You ask absentmindedly, mostly just asking to help pass the time.

Soap shrugs a bit, his eyes not leaving the water. "Maybe cod? Not really sure. We probably shouldn't talk though. It might scare them off and keep them from swimming over here."

"Oh, sorry." You whisper, pressing your lips together.

Not being able to talk was going to make time pass by so slowly. For a long time, you just stare at the water, but that soon gets really boring. You try to distract yourself by looking up every now and then to look at the scenery around you, but that doesn't keep you occupied for long either.

Soon enough, you're sure at least ten minutes has passed. The water is clear now, but you still don't see any signs of fish. Your back is starting to hurt a bit from staying in the same posture for so long, and you find yourself trying to slowly roll out your shoulders to help ease the discomfort.

You glance over at Soap, wondering if he's feeling the same tension in his back that you were. If he was though, you can't tell. He hasn't moved a muscle since you both went silent, and he doesn't look like he's too uncomfortable yet.

Sighing softly, you relax your stance a bit. "Soap, maybe we should try a different area? There doesn't seem to be any fish over here." You whisper. It'd been quiet for so long it almost felt weird to talk.

Instead of answering you with words, Soap holds up his fist. You're a little confused at first, brows furrowing slightly, but then he points over to a spot a little off to his right.

"Over there. I think there's three or four of them. Wait until they get close." Soap whispers, his eyes not leaving the spot he's looking at.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly, but carefully, get back into your stance from earlier. All the pains from earlier are now gone with the new excitement you feel. You look over to the area where Soap pointed to, looking for the fish, but you can't see anything. Just a glint of sunlight on the water's surface.

"I don't see them." You whisper, eyes still scanning the water. Soap silently points again, his finger tracking their movement. You try to follow to where he's pointing at, and after a few seconds, you finally spot them—shadows just beneath the surface, moving slowly toward you.

You hum softly to let Soap know you can see them now, and his hand slowly returns to his spear. You see him coil up just slightly, shoulders tensed and ready to snap. He's almost like a loaded gun, just a trigger squeeze away from firing.

"When they're close enough, I'll count down." He whispers, his voice steady. "You go for the one closest to you."

You nod, your own muscles beginning to tense up with anticipation. Your heart is starting to pound a little in your chest from the sudden adrenaline, and you find yourself holding your breath. You feel like you're looking down the scope of a sniper rifle, trying to steady your aim so you can land the perfect shot.

"Ok get ready…” Soap whispers. “One... two... three."

When Soap says three, he snaps like a spring lock. The movement is so quick it feels like his spear was already in the water before you even had the chance to move. You did go the same time as him though, snapping your spear down with all the force you can muster. You feel it hit the bottom of the lake, water splashing up as you do. All the commotion also causes the first to stir up again, so you can't even tell if you've gotten anything or not.

Soap quickly reaches down into the water, hand searching for only a second before a big grin spreading across his face. "I got one!" He laughs victoriously, pulling a fish up out of the water by its tail, the spear pierced right through its gills. "You get yours, States?" He asks, grunting a bit as the fish thrashes around.

"I'm not sure." You say, almost scared to reach blindly into the water. You've never touched a fish before, so you're a little hesitant. You can't feel anything moving at the end of your spear though.

"Let's have a look." Soap says, taking a step closer and reaching down to feel around. By now the fish on his spear has slid down a ways, so there was no way it was going to be able to wriggle off.

He follows the wooden shaft of the spear down, and your eyes dart between his face and the water, hoping he'd pull something out. After a few seconds, his hand comes back up out of the water empty.

"Nothing down there." He confirms, flicking the water off his hand a little bit.

"Dammit." You curse, frowning a bit as you withdraw your spear from the water. "I thought for sure I'd gotten it."

Soap chuckles softly, giving your shoulder a pat. His hand was still wet and leaves a little wet patch behind. "Ah, come on. You'll get it next time. Let's go put this one out of its misery and then we can try again, yeah? Gonna need a few anyways."

You pout over at him, not too happy that you didn't also catch a fish, but the look of joy on Soap's face makes your pout vanish instantly. His eyes were practically sparking as he looks proudly at the fish he caught. You find yourself smiling at him instead, a laugh bubbling in your chest.

"How many are you planning on catching?" You chuckle, turning and walking with him back to the shoreline.

"If they're all this size," he says, holding up his spear a little. "Then I could probably eat like four of them."

You watch the fish flop around, noting its size. It's not particularly large—maybe eight to ten inches long—and you're not even sure what kind of fish it is. It has brown scales and a white underbelly. You can't imagine catching anything much bigger in this lake.

"If you want to spend time catching four for yourself, knock yourself out." You chuckle, stepping up onto the shore. The dirt and sand stick to your feet. "I might actually catch one by the time you get to four."

Soap rolls his eyes, sliding the fish off his spear and holding it by the gills. "You'll get one next time. It's your first time fishing like this. Don't be so hard on yourself." He pulls out his knife as he talks, jabbing it into the head of the fish to kill it and then slicing the gills to start bleeding it out. Even though you're on the military and see death a lot, you still have to look away as he does.

"We'll see." You sigh, looking back out to the lake. "Are we going to the same spot?"

"Nah, we should probably try somewhere else. Let me finish prepping this fish and then we can head out again. Unless you want to try a spot. Might have better luck catching something without me catching in the same area." He suggests.

You nod, mostly cause you don't really want to hang around as he guts the fish. Plus you know that fish don’t stay fresh for very long after you kill them, so the faster you can get a couple and cook them, the better.

"I'll head back out. Try to get a head start." You joke, glancing back down at Soap and wincing as he slices open the belly.

"Alright, catch up with you in a bit." Soap says, his focus solely on the fish before him now.

You grimace just a little before turning and head back out into the water, searching for another spot to fish.

***

You've been standing in the same spot for what feels like an eternity, though it's only been about fifteen minutes. Twice you've had a chance to spear a fish, but both times you missed. It's frustrating, especially since you've watched Soap haul two more fish back to shore in that time.

You're starting to wonder what you're doing wrong. Is it your aim, the timing, or something else?

The water laps quietly around your ankles, the stillness almost mocking your lack of success. You try to focus, adjusting your stance and grip on the spear.

Another fish is swimming towards you, gliding slowly through the water. Taking a deep breath and holding it, you wait until it's close enough, then thrust the spear down as fast as you can. The water splashes up around you, and you can hear the fish's tail flick up above the surface. But when everything settles, you still just have an empty spear.

"Fuck!" You yell out. It was a little louder than you intended it to be, the sound seeming to echo across the small alcove you found yourself in. Now you would have to move into another area, wait ten minutes for a fish to swim over, and try again.

As you pull your spear free and wipe off the little bits of sediment that were left on it still, you can hear a soft chuckle behind you. Turning in irritation, you send a glare over to Soap, who was leaning up against a tree and watching you. How long he'd been there, you don't know, but he had seen you miss apparently.

"Did it get away from ya?" He asks, his arms crossed and spear still in hand. His feet looked dry though, so you assume he's just finished gutting one and is just returning for another trip.

"Does it look like I got it?" You raise your brows at him. "This is fucking hard."

Soap chuckles again, clearly amused by your misery. "It's not that hard, lass."

"Says the guy who's caught three already."

"Four, actually." He corrects you, which makes your jaw drop. When did he get four? You swear you've only seen him make two trips.

"What the fuck?! How are you getting so many?"

Soap shrugs, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You just stab them when they get close." You give him a look at his horrible advice, which only makes his smirk widen. You wish you could wipe that smirk off his face somehow.

"I've been doing that." You grumble, about to further complain, but then Soap's eyes leave yours, darting down to the water.

"There's another one swimming up to you now." Soap says, nodding indistinctly towards the water.

Your attention snaps back to the water, searching for the fish that Soap spotted. It takes a moment, but then you see it—the dark shape gliding just beneath the surface, moving slowly past you. You steady your stance, grip tightening on the spear as you line up the shot.

Then you move, a splash erupting around you, and you feel a brief resistance—but when you reach into the water to try and retrieve the fish, it's already darting away.

"Damn it!" You exclaim, frustration bubbling up as the water settles back into calmness. You're tired and hungry, you just want to catch something—anything, even if it's just a tiny fish.

Soap lets out a soft huff, the grin still plastered to his face. He's having fun watching you fail. "Need some help there, lass?" He offers, a teasing note in his voice.

You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't need help." You grumble defensively, though it doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest.

“Right." He chuckles, turning the tip of his spear down and driving it into the dirt. "Let me show you something that might help." He says, carefully stepping down into the water and making his way over to you.

You sigh and fold your arms across your chest but withhold your protests. As much as it pained you to admit, a few pointers might be nice. You were willing to do anything at this point it if meant you'd finally catch something. That doesn't mean you don't fully intent on giving Soap a hard time about it though.

Soap ignores your expression, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considers the best way to help you. "Alright, first things first," he begins, stepping closer. "You need to wait until the fish is in a good range before you to strike. You'll be faster and more accurate if you hit it at the right angle. My speed at a forty-five degree angle is much faster than like ninety."

He makes the thrusting motions with a ghost spear, acting out how he would move for each angle he's talking about. You felt like you had a pretty good angle you were moving at, so that couldn't be the problem. Still, you nod along as Soap explains, letting him continue.

"Next, when you drive the spear forward, use the hand at butt of the spear to control the thrust." He takes a step closer to you, the water sloshing around him as he does. He takes your hand and places it on the spear, positioning it exactly where he wants it.

"That's where all the power comes from—it gives you that snap you need." He continues, his eyes meeting yours briefly. His voice is a little lower now that he's closer. "The hand up front," he pauses to grab your other hand for emphasis. "That's what guides it. So keep the hand at the front steady and loose so you can guide it, and the back one firm. Got it?"

You half glance towards your spear, looking at the way Soap has placed your hands. His are still right next to yours, holding it with you. "Yeah, I think I got it." You answer him.

"Good. Lastly," Soap lets go of the spear, and before you can even react, he's directly behind you, arms wrapped around you while he grabs ahold of the spear again.

Your eyes widen, and you know you have to be blushing. Your heart is pounding too hard in your chest for you to not be. Then you feel his chest against your back, and your stomach practically flips. It's the same feeling you had last night in your dream when...

You shake your head, trying to immediately erase that thought and focus on what Soap was saying instead. It's hard though when his lips are practically against your ear, making your thoughts just spiral more.

"When you aim for the fish, remember that water bends light. The fish isn't exactly where it looks like it is. You need to aim slightly lower than where you think. So for example... do you see that rock?" He says, pausing momentarily while he searched for something to use as practice.

You nod, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart as you focus on the rock he's pointing out. "Yep. I see it."

"Pretend that rock is a fish." He instructs. "Now, if you were aiming directly at it, you'd miss. You've got to aim just below it. Like this." He guides your hands, tilting the spear just a fraction lower than where the rock appears and then pushing it forward. When it hits the bottom, instead of sinking into the sandy lake bottom, it hits the hard surface of the rock instead.

"Huh." You breath. No wonder you'd been missing every single time. You had been aiming right for the fish, not below where you should have been. Knowing this right off the bat would have solved so many problems.

Soap chuckles softly, trying to lean around you a bit to see your face better. "You were aiming right at the fish this whole time, weren't you?" He asks. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning.

You huff and stand back up, turning around in his hold. When he doesn’t let go of your hips right away, you press your hand into his chest and push him away.

“Of course I was! Who just thinks about that when it's their first time spear fishing?" You argue back, starting to feel just a little defensive.

Soap's chuckle deepens, a low rumble in his chest. "Guess I just assumed you knew." He shrugs. "It's just like sniping, I thought it'd be second nature to you."

"Sniping is nothing like this!" You argue, crossing your arms. "With sniping, your target is far away, not just a few feet below you. And if it was, you'd just aim directly at it."

"Fair point," Soap concedes, holding his hands up in surrender. "I thought of it more like when you're a sniper, you notice subtle things, like light reflection, that might change how you aim."

You huff again, rolling your eyes. "Well, maybe if you'd mentioned that earlier, I wouldn't have missed so many times."

Soap's grin only widens. "Oh, but where's the fun in that, lass? I've got to admit, it's been pretty entertaining watching you throw a little fit every time you miss."

"Is that so?" You challenge, narrowing your eyes at him. The playful smirk on his face only fuels your irritation.

You'd been out here all day, and Soap hadn't thought to say a word until now about what could have caused your lack of success. And now he was laughing about it and calling it entertaining?

"Absolutely, hen. It's down right adorable when you're piss- h-hey!"

Before he can finish, without a second thought, you reach down and scoop up a handful of water, splashing it right at him. Soap holds his hands up to block the onslaught of water, but it doesn't help much to stop it.

"States! What the fuck?" He grumbles, looking back at you with an angry expression. He had a few drops running down the side of his face, dripping down onto the collar of his shirt, which was also dotted with some wet spots now.

You can't help it. While he stands there, looking annoyed, a giggle escapes your lips, quickly followed by more as you shrug innocently. "Just creating some more entertainment." You say, the laughter bubbling up uncontrollably now.

