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number1mingyustan · 7 months ago

Note

hihi !! I love your fics sm. <3

If you're taking requests can you do Mingyu as a biker bf? What if you wanna learn how to ride a bike and he says "you should practice on the biker first." OMFGGG IM CRAZY. Love you

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, cursing, kissing, explicit smut, oral (f+m), sixty-nine, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, light breast play, multiple orgasms

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Mingyu nibbles on his bottom lip as his eyes remain fixated on the easel in front of him. He's concentrating, hand moving slowly as he drags the brush along the canvas.

You smile to yourself, feeling your heart warm at the sight of him.

Painting is not his thing.

Even with all the effort he seems to be putting into his painting, his lines are crooked and a little messy. He knows this too, he's never really been one for the arts.

Painting is one of your hobbies and always has been. You're more of the artistic type and Mingyu well... Mingyu likes his bikes. He's got more of a grunge sort of vibe that consists of leather jackets, obnoxious motorcycles, and cigarettes.

You were polar opposites. You preferred your quiet life in the arts, sundresses, walks in flower fields, and painting. You've noticed the way he's softened up since you two met, you're sure it's the effect you've had on him.

He sticks his tongue out, drawing his last two strokes before dropping the paintbrush into the cup. "Done."

You turn your head, completely facing him. You eyes scan over the painting in front of him and your smile grows. "Gyu you've gotten so good at this."

He grins at the praise. "Learned from the best."

The painting in front of him is simple, a landscape of a beach sunset. There's not nearly as much detail as the reference photo in front of you two, but it's undeniably solid work, especially for a beginner like your boyfriend.

He leans over, planting a kiss onto your cheek. His eyes can't help but drift to your painting as he does so.

"Oh wow," His jaw slacks open.

He admires your painting. Even though the two of you painted the same thing, yours is exponentially better. He loves how talented you are, and you never fail to impress him.

________________

When Mingyu comes home the next evening, he expects to see you. You're usually in the living room or the bedroom. He searches the house for you, checking every room to no avail.

He frowns. He saw your car parked out front, so he knows you're here.

A loud sound suddenly catches his attention. He makes his way toward the source of the sound, walking downstairs into the garage.

"Fuck!" You exclaim, racing to the aid of the bike.

You struggle to hold the heavy vehicle up as it remains tilted inside the garage. Your boyfriend saves the day, rushing to your side and helping you to lift the bike up to its proper stature.

"Sorry," You apologize quickly. "I swear I was being careful!"

Your words are muffled. He looks at you with confusion written over his face. You're wearing black leggings and a tight-fitting black zip up. It's unusual attire for you.

Not to mention his entirely large helmet is covering your head.

"What are you doing?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I wanna learn how to ride it," You say.

"What?" He asks.

You pull the oversized helmet off of your head and place it under your arm. You huff out.

"I wanna learn how to ride it," You move your hair out of your face. "I was trying to surprise you."

"You hate bikes, babe," He lets out a breathy laugh, taking the helmet out of your hands.

"I've had a change of heart," You insist.

He raises an eyebrow. "Why so suddenly?"

"Well... I don't know. When we were painting it made me realize how much you've embraced my hobbies and stuff. I wanna embrace the stuff you like too," You explain. "So teach me.... please?"

Oh you're adorable, He thinks to himself.

"That's very sweet Y/n," He grins. "But it's okay."

You cross your arms over your body. "But.."

"If you really wanna get into my hobbies, we can find another one baby," He kisses your forehead. "But taking my bike is extremely dangerous and it's probably good that I caught you."

"I know," You say.

You lean against the bike, staring at the vehicle with a glint of sadness behind your eyes. You trace your fingers along the metal of the bike, admiring your boyfriend's precious vehicle.

He places the helmet down. "You know, if you wanna learn that bad, you should practice on the biker first."

It takes a second for his words to settle into your brain. You lean against the bike and raise an eyebrow. "Gyu?"

He walks closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you in close. You can feel his breath fanning over your skin, causing goosebumps to raise. His lips press against the shell of your ear.

"Come upstairs," He whispers against your ear. "I'll teach you whatever you want to know."

You intertwine your fingers with his. He pulls your body back into the house and leads you upstairs.

"You're so cute," He smiles. He presses his lips to yours. "I love doing the things you love.... love you." He says between kisses.

He lifts you up and carries you into his bedroom. He places your body down on the bed and pulls off his shirt. His toned body is exposed, muscles bulging beneath his warm skin as he looks at you with hungry eyes.

His back meets the bed with a small thump and he pulls your body on top of him. Your hips meet his and he lets out a soft groan. You pull off your own shirt and drop it onto the ground. You grind against his hips slowly. He unzips your jacket and pulls it off your body.

His hand snakes around the back of your neck and he pulls you into a passionate kiss. He moans against your lips as you continue to grind against his hardening cock.

You can feel him growing beneath you. His cock swells in the confines of his jeans, causing you to moan as you grind down on his growing length. Heat rushes between your thighs and the aching need for pleasure grows in your body.

You pull away from the heated kiss and sit up. You pull your shirt over your head and Mingyu sits up too. He kisses up your stomach and continues to grind against you needily as you unhook your bra. You let it fall and his lips immediately travel to your breasts.

He holds you by your hips as his lips wrap around your nipple. He sucks on your skin, ensuring to give both your breasts the same amount of attention. Your skin burns at the feeling of his touch. Be it his lips on your chest or his hands on your waist, it ignites something in you.

But as much as you love it, you quickly grow impatient. You lift your hips and pull your underwear and leggings off in one go. You toss them and start undoing Mingyu's black jeans.

"C'mre," He says, pulling at your legs.

He lifts your legs and flips you over so he can taste you. He wraps your legs around his head and immediately starts sucking on your clit.

"Fuck.." You moan out.

Your grip on his jeans quickly grows weak as pleasure clouds your senses. You try to undo the buttons, but the feeling of his tongue on you is highly distracting.

He sucks on your clit, occasionally lapping his tongue through your folds. The pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach quickly. You're finding it difficult to do anything, squirming and grinding against his face.

He holds his hands on either side of your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. He moans against you, nearly enjoying it almost as much as you are.

You finally get him undressed and return the favor. You take his hard cock in your hand, stroking his length and spreading the precum from his leaking tip.

He moans against you again, allowing his eyes to fall shut as relief washes over him. He keeps his focus on you, pushing two of his fingers into your soaked hole.

You take his cock into your mouth, moaning around his length as you feel his fingers fill you up. He sucks your clit and his digits pump into you, and the vibrations from his moaning quickly have you nearing the edge.

His cock repeatedly hits the back of your throat as you stroke his length, bobbing your head to make him feel equally as good as you do.

You find down against his face with little to no coordination. Your hips move desperately, chasing your incoming orgasm as your saliva coats the entire length of his cock.

He curls his fingers into you and pumps them at a faster pace. His face is coated with your arousal and he slurps it up gladly, wrapping his lips around your clit and circling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You lift your head, crying out as your orgasm overwhelms you. You grind against his face and fingers as you cum, continuing to drip onto his face.

"Hah-shit," You moan out.

His cock still remains in the grip of your hand, leaking more precum as he tastes you on his tongue.

When you come down from your high, his hands are quickly on your body. He pulls your body flush against his, kissing you sloppily and needily.

He is so obsessed with you and everything about you. His hands wander along your skin, tracing over every inch of your body gently. He lays on his back, pulling you back on top of him without breaking the kiss.

You're the one to pull away, lifting your hips on his lap. He leans back, allowing you to take over.

You sink down onto his length, groaning at the stretch of his cock. He holds you by the hips, guiding you down on his cock. The warmth of your pussy envelopes him perfectly, dripping down his length as you accommodate his length.

"So good baby," He moans.

Your eyes are screwed shut as you sink down, only tightening as he fills you up bit by bit. You gasp out once your hips meet, feeling the entirety of his length inside of you.

"Fuck...holy fuck–" You grip the bedsheets.

You start moving your hips slowly, still getting used to the feeling of fullness. He's patient with you, guiding your hips with soft hands and gentle movements.

You start to pick up a steady rhythm, lifting your hips and sinking down onto his length. You roll your hips with each movement, allowing his cock to fill you up and reach deep into you.

It feels so fucking good.

He watches you with love and lust clouding his eyes. His gaze is locked in on you, admiring how beautiful you look right now. Your mouth hangs open as loud moans pass through your lips.

Your body is dripping with sweat and your tits are bouncing in his face every time you lift your hips and sink back down onto his length. The stretch of pussy is addictive, sending waves of pleasure through his cock and entire body.

He sits up, resting his hand on the small of your back. Your hands wrap around his back, nails digging into his skin as your chests press together.

He lifts his hips, matching your pace as he fucks himself into you. You cry out, lips pressed against his shoulder. The feeling is intense and addictive and incredibly intimate.

His cheeks are flushed red and sweat glistens down his face and abs. His hair falls perfectly on his face and you can't help but admire him. His mouth remains in a small 'O' shape, allowing small moans and grunts and groans of pleasure to ring in your ears.