Soap narrows his eyes at you, and before you can react, he's scooping up an even larger wave and splashing you right back. You shriek as the cold water hits you, making the giggles cease. The wave he'd sent over was much bigger than the one you did. The entire side of your shirt was soaked now.

You stand there for a moment in shock, staring down at the water and watching the little ripples that form on the surface as droplets drip off your face. When your gaze flicks back up to Soap, he's smirking again, soft chuckles leaving his lips.

You glare at him, skin starting to prickle up as a small breeze blows by. Never one to back down and let Soap win whatever dispute you were having, you quickly splash him again, wanting to wipe that smirk right off his face.

It takes him by surprise this time, hitting him square in the chest. He gasps a little, and you hold your hands over your mouth. You hadn't meant to splash him that much, he was soaked now.

Instantly his laughter stops, and you're both frozen, just staring at each other. Then Soap's face shifts into a little scowl, and you know you shouldn't have splashed him again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't meant to splash you that much." You say quickly, but it does nothing. Soap's muscles tense just slightly, and that's all the warning you need.

You don't think—you just run.

The water slows you down significantly, splashing up around your legs as you push through it. You can hear the intense splashing behind you as Soap runs after you, and for whatever reason, laughter starts to bubble in you.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You cry out between nervous giggles, not quite sure what Soap was going to do once he caught you, and you were sure he would. For one, your legs were shorter than his, which meant more resistance from the water. And second, Soap was faster than you in general.

"Soap please! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" You pled again, risking a glance back over your shoulder.

He's right behind you. You scream and try to dart to the side, but it's too late. He grabs you, and in one fluid motion, he pulls you toward him. The impact sends you both falling, but as you head towards the water, Soap twists at the last second, taking the brunt of the fall himself.

You both plunge into the water with a splash, the cool liquid enveloping you entirely for a brief moment. The shallow depth allows you to quickly sit up, and you gasp for air as you resurface. Water cascades down your face, and once you've taken a breath, laughter starts to pour out of you uncontrollably. Soap is still beneath you, the two of you tangled together in a mess of limbs and soaked clothes.

You're laughing so hard you can barely breathe, your stomach aching from it. "Soap, I'm—" you try to apologize through your giggles, but the words fail. Instead, you attempt to push yourself up, but your limbs feel weak from laughter, and it's a little slippery, making it a futile effort. You just end up twisting around clumsily and straddling him instead, your shoulders shaking with breathless amusement.

Soap wipes the water off his face as his pops up, and once he gets his bearings, he starts to laugh too. Instinctively, he grabs ahold of your hips to steady you as you turn around and slip into his lap. You grab ahold of his shoulders, still laughing as you look down at him.

Droplets cling to his eyelashes, and his usually styled hair is plastered messily to his forehead. His eyes crinkle at the sides, and his smile is so contagious as he laughs.

"Think you're funny, do you?" He teases, the laughter in his voice betraying any attempt at seriousness.

"Maybe just a little." You manage to gasp out, still giggling as you start to your breath.

Soap shakes his head, a soft smile curving his lips as his grip on your hips tightens ever so slightly. "You're a menace, States."

There's something in the way he says it—playful but warm. Your giggles start to fade, and for a moment, you're just sitting there, looking at him, still breathing heavy from exertion and laughter. For the first time you notice the subtle flecks of green amidst the blue in his eyes.

Soap is staring right back at you, and you almost don't realize it until you feel his hand against your cheek, brushing back the wet strands of hair that cling to the side of your face.

Your heart skips in your chest, and a warmth starts to spread through you, making you forgot that you're sitting in cold water. "You bring it out in me." You chuckle, earning a smile from Soap in return.

He laughs softly, shaking his head just a little bit. "Oh, so I'm a bad influence now? Guess you should stay away from me then."

"Well, you're not so bad to be around." You say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

The words hang in the air, and Soap's smile falters, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The space between you seems to be getting smaller, cause suddenly, you can feel his breath against your lips. The warm and steady puffs mingle with your own, and your pulse starts to quicken. You can't tell who is pulling towards who.

You don't know who makes the final move, but suddenly his lips are on yours—firm, warm, and insistent. The world around you melts away, the cool water forgotten as you deepen the kiss, melting into his soft warm lips.

His one arm slowly wraps around you, the other one staying behind him to keep you both propped up. He pulls you towards him, thumb brushing your hip as you wiggle a little closer.

Your hands move from gripping his shoulders to gently resting on the sides of his neck. Your thumbs brush lazily along his jaw, which draws out a very soft, almost mute, hum from him.

There's a quiet desperation in the way you both move, as if this kiss had been building for longer than either of you realized. You don't know how you keep circling back to this. Caught between trying to set a boundary but consistently overstepping it. Even now, you know somewhere deep in your subconscious you shouldn't do this, but you can't seem to stop.

You feel teeth gently dig into your bottom lip, and you whimper, eyes fluttering open slightly. You see Soap, his eyes shut, and you can barely make out his lips as he pulls gently at yours.

He releases it and looks up at you, his eyes heavy, clouded with what you can only pin down as desire. You search for something to say, something to explain and make sense of what is happening between you, but you can't.

"We should probably stop." Soap says gently, though his eyes still hold that heavy, lingering gaze.

You nod a little, eyes not leaving his. "Yeah... probably." You agree, but you make no move to get up, and he makes no move to push you off him.

It's only when you shiver slightly that Soap seems to snap out of whatever daze he's in. His eyes soften quickly, and he smiles at you, a light chuckle leaving his lips. "Alright, let's get you out of this chilly water, hen."

You blink a little to clear your head and then nod again. "Yeah... yeah." You chuckle softly, only now realizing how cold the water is making you. "Guess I am getting a little cold."

Just as you're about to shift off his lap, intending to create some much-needed distance, Soap suddenly stands up, bringing you with him. You yelp in surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms and legs around him as he lifts you effortlessly out of the water. His arms tighten around you, pulling you close against his chest, his body radiating warmth despite the cool water dripping off both of you.

"Soap! What are you doing?" You laugh, clutching onto him as he strides through the water.

"Getting you out of the water, obviously." He teases, his voice light as he carries you effortlessly toward land.

You lean back slightly to you can look at him, raising a brow at him. "I can walk, you know." You're trying to be serious, but you can't hide the laugh in your tone.

"Yeah, I know. But this is more fun." Soap winks, a playful grin on his face as he reaches the edge of the water. It makes your cheeks burn slightly, and you hope he doesn't notice.

As he steps onto solid ground, he begins to lower you down. Your legs unwrap from around his hips, and your body slides against his as you come down. The sensation sends a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold clinging to your skin.

You expect him to let go immediately, but he doesn't. His hands stay on your hips, keeping you close to him, and you make no effort to pull away from him.

"There you go." He says softly, a hint of a smile still lingering on his face.

You continue to stand there and roll your eyes at him. "Thanks for the assist." You joke, unable to keep your chuckle down.

Soap smiles back at you, chuckling softly himself. "Anytime, hen." He hums, his eyes suddenly flicking down away from yours. He pauses for a moment, and you wonder what’s running through his head. What he’s thinking about.

“We should see if we can get one fish more before we start cooking.” He says instead, finally looking back up. “But you should probably change first. I can see your tits."

It takes a second for his words to fully register, but when they do, your gaze quickly snaps down. Sure enough, you can see practically everything through your wet shirt. The water makes your shirt cling to your body. Even though it's a darker colored shirt, you can still see the outline of your bra, and the dip of the valley between your breasts.

You gasp and quickly cross your arms to shield yourself, which only makes Soap laugh. The bastard had just been staring at your chest this whole time. You glare at him, your face practically feeling like it's on fire.

"You ass! And here I thought we were having a nice moment!"

Soap laughs harder. "It was very nice for me." He shrugs, earning himself a firm punch to his shoulder, one that he gladly takes.

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll

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askinkiskarma · 1 year ago

Text

ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ɢᴏᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ: ɪ'ʟʟ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ

pairing: dilf!Jake Sully x (f)human/avatar!reader

synopsis: It took a lot of time and advancements, but, with the humans' return to Pandora 8 years ago, and thanks to the constant raids of the Omaticaya, the scientists managed to make you and Spider an Avatar. Unlike him, though, you know nothing about and want nothing to do with it, and when your struggle to adapt becomes too overbearing, Jake decided to take matters into his own hands.

this story will contain an unhealthy, co-dependent relationship, and dark themes (smut, mental health, death, violence, infidelity), so pls read at your own discretion.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, angst, age-gap (23 vs 43), pet names.

wc: 4.5k words

a/n: hi besties, and welcome to my first jake series! i have had this series in my mind for so so long, and it feels good to bring it to life finally. i am excited to get back into writing - i needed a little time to recharge after monster in me, and take a break and actually sleep and live my life hahahaha. anyway, i hope you enjoy this story, i'm so excited to write it and see where it takes me! xx

ps: this story will move perspectives and timelines a lott, so i hope it's not too confusing but pls do let me know if it is and i'll figure something out xx

replies and reblogs are massively appreciated, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: tanhi - bioluminescent freckles, tsamsiyu - warrior, tawtute - human

series masterlist (x)

I want you to know, I’m a mirrorball I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight

It was excruciating, the pain. It was never-ending, never relenting, it was enough to warrant the current position you found yourself in, curled up on your bed, knees brought close to your chest, hands grasping at your worn-down pyjamas, that much like everything else in this room, smelled like him, felt like him, was imbued with his presence and the memories he’s left that you’d never be able to forgive or forsake. Glossed-over eyes moved slowly through your room, at all the little trinkets you now had that you didn’t just a few months, all of them sharp and painful as they felt like they were digging painfully in you, leaving cuts and bruises in your already broken heart. Eventually, your gaze settled on a feather you were given the first day in your Avatar body, and it was an appropriate place to stop, as this was when it all began - this whole mess, that you were still debating whether it was worth it, worth all this, but which, at the time, was a pure and innocent new start, in a new body, in a new life.

I'll get you out on the floor Shimmering beautiful And when I break it's in a million pieces

“Come on, honey, it’s late already. You know life in the village starts early.”

The dragging of your feet did very little to make you appear more enthusiastic than you were feeling currently, and Norm sighed as he took it your deflated predisposition. It should be a happy time. You knew that. How many people can say that got a new chance, at a new life, on this planet that felt weirdly in between a home and a prison? A new chance to belong - the first one, actually. A chance to thrive and to experience this world the way it was meant to be experienced, the way that the natives experienced it. And yet, a few weeks in, you still felt like a complete stranger in a body you couldn’t recognise, in a culture that has never been your own, in a village that has never accepted you, that never ceased to look at you and see through you, right to the flimsy core of insecurities and self-doubts that plagued you constantly, that followed you everywhere you went, like a shadow in a dimly-lit room.

You looked across the room where the other neuro-link pod was being prepped, and next to it stood the only other young, human, adult on Pandora - your brother for all intents and purposes, the boy who you loved always, but hated in the moment, as you watched his lively and animated body language, practically beaming with anticipation. Spider, unlike you, settled in his new taller, bluer, shinier body almost immediately - a born acrobat, a made warrior, even before the Avatars were complete. He had no such compulsions, no shame or guilt, no embarrassment or anxiety, no feelings of inadequacy or imposter syndrome, just a pure, unadulterated joie de vivre and unquenchable fear of missing out. He got everything he’s ever wanted with that Avatar, and unlike you, he didn’t seem willing to squander the opportunity. You knew you should be more like him, and you were trying. The effort just wasn’t enough to overthrow the paralysing fear you felt every time you stepped foot in that village. You wondered if it ever will.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, doing your very best to ignore the racket coming from just a few pods over, you allowed Norm to close the lid on top of your caged body, doing your very best to clear your head of the screaming voice that got louder by the second, the harder you tried. You’ll never make it. You will never be one of the people.

Hush When no one is around, my dear You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

Life in the village did indeed start early, and while you walked away from Hell’s Gate and through the thick forest that surrounded you, you could already hear faint sounds coming from the general direction of the Omaticaya settlement, a dead giveaway people were preparing for what the day would inevitably bring, from training in the healing practices of the Tsa’hik or the warrior skills of the tsamsiyu, it was the relentless will to improve and contribute to the overall wellness of each other and their planet that fuelled Na’vi every day.

Soon enough, the carefully crafted tents came into view, each one unique to the owner, with pieces of bone or hides that gave it a personal, intimate appeal, and it was easy enough, once you knew the people, to be able to tell who each tent belonged to. You smiled as your eyes fixed on one tent in particular, small and understated, despite who it was inhabiting it - Neteyam, future Olo’eyktan, never found any use for unnecessary embellishments, be it on his person or any of his belongings, always preferring to keep the showing off to the actual battle or training, his impressive skill set and his ability to thrive in every challenge his brightest adornment. When he came out of it, like he could sense you were near, your smile widened taking him in, in all his tall, blue, muscular beauty. He was a handsome young man, the perfect mix between Neytiri and… him. He used to look more like his mother when he was younger, but now, all of 23 years old, he was more and more Jake with each passing day, and the thought both intrigued and scared you, almost in equal parts.

It intrigued you because, well… because there was something special about Jake, there always has been. Not just because he was the first and only human to do the consciousness transfer, to be accepted into the clan, to become one of the people, or that he was Toruk Makto, one of only 6 to have ever existed; not because he was Olo’eyktan, and a revered warrior and leader… but because he was him. He was kind and patient, he was sweet and caring, he was funny and fun… he was everything.

On the other hand, it was for the exact same reasons that Neteyam’s resemblance to his dad scared you. Because every time you looked at him, you saw Jake, and the feelings you harboured for him since you were old enough to pay attention, that dwindled in time, were mingled with the deep familial affection you felt for Neteyam, who has been your best friend since you were old enough to... well, have memories. You didn’t want your relationship with him to be marred by feelings you couldn’t, wouldn’t ever feel for him, you didn’t want your history erased by the possibility of more, not when it would be wrong - not when, at your core, you would just settle for him because you couldn’t get the person you really wanted.

“Oi! A little late for the mighty warrior to be coming out of his tent, isn’t it?”

Neteyam snickered as he noticed you and Spider approaching, and shook his hand in Spider’s direction.

“Why is she this mean only to me?”

Spider shrugged and patted Neteyam on the shoulder simpathetically.

“Girls, man… Am I right? Anyway, going to find Lo’ak and Kiri. See you guys on the training grounds.”

Hush I know they said the end is near But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

As Spider took his leave, almost skipping to the Tsa’hik’s tent, where he knew Kiri would be, you started walking quietly, anxiety rising in your chest with each step taken towards the grounds, where you’d once again, as you have for the past few weeks, prove to yourself and everyone around you that you weren’t made for this - the fighting, the battles, the wielding of death machines, be it a gun or a bow, none of it was yours to take, yours to concur. You were made for the labs, for the quiet, analytical lifestyle. You were made for wielding a guitar, and playing it until the strings broke, you were made for daydreams and illusions and fantasies you could only fathom yourself part of, for a happier, easier world that would allow you to be all of those things without incursions. Alas, the world was not what you envisioned for yourself when you were younger, and with this great opportunity, came sacrifices you hoped time would lessen and sweeten, and turn them into blessings in disguise.

“Are you ready for today?”

“Does that make a difference?”

Neteyam’s sigh was answer enough for you. He tried to help, he really did. He went above and beyond for you and you were grateful. He was a patient teacher and a great friend, and his determination, as always, came at a cost, the cost of another burden he had to carry, another person he had to parent and take care of, and while it was not lost on you, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

“You’re going to be okay. You just have to give yourself time to grow. You can’t compare yourself with Spider, who’s been in the village with us his whole life. It’s going to take you time and effort, but you can do this, Tawte. And I’ll be here, at every step, ready to catch you if you fall.”

You smiled a little, slightly distracted, as you always were, by his sweet nickname, and your thoughts flowed gently at the memories that stirred in you whenever he said it, at the way the first word he ever uttered as a babe was a slurred version of a word he heard all the time from his mother: tawtute... human. From her mouth, it was laced with poison and disdain, but not from Neteyam's, who loved you, ever since you were young, who accepted you for who you were. Tawte was a gentle reminder of how far you've come, and how the familial love between the two of you hasn't faltered through time, but only blossomed and deepened, much to your eternal gratitude.

And they called off the circus, burned the disco down When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns I'm still on that tightrope I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me

Your eyes, hidden behind a sea of glossy tears settled on the next item, the broken tip of an arrow, that you kept since that day, when you somehow did so poorly in bow practice, you managed to break an incredibly sturdy arrow, much to Spider and Lo'ak's amusement, and much to your deep dismay. You thought how about your feelings of inadequacy were exacerbated by the Olo'eyktan's watchful eyes, who observed you intently the whole time, and how that inadvertently set everyone's gaze on you. So many eyes - watching, judging...fearful; so many words - whispered and snickered, and it hurt. It all hurt. But then... he changed everything, not just in that moment, so far removed from you now, but for the rest of your life, with just a few simple words.

“What?” the shock couldn't be shaken off your face, no matter how hard you tried. You knew you needed to get a grip of your emotions, but that was always easier said than done for a girl who was aptly described her whole life as "wearing her heart on her sleeve".

“Ouch, kid. You’re hurting my feelings. I would have liked to think anyone would be honoured to be personally trained by the Olo’eyktan, but I think I’ve been humbled.”

“No, Jake… of-of course I am, I just think… your efforts are better spent on someone else, someone… who’s worthy of it.”

It was minuscule, the change, but it was there - his eyes, his smile had an edge to them, that wasn't there before. He wasn't happy with your words, and yet, he remained calm and maintained the easy, outgoing, friendly nature of his tone.

“How about you let me decide what my efforts are better spent on, kid?”

That was enough to shut you up, but when he noticed the purple tinge in your cheeks, and the way your gaze dropped in shame, his expression softened. He brought a hand to your face, his thumb grazing your chin so that you'd look up at him, and you hoped the shudder that tried you went unnoticed to him, and to the rest of the clan.

“Here’s the deal. I think part of the reason you are having such a hard time is because you’re here, in this village you’ve never truly been a part of, with so many watchful eyes on you. You feel the pressure of performing well in front of the people, in front of my kids… in front of Spider. You shouldn’t have to do that. So, my solution is simple: you and I go for a few days’ hunt. I will teach you the basics, like I learnt when I first joined the Omaticaya. This way you get to relax a little, get to remove yourself from this place for a while and enjoy the beauty of Pandora, and who knows, kid? Maybe you'll find it's easier to be a part of us than you ever could have imagined. What do you say, mm?"

I'm still a believer but I don't know why I've never been a natural All I do is try, try, try

How could you have said no to such an offer? Even now, with all this hindsight, standing on the edge of a cliff with so much room beneath you to fall, with one foot on the ledge and the other on a banana fruit peel, able to look at the situation from a vantage point you only got with all the months of history you've amassed, even now... you still would say yes. Because no matter the pain and the hurt that now seeped into you like rain through the cracks in the withered, dry ground, soaking into every facet of it... just like the rain, his presence and memory also gave you life, a purpose, a way to go on. And you wouldn't give that up, not while there was still breath in your lungs.

So you said yes. And you left, that same day, on the back on his beautiful ikran, for a long ride that would take you somewhere deep in lands you've never experienced before, away from whispers and prying eyes, away from the doubt and the fear. As you were flying far above the world you've known and loved your whole life, that scared you your whole life, you couldn't help but think of what Jake was doing, and feel grateful for it. You thought about how it only consolidated the way you've always viewed him, as a great warrior, a great father, a great mentor... a great man. You thought about your crush, and how it embarrassed you as a teenager, and how you couldn't look him in the eye whenever he came to the lab and asked you a question, how you couldn't be around him without thinking you're gonna catch fire. That was long ago.

It passed, you thought. The crush, slightly weird and completely unattainable, passed through time. Yet here you stood, bare back, yet another foreign feeling you were trying to get used to, flush against his muscular chest, his palm protectively wrapped around your abdomen, and somehow, you forgot to take in the beauty of this world you’ve never seen from such a high vantage point, forgot to enjoy the fact you were literally flying, the air flowing through your luscious, thick hair… you forgot to breathe.

“You okay there, kid? Tell me if this is overwhelming, we can take a break.”

“N-no. I’m alright…Thank you.”

“Good girl.”

I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything To keep you looking at me

Jake struggled to rationalise how things could have ever ended up this way. How did this happen? A few short months ago, it seemed, his life was... normal, or as normal as life could be in the middle of an ongoing territorial war with a species that was once his own, that he now disowned, that he now despised most days. Still. Normal. The same way it had been since he arrived on Pandora, since he mated with Neytiri, since he had one kid, and then another, and another...

He's known you since you were born. He took pity on you, much like he did Spider, for the cruelness of the Universe, for whatever it took for you to be born on this planet he loved, but knew was inhospitable to those who weren't made for it. Aliens. That was about the extent of your similarities to Spider, though. Unlike him, you were sweet, docile, quiet. You never came out to the village, and the few times you did, you just stood in a corner, on some tree stump, clinging to Neteyam like a little lost puppy.

How did it end up this way? It was wrong, it was all wrong. He knew it in his heart he had to stop, and he's been trying... so hard, it was all so hard. In these months, despite his mind telling him otherwise, urging him to consider all he stood to lose, he still ended up putting his life, everything he's built up on the line for you, doing things that frightened him, ashamed him, embarrassed him, but that he couldn't stop doing because it was you. And you were everything, and the way you made him feel was everything. And it all started that night.

The training was not necessarily any less painful than it had been, but he was right - it was easier. He was a good teacher, you told him. You say you understood now where Neteyam got it from, his penchant for imparting wisdom in a calm, collected and patient manner. He went through all the basics, and after a good few hours, he felt like you were almost... relaxed. By eclipse, you were hunched over food that he was preparing over fire, while practicing your Na'vi - the only thing you felt comfortable enough to call yourself good in, and for the first time since you got your Avatar, you looked... happy. You needed this and he knew it. You didn't even know it for yourself, but he knew. And thinking about it, and him, made you blurt out a secret you held in your soul for years and years, before your mind had enough time to talk you out of it.

“I used to have a crush on you, you know?” You chuckled a little, and Jake was fascinated by the sound, which sounded less like a laugh and more like bells chiming in the wind, and by the purple tinge of your cheeks as you confessed something that he couldn’t believe his ears, that were now pushed back flat in shock.

“You used to have a crush on me?”

His tone amused you even further, it seemed, because you brought a hand to your mouth to stifle the sound Jake felt a sudden desire to continue hearing for the rest of his life.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know, kid, just… never thought out of everyone in this village, and the labs, people your own age, including my kids and Spider, you’d ever have a crush on an old man like me.” He chuckles his own rugged, awkward laugh and looks over at you, the way he couldn’t stop himself doing, it seemed, to gauge for a reaction that he didn’t know whether he wanted to see.

“I think that was part of the charm, actually.” As you catch yourself talking, you stop and turn, the tinge in your cheeks no longer a tinge but a splash of violent colour as you pat yourself aggressively with both hands, to release some of the heat that pooled unwelcome in your face. “I… I really should not… say things.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused and intrigued at the new development. “So you like ‘em older, huh, kid? Always the shy and quiet ones, ain’t that so?”

You retreat further in yourself at the way he just called you out, unconsciously making yourself smaller by bringing your knees in and wrapping your arms around them, your face buried in between your legs in embarrassment and you let out a small groan. You couldn’t believe this was happening to you. First time in your life you were fully alone with this great man, this man that is a legend, that will have history books written about him even back on Earth, this man that knew so much and achieved enough to last lifetimes and instead of learning from him, instead of doing what you came here to do to begin with, here you are, running your mouth faster than your brain could catch up, making sure you would never be able to look him in the eyes ever again.

“Are you still playing that guitar of yours? You used to drive Neytiri crazy with that thing when you were young.”

“Yeah, I still play, just, I keep it to the rec centre mostly.”

“Why?”

“I just... don’t want to bother anyone.”

You sounded sad, too sad. He saw your eyes swimming with tears and he cringed at the way he was unable to make you feel fully comfortable around him. This shouldn't be this hard.

“Ah, kid… you can play in the village. The Omaticaya love music, they’re called the Flute Clan for cryin’ out loud. They just need time.”

“It’s been 23 years.”

Jake didn’t push anymore, not when you were right. It’s been a long enough time, but some things… some things don’t get better with time. Jake’s always hated that stupid old saying anyway.

“Y’know… I play a little guitar, too.” He scoffs a little as he thinks more about it. “Well, used to play. Probably not any good anymore, but at some point, I used to be.”

Your eyes shoot to him and the glimmer in them makes Jake’s mind come to a standstill - they were so beautiful. You were so beautiful.

“Really? That’s amazing!” And just like that, your previous outburst was swiftly forsaken and forgotten, the new piece of information far too exciting for you to dwell on anything else. “How come I’ve never heard you? You should play for us sometime.”

Jake smiled a sorrowful smile that stopped short of reaching his eyes. “Just… haven’t had the chance.”

There were a lot of reasons Jake hasn’t done so many of the things that used to bring him joy when he was human. But ya win some, ya lose some, that was always his philosophy for life anyway. He had so much to be grateful for in this life, so much more than he ever thought possible for a grunt like him. The Universe has been more than generous in compensating him for a lifetime of resentment and regrets, and so if he had to give certain things up, that he did so without thinking twice about it.

“So how did you learn?”

“My old man taught me, probably the only thing he ever taught me, unless you count how to run a backdoor draw while high off your ass.” Jake lets out a humourless laugh, enjoying the look of confusion plastered all over your face, and the way your tanhì seemed to shine brighter when you ruminated over something in your head. Your nose crinkles a little, as his words register fully in your ears and they twitch, and the humourless laugh quickly evolves in a warm, inward smile.