"Fuck baby," He moans. "I'm close."

His head tilts back, exposing his adam's apple to your line of sight. He continues to thrust into you, cock pressing against the sweet spot deep inside of you with every movement of his hips.

"Hah-me too," You pant.

The pleasure continues to grow, eventually overwhelming your entire body. You cry out and your body falls limp against him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, moaning and breathing heavily as you cum around his cock.

Your pussy throbs, tightening around his length and bringing about his own orgasm. His hips still and his cock swells as he fills you with his load.

He lets out a long groan as he pumps his load into you. Your chests rise and fall in unison as you breathe heavily and come down from your orgasms. You lift your head and cup his cheeks with your soft hands.

His vision clears and his eyes meet yours. He flashes you a grin. "Hi baby."

You return his expression with a shy smile. "Hi Gyu."

He presses his forehead against yours and plants a kiss on your lips. "I love you, pretty girl."

"Love you more," You grin.

"Impossible," He smiles.

His hands hold your hips as he lifts you up. You wince at the emptiness and and lays you down on the bed. He presses a kiss onto your bellybutton and stands to his feet.

He disappears into the bathroom and you hear the bathwater running. He comes back a few minutes later and picks you up bridal style. You wrap your arms around him happily and he carries you to the tub. He slips into the warm water behind you, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder and back.

"Baby," he says.

"Hmm?" You quirk up.

"We can take a ride tonight if you want, on the bike," He proposes. "Together."

You perk up. "Really?"

"Yeah, but you can't be scared," He grins.

"I'm not!"

He kisses your shoulder. "Okay baby, whatever you say. Just hold onto me tight and I won't let you fall and teach your a few things. Sound good?"

You tilts your head all the way back so your eyes meet his. You smile. "Okay. I love you Gyu."

"I love you too."

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#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen drabbles #mingyu smut #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #kpop

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laurfilijames · 5 months ago

Text

Breathe

Part 6

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 5.4K

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Unprotected intercourse. Oral sex (female receiving). ANGST. Oh the angst. Mentions of war and deployment.

Summary: Will starts to distance himself from you to the point of being unable to mend things and tension rises between the Miller brothers over his actions.

A/N: No notes. Just tears. GIF by the amazing and generous @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler and beautiful banners by the loveliest and most supportive @spaghettificationandpretzels who also was my sounding board for my ideas and maniacal mood swings while writing this 💗💗

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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“What if I hurt her, Ben?”

“You won't.”

“If she was in that bed with me last night-”

“You won't.” Benny insisted, cutting Will off before he could continue, sending his older brother a concerned, but stern glance as he turned around after filling his mug with coffee.

Will sighed and looked down at his feet, clenching his teeth together as the same thoughts that hadn't left him since last night continued to occupy his mind.

“It was so real, man…”

“I can imagine!” Benny sympathized, his eyebrows raising on his forehead, silently assessing his brother who he'd only seen that distraught once or twice before. “But you're not going to hurt her. That,” he emphasized, referring to Will’s nightmare, “isn't going to happen.”

Will puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled again, looking out the kitchen window where the early morning sun was casting a yellow glow over the room, hoping Benny was right, but not feeling convinced.

“Are you seeing her today?”

Will pursed his lips and nodded, looking over at Benny who stared at him over the rim of his mug as he took a long sip, waiting for a proper response.

“Yeah, I'm going to her place tonight.”

Benny shook his head up and down as he swallowed his coffee, appearing pleased with that answer.

“Good, that's good. We’ll have a hard session at the gym and hopefully that'll help you sleep better, too.”

“Yeah, you're right. Thanks, man,” Will smiled, feeling slightly guilty that he knew he wasn't going to sleep or feel better about this anytime soon, watching Benny light up and start excitedly going on about their training after Will’s convincing lie.

After refilling his cup of coffee, Will pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat, staring blankly at the black beverage steaming in his mug, tuning out whatever else Benny was saying, the exhaustion he felt from not sleeping the rest of the night and the pure panic that hadn’t truly left his veins making his whole body feel like lead in the wooden seat.

He wondered exactly how he would even manage to get through a workout, but knew with his tour coming up he’d have to keep training, and as he was always used to doing, he would push through even the toughest days.

Will picked his phone up off the table, checking it again to see if you had text, wondering if he should send one now, or wait until a bit later, or if he should just call you and risk you hearing that something wasn’t right in the tone of his voice.

He tossed it carelessly, sighing as he picked up his mug and took a drink from it, setting it down and then grabbing his phone again, spinning it in his hand indecisively.

Will roughly rubbed his hands over his eyes after he parked his truck in your driveway, exhaling deeply before finding the strength to get out and walk to the door, his workout draining him even more than he already had been. It temporarily gave him hope that being that tired would result in him actually sleeping, but the feeling in his stomach reminded him how anxious he still felt about his nightmare and that it was something his mind wasn’t going to simply let him forget.

For a moment it was all whisked away, seeing your face as you opened the door before he even had the opportunity to knock, your smile immediately making one appear on his own lips.

“Hey!” you greeted enthusiastically, your presence bringing him some calm as soon as you wrapped your arms around his torso and hugged him.

Will placed his lips against your head, inhaling your scent and pressing a light kiss as he squeezed you back, the relief to have you in his arms mixing with the now persistent fear that he was capable of hurting you.

“How was your day?” you asked, peeling away from him slightly to look at him.

“Good,” he lied, nodding and hoping he didn’t look half as weary as he felt. “What about you?”

“It was good,” you smiled. “Better now.”

Will chuckled and followed you inside, kicking his boots off before following you further in and through to the living room.

“Are you hungry?”

“Hmm, no, I’m good, thanks.” Will declined, seeing a quizzical expression draw over your features.

“Okay…are you not staying the night?” you asked, finally noticing he came with just himself, no bag with a change of clothes or toothbrush.

“Uh, no…” he confirmed through a sigh, feeling guilty about it already. “I gotta be up early, something for work. It’s looking like I’m going to start getting back into things soon,” he lied, omitting the fact that he was already cleared and scheduled for duty in a matter of weeks.

You smiled despite feeling a slight sense of disappointment. “Well, I’m glad I get you for a little bit at least. How are you feeling about going back?”

Will shrugged. “It’ll be good to have a purpose again, maybe it’ll make things feel normal…get me back to being who I was before I was the guy who choked someone out in the cereal aisle.”

His heart ached at how you were looking at him as he spoke, your expression so genuine and clearly caring about him and how he felt, making that sourness in his stomach amplify from his dishonesty.

“Yeah, I think so, too,” you spoke softly, your eyes bright as the smile on your lips met them. “I’m really happy for you, Will. This is great news.”

You reached for his hands which he let you take hold of, pulling him in for a sweet, slow kiss that grew deeper and harder with each second, a sense of relief flooding Will over the fact that he didn’t have to explain more or evade the truth.

He focused on your kiss, breathing you in as your hands began to roam each other’s bodies and clumsily tore at clothing, stumbling toward your bedroom where he hoped that for as long as he was inside you, he would forget about everything.

It was all a mix of slow and fast, Will constantly reminding himself to relax and breathe, all of his emotions toiling within him uncontrollably.

As eager as he felt to have all of you as much as he could, Will wanted to take his time, soaking up each moment with you while he had the chance, every touch and kiss one that he tried to imprint in his memory.

Will sat on the bed, looking up at you as you stood close to him between his legs, his hands gently running up the backs of your thighs to your bum.

You sighed out slowly and closed your eyes, feeling his fingers find the edge of your panties and start to tug them down your hips, his lips landing on your bare stomach where he kissed you over and over.

He breathed in, keeping his nose and lips pressed against you, able to smell your arousal as he slipped your thong down to your knees before letting go where they fell the rest of the way to the floor.

Dragging his face along the crest of your hip bones and further down to your groin, Will moaned, his fingers indenting your flesh instinctively, feeling himself relax when your hands smoothed over his tense shoulders and back, your touch everything he needed right now.

He pulled you onto the bed with him as he laid down, both of you resting on your sides where your leg fell over his, his arms embracing you while your foreheads touched, his hand cupping your cheek to keep you close to him.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, sensing something from him you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Hmm, yeah,” he responded, moving his head so your noses rubbed together.

You gave a quick kiss to his lips, testing the waters, only to have him pull your face hard into his, his tongue delving into your mouth desperately, his claim over you clear as he released his hand from your face and grabbed under your bum, pulling your core against him where he ground his hips into yours.

With what little space there was between your bodies, you reached down and found his cock straining through the thin cotton of his boxers, grabbing it and tugging it free before angling it down to the apex of your thighs where it nestled perfectly between your folds and began to grind on him.

“God, you feel so good, sweetheart,” he groaned, hardly able to believe it felt that incredible without even being inside you yet.