You were beautiful, he ends up acknowledging yet again, taking in all the mannerisms that somehow escaped him all these years.

“A what?”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

“Did you not… get along with your dad?”

Jake finds himself, for the first time in years, too many years, thinking about his dad and his life as a young kid back on Earth, and all the shitty memories that came along with that thought, memories he’s tried to repress most of his life. He catches yet another sigh before it escapes him, a habit he’s seemed to have quickly picked up in your presence, as you asked questions most people never did, questions he didn’t want to answer, questions he wanted nothing more than to be asked.

“My dad was a mean ol’ dog, who liked women and booze more than he ever liked Tommy or me. I could never find it in me to care when he died.” That was morbid, he recognises, but it needed to be said. Something about you just makes him want to just… confess things he shouldn’t be feeling, and shouldn’t be saying out loud, and yet here he was, heart thumping and palms sweating almost nervously, and the word vomit didn’t seem like it was anywhere close to over.

“He made mean sloppy joes, though. And he played the guitar like he was born with a six-string in his hands.” There were some good memories. The memory of his dad teaching young squirt Jake Future Days, his old, cigarette-imbued hoarse voice singing the lyrics that still had the power to bring tears to his eyes… that was one of the good ones.

You smiled as he spoke, a warm, inviting smile, that made the breath catch in his lungs and begged him to spill all the secrets that he tried so hard to bury deep inside, and he feels his stomach drop when he realises the feelings you invoked in him, for the first time in his life, were no longer ones he could justify or explain, but ones that demanded to be felt.

The silence was heavy and awkward after that, or so he thought, and he watched you as you ruminated over his words, as you nibbled at the fish he managed to catch while teaching you the basics of fishing. He shouldn't have said it, any of it. What the hell does he think he's doing, going around confessing the depths of his somewhat bitter soul to a kid who knew nothing about life, and who shouldn't have to carry his burdens to begin with. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Maybe being alone with you... was a mistake.

"You should go to sleep, kid. There's a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and the sooner we're done, the sooner your life can go back to normal."

You nodded gently and obliged.

“I think you’re lying.” You say, as you turn your back to him, closing your eyes and preparing yourself to return to your human body, as soon as sleep would find you. “I think you cared. I think you still care. And it’s ok to care. Sometimes… people are horrible and they suck… and we love them anyway. And I think that’s what makes humans special… and good.”

Jake was too stunned to be able to say anything else, as he stared mouth-agape at your back.

“Sleep well, Jake.”

Maybe he did lie. Maybe life will never go back to normal again and the thought... the thought terrified him.

Because I'm a mirrorball I'm a mirrorball I'll show you every version of yourself Tonight

taglist: @yagirlheree @mashiromochi @deepdarktower @tojisleftarm @childofgod-05 @youngpersonaathletebear @cinetrix @hinataashoyos @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @misscaller06 @v1l-ismissing @legendarynoodlebowl @analuw @imjustcal @the-fractured-eye @pandoraontop @sweetirilly @kouyoumarryme @blxkstar @ok-boke @myheartfollower

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ramblingoak · 1 year ago

Note

How about "you're gonna get lipstick all over me"? Choose your papa 🥰

Love u!

I want nothing more than lipstick marks from Papa. Any Papa. But for you I chose Copia 💙

Smudge

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader (gender neutral reader, sfw, just Copia being silly, 700 words)

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“Well? What do you think?”

You couldn’t shake the stupid grin on your face as you watched your Papa strut around in front of you. He had dragged you out of your office an hour ago under the guise of needing help with tour prep, but it had quickly become obvious that all Copia really wanted to do was show off. Even so you obediently had sat down on the couch in his office to watch him move around the room. When he turned to look at you expectantly you couldn’t help but mess with him a little so you crossed your arms and scrunched your nose up.

“Hmm, I’m not sure.” His mouth fell open and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at him. “Don’t you already have one of these?”

“Si, si but not in this color.”

“You needed another one?”

“D-dolcezza!” You wondered if anyone would believe you that Papa sometimes stomped his foot like a child. “This is for the fans.”

“What about the blue one, was that for the fans?”

“Si.”

“Hmm and the red?”

It was Copia’s turn to cross his arms as he glared at you while you stared at him from the couch.

“People had been asking for the red to come back for a while, dolcezza.”

“Oh, have they? I hadn’t noticed.” You hummed and tapped a finger on your chin as you watched him mutter to himself in Italian. “So now you needed a, what, silver one?”

“Silver?” Copia looked about ready to throw a fit, holding his arms out while he glared at you. “You think this is silver?”

“Isn’t it? Wait, hang on.” He watched you warily as you hopped up to wander over. Copia held still as you walked around him, running your fingers across his shoulders. “Ok, I’m sorry Papa. It’s not silver.”

“Si, grazie. Silver wouldn’t be very exciting so that’s why I asked for a go–”

“Brown is kind of boring though, don’t you think Papa?”

“Brown?!” He looked down at his jacket and back up to you a few times before finally growling and advancing on you. “Why you little brat.”

You shrieked when he tried to grab you around your waist, quickly moving away from him and stumbling back towards the couch. He caught you right before you fell onto it, his hands on your waist helping to ease you down. Copia climbed up after you, straddling your legs and leaning forward to make his eyes level with yours.

“Do you enjoy riling up your Papa, dolcezza?”

“Yes actually, it’s a lot of fun.” He snorted, shaking his head while he straightened up. You let your eyes wander over him, admiring how handsome he looked in his Papal paint and his fancy jacket. “The gold is very pretty.”

Copia smiled and grabbed your hand to place a kiss on the back, his lipstick leaving a smudge of black on your skin.

“You really think so? It’s not too much?”

It always broke your heart a bit when he sounded timid, like he was afraid of your answer. As if you couldn’t possibly be hopelessly in love with his stupid handsome face. Still, it wouldn’t stop you from messing with him. Just a little bit.

“No Copia, I don’t think three sparkly jackets are too much.” You laughed when he growled and leaned down to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “It’s not too late to get another. Maybe a pink one!” He planted another kiss on you and you reached up to rub a hand over your skin. “Ugh, you’re getting your lipstick all over my face! I have to go back to work, you know. Not all of us can spend the day playing dress up.”

“I’m Papa. I can do what I want.” When you raised an eyebrow at him he let out that dirty chuckle you loved so much. “You should take the rest of the day off.”

“Oh? And do what?”

His eyes darkened as he gently took your chin in his hand, rubbing a thumb across your lower lip.

“How about we see where else I can leave lipstick marks, hmm?”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

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#my fics #my writing #oakie drabble #papa emeritus iv x gn reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x gn reader #copia x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #copia fanfiction #papa emeritus iv fanfiction #papa emeritus x reader

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penvisions · 1 year ago

Text

garnish {chapter 3}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Thoughts about Joel Miller have you desperate for something you hadn't sought out in quite a while: human touch. So when your friends suggest a girls' night out, you readily agree. It's just your luck that the very man plaguing your thoughts happens to be at the bar picked out for the night.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warning: alcohol consumption, drunken interactions, creepy flirthing, unwanted attention, fighting, bar fights, nonconsensual touching (not joel), protective joel, injuries, blood, degrading talk, power dynamics, abuse of power, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, cigarettes, joel miller is a conflicted man, kissing, drunk makeout session

A/N: this story is literally keeping me from climbing the walls in my apartment, i've applied to over 20 jobs the last few days and made even more calls to see if places were hiring. the issue isn't finding something, it's finding something willing to pay me for my experience and skill set. but i found out a local coffee shop is opening a new location and i should be getting a call back with interview times for that today, they need cooks and bakers and i can definitely do that

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was Wednesday, your normal day off for the week, but Joel had scheduled you two hours of prep, the shift reminder notification early that morning. It had woken you up, having allowed yourself to sleep in after the rather busy shift the night before. It had been a record-breaking sales day, the concert downtown only blocks away bringing increased foot traffic. It had been a week and a half since that terrible Sunday shift where you had finally given into hunger and had ordered food only to be told you had messed up. You had gone hungry that night, nothing in your kitchen at home.

You hadn’t spoken to Joel beyond confirming that dishes were ready to go out and helping to take updated pars out to the servers’ board for them to be aware of throughout services. Lists were left atop the sandwich prep station, and you completed it every shift you had before making your way toward the bar. They were in his writing, some things new with recipe page numbers for the guidebook stored on the expo line.

You had completed a few things on your list and were moving onto the next thing when his booming voice sounded from the walk in.

“Where are the rest of the yellow onions?”

Everyone in the kitchen looked over their stations, including you. The yellow onions you had chopped up for the red lentil soup were sitting in the pot you had atop a portable burner on the left side of your station. Cutting board beside it as you chopped the carrots that were to be added next.

“Whose used yellow onions today?” His brow was furrowed, lips downturned as he gazed around the kitchen. The three confirmations of ‘here, chef’ had him moving intimidatingly through the space, the first two seemed to come out of their interaction unscathed. But you felt like you weren’t about to be so lucky.

“When did you start the prep for these? They look nearly caramelized already.” He stirred the wooden spoon resting in the deep pot, getting a feel on the state of the onions cooking inside. You had stepped aside, hands behind your back as you let him inspect your station. He turned to watch as you answered, professional air about you as you briefly met his eyes with your own. You spoke in an even tone, worried about how he was going to react. He had already proven himself comfortable with cutting you off and denying you food that you had paid with your own money. And that was when you hadn’t actually done anything to warrant that type of reaction.

“I started this half an hour ago, gathered them from the walk in as I gathered everything else, chef.”

“Did you happen to notice that you grabbed the last ones? There are none in the box, left empty on the shelf. That you too? Don’t understand the way things work here, do ya?” He turned with a sharpie held tight between his fingers and he jutted it at the dray erase board beside the walk-in door where things low in stock were to be written down. “In case anyone is unclear on how this kitchen operates: things low in stock are to be written on that board there BEFORE we run out. Boxes or containers that are emptied while grabbing items are to be discarded or put into dish, not left on the shelf for the next person to find.”

“Yes, chef!” The chorus rang out evenly throughout the room.

He turned back to the portable burner and clicked it off, turning the nob off and the whoosh of gas going out was loud in the slight hum of busy work that the kitchen returned to once he had finished speaking.

“Why don’t you go clock yourself out.”

“Chef, there-“ You tried to talk to him, let him know that you had left nearly three pounds of onions left in the box. It wasn’t empty when you left the walk-in. You had been too wrapped up in your work to notice who else had gone in afterwards, though you wouldn’t have sold them out to begin with.

“Go. Clock out, now.”

“Yes, chef.” You wouldn’t raise your face to meet his look. Trying to keep your anger in check lest you give him a real reason to go off on you. Instead, you moved to grab your sharpie laid out over the recipe binder. The small field notes pad of paper beside it with the notations for a double batch written neatly on the page it was open to. Joel blocked your movement with a sidestep, his broad figure blocking your reaching hand.

“Now means now.”

“My-“

“Is now mine. Go.”

Your eyes flicked up and you tried your best not to pin him with the annoyance that was humming through your very blood. This man was nothing but a nuisance, you had only agreed to come into the kitchen because they were short staffed. But it was degrading work, to be around this man who deemed nearly everything below par and had extreme standards for the way things were to be done. The two instances of common decency he had offered you had to have been a fluke, maybe he had been extra tired and worn out those days, didn’t mean to let his guard down. Either way, you were quickly getting over the fluctuating temperatures of his attitude. At first it had been jarring, but you weren’t about to let it get to you any longer. You were determined to face it head on or dish it back out in what ways you could safely do so without risking your job.

You were lagging outside of the back door, standing with the bar back, whose name was Millie and a server who were both on break. You each had a cigarette in hand, swapping stories about the worst pick up lines that you had been approached with. You had removed your apron, it was folded carefully in your crossbody bag to be washed when you got home, simple black long sleeve Henley along with it. That left you in your black denim with that kitschy cute heart belt buckle and a dark green racerback. You had left your hair up in its normal fashion of low buns on either side of your head, short black beanie atop your head.

“You gotta admit,” Your laughter ringing through the air accompanied by the giggles of the two girls in front of you. “He was honest, what better way to start a conversation, though I could’ve done without the-“

All the laughter cut off as the backdoor opened and Joel appeared with a bag of trash. The two younger girls snubbed out their waning cigarettes and scurried inside, deeming breaktime over with his sudden arrival. You watched as Joel tossed the bag over the lip of the nearby dumpster before removing his gloves and tossed them in as well. He removed a pack of his own cigarettes from the breast pocket of his chef’s coat, and you could see the spiral wiring of your notebook peeking out over the top of it. His eyes took in the way your lips moved as you took a long drag from your own, bringing your phone out to ignore him.

The snick snick snick of his lighter resulted in a deep grunt, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The cigarette he had pulled out was between his plush lips and his dead lighter was being pushed back into the pocket of his chef’s pants. When his eyes flicked to you, your attention snapped back to your phone. He cleared his throat, and you cocked an eyebrow up at the sound, turning to give him the barest hint of attention. He was leaning heavily against the side of the building, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he regarded you.

“Do you-

“Nope.” You took the last drag before snuffing out your own cigarette and tossed the butt into the pail beside the door. You started walking toward the parking lot, your truck beeping with a press of the control in your hand. The strap of your bag over your shoulder caught the man’s eye as you began to move away.

“You’re just gonna walk off from your shift?”

“Today’s my day off, chef.” You didn’t look back at him but could tell that your words had affected him.

“Shit, I-“ He straightened up and moved away from the wall, taking a step toward you, his hands coming out from his pockets to take the unlit cigarette from between his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. Now you don’t have to worry me using up all your inventory, right?” You pulled another cigarette out from the pack still in your hand along with your phone and brought a lighter out from your own front pocket. You took a long drag and blew the smoke in his direction over your shoulder, aware of his gaze on your back and you hopped into the cab of the truck.

The next day, everything that was on your prep list had been completed and the one for today had instructions on where to find the mise for each recipe. Everything was already prepared for you and were just combining and finishing the last few steps of each one.

“Hi there, what can I get started for you?” You placed a coaster down on the bar top before a glass of water, eyes coming up as you smiled at the new guest. Your smile faltered a little when the face of your biological evolution professor beamed back at you, but you didn’t let your surprise show other than that.

“I heard a rumor that the bartender here made the best whisky drinks. Here to test out that theory.” His voice was smooth, something you had often spoken aloud to your friends that made the class lectures rather easy. His baritone deep and the ways in which he spoke with such passion and interest in his material was an added bonus to understanding the class subject matter than most.

“Let’s get to testin’, what your preferred whiskey?” You busied yourself making the drinks that had been rung up the last couple of minutes, the man having sat to the side of the well in the last seat along the right side of the bar.

“I’m a Bullet man, myself. But I’m up for whatever you think is best.”

“Oh, well, of course the one I think is best is our top shelf.” You tossed the man a playful smirk, aware that it was a possible line being crossed. But neither of you were on campus, you were at work, and he was one of your bar guests. His laugh was beautiful as he knocked his head back, the line of his throat catching shadows from the strong lights over the bar.

“I actually prefer Woodford, it’s not too expensive but its leagues above some of the stuff on the shelves like Evan Williams.”

He was funny, quick-witted. Matching your jokes as fast as he could. Bringing up documentaries he had recently seen.

“No, but like that’s the thing! There’s been no discovery of this caliber ever before, its unprecedented in nearly every aspect.” You were making a round of lemon drops for a group of girls on the other end of the bar, loading up the shaker and then securing the smaller component over it before lifting your hand and shaking it. As you did so, you reached over to grab the coup glasses you would need for the pour. A figure appeared at the well, taller than the servers and barback, who had gone on break a few minutes ago.

You glanced over at Joel, the man had his hands atop the plastic mats, eyes taking in the organized garnish container and the jars of small straws and picks for the servers to complete their drinks. You nodded at him to let him know you saw him and would be with him as soon as possible before you held the shaker tight in one hand and used the heel of your palm to knock the smaller part loose. Your hand was steady as you parted the two components enough to strain the bright pink liquid from the ice, not looking up from it.

“To actually have fossil evidence of not just any Hominid species, but of a newly discovered hominid species, with a crafted tool in their fuckin’ hand! Like, I got chills, and I was pretty sure my attention was plastered to the screen. Didn’t even touch the food I made that night. I immediately started just taking notes throughout the whole thing.”

“To be fair, it was just as intriguing to find out that the child’s body had been in the cavern wall, not even properly buried like the rest of the bodies in the Dinaledi chamber.”

“Oh my gosh, I know! That opens a whole plethora of questions about what that child was even doing, was he the one carving those symbols into the wall, was he alone- hold on one moment.” You moved over to the other side of the bar, two coup glasses cradled carefully in each hand, and you took the four of them over to the girls who had been watching you make them. They were all bright smiles and excited giggles as you told them you used Meyer lemons for a sweeter drink and added a bit of cherry juice for the color.

“She’s a busy one, guests seem to love her.” Your professor smiled over at Joel, who was watching you flit around behind the bar much like he had been admiring all night. Joel’s eyes snapped to the man beside him and he just nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She knows what she’s doing.”

“Not much of a talker in class, but her papers are beyond wonders. The way her mind makes connections is amazing. And the way she uses her words so carefully, so eloquently.”

“You go to school with her?” Joel questioned, mind going over the small interactions he’s had with you recently. You tended to stutter over your words around him, as if you were hesitant to speak in the first place. He didn’t like the comparison, now, seeing you in your element and recalling the way you had always been professional around him. But this, you behind the bar and completely enthralling as you entertained so many people and mixed drinks like it was second nature. Firing back jokes and conversation as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Your laughter ringing through the space of the dining room. He felt the pull of a frown, not liking the shift he was causing in you lately.

“Oh no, school is way behind me. I’m her professor.” The grunt Joel made seemed to display his trepidation at the revelation and the man was quick to jump into defense mode. “It’s not what it looks like, she’s at work and I’m just here on a friend’s word that it’s a good place. Didn’t even know she was here until I sat down.”

“Sure.” Joel said in a tone that said he didn’t buy a word the man was saying.

You were back with them by the well, professional smile in place as you addressed Joel. You were busy tucking a receipt and some bills of money into your server’s book, secured underneath the counter and atop a cooler beside the drink station.

“Yes, chef?”

“Bourbon for the steak sauce. And whatever amber you have on tap.” He tried to muster up the courage to lighten up his face from a frown, but the way your eyes flashed away from him told him it didn’t work.

“Heard, chef.”

You busied yourself with retrieving the bottle of bourbon he had asked you to tack onto your order. He hadn’t wanted to deal with the liquor vendors himself and sure you would find a better deal than him anyway.

“It’s gonna be a 6.7 percent amber, it’s smooth and the notes of pecan to cut the malt. Only one I have on tap at the moment, that okay?” You talked over your shoulder, picking up on the waves and attention from the other patrons of the bar top, reaching to get more than the one glass needed for just Joel’s request. You poured two blondes, an IPA, and a stout and placing them in front of those who had been nursing them all night before going to pull the tap for the amber. It poured for maybe two seconds before it sputtered and compressed air forced itself out of the spicket.

“I told Millie to change out the keg last night, I’m sorry, chef. It’s gonna take me a minute before I can step away and replace it.” Your brows were furrowed in a worried expression, not wanting this to be something he used against you. You were really hoping to get something to go later, needing to finish a paper that was due tomorrow before class. He must’ve clocked the rising panic in your eyes because he squared his shoulders before shoving off the drink station.

“I gotcha, which label am I looking for?”

“Oh, um, Riverbank Red.”

“Heard.” He turned to move toward the small walk-in just behind the bar, the heavy door opening easily underneath his hands. You could hear him rustling around inside, the hiss of him removing the empty keg and then the clunk of him placing the new one in its place. The two knocks on the wall alerted you that it was all set and you pulled the tap, compressed air working its way through the hook up before foam began to stream. Letting it run for a few seconds, you turned around and grabbed a fresh pint glass for Joel’s drink. You used the previous one and filled it, cutting off the tap and took a long pull from it.

When you lowered the glass after your drink, you found two pairs of eyes on you. You looked between your professor and Joel, both on each side of the corner of the bar. Some of the foam from the outside of the glass when the tap died out had run down your chin and settled on your chest. The cut of your shirt was a little low, your simple, silver chain necklace catching the soft glow of the bar lights much like the foam.

You avoided meeting either of their gazes as you poured a second pint for Joel and walked it over. Before you could place it atop the drink station beside the bottle of bourbon already waiting, he reached out for it and his thick fingers brushed yours. His beautiful, brown eyes flashed down and caught yours, full of something you didn’t recognize, prompting you to pull your hand away as you struggled to catch your breath.

His teeth clicked with the clenching of his jaw, his hands tightening around items he came over for and he turned to make his way back to the kitchen.

“He’s not much of a charmer, is he?”

“He just has an asshole voice, don’t mind him.” With a somewhat fake smile plastered on your face, you turned back to your professor and started making him another drink as more rang through the printer. “Now, what were the most concrete dates we had archived for allusions to tool use?”

The alcohol in your system was washing your stress and anxieties away. Moving your body along to the song that was bumping from the speakers of the bar that held a small dance floor. Your friends’ bodies were moving alongside you, along with you, tangling with your own in a heady and exciting way. It was such a relief to not have any worries at the moment, only blipping thoughts of ‘oooh this is a good song’ and ‘another drink, yes please’.

You were taking a break, downing a glass of water and ordering a round of shots for everyone. There were five of you altogether and they huddled around you as you passed one to each of them, smiling widely at the bartender across from you. He just chuckled with a shake of his head and moved on down the bar to help out two waiting men. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve recognized one in a particular. But you were too preoccupied with the rather loud cheers the girls were trying to agree on before someone finally just shouted, ‘drink up, bitches!’ and you were downing the shot along with them.

The burn of it down your throat was anticipated and you gathered the empty glasses from them while they sputtered and coughed, not able to handle it as well as they normally could with already being more than tipsy. You were leaning over the bar a little, on your tip toes to place them atop the washer on the plastic pad you knew the bartender liked to gather used cups before loading them up.

A large hand found the exposed small of your back, your crop tank top allowing for the skin to be on display. It was dangerously close to the waist of your skirt, and you jerked back with a start, face contorting into one of anger.

“Hey, who the fuck do you think you are?” You settled back on your heels, the height of them making you a little taller than normal. Your eyes swept over the crowd around the bar and found that your friends had returned to the dance floor, leaving you to deal with this on your own. Not that you couldn’t, but it would’ve been nice to have a witness. The man in question was rather tall, blonde, nice suit, but his forwardness left little to be desired.

“Just helpin’ to hold ya steady, looked like you were about to flip over the bar, little lady.”

“Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Didn’t mean to offend-“

“Yeah, well, ya did. Don’t fuckin’ touch me, got it?”

“C’mon now. You were gettin’ all close and personal with your friends, maybe I wanted a feel for myself.”

The man stepped closer to you, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath, cheap and cloying as it wafter over into your personal space. His hands were coming up as if he were going to wrap them around your hips and pull you to him. His eyes were raking slowly up and down your body, taking in the short skirt and crop tank top you had deemed appropriate for the night. The cleavage peeking out of the top of your shirt glistening with the glitter body spray you had used before leaving your apartment.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” You spat, stepping away from the man only to collide with another’s back who had been passing by.

“Watch where-“ Joel of all people turned around, a scowl on his face. You felt like a deer caught in headlights, totally caught off guard that your boss was here in the same bar. The beer in his grip had sloshed over his fingers when you slammed into him and it was dripping to the already sticky floor. There was another man beside him, similar height and build. He had the same brown eyes and you realized they must be related.

Joel’s eyes took in the slightly panicked air about you, gaze moving behind you to see the man you had been fleeing from in such a haste.

“He touch you?”

“Don’t know if that’s any of your business, old man.” The man stepped forward and hooked a finger on the strap of your crossbody, pulling you backwards and you stumbled at the bold move. “We’re just two friends having an intimate-“

You maneuvered your stumble into a pivot and raised your clenched fist to deck the guy across the face, cutting off his words. You felt the crack of his nose beneath your knuckles, the action splitting two of them open. There was a gasp and a bark of laughter from behind you.

“I said, don’t fuckin’ touch me.” You sneered, anger lighting you up from the inside out. You didn’t pay the dull ache of your new injury any mind as you brought your arm back closer to your body, but you did flinch when the man’s hands shot out and his nails scratched along your neck where he had tried to grab you.

Joel was moving with a grunt of effort before you could fully register that the man had lunged at you.

Body slamming into his and pinning him face down against the bar with a hand tight on the back of his neck. His forehead had cracked against it, and he had shouted out weakly at the pain the action must’ve caused. His arms were twisted behind up, Joel’s right one holding them tight by the wrists. As he did so, the man with Joel had pulled you away from the confrontation, hands far more gentle with you than the man now pinned to the bar.

“You okay?” Joel looked back at you, his eyes hard and his expression schooled into one of control despite the way he had just cracked that man’s head on the top of the bar. When you didn’t answer, he looked to the man who had pulled you further out of harms way. “Tommy, she okay?”

There was no time to answer him, the bartender was out from behind the bar in a second, security that checked identification alongside him and they were forcefully guiding the man toward the door. He was putting up a rather good effort, but the two men were stronger than him. He turned with one last look over his shoulder and spat at you. The spray of it startled you and the tears that formed were angry, wet, ugly things.

Suddenly, the girls were swarming you, all talking at the same time and guiding you toward the bathroom to help get you somewhere safe to gather yourself. You let them guide you away from Joel and what you assumed was his brother, not glancing over at them lest they see more of the tears than they already had.