You squirmed against him, moving along his length as you breathed out slowly and closed your eyes, your mouth teasing his before slotting your lips together again. His beard was soft on your skin, but you knew with how eager you were to keep kissing him that your face would feel raw by the time you were sated, the taste of him too good to stop.

Moments passed with you just like this, kissing and teasing, indulging in the soft and slow that you seldom did, usually unable to stop yourselves from choosing a rough and fast pace.

A long whine came from you as his tip breached your entrance, pushing through and settling no more than an inch inside, the tease of it almost equally as satisfying as if he was buried completely in you.

His hands grabbed at your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, the stretch feeling so good you automatically brought your hips closer to his body, making his cock go deeper while you increased the fervor of your kiss.

Will groaned into your mouth as he shifted his body, moving at lay on top of you where his weight pressed you comfortably into the mattress, lifting his hips so his cock slid out before slowing forcing it back in again.

His fingers raked over the sides of your head, holding you securely and angling your face up to his, his tongue exploring your mouth wildly as his thrusts grew into a deep, purposeful rhythm.

The thought of never being able to do this with you again crossed his mind, wondering what the outcome of telling you he was leaving would be and if he would even make it back alive, dreading what he knew he would have to face sooner rather than later.

Trying to ignore that panic, he relished in the way your hands smoothed over his back, your touch so soft yet so meaningful it helped make everything more profound, and he vowed to put everything he had into making love to you.

There had been so many times already he had wanted to say it, to tell you he loved you, because fuck did he ever, but now he knew he couldn’t, wanting to protect you from him even more and what he feared he was capable of.

Each rolling thrust was met perfectly by you, your hips purling into his to take him deep, allowing him to drag out slowly before pressing back in, the rhythm addicting and working to send you both over the edge.

Your bed moved against the wall as he put more power behind his pace, moaning and breathing into your mouth desperately as he lost himself completely in you, feeling your hand search for his where you laced your fingers together and held onto it tightly, his grip squeezing as he brought your linked hands up beside your head.

Will knew you were on the brink, able to read your body on instinct and almost better than his own, feeling your breathing change and the pitch of your whines switch, your free hand leaving marks on his back as your movements became erratic.

He felt you tense, every muscle in your body that was wrapped around his straining through your pleasure, your walls choking his cock as a surge of wet lubricated his strokes.

Will kissed you harder, absorbing your cries until your body relaxed under him, but he'd only allow you a short moment of reprieve.

He crawled down your body, a whiny moan sounding from you when he pulled out of you, your hands clawing for him to stay, but when his mouth landed on your soaked cunt your protest stopped, your hips bucking off the bed against his face as he worked to make you come again quickly.

“Are you sure you can't stay?” you whispered, tracing your fingers all over his sweaty face in a way that made him never want to move.

He sighed, closing his eyes and praying for the courage to give the answer he knew he needed to.

“I'm sure. I'm sorry.”

You looked crestfallen despite your best efforts not to, the side of your mouth turning upward as you nodded your head in understanding.

Will kissed your palm that rested beside his mouth, wanting more than anything to stay in bed with you, not even caring if he ever slept or not, but his nightmare kept nagging him and reminding him exactly why he couldn't.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” he explained, stepping out of bed and finding his boxers, leaving you in the mess of sheets to watch as he dressed.

It was so late already, making you question even more why he wouldn't just stay the rest of the night, feeling a sense of unease and confusion, and hoping you weren't reading into things too much.

“Get some sleep,” you wished, sitting up to meet him in a kiss when he came back over and leaned down, your hand slipping behind his neck where you felt him groan to your touch.

“Yeah, I will. You too,” he said quietly, knowing damn well he wouldn't. “I'll lock the door behind me.”

Both of you hesitated a moment, your eyes searching each other’s, your silence screaming the words neither of you dared to.

With a weak smile, Will turned and walked out, and everything in you felt so anxious that something between you was changing, and you couldn't determine if it was for better or worse.

The rest of the week played out the same; Will coming over to your place each evening to have dinner and spend time with you, only to make himself scarce as soon as turning in for the night was being considered.

He caught you staring a few times, watching him finish the dishes or studying his expression as you watched tv together, trying to work out what was going on in his head.

He did everything he could to act as normal as possible, but could feel himself slowly pulling away, distancing himself like he was gradually building up to the inevitable.

All of that seemed to fade the moment his body made contact with yours.

His hands would grip you tighter, each kiss more intense and passionate than the last, the time spent with his arms wrapped around you in a hug growing longer with each one, savouring your presence and everything good that you gave him.

He almost wished you would just ask, call out what you seemed to know he was doing, his guilt growing the same his love for you was, but the pain he felt in his heart at knowing he was hurting you, and was going to hurt you even more, was outshining both easily.

Six hours and forty-seven minutes. That was the total amount of sleep he'd had in the last three days, finding himself growing more irritable and angry on top of being exhausted.

He sighed when he came in the door, noticing the tv on and blaring, Benny still awake and watching a fight.

The last thing he wanted was an interrogation from his brother, and he prayed as he slipped out of his boots and put his keys in their spot that one wouldn't come tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Benny’s head whip around, and as he walked into the kitchen, he waited for the comments to come.

“Do you keep fucking and bailing? Because it really seems like you keep fucking and bailing.”

Will took a deep breath and ignored him.

“Nice,” Benny added, sarcastically.

Will opened the fridge to get a glass of water, glaring at him over the door with warning, which only encouraged Benny more.

He always had a habit of testing Will, seeing how far he could push him until he snapped, and while Will wasn't sure if that was what he was doing now, it was definitely getting on his nerves.

“Getting your fill and then leaving her hanging. You must really love her,” he drawled, staring at the tv as Will walked into the room.

“Fuck off, Ben. You know why I'm not sleeping there,” Will huffed, plopping himself on the chair opposite the couch.

“I told you it isn't going to happen for real. It was a dream, man. I know you-”

“You don't know shit!” Will barked, cutting him off.

He stood and stormed to his room, hating how his brother could be so good and understanding one minute and then go totally against him the next, but mostly hating how he knew he was right.

Coffee was barely enough to keep him functioning at this point, and after another sleepless night, Will wondered just how much more of this he could take, especially with his deployment date looming and getting closer and closer.

He counted the tablespoons of grounds he scooped out of the container and into the coffee maker, hoping a stronger brew would help him drag his feet less but worried it would only do the job of amping up his anxiety.

For the brief moments he had slept, that same nightmare kept recurring, seeing your lifeless face in his hands until he jolted awake, gasping for breath and covered in sweat.

He knew should tell you about the nightmare and that he was leaving, but his selfishness was getting the better of him, feeling as if the moment he said it out loud that his whole world would actually fall out from under him, and the thought terrified him.

Benny came into the kitchen, his arms stretched above his head with a long exaggerated yawn, and even though Will told himself he wasn't trying to, it was like he was rubbing it in his face that he’d slept so well.

As Will went to grab a mug from the cupboard, Benny brushed by him, reaching around his brother to get his own, nudging Will in the process.

Will sighed, but ignored his irritation, opening the next cupboard over to put the coffee away where Benny stuck his hand in to get the sugar.

“Don’t fucking start,” Will warned under his breath.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Benny gave him a look, smoothing his hair back and out of his face as he grabbed the bag of bread and took out a couple of slices.

“No, but I know what you’re doing.”

Benny didn’t respond, and Will knew he was carefully choosing what he would say when he did speak next, seeing a tension in his back as he went about his business.

“You’re gonna have to tell her at some point, Will,” he said quietly, not looking at him.

Will swallowed thickly, feeling every muscle in his body tense up while choosing to bite his tongue.

Benny shoved him with his shoulder as he sidled up next to him, grabbing the pot of coffee before Will was able to.

“Can you stop?” Will barked, holding his empty mug up in disbelief.

Benny glared at Will as he put the pot back down, almost as if he was daring Will to make a move.

“Fuck you.”

“Really?”

“You’re acting like a dick and you know it,” Benny accused, not moving from where he stood.

Will took a step back, hanging his head. “I don’t need this shit right now.”

“No?” Benny asked excitedly. “Stop being such an ungrateful piece of shit. You treat everyone like shit, like you’re owed everything because you’re hurt.”

Will shook his head, feeling anger rise up through him, but Benny just kept going.

“You landed yourself the best girl and look what you’re doing with that. You don’t think she deserves to know you’re fucking leaving in eight days?”

Benny’s voice continued to rise as he went on, making Will’s teeth clench harder and his grip on the countertop get tighter as he leaned forward against it.

“Now you’re just pissed off because you know you’re fucking everything up. How the hell are you gonna go over there and focus when you’re turning into a complete fucking mess here?”

Will stayed quiet, hanging his head and unable to look his brother in the eye, knowing everything he was saying was true.

Benny watched him for a minute, waiting, and gave his final say before walking out of the kitchen.

“Get your shit together, man. Or something bad might really happen.”

More and more days passed between seeing each other, and by now Will imagined you had gotten the hint, having stopped initiating conversations due to how cold and short he was being with you, knowing you were doing your best to give him space in hopes that would fix everything.

Texts were rare and visits were brief, and Will could see and feel the worry radiating off of you when he was with you, your uncertainty if you were the problem blatant.

Two days remained until he deployed, and with his bag packed and everything else in order, he reached for his phone.

Can we talk?

You gave him a smile when you opened the door to let him in, but the rest of your face said it all, your eyes bleary and barely able to hold contact with his, your body language nervous as you rubbed your arm up and down even though it was brutally hot and humid.

“Can I get you anything?” you offered, the question feeling too formal but suiting the atmosphere, neither of you reaching for the other for a hug and kiss like you used to.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t going to be a fun conversation, so I’d like you to spare me even more grief then you’ve already caused, Will.”

Your words came out quickly, like if you didn’t rush to say them you wouldn’t get them out, and your voice shook, making Will’s heart break even more than it was.

He sighed and nodded, raising his eyebrows on his forehead.

“I think we should stop before we get too far ahead of ourselves here.”

“What does that mean?” you scoffed, your frustration and confusion clear as day.

“What do you think it means?” he said pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at you bluntly.

You nodded your head as you looked up at the ceiling, blinking quickly to fight off the tears he knew you were struggling to keep back.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” you explained. “Why didn’t you say if it was too much or too fast?”

“I’m sorry,” he said flatly, looking at your face contort with even more hurt and confusion.

“You’re sorry?” you blurted. “You’ve spent the last however many weeks stringing me along and acting like everything was fine until all of a sudden it wasn’t and then you fucking ghost me? And all you have to say is you’re sorry?”

“Why is that so hard to understand?” he spat, the chill of his words surprising himself.

He watched your expression shift, your anger switching to a gut-wrenching hurt he knew too well, your pain washing over you in a rippling effect after his words slapped you across the face.

“Because I’m falling in love with you!”

He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, knowing all along that you were but hearing it hit him so much harder, and in the act of self-preservation, he continued his facade of not loving you in return.

“Yeah? Well stop, because you’re only gonna end up hurt.”

“Wha-” you started, but he cut you off before you were able to start asking questions.

“I’m deploying in two days.”

Your mouth opened and closed, and he knew the feeling of not being able to properly take the breath you so desperately needed, the shock on your face forcing Will to look away and down at his boots, too cowardly to face what he caused.

“I can’t go do this mission with any distractions,” he explained, his tone flat and expressionless.

“Is that all I am to you? Do you not think I care or wouldn’t offer support…I can't just put how I feel about you on hold or dismiss it completely, Will. Us breaking this off isn't going to make a difference in me worrying about you or erase what we have.”

Will shrugged, not knowing what else to say and feeling like he was out of lies to spew, and at this point nothing he said would make any of it better or worse.

You shook your head quickly and grunted frustratedly, wiping the tears that finally fell off your cheeks.

"I don't know why I'm crying,” you laughed, looking at him defeatedly. “You're not mine to cry over."

Will couldn’t bring himself to look at you again as he made his way over to the door, knowing damn well that he was yours as much as you were his, his entire heart left behind with you as he walked out.

After crying more tears than you thought you ever had, you peeled yourself out of bed and dragged your sorry ass to the gym, needing to distract your mind and do something good for your body, even if it meant risking seeing one or both of the Miller brothers there.

Your reflection was like a stranger, a hollowed-out version of yourself with puffy, blood-shot eyes lifting the dumbbells in your hands up and down as you worked through a set of bicep curls.

You were barely able to count through your reps, thinking how ironic it was that that was how you and Will met in the first place, but you knew the exact amount of hours it had been since he came and broke things off with you, and how long it was until he’d be on a plane flying out to wherever hell he was going.

You did a double-take in the mirror when you saw Benny come out of the change room, spinning around to see him better, the large black and blue bruise swelling around his left eye making your mouth hang open. A cut on his lower lip looked like it was still bleeding, and you thought it all to be strange when you recalled Will telling you he didn’t have any more fights until the fall.

The sympathetic smile he gave you was a reminder of all the things you knew you would be missing out on, but you shoved those feelings aside and walked over to him, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What the hell happened to you? I thought you weren’t fighting for a while?”

Benny huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes. “You should see the other guy…”

That drew your attention to his hands, seeing the skin on his knuckles broken and red, knowing whoever was on the receiving end of it was likely in far worse shape than him.

Before anything else could be explained, you followed Benny’s gaze as he looked up, your heart stuck in your throat as you watched Will walk in the front door, his face even more beat up than Benny’s was.

You looked at Benny where he just shrugged, knowing you had put two and two together.

“He deserved it,” he said flatly, clearly not proud of it. “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into him. I’m sorry for what he did to you.”

You nodded and bit your lip, looking down at the floor because you knew if you met Benny’s kind, blue eyes, you would crack again.

You sighed, praying your voice didn’t break when you spoke. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

Benny nodded convincingly, the faith he had in his older brother never faltering despite whatever was happening. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

You nodded, feeling the lump in your throat return.

“Are you gonna be alright?” he asked, making you nod faster and look anywhere but at him, the tears coming on fast as all the equipment surrounding you began to blur in your vision.

“I’m sorry he’s such a dipshit.”

You laughed through your tears, and Benny did too, his broad smile making you feel a little better.

“It’s just crazy,” you started, finding your courage to speak. “I don’t even hate him for what he did. I just want him to be happy and be safe.”

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. “That’s what happens when you love someone.”

It was silent in the truck on the way over.

Benny hadn’t even turned on the radio which was unusual, leaving Will with nothing to listen to other than his thoughts and the sound of his pulse, counting each heartbeat until his brother pulled onto the tarmac and parked.

“You sure you're gonna be okay over there?” he asked, and Will could feel his eyes fixed on him.

Puffing out his cheeks, he breathed, “I think so. Kinda have to be.”

Will looked out the window, seeing all the families saying goodbye to his fellow troops, his heart aching in his chest as his mind went to you.

He blinked and then turned toward Benny, shaking his head and laughing, seeing how bad Benny’s beat up face was and knowing he looked ten times worse.

“We look like idiots.”

Benny ripped down the visor to look at his face in the mirror, offended Will would say such a thing.

“I look like this pretty much all the time. Are you saying I always look like an idiot?”

“I'll leave that up to you.”

Their chuckles faded out, leaving them to sit in silence for a couple of minutes, Benny studying Will carefully for any tell that he wasn’t stable enough to get on that aircraft.

He saw his brother’s chest rising and falling sharply, the pulse in his neck thumping wildly, the muscles in his cheeks flinching as he tried to control his emotions.

“Everything will be fine, man.” Benny assured him, referring to both things with you and his mission.

Will nodded and finally found the courage to look over at him, his eyes wet.

“Keep an eye on her for me?” he choked out, trying to swallow the broken sob that followed his words.

“I will.”

Benny clapped his shoulder and shook it, his eyes welling up too, knowing he would never get used to these goodbyes regardless of how many times they happened, seeing his big brother go off to war something he hated more and more over the years.

Will leaned over and pulled him into a hug, squeezing his back so tight while feeling himself start to crumble as Benny reciprocated it with equal force.

“I love you, man,” Benny mumbled against his brother’s shoulder.

“I love you, too, Ben.”

Benny knew there was no point in punishing him anymore, it was punishment enough with his own guilt and having to go do what he was, and losing you on top of it was about all Will could handle.

He’d have his brother’s back no matter what, even if he didn’t agree with some of the things he’d done, and knew Will would do the exact same for him if it was the other way around.

Benny had never seen Will so happy as when he was with you, and promised to himself that he would do everything in his power to help get you two back together, refusing to let him give up on what he knew was the real deal.

The brothers parted, Benny squeezing the back of Will’s neck as Will pulled the handle to open the door.

“Go get ‘em and get on home.”

---

Part 7

Taglist:

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@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi @christinhunnam @hp-hogwartsexpress

#will miller #triple frontier #will miller x female reader #charlie hunnam #will miller x reader #will 'ironhead' miller #will miller smut #william miller #william 'ironhead' miller #charlie hunnam characters #triple frontier fic #will miller fic

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whateveriwant · 1 year ago

Note

hi!! i really love your 141 headcannons, can i ask for the 141 with a exotic animal vet/zoologist s/o? tysm!!! 🤍

Soap

He thinks you are the coolest person to walk the planet

Seriously, with the way he looks at you sometimes, you swear it's like you're a superhero or something

Any chance he can get to brag about you to his friends, family, or even total strangers, he's taking it. And when he does start to talk, they better settle in for a while because he is not shutting up anytime soon

One of his favorite things about you is what he calls your “mental encyclopedia” of animals. It can be very helpful to refer to, especially when he's trying to describe exotic animals he's come across in the field

“What d’ye call those awkward, pine cone lookin’ lads?” he asks from the room over. You take a moment to think before shouting out your answer, a second later hearing the keys of his laptop clicking as he confirms for himself. “Pangolin! Yes! Tha’s the wee devil who stole my socks!”