The bathroom muffled the booming music enough to hear your own thoughts, the lights a little brighter to help you process what had just happened. The girls were dabbing wet paper towels underneath your eyes to wipe your smeared makeup, to sooth the scratch marks on your throat. They plopped you down on one of the chairs off in the corner, removing your bag from around your body and just allowed you to take however long a moment you needed. Someone fetched a bottle of water from somewhere and you gulped down half of it without taking a breath. Your hands were shaking and you lifted your hand up to inspect the damage on your knuckles.

Someone gasped and it startled you, making you jump in your seat and then the bartender was there with a first aid kit.

“Me’n my boyfriend kicked him out, some cops were walking down the way and he taken to the station.”

He said as he kneeled in front of you, tearing open a package of sterile gauze. He dabbed some disinfectant on it before gently taking your hand and patting it across the top of your hand.

You found yourself back up at the bar, seated in a stool with your bag laid over the back of it. Your friends had checked on you again and pouted at your insistence of not going to another place with them. They wished you a good rest of the night and told you to check in with them when you got home, you returned their kind words.

You downed the last dregs of your cocktail, a vodka something, and gathered your keys from your purse.

Heels heavy, you stumbled over your own feet as your head swam and the lights of the bar flared. You reached out for the back of the stool but ended up grabbing onto a man’s arm. It was warm and strong and white-hot desire raced down your spine at the contact. Bringing your face up to apologize, it was lost in your throat as you realized it was none other than Joel Miller you were holding onto. You stepped back, turning from him to properly retrieve your bag this time.

“You’re not the boss of me here, lemme go.” You struggled against the hold he had on your upper arm, where he had turned you to face him. He seemed to realize you were uncomfortable and he dropped his hand, allowing you to turn back to face the bar. Jerry looked from your annoyed expression to the man behind you, taking in the situation and trying to determine how best to deal with it.

“Hey, man, good on you and your brother for helping us get that guy earlier, but I don’t think she likes the attention.”

“She’s drunk, you really gonna let her leave alone?”

“She comes here a lot, knows her limits and she’s got me to look out after her.”

“She’s drunker ‘n you think.”

“I am not.”

“Darlin-“

“I am not your anything, Mr. Miller.” You turned back on him with such a glare he was surprised you could hold the look in your state. He could see the way your head was lolling with every turn, your movements loose and uncoordinated. “This is a public space, I am not your prep cook and you are not my boss. You can’t lord over me and refuse me food here like at work. And I want…I want French fries.”

You stumbled as you turned around to face him again with heat behind your words. Eyes flaring in anger as he tried to reach for you again. Your body sung where one of his arms wrapped around the small of your back, helping you to keep upright as your balance faltered. The heels weren’t helping. You wished you had just stayed home, the sting of being ditched by your friends, the sting of his treatment at work and the workload of your classes, all of it was a lot and tonight was supposed to help you get out of your head, not make things worse.

“You-“ You swayed on your feet, leaning back from him slightly. The length of his forearm supporting you as you did so and stabbed a finger into his chest to emphasize your next words. Ignoring the way that his chest was firm and hot through the fabric of his shirt, he would probably have chest hair and it would be as peppered as his scruff… “You’re mean.”

His brother was doing his best to smother his laughter behind a hand, but you could hear it and you pouted even more.

“Your little brother is laughing at me and you’re a meanie.” You shoved away from him again, the warmth of his arm gone from your back as you turned around to retrieve your bag from the back of your stool. “I’m leaving.”

“The hell you are, you can’t walk, let alone drive.”

“Don’t need help. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember.”

“Sweetheart, you-“ Tommy tried to step in, hoping that maybe he could help out the situation. It was clear they were both worried but you were just being so stubborn. Jerry was right, you didn’t like the attention, you didn’t like getting felt up and your boss had been there to witness the aftermath. That he was still there and seeing you in such a way.

“I’m not your sweetheart.” Your voice held more bite than you thought you were capable of in your current state. Tommy stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. His brows furrowed as he shared a look with his brother.

“Lemme call you a cab, please.”

“No, I don’t need anything from you. You made it clear how you feel about me, barking at me all day when I’m helping you with your kitchen because the staff don’t wanna show up and deal with you.”

“Oof, that’s a hard hit, brother.” Tommy reached over to help you drape your purse strap over your shoulder, the crossbody secure over your form and he stepped away as you pushed at his hands much like you had done with Joel. “You really did a number on her.”

“Lemme just, please, lemme take you home. Need to make sure you get home okay.” His voice was pitched quiet, leaning a little into your space with an open expression. His hands were at his sides, not reaching out to touch you again, his fists clenched at his sides. Your eyes lingered on the way his mouth formed around the words and you swallowed the harsh ones you were about to fire back at him. All you could manage was a small nod.

That’s how you found yourself in the passenger side of his own truck, waiting in a short line of a drive through.

Once your fries, and some for him too, had been passed through the window, he was following the spoken instructions to your house. Watching the way you watched things pass by the window as you munched on the salty treat in your lap out of the corner of his eye. The dried blood on your split knuckles making his stomach lurch as he thought of that man putting his hands on you and the look on your face when you tried to flee. The look on your face when you had run into him, eyes wide and panicked.

You had calmed down, now in a lazy mood after the adrenaline packed events of the night.

“You do know what you’re doin’, just don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud ‘fore now.”

“Hmm?” You rolled your head along the back of the seat to face him, bringing a fry up to the seal of your mouth as you did so. He had to look away from the sight, your entire body and demeanor relaxed. Your expression was so open and curious, eyes soft as you looked over at him. Containing none of the animosity and worry he seemed to pull from you at work as you looked him over. He was in a pair of dark wash jeans that his thighs looked good in as he drove, a simple white Henley for a shirt. It allowed for the tan of his skin to pop, the grays that speckled his hair looking good in the lights of passing cars and lamps.

“You-uh-you, nevermind.” Joel’s deep voice wavered before he cut off, not being able to handle the earnest gaze you had pinned him with, his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Mkay, whatever you say.” You turned back to look out with window, letting him know that your complex was around the corner.

He parked along the curb beside the gate that opened up into the parking lot. Watching him as he hopped out of the cab and toward your side of the vehicle, his expression hard to read. He was opening the door and leaning into the can to undo your seatbelt. Not wanting to risk you trying to do it and spill your fries, knowing you would probably tear up at the mishap should it occur. He said as much under his breath when you asked him what he was doing and you couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up from your chest as you agreed with him, it would be tragic.

Once unbuckled, he reached for the fries in your hand and put them back in the bag they came in, tucking it into your purse that was still across your body.

“Will you let me help you step down?”

At your nod, his hands came around your waist, the wideness of them allowing his fingers to span across your back in a tantalizing way. He lifted you a little, holding most of your weight as you hopped down from the cab. His arms tensed around you as you felt yourself wobble, forgetting you were in heels for the entirety of the drive. Another round of giggles bubbled up and you found yourself leaning more into Joel’s space. His body was warm where you were pressed up against his front, the scent of cedar stronger tonight than it had been all those nights ago when he insisted on making you food to take home.

“I wish you liked me.” You spoke quietly into his neck, lips brushing against the skin there as you did so.

You felt his fingers twitch where they held onto you before you were pulled back a little so he could look down at you.

“Darlin’, I do like you, that’s the problem.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer to him.

“You’re not in the right state to be talkin’ about this right no-“

Surging up, you smothered the words from his lips with your own. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back. As if he was unable to stop himself despite the words he had just been ushering. It was all teeth and tongue, sparking heat that pooled low in your middle. A whimper sounded in the air, Joel swallowing it as he licked into your mouth. Your nails dug into the curls at the base of his neck and you pulled.

A deep groan rumbled through his chest and you pulled away to catch your breath, looking at the face of the man who had been consuming your thoughts for weeks now.

He looked back at you, took in the way your eyes were blown out and dilated, the puffiness of your swollen lips, the quick breaths you were taking to recover from his mouth on yours, the heat that he was causing was all consuming and you knew that he could feel through your skin underneath his hands. He was swooping back down to capture your lips, his hands moving up to cradle your face in his hands as he did so and you melted at the action.

Consciousness hit you like a jolt and you were shooting up from your bed. The covers fell from you to pool around your waist, and you looked around the room, nothing looked out of place but something felt off, so incredibly off. Your bag was on the bedside table, an empty greasy bag crumpled beside it and your lips were tingling with the memory of pressing them against someone else’s.

“Oh, fuck.”

You had drunkenly kissed your boss.

And he had kissed you back.

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blankwashed · 6 months ago

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(i’m toji’s slave this is just pwp (porn without plot) maybe a little idk)

toji nuzzled his nose against your neck, with hot-mouthed open kisses. he was marking yours as his, telling the other men that you are taken. toji growled as his free hand traced patterns on your bare-thighs.

“tell me what you want baby girl,” he rasped into your ears. “just say the word and i’ll give it to you,”

you didn’t realise how much power you had over him. was he just saying these because he felt indebted to you, after saving him from the police? a few hours ago, both of you were hanging out with a bunch of people from your class who suddenly had a bright idea to turn to the back alley of a street and smoke some weed(?). you refrained from doing such things that might harm your body despite them saying it wouldn’t so you were the odd-one out most of the time, always keeping a look out for them.

thankfully, this was a time where you were able to cover for them. a police officer just so happened to be patrolling the area at that time. it was because of your sharp ears and eyes all your friends were saved.

toji wasn’t even yours to begin with. but was surely one of the hottest.

“make love with me, toji. i’ve heard that you’re really good at making them scream…” you bit your lip and said softly, arching your back closer to him.

toji wasn’t going to be asked twice but wanted to tease you, to get you dripping for him before he started. “show me just how much you really want me, b’cos i’m very sure i’ve been thinking about fucking you for a long time, doll..”

groaning loudly, toji lifted you up and placed you on a desk. his large hands roamed over your body possessively, skimming over your shoulders and thighs.

oh your thighs, wouldn’t he love to be buried in between them.

he brought a hand to find your slick and smirked when he saw how ready you were for him. with no warning, he pushed two fingers inside your wet folds, stretching you in an arched angle. “that’s it babygirl,”

“let daddy take care of you.”

you weren’t able to keep quiet, moaning as if it was the last thing you were about to do on earth.

pleased with your response, toji continued to assault your body with gentle kisses and rough spanks. your body was definitely going to be bruised the next day.

his fingers picked up speed, causing you to arch your back off the mattress. “f-fuck, daddy…” you opened your eyes, never wanting this imagery to be removed from your mind.

“yeah that’s right slut. who’s your daddy?” he said while reaching your edge with his mere fingers. he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking it causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“c-cock….i want your cock, daddy..please..” you stopped him and said those few words while panting. they were right, toji fushiguro was one to tire people out,

toji smirked, “babygirl you think you’re ready for it? i was just worried that you needed more prep..” he said as his green eyes bore a hole in your soul.

you nodded, wasting no more time.

naked except for your shirt, toji climbed over you and brought his glistening thick cock to your entrance. without a warning, he plunged deep into your warmth.

“fuck!” you cried, he is actually filling you up in ways i didn’t know were possible. you felt so full.

“you okay mama?” he asked, fingers already bunching your hair up.

giving him a signal telling him that you were fine, it was time to get your mind blown away.

he pulled back enough to hit your cervix repeatedly, making you squirt and sending waves of pleasure cascading through your entire body.

over and over again, he repeated this motion, each thrust harder than the last.

you cried, “d-daddy doesn’t find this disgusting?” you managed to squeak out after panting.

“no doll,” he pulled his cock out of you abruptly, leaving you feeling empty and wanting more.

this time however, instead of moving, he stayed still, letting you set the pace and watching you for any sign of impending release. you were on top of him this time, swaying and jumping on his cock.

“mm daddy, please fuck me..i’m getting tired of riding you and i want to cum daddy please…” you pleaded.

his grip on your hips tightened as he picked up the pace, slamming into you harder than ever before. every hit of his cock seemed to be harder than the last, always hitting your spot making you see stars. you were begging, you were pleading for release.

and then suddenly it hit you, - an orgasm so intense that it left you breathless and trembling beneath him. a low groan left his mouth as he saw how submissive you were to him and followed suit; his hot seed filling you up deep inside.

#toji #jjk #fics #toji fushiguro #jjk smut #toji smut

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the-dixon-effect · 1 year ago

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Tomorrow, With Luck

requested by: @taylormarieee which you can find here -> masterlist

A/N: sorry this took so long my love!! jet lag is a bitch 😭

summary: Daryl gets jealous when he sees Spencer flirting with Y/N.

era: season 6, pre-Negan Alexandria

pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, a little bit of Spencer x fem!reader not too much dw

words: 1.9k

"What's up with that Dixon dude?" asked Spencer, who sat beside you on a pristine white bench near the perimeter of the walls. He'd asked you if you wanted to 'hang out' later after spotting you on watch duty earlier. Since 'hanging out' wasn't really an activity that you had partaken in for a long while, you decided to accept, fully understanding Spencer's intentions but playing innocent, just for the fun of it. Unfortunately, conversation wasn't really flowing and... well, you had other things on your mind. You watched as Daryl strode down the picture-perfect lane, glancing over in your direction and giving Spencer that sultry, disdainful look. The one he adorned, sometimes indeliberately, when he just didn't like the look of someone.