Ghost

While he doesn't like to talk shop when it comes to his job, he could spend hours listening to you talk about yours

It's become a staple of your routine where every time you come home from work, he's there asking how your day went (and, get this, he's genuinely interested in your response)

Because he's usually pretty silent as he listens to you recount your day, sometimes you think he isn't even paying attention to you at all

But of course, just as soon as you begin to doubt him, he'll hit you with something that shows how attentive he's been all along

“How's Mona fairin’ by the way?” he asks one night in the middle of making dinner. Mona? The red panda who had a cough the other month? She's all well again, you tell him, surprised he remembered that. If he notices your shock, he doesn't say anything; he just gives a satisfied hum in response and continues cooking

Price

Because his job is so integral to who he is as a person, he loves having a partner who's also just as dedicated to their work as he is

He'll stop at nothing when it comes to supporting you and your dreams, a big one he knows is to travel the world one day. He plans to make that dream come true once he retires, but until then, he'll have to settle for bringing the world to you

Thus, every time he comes home from deployment, he's always bearing souvenirs – many of them featuring animals puns because he knows they're your favorite

It started as a joke at first when he saw a silly magnet he just couldn't pass up. But now it's become a proper tradition between you two, so every time he leaves, you're expecting to add another item to your collection once he returns

His favorite is a toss up between your ‘Toucan do it!’ inspirational poster and your matching ‘I'm with jackass’ / ‘I'm jackass’ donkey shirts

Gaz

He loves animals just as much as you do (if not more, honestly)

Literally on your first date together when you told him what you do for a living, he was about ready to drop down on one knee and pop the question right then and there

If it's a zoo or perhaps a sanctuary that you work at, you best believe you'll find him visiting you at every available opportunity he has

He sees you forgot your lunch at home? Oh no, he better bring it to you before you starve! He's running a few errands in the neighborhood? Hmm, might as well stop by and see his boo at work! (and, well, since he's already here, he might as well check out the new reptile exhibit you've been mentioning too)

Honestly, with just how frequently you're always bumping into him at work, you're convinced that most of the time he's not even there to see you

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user2772636 · 10 months ago

Text

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

Experimenting is bound to give you attention. Magazines are trending, and not just in the women's department. A one-eyed boy who has recently been caught with something vulgar has respect for women. How surprising.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: boys being boys (worse than b4), swearing, one-sided anger, reference to a movie (Hot Rod), love triangle again (new character??), fluff (finally?!?!?!)

===

Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

===

I flip through page by page the new magazine I bought. It was imported from america, and the second I heard of it, I ran to the nearest booth.

That was yesterday. Today is Monday morning. I woke up a little earlier to scroll through my said magazine and look for inspiration. I thought I'd do something different. A bit more bold.

Hair bumps and bangs. A style well worn by Priscilla Beaulieu, the speculated lover of Elvis Presley. The magazine was filled with her.

I grab my scissors, lifting my head to look into my bathroom mirror. I read the directions on the magazine, parting a small section at the middle of my hair, pulling it in front of my eyes.

I take a deep breath in. A click from the scissors is heard. Not half bad, I say to myself. I shag it a little, smiling to myself.

I continue to read the instructions to Priscilla's hair bump, deciding to make it just a small bump, curling the ends, then adding hair spray to keep it all intact. Once I was done , I added a pair of pearl earrings.

There's a new dress waiting for me in my closet. It was a present from my parents. A knee-length flowy dress with a boat neckline and a thin strap belt, all in the colour of watermelon red.

I put it on, patting down the skirt, and grab my kitten heels. I pray that I don't get caught. This is probably how Michèle felt on the first day of school.

I take one last look in the mirror. I looked older, like a proper lady. I straighten my back and smile strainedly. I breathe out slowly.

I grab my satchel and coat, then head out of my flat. Walking to school, eyes follow me. From my lovely neighbour to the men smoking cigarettes in the street. I don't mind them and continue to make my way to school.

Once I get there, I see Laubrac walking away from Michèle. I walk up to her and put on a smile.

"Michèle. How have you been?" I lean in to hug her.

"Wow, Y/N. You're stunning. You look like you were made to be in movies." Michèle laughs, and I laugh with her.

"Don't go that far." We smile at each other and make it through the gate. Once again, eyes are on me, younger this time.

We look towards the bathroom, seeing Felbec run towards it, then get rejected access through. A tall frame pushes him away, and I knew exactly who it was. I furrow my eyebrows.

A boy then comes running through the gate, shouting out how he has the money. I notice Annick as she suddenly walks away. When he makes it there, the school bell rings. I laugh, watching him move around disappointed.

××《☆》××

"Literary salons are almost always hosted by women. Madame de Sèvignè, Madame de Lafayette." Our teacher says as he leans on his table with his arms.

The lecture fades, and all I hear is the tapping of my heels on the hardwood floor.

"Dupin." Our teacher calls out. I turn around to take a look, but my eyes lock with one. I squint at Descamps, then shift my eyes to Dupin.

"As you won't stop talking, you seem well-versed on the subject. Can you share your thoughts on the salons with us?" Dupin stands, and I smile softly, seeing his embarassed state.

I turn my head back to the front, but a stare stays on me, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

I ignored it at first, and then it started to get annoying. So I turned, and I saw him, and he was smiling. He's smiling. Every time I look at him, either he looks dead inside (though, in my opinion, no dead person could look that pretty.), or he's smiling. And that's what he's doing. He's smiling.

How I wish I could wipe it off.

××《☆》××

My ears pound as I hear Ms. Giraud's voice. I might go deaf, but I keep my composure. The bell rings, and we're finally dismissed.

I hear rushed shuffling. Ms. Giraud calls out to the boy.

"Are you in a rush, Lamazière?" Ms. Giraud yells. I notice it's the same boy that ran to the bathroom with money in his hand.

He gets punished, and I laugh quietly. I grab my things, rushing up to the girls.

"Hey, I need to go to the bathroom. Continue walking without me." They nod, and we part ways.

After using the toilet, I look at myself in the mirror. I never expected that. How conscious I'd be of my looks, my movements, and my habits.

Maybe it comes with the fact I dressed up. But for what, I start to wonder. I don't know why I dressed up in the first place. I know I said for a change, but is that really all?

A flash of an eye comes to mind. I quickly shake it off. No way. Not him.

I clear my throat, then grab my things. I hastily walk out the bathroom, suddenly needing fresh air. As I make it to the hallway of the stairwell, footsteps slow down, and eyes follow me. I stop in my tracks.

I scanned through them, what face they were wearing while looking at me. I look down on myself. I still looked presentable, so what were they looking at?

I start to walk, my eyes following the faces of the boys. Each step I take down feels slower. One flight finished, and I stop glancing at them. My feet tap on the porcelain floor of the stairs as I keep my head down.

One flight left, a tall frame walks into the school. He turns to the stairs, and I stop. Descamps stares at me. I stare at him. He then looks up and sees plenty of eyes on me. I see his jaw clench.

He claps his hands. I flinch at the echo of it.

"Will you boys keep staring, or will I go shopping for a new eye with all of yours?" This gets them moving. The stairwell is noisy again.

I turn my head back to Descamps, and I glare. Hard. I walk towards him, and then I'm reminded of our height difference. I crane my neck upward.

"I could've handled myself, you know?" I squint my eyes, and all he does is stare. Why is he just staring? Can't we fight already? I feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"Are you just gonna stare or are you gonna sa-"

"You're beautiful." I barely even heard it. But I did. Then I acted like I didn't.

"What?" I stutter out, flushed cheeks redder than before.

"You're miserable. You clearly needed my help." I scoff, the comforting warmth I felt quickly replaced with boiling anger.

"Just leave me alone, Descamps." I walk away, and into the courtyard.

Who does he think he is? Some knight in shining armour? He's more like a thief in the streets. But then no thief could be as annoying, as dreadful, as smiley as him. That stupid smile, and those stupid words, and his stupid face. Stupid, stupid face. Sometimes I just wanna grab it and-

I stop in my tracks. There's a line in front of the boys' bathroom. What would they be lining up for? I see a mop of blonde hair and framed eyes. Applebaum. He hasn't talked to me, hasn't said hi, and I always wonder if I'd done anything wrong.

But he's the past. I guess he just doesn't like me. It's too bad. I had high hopes for him. A whip of air pushes by me, and it's Descamps again. He's jogging towards the bathroom. He's collecting coins from them. Really, what's going on?

I look in front of me. Michèle and Simone are seated on the stairs. I sigh in relief. I sit beside them.

"I can't do this anymore. All the boys, they're dreadful. Why did I come here in the first place?" I groan. The girls watch me, amused.

"Because you moved here from Paris and-" I cut Simone off.

"Rhetorical." I mutter. She purses her lips shut.

Michèle clears her throat. "So, you think you'll get married?" I lift my head up.

"To who?" My eyes are wide open as well as my ears.

"Eugène. Simone's lover boy." I cover my mouth in shock.

"What? I thought you had a thing for-" Simone cuts me off this time.

"No. It's a little too soon for that." She answers Michèle's question. I mouth sorry. She nods.

"Aren't you worried he'll want to take things further?" Michèle asks Simone. I started to click the pieces together. I bite on my lip to hide my smile.

"I don't know." Simone smiles at the thought. "Can I have a bite? Thanks." She says as she grabs Michèle's apple and takes a bite from it.

"I hope I find a husband soon. So I can get out of my parents house." I nod at Michèle's statement.

"That's true. But hopefully, no one from here. I'd rather die." They laugh at my overreaction, but honestly, I might just die than marry anyone here.

Well, except for one, maybe. Who, I ask myself. Right. Who am I even talking about? My eyes drift to a one-eyed boy. No. Don't even think about it.

Descamps as a husband? I laugh to myself.

Sure, I can imagine him going to work, coming home, smoking a cigarette or two as he reads the news.

Lounging in the living room one lazy afternoon, shirt slightly unbuttoned and pants a bit loose. Eating breakfast with his family, cooking with his wife (who, for some reason, looks almost like me. Very weird.), kissing her shoulders as his arms wrap around her waist.

His scent, his soft lips, his large frame. Carrying his kids in his arms as he spins them around the backyard. Teaching his son how to catch, playing dolls with his daughter, taking a break on a bench, one arm on his thigh, and the other on me.

Me? I shake my head. No, not me. His wife. Certainly not me. I grimace at the thought. Why would I even?

I sigh deeply, frustratedly. These damn thoughts are infuriating, just like him.

"Happy New Year, Ms. Palladino." My trance gets cut off.

"You too, Sir." Simone responds. I clear my throat, composing myself.

Michèle calls out for her uncle and gets up. I wonder what she's going to do. I don't pay much mind as I scoot over to Simone.

"It's Jean Pierre, isn't it?" She flinches.

"What do you mean?" I roll my eyes at her response.

"You know what I mean. Eugène? It's definitely Jean Pierre." Her cheeks flush, and she drops her head.

"I'm happy for you, really." I smile as she lifts her head, hope in her eyes. My smile wavers a bit. "But how will you tell Michèle?"

Her eyes lose that hope, and she looks away.

"I don't know. He said we shouldn't because she'll never let us see each other again."

"But one day, you'll have to." I grab her hand and rub it gently. She sighs.

"I wish you luck." I whisper, then hug her. She hugs me back. Once we pull away, Michèle sits with us again.

"He didn't want to lend it to me. What does 'adult' mean." I raise my eyebrows and puff out my cheeks, clearly not wanting to answer her question.

Michèle looks around. "What's up with everyone today?"

"You only noticed now?" I chuckle.

"Come with me." Me and Simone get up, following Michèle. She walks and calls towards Pichon.

"What's going on in the bathroom?" Pichon pauses. Too long of a pause.

"Nothing." I squint at him. Obviously not nothing.

"Somethings been going on in there today."

"Not at all. Nothing's going on." Pichon tries to walk away, but I stop him with a palm to his chest.

"Really? Why did you react that way when you ran into Mr. Bellanger?" I start to talk.

"What do you mean?" This is getting annoying.

"Don't act dumb. We know you aren't." I snap at him. "Now, why was your face all red?"

"No. It's not red." I furrow my eyebrows, now really getting angry. I almost shove him before Michèle holds me back.

"Simone, is his face red?" I ask her.

"It's red. Very red." I look back at Pichon and raise my eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"It's not. It's just my complexion." I try to lunge at him, but Michèle's hands are tight on me.

"So you're not gonna tell us?" Michèle calls out for him. I whip my arms off of Michèle's hold, and she's quick to let me go.

"Of course he won't." I glare at the back of his head.

The bell rings.

××《☆》××

Descamps' group walks into the class together. They're rushing a bit.

"And Applebaum?" One of them asks.

"He's gonna sprain something." Descamps answers. Sprain what? What are they doing in that bathroom anyway?

"He's gonna go deaf." Oh. A shiver runs down my spine as I gag. Gross.

I hear Michèle ask Simone something, probably about what the boys are talking about. I don't wanna tell her.

Ms. Couret walks in and greets us. We're granted to sit. The door opens.

"Didn't you hear the bell, Mr. Applebaum." I gag again seeing him. I should've known he was like everyone else. To believe I might've given him a chance. I grimace.

The boys whisper and laugh. There's a boiling in my stomach. Ms. Couret moves on to the topic.

"Do you know the Beatles?" This catches my attention. No one answers, until Pichon does.

"The British band?" Ms. Couret nods.

"Yes. Let's see if those names ring a bell." I shuffle on my seat, giving my full attention to the discussion.

I don't notice the boys passing around a magazine 'till it comes flying towards Michèle's table. I peek over, and in front of her lies a flashy magazine.

××《☆》××

"He said if we didn't give him a name, the class would get detention every Thursday." Pichon says as everyone huddles in to listen. I feel a warm frame over and behind me, but I ignore it, thinking it's just another classmate.

"Then we all get detention." Dupin states, as if it wasn't already obvious.

"The whole class." Pichon exclaims.

"Even the girls?" My brows furrow. What did we do to be blamed?

"Everybody." We all stop.

"That's not fair." Simone says, and I nod with her.

"Right. What did we do? It was you guys who were being perverts." I call out.

I get more frustrated when a chest bumps into me. It's the same frame I felt earlier. I turn around, and I'm met with Descamps.

"You. You were the ones selling the magazine and passing it around." I glare at him.

"You're disgusting. I don't want you near me." I turn again and bid a quick goodbye to the girls then head home.

"Pardine!" I hear Descamps call out. I roll my eyes and keep walking. Once we're in a quieter area, he grabs my arm and gently pushes me to a wall.

"Please. I swear I would never." I glare up at him.

"Then why were you passing it around?" I ask him, tilting my head up.

His pants fill my ears. It's worrying. I place a hand on his chest.

"Calm down." I state, the worry etched in my voice.

He relaxed under my touch, I felt it, the way his muscles stopped being tense. I kept my face hard.

"Now, explain." My voice comes out demanding.

"I needed some money. What better way to collect it quickly than when there's hundreds of prepubescent boys in one school?" I roll my eyes. I almost walk away before he cages me in the wall with his arms.

"Please. Just... listen. I needed money, okay? I wanted to save up for... for..." He stutters, and my brows crease more.

"For?" I raise my brows, expecting an answer.

"For... records. Yeah. For my mother." I squint at his answer.

"That still won't excuse the fact you're a pervert."

"No, I swear. I would never. I know you don't believe me, but I swear. I swear on my mothers life I would never. Not in school, not anywhere. I respect a woman way too much to do something like that."

"A woman? Who? Your mother?" My brain turns to different answers.

"Yes." He stuttering again. "Definitely, my mother." He pushes away from me, and I feel cold.

I hum. Then I look back up at him, eyes still squinted.

"I'll let it pass for now." I see his face fill with relief, and I almost laugh.

I walk away, but before I get too far, I hear him mutter.

"You look pretty." I turn around, shocked and confused.

"What did you say?"

"I said you look shitty. Goodbye, Pardine!" He calls out as he walks away in a rush. I scoff, then turn back around to walk home.

××《☆》××

I pet George, lounging on my bed, thinking of going out to run some errands. I get up and head to the kitchen.

Stuck to the fridge, I read my mother's shopping list. I get rid of the magnet and stick the note into my coat pocket. I glance at George, then the door, then George again.

I sigh. I pick him up, head to my door, and lock it. We go down the stairs. I place him in my bicycle basket. I make sure he's tucked in well, then ride to the farmers market.

Once I'm there, I glance at the shopping list again. Some vegetables, fruit, flour, etc. I walk past each stall, buying what's needed. Just then, a boy, somewhere my age, walks towards me.

"Hi." He seems confident. "I'm Callum. What's your name?"

I look at him up and down, and then the hand he reaches out for a hand shake. He's tall, but not too tall. Maybe five feet and ten inches. He has long, wavy brown hair, neatly brushed behind his ears. He has deep doe eyes and a smile on his face. I hesitate.

"Y/N." I slowly lift my hand and shake his. His smile widens.

"So, I have a project that requires a model, and when I saw you, I thought you'd be the perfect candidate. Not to be blunt about it, but you're beautiful." I blush at the sudden compliment.

"All you need to do is let me take a couple of photos, and I'll pay you, about... 300 franc?" I gape at the offer.

"Are you sure? Just for pictures?" They nod.

"Yes. Good transaction, yeah? If I win the project, the pictures will be displayed in the front of a car magazine. Is that alright with you?" I think again, but what's there to think about when there's 300 franc on the table?

"Deal." I shake hands Callum's hand, and he smiles wider.

"Good. Now, I'll take you to my car, and you can do a couple of poses in front of it." He led me to his car, and the second I saw the bright mint blue of it, my jaw hits the floor.