"He's my friend. He's a really good guy, probably my best friend, actually," you said, not meeting his eyes but instead tapping your right foot against the floor and rubbing your fingertips together. Spencer turned his head slowly, following Daryl's figure as he advanced further down the road, as though he thought he was a predator stalking his prey.

"Yeah, I know what that means. My girlfriend back in prep school had a 'guy-best-friend'," he began, raising his hands to form air-quotes. "We were together for a year, then one day she just dumped me for him," That doesn't surprise you.

"Mhm," you hum in response. In truth, you didn't care what Spencer had to say, but you got the gist. Whatever. No one cares about a pretentious piece of shit who got dumped years ago. Besides, your priorities are halfway down the main oad, where a certain archer looks to be heading home.

"Anyway," he pauses and looks around, searching for something to fill the silence. "Hey, you and I should go on a run together sometime. I reckon we'd make a great team,"

"Yeah, totally. Listen, I've gotta head home, curfew, am I right?" you muster your best fake laugh. "See you around, Spencer,"

"Hey, Daryl!" you call out, a few paces behind him on the sidewalk. Crossbow slung over one shoulder and backpack over the other, you can tell he's just been out on a hunt. In an attempt to make conversation, you idly ask him if he caught anything, to which he responds with a characteristic grunt, which you take as a no. Damn, no venison for dinner. He ignores you for the rest of the walk home, and you can't help but feel a little disheartened as your pace on the sidewalk flows out of time with his. He's normally happy to see you. He doesn't like to show it, but you know that you've broken down his walls when that little smile of his creeps up on his face when you're near.

What you don't consider, however, are the thoughts swirling around in that mind of his. What the hell is she doing with that prick Spencer? Does she like him? Does she like him more than she likes me? Shut up man, you know she doesn't like you.

Daryl can hear his brother's voice mingling with his own regrets. Ya' gon' chase after her, lil' bro? Always liked the sweet ones, didnt'cha. Daryl decidedly ignores the cacophony of voices weaving in with his own, and, after a moment of silence, asks you this, "What were ya' up to with that Spencer guy?" His voice is rough and smoky, thick with contempt and disapproval as his tone drawls straight out of his chest. You wonder what he's thinking.

"We were just talking. Super annoying guy, wants to go on a run with me but if I ever said yes I think I'd die of boredom,"

Daryl's eyes seemed to widen at your statement as they disprove his former worries. "You got nothing to worry about, Daryl," you chuckle.

"Stop," he teases, lightly punching you on the arm. He's smiling at the ground, and at the same time, failing at hiding it from you. How much you loved that pretty smile of his, the one that was reserved just for you.

A week goes by of the same thing happening over and over again. Spencer stops you in the street, engages you in some dull exchange, and Daryl watches you with hawk eyes and razor-sharp scorn. It took him this long to realise that what he was feeling whenever you so much as spoke to another man was jealousy. He couldn't take much more of this, watching and internally combusting at the way Spencer was looking at you. It's time he got the message.

On the particular day that Daryl decided to drill it into Spencer's brain, he was stood next to you outside your shared home as he watched him stride down the concrete sidewalk. What a dick, he thought, loathing those perfect curls and arrogant saunter. Not that he stood a chance, anyway.

"Hey, Y/N!" he called out, with that dumb smile plastered across his face as usual.

"Hey, Spencer," you said, with a quiet sigh. You turned your gaze over to Daryl surreptitiously giving him a look that said 'sorry'.

"Y'know, I was thinking, the weather's perfect today for that run I mentioned," he was right, the weather was perfect, and the last thing you wanted was to spoil a perfect day by spending it in Spencer's company.

"That sounds great, but I actually already have plans today with Daryl," you mustered a fake frown and gestured to the man by your side. That was partly a lie, you didn't have any plans except maybe just laze around and chat with your best friend.

"Come on, Y/N, fall's nearly here and you know we won't get blue skies like this for months!" Spencer announced. Your brows furrowed and you were starting to have enough of being bothered by this guy. Luckily, the hunter by your side knew how to handle him.

"Listen man, she dun' wanna go with ya'. Jus' leave it alone," he said sternly. Daryl straightened up and approached the tall man, ready for conflict, knowing that if it came to it, he could beat this guy's petty ass into the ground.

"Oh really? Why don't you let the girl speak for herself? Do you wanna come, Y/N?" he asked. You pursed your lips, smirking and searching for Daryl's eyes letting him do the talking. You sure were enjoying him standing up for you.

"Nah. She don't. Now leave her alone," he drawled, fists clenching and eyes narrowing as his gaze fixed on his features, imagining how satisfying it would be to break that perfect nose of his.

"You know what?" Spencer looks side-to-side before bringing his fists up and landing a blow that Daryl conveniently dodges. If there's one thing that Daryl is best at, it's being observant. Knowing when someone's pissed off and predicting the exact moment that they'll pick a fight.

Before you can react, Daryl scoffs and nearly knocks Spencer's jaw right out of place, the blow so hard that he falls backwards and lands on the curb.

"Shit, Daryl... you knocked his fucking tooth out," you mumble, leaning over Spencer's figure on the ground in an attempt to hide your smirk at the way he was being so protective over you. Blood stains Daryl's knuckles and Spencer's lips as you suggest taking him to the infirmary. There is deafening silence as you stumble over to the makeshift hospital with one of his arms wrapped around both of your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the day in your bedroom trying to distract yourself from the earlier events. You weren't sure if Daryl was avoiding you or checking up on Spencer in the infirmary. Either way, you couldn't get your mind off the way Daryl had defended you earlier that day, even if his actions were a little aggressive. You found it undeniably attractive, and part of you wanted to hear him explain himself to you. Has he always felt this... possessive? Was he... jealous?

Placing your book down on the nightstand, you stand up to get a glass of water and notice a little piece of paper that had been slid under your door. You pick it up and open it without consideration, and immediately recognise the messy scrawl to be Daryl's.

Y/N,

I'm sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass you earlier. That prick got what he had coming, but if you don't wanna speak to me, I get it. There's just something you gotta know. I love you. I have for a long time, and I should've said it sooner. I'm thinking it might be a little late now, but, I just needed you to know. I really love you, Y/N. I'm sorry.

-Daryl

You audibly gasp at his sweet little note, and suddenly feel a pang of guilt for making him feel as if you didn't want to speak to him. Taking another look at the letter, you admire his handwriting for a moment. The way his capitals mingle with the lowercases, the way his 'S' is just a tiny sliver of black ink on the thin paper, and the way he signs his name so handsomely at the end. This might have been the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for you, you think. You race out of your bedroom and down the stairs to Daryl's basement, his most likely hiding place, you figured. Unsure of what to say to him, you knock on the door, just eager to hear his voice.

The door opens and you two just stare at each other like idiots in love, a wide smile plastered across your face as you hold up the piece of paper in the air. "Uhh- sorry," Daryl says softly, also unsure of how to continue.

"Daryl, it's fine- um," you stare at your shoes, searching for something to say. Though words are lacking, the air is not awkward, but warm with anticipation. "Is this because of Spencer? 'Cause if it is, I'm really sorry if I let that go on too long, and I'm sorry you had to.. step in, earlier," you sighed, meeting those blue eyes of his.

"No, no, dun' be sorry. I just.. didn't like the way he was looking at ya'," he drawls, maintaining eye contact.

"So you were jealous?" you dare to ask, your tone laced with the smirk painted on your lips.

"Pretty much, yeah," he gestures to the note in your hand. After a moment of silence, the tension is thick and it occurs to you that there is only one way to break it.

You step a little closer to him, interlacing your hand with his as he rests in the doorway, dropping the note on the floor. He's still gazing at you, now with a little smirk painting the curve of his thin lips. You lean into him, taking your free hand and placing it on his cheek and filling the distance between you. God, he's so beautiful. Before he returns the kiss, he traces a calloused thumb over your soft lips, so gently that you find it hard to believe that this is the same man that defended you with such hostility earlier that day. He closes the inch of distance between you and kisses you softly, one hand resting on the curve of your right hip and the other finding your nape underneath a bundle of your soft hair. You return the sweet kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your tongue in his mouth and picking up notes of cigarette smoke and evergreen forest.

You pull away, only briefly, resting your forehead against his and panting quietly. "Daryl, the note.. I think- I think I love you too,"

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 1 year ago

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close to home | chapter twelve

plot: the reader goes through the motions of her daily life in the prison after the attack while hunting with Daryl

series masterlist Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,206 Warnings: violence, blood A/N: thanks for reading!

Daryl was frustrated the entire drive home. He white-knuckled the steering wheel the entire way home and immediately sent you to Hershel for a second opinion on your not needing stitching. He dropped off today’s game to the butchering team and then went to smoke a cigarette. His peace didn’t last long before Glenn found him to start prepping for the run today.

He fisted his hand and took a long drag of the cigarette before putting it out and following Glenn to the run group. Today it would be a few people on a quick run to an army camp, and he was hoping to be back before sundown. He didn’t necessarily want to go on the run, but he didn’t have a choice either.

Meanwhile, after you and your uncle shared a laugh over Daryl wanting him to check you for stitches, you found Maggie outside with Beth and Judith, eating lunch. You ruffled your youngest cousin's hair before grabbing your plate and sitting with them. It was your first actual meal of the day, and you were starving.

“What happened to your arm?” Beth asked you.

You glanced at it before taking a bit of your food. “Daryl and I got jumped while checking the hunting grounds. We’re fine. I got a small cut.”

“You okay?” Maggie asked.

You nodded with a smile, “Didn’t even need stitches. What’s on the agenda after lunch today?” You asked.

Maggie raised an eyebrow, and you didn’t need her to answer your question. You already knew. But she did anyway. “The fence.”

***

The new few hours were strenuous, and you and Maggie worked with a few others to work on one of the clusters. You spent a few hours working out there, only stopping for water.

You thought of Daryl often; you wondered if the run was going well and if everything was okay. He seemed agitated the entire way home earlier, and you worried that it would cost him out there. You tried not to worry about your friend too much. You felt better knowing that Michonne was there to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

When the sun started slipping behind the trees, and a decent amount of walkers were killed through the fence, you and Maggie called it quits for the night and went inside to wash up for dinner. Tora joined you in the bathroom quarters while you took advantage of running water and took your second shower of the day. You have to ration your soap, but it was worth it after the day you had.

Once you were dried and in clean clothes, you and Maggie grabbed dinner and took it to the guard tower that isn’t used for watch to eat.

“I got my period,” Maggie said once you settled.

Your eyes widened, and you nodded, sipping a bit of water. “How do you feel about that?” She had told you a few days ago she and Glenn were going through a pregnancy scare.

She shrugged and played around with her food. “Relieved a bit, I think. I know Glenn will be. But I think I’m a little disappointed, in a way.” When you raised an eyebrow at her, she continued. “I’m not sayin’ I wanna start trying or nothing, but what we have here, the prison… we can have lives here. I know it won’t be a perfect place, and it scares me to death, but aren’t we supposed to be fighting for a better world here?”

“I don’t know, Maggie,” You said, “I don’t know what the right thing is. I think you’re too young, though, I can tell you that. If I ain’t ready, you ain’t.” Your attempt to lighten her mood worked, and she laughed.

“Trust me, I was thinking about that as well.”

You talked for a bit longer as you ate and then sat for a little while. When the sun fully set and nighttime fell, exhaustion finally hit you, and you two decided to head down and get some rest. Just as you were doing so, the run group returned. You followed Maggie to make sure everything went okay with the group.

“We lost Zach,” Glenn told the two of you in hushed voices while everyone else unloaded the few things they did manage to grab. “The was a helicopter on the roof with a bunch of walkers…. It all came down…” Glenn trailed off. Maggie’s expression softened, and she told him she’d help him get cleaned up.

“Oh (Y/N), Daryl was there when it happened. He wants to be the one to tell Beth, but I think he’ll need checking on, too,” Glenn told you.

Maggie told you she would check on Beth while you made sure Daryl was okay. By the time your conversation had finished, the run group was already gone and only a few watch groups were out.

You let out a loud sigh and walked into your cell block, grabbing a few stored-away food items and some water for Daryl. You were ready for bed, but you wanted to check on your friend.

The cell block was quiet. Most of your group were tucked away in their cells for the night. When you passed Carl’s cell, Tora was sitting on his lap while he read comic books. He didn’t notice you chuckle, and you walked away before he could. You did love the fact that she’d taken to him. The poor kid had gone through so much, and you knew how much a friend like a cat could help.

The stairs were the worst part of your journey, and your legs ached when you reached the top. You had moved cell blocks once Rick accepted you as part of the group, and you had made the cell your own space. After having Tyreese help you remove the metal beds, you bribed Michonne into helping you find a full-size mattress. Sure, there was no frame, but you preferred it that way anyway.

Daryl finally moved from the perch into a cell room and took the one next to yours. Sometimes if the block was quiet enough, you could hear him snoring. That was how you always knew if he was sleeping or not.