"This pretty one," Callum pats the front of the car. "is a 1955 Ford Thunderbird. Mint blue exterior, white top, and a mix of both for the interior. It has the brake horsepower of 193, and she's my most prized possession. She goes up to 23,069 kilometres. Very lovely, right?" He leans on the car, almost hugging it.

I cover my mouth, hiding my smile. He walks over to me, gently grabbing my wrist and pulling it away from my face.

"Keep that smile on, pretty lady. We need it for the pictures." He tilts his head towards the car. "Go on."

I walk slowly. Once I'm near the passengers door, I pose, and I see the flash of the camera.

"Get inside. Take a feel around." I walk to the other side of the car, opening the door and closing it once I'm in. I feel the leather of the wheel against my palm, and I scoff in awe. The camera flashes again.

"I didn't get to pose!" I laugh, slightly embarassed.

"You didn't need to. You're a natural." He snaps another photo, and I laugh again.

After taking a few photos and reviewing them, Callum finally chose one. It was me smiling at the camera with my hands on the wheels, windows rolled down.

He told me I looked perfect, which was, based on what he said, the first thing that came into his mind when he saw me.

The rest of the day, he accompanied me shopping and even offered me a ride around town in his car. I obviously couldn't say no.

He pulled the hood down, letting the wind flow through my hair as we drove in the roads, making it to the fields, stopping by for some gas, and then getting on the road again.

××《☆》××

Callum parks the car in front of his flat, which was only a few blocks away from mine. We decided to walk to my place instead of draining out the car, not before him telling me that it was absolutely fine for him to drive me directly home. When I said I needed my legs moving, he stopped pushing it and agreed.

He puts the hood back on, locking the door with his keys. He walks to my side.

"Good luck with the project." My hands are in my coat pockets as Callum walks me home. He smiles, then looks at me.

"Meeting you was luck itself. That means if you're in my pictures, I'll bring luck with me." I roll my eyes.

"Cheesy." We come to a stop infront of my flat's door.

"Well, this is it." I purse my lips, looking up at him.

"Yup. I guess we're here." His eyes sort of lose its spark. I worry.

"You okay?" I raise my eyebrows, concerned.

"I wanna see you again." He blurts out. "Is tomorrow okay? The results will come out, and I sort of want you to be there."

"Sure. I'll be there." I rub his arm reassuringly. He slowly lifts his hand to cup mine on his arm. He lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He smiles softly, lets go of my hand, and leaves. I stay in my place, unsure of what to do. When his frame disappears from my sight, I shiver. What was that?

I'm greeted by George as I get in my flat. My heart's beating out my chest, and I feel anxious. There's something in me. It doesn't feel so good. Some sort of regret. Why?

A boy. Not Callum. Someone else. Taller frame. Shorter hair. One eye. Fuck no. No way. I can't. I shouldn't. Why am I thinking about him?

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. 'I don't even call him by his first name.' Joseph Descamps. I feel indifferent calling him his first name. I'm not in terms with him like that. We aren't close enough for me to call him that.

Then suddenly, I want to. I want to call him Joseph. 'Why?' I wonder. Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. It feels nice on the tongue. Descamps is suddenly too long of a name. Joseph is fine. The name, I mean. Not him.

Then suddenly, again, it is. He is. 'No, he's not', but I want him to be. How do I get him to be? 'I can't do this. I really shouldn't.' But, oh, how much I want to.

'No.' I quiet my thoughts. 'No. Never. I won't do it.'

But I want to.

Fuck.

××《☆》××

The next morning, most of the boys are called to the principles office. I sigh in boredom, looking out the window.

"It certainly feels emptier today." Simone says, breaking the silence. I want to laugh, but I can't. I wanted to see the way Joseph's green cardigan looked on his wide frame longer.

I shake my head. I totally didn't get enough sleep last night with that thought popping in my head.

Though, that cardigan really suited him. Green really suits him. It makes him sort of glow. It's not like he doesn't already. Come to think of it, his hair glows, too. It was a bit messy. He probably rushed to school today. I wonder how soft it'll be against my fingers when I brush it off to look neater.

I remember how warm he was that day in the alley. He was so much taller, so he had to basically break his back to reach me. I double take that thought.

He had to break his back just to reach me.

I know he didn't actually break his back, but I just knew that sort of hurt. But it was nice, so I guess it was worth it for him. At least, I hope it was.

Okay, wait. Why am I thinking like this? I guess we're on good terms now. I mean, sure, we bicker, but not as much anymore? I don't know. Whatever. I guess we're fine. I want us to be. I'm tired of being mad at him for no reason.

Yeah. We're fine. That's why I'm thinking like this, right? You know, as a friendly, 'I want to take care of you' kind of way. Which is platonic. Totally. Yeah, that's fine.

Maybe I should say hi from time to time? Or no. Maybe just a nod for a greeting? Too bland. A smile will do. He might be creeped out, though.

I groan internally. Why am I overthinking this? Whatever, I'll just smile and wave. That's good. Simple and effective. Don't overthink it. There's nothing to overthink about.

Ms. Couret walks in, and the class collectively stands up. She's wearing a green dress. It looks nice. It reminds me of Joseph.

Woah. Why am I thinking about him? I think I'm just worried. Yeah. I'm worried about him because we're friends. Wait, are we friends? I'll ask later.

We're told to sit down, and we do. Ms. Couret pulls out a copy of the news. This must be about The Beatles, I remember from the last discussion, before it got interrupted. I light up in my seat.

"We won't wait for your classmates. They're getting tortured at the dean's dungeon." The class laughs.

"Today, we'll start with an article on President Kennedy's murder." So it isn't about The Beatles. I furrow my eyebrows.

I raise my hand.

"Yes?" Ms. Couret lifts her head.

"What about the song?" I shrug my shoulders, asking a bit sadly.

"No. There won't be a song. I don't have the record." I purse my lips in silent disappointment. She passes us some papers, and I sit the rest of the day quietly.

××《☆》××

I walk outside of the gate, the crowds of students slowly dissipating. My hair flows in the wind, styled the same way it was yesterday, except done in a half up half down style. My yellow dress lifts up and down as my legs do.

I'm headed to Callum's school, excited for the results. Almost halfway there, I stop. Joseph is in front of a magazine booth, buying. My heart drops, assuming it was another one of those flashy magazines. But then he leans out the booth, holding a magazine with my face on the cover.

My face is on the cover, and Joseph is buying it.

Two very important things.

One, I got on the cover, so Callum won. Two, Joseph is buying a magazine with my face on the cover. My question is, does he know it's me on the cover? Or is he buying it because he generally likes cars.

I take slow steps forward. The closer I am, the more I hear. And there's a voice inside my head repeating Joseph's words.

"That's my girl." He points to my picture in the magazine, showing the booth owner. "She's gorgeous. I mean, look at her." He makes the magazine face him again. There's a wide smile on his face.

He's smiling. I think I'm starting to like it on him.

The second he turns his head and sees me, the smile I just started to admire drops. He looks red under the afternoon sun.

"Pardine." He clears his throat, hiding the magazine. "What are you doing around here?"

"Headed to St. Patricks. You know the all boys school?" I smile softly. His nervousness seems to fade, for only a little.

"What would you be doing there?" He sounds off.

"Meeting a friend." I lift my shoulders, showing off a smile.

He looks like he melts, then stiffens back up. "A friend? Who? What's his name? What's he look like?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Answer mine first, then I'll answer yours." He nods. "What are you doing here?"

He stutters. "I was just looking around. Thought I'd buy a magazine but then saw you." He's acting uninterested. Or atleast trying to.

"Saw me walking towards you, or saw me in that magazine you have in your hands?" His eyes blow open. I hide my laugh.

"What? What do you- oh." He points to the magazine booth that he's still standing next to.

"That's you? Wow, I didn't know you modelled. It's not like I care or anything." He puts his head down, shrugging his shoulders.

"Why'd you buy it, Joseph?" I smirk, tilting my head, trying to meet his eyes. He shys away.

"I was... gonna burn it. Yeah. I was- wait. What did you call me?" He whips his head up. I try to recall, then flush when I do.

"Nothing."

"You totally called me Joseph." Yes, I did.

"No, I didn't." I shake my head.

"You never call me that." No, but like last night, I want to.

"I didn't call you Joseph."

"You just did."

"You're so childish, Joseph."

"You did it again!"

I groan, walking away from him, as red as when he saw me. Why was he red when he saw me? Whatever, I need to get to Callum.

I hear his steps behind me, and I roll my eyes.

"Y/N, come on." I turn around.

"You called me Y/N."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did." He definitely did.

"I didn't." Mhm, sure.

"You did. You never call me that." I mock him. He rolls his eye.

"Whatever."

"Whatever." I walk away from him. He doesn't seem to follow after me anymore, but then after a while, I hear his steps again.

"What's your friends name again? Are you sure I wasn't the friend you were gonna meet?" Oh right, I was gonna ask him about that.

"Are we friends?" I stop and turn to him.

He stops, too. No talking, no walking.

"Do you want us to be?" He asks. I pause.

"Yes."