You knocked on the wall next to the curtain that was his door, “Daryl, brought you dinner,” You said.

“Ain’ hungry,”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m coming in,”

Daryl muttered something under his breath, but you ignored whatever comment it was and walked in. He was sitting on his bed, sharpening his knife. Exhaustion was written across his face.

“I heard about Zach,” You said, sitting at the end of the bed and giving him his food. “How are you holding up?”

He ignored you and continued sharpening his knife. You sighed and moved to stand up. As much as you wanted to make sure he was okay, you didn’t want to pressure him into talking about it.

You left with a soft goodbye and went to your cell, where Tora was waiting. You smiled, quickly changed into sleeping clothes, and then curled up into bed with her.

#daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #the walking dead

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heavenlyakin · 2 years ago

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Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader

Here's a little late Valentine's Day fic! Minors DNI.

Genre: mild angst, fluff, and smut (the holy trinity!) oh and a little comedy

Warnings: some light couple fighting/bickering, cunnilingus, fem reader.

Word count: 2.6k

Atsumu nearly loses it as you clench around him, body writhing beneath his. Your eyes flutter shut and your mouth parts open to let out another breathless moan. He fights back every urge he has to bust in you now, not wanting to end the pleasure for either of you.

“Tsumu,” you whine, your eyes opening, glossy with love and lust.

He can’t take it anymore. There’s nothing he can do to stop himself. He cums deep inside you with a final thrust, his breath catching and then a groan escaping. He opens his eyes to look at you, but you start to fade from view.

Atsumu wakes up abruptly, jerking his arms and sitting up. His forehead drips sweat as he shakes his head. Another wet dream, he realizes. Flipping the covers off him, he sees he’s made a mess of himself again. He flops back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you’d just come home already.

Looking over at his alarm clock, he sees it’s 3:34 am, just after lunchtime for you on the east coast of the United States. He never imagined you’d go no contact while visiting family back home, but he also never imagined you’d have such a detrimental fight just hours before your flight.

–

2 Weeks Prior

“That’s really close to Valentine’s day, right?”Atsumu asks you, peering over from the couch. You’re surprised to see he’s looked up from the volleyball game he put on half an hour ago.

“Yeah, I’ll get back here on the 14th, actually.” You tell him, drying the final plate and putting it away in the cabinet.

When you look back at Atsumu you see he’s frowning.

“Look, I didn’t buy the ticket. If you have an issue with it, take it up with my dad.” You walk over, sitting down beside him on the sofa.

He wraps his arm around you and you lean into him, curling up on the sofa beside him. His fingers lazily stroke your arm as you sit with him in silence. He’s watching the Argentinian team again, the one you can never remember the name of. All you do know is that one of the players is from Japan and going to be playing in the upcoming Olympics against Atsumu this summer. You assume he’s keeping tabs on him.

“What if you didn’t go? I’ll pay to change your flights so you go after Valentine’s day and once practices pick up and I’m not home as often. I-”

“Atsumu, why don’t you want me to go home?” You snap, sitting up and moving his arm off your shoulder. “I haven’t been home in over a year and missed Christmas with them.”

“Baby that’s not-”

“No, it is. You’ve been whining about this trip since my dad booked the flight.” You stand up, storming out of the room and to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Atsumu has never made a big deal about Valentine’s day before, given you’ve spent two previous together you didn’t think it would be bad getting in on that day. Sure, you’ll be jetlagged and exhausted, but you’d still be able to go out if he wanted to, but last year you had takeout in your pajamas after a particularly long practice. Why would it be any different, especially since his prep for the Olympics has already been so intense, and will only begin to pick up more?

Either way, he’s not getting his way this time. It's not like you’re keeping score, but you tend to give in to his wants more now that you’ve moved in together, even sacrificing Christmas with your family to spend it with his family and meet Osamu's baby. How does he not understand that you just need a few weeks to spend with your family as well?

You grab your suitcase from the closet and begin to fill it, rather haphazardly. You’re more productive when you’re worked up, anyways so you might as well use the energy. Plus you leave tomorrow night, it’s not like you have too much longer to get your stuff together.

A light rasping knock draws your attention to the bedroom door. “Baby, I’m sorry, I just am going to miss you is all.” He says opening the door and leaning on the frame, looking rather defeated.

“It’s fine,” you tell him, going back to packing your bag. “I just need some time to pack and then sleep before the trip tomorrow.” Atusumu looks defeated but smiles anyways and leaves the room.

Even though it’s clear he feels terrible about pestering you, it’s too late now for your attitude to shift. It’s not like you enjoy your sudden shift in mood, but once you're feeling foul there isn’t much you or anyone else can do about changing it. Overall, it’s just better to let you ride it out.

–

Your nails bite into your palm as the plane starts to land. Flying has always been fine, but the landing has always made you nervous, mainly because you hatehow it makes you bounce around. Luckily, you didn’t have anyone beside you for the flight back home to Japan, so you have been comfortable for the long journey.

You find yourself picturing Atsumu fighting the airport traffic, cursing and threatening to honk at the people in front of him. Usually, he’s the one at fault, but you’ve learned to just let him rant and rave since he never actually makes a fool of himself to others… just threatens it.

The next half hour goes by in a flash, it’s grabbing carry-ons, waiting in line, and fighting for bags at baggage claim. Next thing you know, your phone is buzzing with Atsumu’s picture as he calls you.

“Hi baby,” you answer softly, but loud enough to be heard over the airport chaos.

“I’m right outside your terminal. Are you already off the plane?” He asks, not sounding as excited as you expected him to be.

“Yeah, I just grabbed my bags.” You tell him.

“Alright.” He’s in a mood, you assume. He’s rarely this short with you.

Okay, I’ll be there soon.” You hang up as you head towards the exit doors.

You see his car before you’re out of the doors. He managed to get a good spot right up front. Dragging your suitcases behind you, you manage to make it to the car without pulling anything. You’d only brought a carry-on home, but your parents had gone overboard to make up for your missing Christmas, you had to pay for two checked bags to bring back.

Atsumu jogs towards you, taking the bags from you and loading them into the car, silently. He smiled, but that’s the most affection you received from him. You slide into the passenger seat, pulling out your phone, and scrolling to find some pictures to show Atsumu on the drive home and tell him about your trip. He hadn’t texted you much during the time you were away, so you assumed it was because he was so busy with practices so you didn’t bother calling or texting him more either.

Atsumu gets in the driver’s seat and starts to take off. “Want to see some of the pictures from my trip?” You wave your phone around smiling. “Everyone missed you this time.”

“Everyone?” He side-eyes you, and you frown.

“What’s up your ass?” You ask, putting your phone away in your pocket. “I thought you’d be excited to see me.”

He sighs, gripping the steering wheel harder. “You texted me twice, in two weeks. You never called. You were angry when you left. So, sorry if I’m not the Mr. Sunshine you expected.”

“You’re seriously mad at me?” you almost laugh but decide it’s better if you don’t. It’ll probably only antagonize him more. “You could have texted or called me, but you didn’t.”

He looks over, his brows furrowed. Opening his mouth, it looks like he’s about to speak but then he closes it again, deciding against whatever he was going to say.

“Happy fucking Valentine's Day.” You sigh, leaning against the door of the car, looking out at the city as it passes you by.

The rest of the car ride home is deadly silent. Neither of you even bothered to put on the radio or Spotify. It’s awkward but you refuse to give an inch and apparently, Atsumu feels the same way. You sneak a glance at him as you pull into the parking garage of your apartment, seeing he looks exhausted. How hadn’t you noticed that before?

Maybe you should give in, you think to yourself. Before you left you had been snippy with him, even if you felt like he was trying to get you to not visit home. It’s stupid, how high your temper can run without stopping over little things like silly comments. You hadn’t even thought about it while you were gone, only focused on visiting and getting back here; home.

Atsumu parks the car, and you look over at him again. His knuckles are still white from gripping the steering wheel.

“Let’s not fight anymore.” You suggest softly, knowing his stubbornness won’t let him give in. This could be worse than the Cold War if you let it continue.

He sighs, his hand reaching up to his forehead. He runs his fingers through his blonde hair, pushing it back from his face. “It’s been hell. These last two weeks, absolutely agonizing.” He admits, leaning back against the seat and looking over at you.

“I’m sorry, Tsumu, I didn’t know.” You tell him, reaching out and taking his hand.

“Wanna know something funny, though?” He smiles, the silly grin you love so much.

“Sure,” you squeeze his hand softly.

“I kept dreaming about fucking you, I couldn’t get it out of my head.” He laughs, tilting his head back and looking at the roof of the car. “God, I even came a few times in my sleep. Can you believe it?”

“Oh god,” you laugh with him, imagining the way he must have been mortified waking up to that not only once, but a few times. “Maybe we can make up for it after dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?” He looks confused as you nod.

“It’s still Valentine’s day. It’s not too late for us to get ready and go out. I can be fast,” you open the door and get out of the car.

Atsume follows, popping the trunk and getting your luggage from the car. You're quiet again as you take the elevator up to the apartment, but not the awkward kind as you rode in during the trip home. You hold his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder when you can until you’re out of the elevator and making your way to the apartment.

The next bit is a rush, playing out in front of you like it’s not real. Maybe it’s jetlag? You had just traveled for upwards of 18 hours. Or it’s the rush of knowing after weeks you’re finally going to sleep with your boyfriend again? Not even the dirty kind, just the excitement of sharing a bed, your bed, is exciting after weeks of sleeping in the guestroom of your parent's house.

After your shower, you dress in an emerald green dress that has a golden sheen to the fabric. Underneath, you made sure to pick out Atusmu’s favorite pair of lingerie underneath a honey gold set with thigh straps attached to the thong.

“Holy shit,” Atsumu leans against the door frame of the bathroom as you’re applying your last coat of mascara.

You smile sweetly, turning to look at him. He’s dressed in navy blue slacks and a cream button-up shirt. “I’m ready to go.”

Atsumu pulls you by your hand into him, wrapping his other arm around you. “I’m not.”

He kisses you, pulling you closer against him so you’re flush with his body. Your dress rides up in his hand, exposing your ass. He smacks it once, making you yelp against his lips. He laughs deeply.

“There’s no way we’re making it out tonight.” He mumbles, his voice gruff.

You giggle as he pulls away, pulling you with him and pushing you against the bed. Your dress has now risen above your pelvis, bunched up underneath and around you. Atsumu takes one look and groans, smiling wildly at you.

“You fucking angel,” he drops to his knees in front of you. He licks you over the fabric of your thong, sending shivers down your spine in anticipation. “Would it be stupid if I told you you taste sweeter than honey?”

You laugh, sitting up on your elbows. “Yeah, a little. But I like it.”

He grins at you from between your thighs. His tongue pokes out again, slowly circling the fabric over your clit. The teasing pressure is too much, you want his tongue on you. Whining, you push yourself closer to the edge of the bed and he pulls back.

“Ah ah ah, no rushing this. I’ve literally been dreaming of it for weeks.” He says after pulling away and lying his face on your thigh. He looks ungodly pretty like this, and you hate him for it.

“Please, Atsumu I need you.” You whine, pouting your lip out.

He grins again. He loves seeing you beg, even when it’s as half-assed as that. You can’t be expected to give more though, after all the day is starting to wear on you.

He pulls the thong aside and drags his finger down your cunt, covering it in your wetness. “Fuck, you’re so needy.”

You nod, closing your eyes and letting yourself fall back against the bed. As you bounce lightly against the mattress, Atsumu takes advantage, pressing his tongue against your clit. You moan, gripping the sheets and forcing yourself to stay still.

He sucks lightly, sending waves of pleasure from your spine to your toes.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, eyes fluttering open to watch him as he eats you out. He doesn't notice, too lost in you to care about what else is going on. His tongue slides down, teasing your entrance when you feel his fingers slip in.

The stretch overwhelms you. You can't keep your eyes open now, closing them tight as he starts to finger fuck you while sucking your clit again.

“Tsumu, of god,” you mumble out with moans traced between words and syllables.

Gripping the bedding harder, you fight back the overwhelming urge to cum now. You hadn’t even masturbated while you were gone, and now it’s so much at once you’re struggling to stay afloat. Atsumu must know, the way he flicks his tongue and twists his fingers in sync sends you over and you cry out. Cumming you can’t help but arch your back and press your cunt further against Atsumu’s pretty face.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant quietly, trying to regain some composure after the waves of pleasure start to roll off you.

“Oh, Angel, you barely lasted five minutes.” He crawls on top of you, his face shiny from being between your thighs. He kisses you softly on the lips.

“Who can blame me?” You laugh, taking his face in your hands. You kiss him again, closing your eyes and feeling the exhaustion taking over your body. “I doubt you’ll last much longer.”

You push him off you, flipping positions.

You pray he cums quickly as you pull his pants down his thighs. Not for any normal reasons but you’re not sure you can stay awake much longer. The eager look on his face suggests you might not have to.

#🍃.writing #atsumu miya smut #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut

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