"Then, yeah." There's that smile I missed.

"Good." I continue to walk.

"You didn't answer my first question."

"His name is Callum. He was the one who photographed me." I feel him grab my arm, and we stop again.

"He photographed you? When did you even meet? How are you sure he isn't some old creep?"

"Yes, he did. Yesterday, when I was in the market. He's our age, I made sure to ask."

"Okay, how exactly did he come up to you in the market?" He squints, tilting his head.

"Just went up to me, said hi, called me beautiful, offered money for the photos, took the photos, we drove around in his car, and then he walked me home." I shrug simply. He's still hesitant.

"You drove around in a stranger's car?"

"Correction, friends car."

"Yeah, a friend you just met."

"Whatever, I'm here now safe and sound anyways."

"But what if he was some creep? You need to be more careful, Y/N."

"I said it's whatever, Joseph." His eyebrows are furrowed, then after a while, he nods.

I continue to walk, and he follows. I don't stop him.

Once we're in front of St. Patricks' gate, I see the familiar Ford Thunderbird and quickly make my way, Joseph hot on my feet.

I see the familiar man leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets, then I see his toothy grin. I run up to him and give him a hug that he returns.

"Callum! Congratulations. I knew you had it in the bag." I say as I lean away from him. He keeps his arms wrapped around me. I feel a burning stare on us.

"Told you, you brought me luck." He takes his glasses off with his hand, then places the arm he used back on my waist. I hear footsteps and Callum's hold loosens.

There's an arm around my shoulder. Then, an all familiar voice.

"You alright, man? Congrats on the magazine. Y/N's told me about you." I look up at Joseph. His jaw's clenched.

"Of course she did. She told you about the ride on this pretty thing?" He pats the car, and I flush.

"Yeah, she did. I'm Joseph." He puts a hand out for Callum to shake. They clasp hands, and their grips are tight.

"Callum, but I guess you already knew that. If you don't mind me asking, who are you to Y/N?"

"Her b-"

"Friend. He's a friend." I cut him off. He looks at me with hurt in his eyes, then masks it with fake joy.

"Yup. I'm her friend." He nods to Callum.

"Oh. It's a bit weird that she hasn't mentioned you. You know, since you're friends and all." Joseph's arm tightens around me.

"Yeah, it's not like her to talk about her friends to someone she just met." There's a sarcastic smirk on his face.

Callum hums. "Well, s'nice to meet you, Joseph. Have a good one, yeah? And you, pretty lady..." Callum's gaze shifts to me, stare softening.

"Have a good night." He lifts my hand to his lips, placing a soft and lingering kiss on it. I take a deep breath in, maintaining composure, overwhelmed by the attention both boys were giving me.

Callum turns around and drives off on his car. Once his car was out of sight, I look back at Joseph, his stare still on the road where Callum rode off to.

"What was that?" I squint, tilting my head up. He instantly looks down at me with tending eyes.

"Nothing. I'll walk you home." His hand comes town to my arm, rubbing it gently. We turn to the way to my place.

The sun has set, and the street lights are on. It's a quiet night, the only things being heard are footsteps and draining water.

Only a block away from my flat, Joseph's arms are still around me. It feels comforting. It's nice to have a new friend. Though, I've known him longer.

"When you get home, I want you to say hi to George for me." I laugh at that. "I'm not kidding."

"Yeah, I'll say hi to George for you." I smile at the ground, then look up at him. He's already looking at me. We slow down a bit, just staring.

Then he leans in, and I mirror him. We lean in closer, closer, and closer. A moped engine turns on. We stop, and pull away.

"Here we are." He stops, and I didn't even notice we were already at my place.

"Oh. Right." He steps away from me, the arm around my shoulders gone. I feel alone again.

"Well, good night, Y/N." He stand there with his hands in his pockets.

"Good night, Joseph." I purse my lips. He nods. I walk up quarter way to the steps, then I stop.

I go back down, see Joseph, I tip toe, then press a kiss on his cheek. I quickly walk up the stairs again, almost tripping.

I make it to the inside of my flat, not bothering to turn the light on, then rush to the window. I peek out of it, and he's still there. He looks bewildered. Then, a smile slowly sits on his face. He stays there for a while, and then he walks away.

I slowly get up from my place, turning on the light, and I just stand there. Then, I squeal.

Holy fucking shit. Oh my gosh. No way, no way, no way, no way. I just kissed his cheek. Holy shit.

That's normal. Totally. Just a friendly kiss. But it felt nice.

I check the time. It's 12 in the morning. New year's kiss. I just had Joseph as my New Year's kiss. Kind of.

I see George, and smile wider.

"Joseph said hi."

I definitely don't hate not hating him anymore.

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

Next- Chapter five: You Know Where To Find Me, and I Know Where To Look

××《☆》××

It's finally done 😭😭 watch me take a month for chapter five /j. Anw, this is a handful chapter. So many emotions. This is turning out to be an enemies to frienimies to lovers. What do u guys think abt Callum? Honestly, hes lowkey me cus i love cars. I wish i had his car. More of him soon too. I wanted tk add fluff so that u guys dont get the idea that im not making joseph and reader end game. I promise i am but u guys have to wait. Happy reading hope u guys liked this!!!

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thevegandarkelf · 2 months ago

Text

One Tradition At A Time

18+ for mature content/themes, minors DNI

This oneshot features my OC Lydia Vector (Vec) from my main story ‘Finding Myself, Finding You.’ It is not necessary to read that story first, but there are small references to it made throughout this.

A year into their relationship, Vec’s determined to help Daryl heal his inner chid and give him experiences he missed out on as a kid, starting with a simple Halloween tradition. But it brings up a lot of buried emotions for Daryl, more than Vec could’ve prepared for.

We have Insecure!Daryl in this one. This made me a little emotional when writing it, I won’t lie. I just want our sweet archer to be protected at all costs.

AO3 link

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OC

Genres: Fluff, angsty (hurt to comfort)

Era: Alexandria, pre-Saviors

Word count: 6.5k

Trigger/content warnings: swearing, mentions of panic attacks and PTSD, allusions to Daryl’s traumatic childhood, slight sexual content but no smut, mentions of queasiness/gagging/stomach heaving

@sunnykittyzz you wanted to be tagged in this <3

Lydia Vector (Vec), her parents, her siblings & this story (c) me, thevegandarkelf. Glinda & The Wizard of Oz (c) Warner Bros

Happy Halloween ya gorgeous humans 🖤🎃🍁👻🍂💀🧡

“Found this in the basement.” Michonne tossed the velvet material in my direction, which I successfully caught mid-air. “It looks like it would fit you.” I shook the garment out in front of me, the small amount of dust that’d accumulated on it flying in all directions, eliciting a cough from me. Eyeing it up and down, a small smile crossed my lips.

“I hope you’re right,” I replied.

I stepped into the bathroom, pulling the door behind me. I slipped my glasses off and set them on the side of the sink, folding the arms in and resting them next to the bar of lemon-scented soap. I tugged my shirt off over my head, letting it slide off my arms onto the floor at my feet. Taking the black garment, I slid it over my head, bringing my arms through the sleeves and the torso over my curves. I draped my hair over my shoulder and adjusted my bra before reaching for my glasses again. I pushed them back up and scrunched my nose a few times, a small, quirky habit of mine to get my glasses in the most comfortable position. Flattening out my flyaways, I admired my reflection for a moment before joining Michonne once again.

I’d been at Alexandria for well over a year now. Being able to call this community my home and the people in it my family was one of the biggest wins, one of the best things I could’ve asked for in the end of the world. The biggest win, of course, was meeting and falling in love with a certain rugged, rough-and-tumble archer.

Over the last year, he was there for me through everything, loved me through every panic attack and PTSD meltdown. Held me every time I woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare and was beyond patient when it came to physical intimacy. The man was a saint, and to this day, I don’t know how I got so damn lucky to be able to call him mine. Now, though, it was my turn to help him.

Anyone who’d gotten to know Daryl knew, to some degree, of his tumultuous childhood. He’d never explicitly said it, but I was almost certain he’d never experienced a proper holiday. No decorating a Christmas tree or gathering around a table full of home-cooked food on Thanksgiving. This year, I was aiming to change that.

Based on the changing of the leaves, it was sometime in October, and the idea that I’d had scratching at the inside of my brain for weeks was finally able to come to fruition.

While Daryl had been out on a hunt all day, I’d gone around to each house, asking everyone if I could rummage through their basements in search of old Halloween costumes left behind by past residents. Most didn’t have any, or if they did, it either didn’t fit or wasn’t my style. Michonne, however, managed to find a witch costume stowed away in a plastic bin that was likely older than both of us. It was a velvet black dress with a gorgeous v-shaped neckline whose point stopped just above my chest, adorned with bell sleeves and a frayed hem. There was a faux-corset backing, which consisted of small rings and a silky black ribbon. It could be tightened a little, but was mostly meant to function as decoration. The costume came with a black pointed hat, and I had a pair of fishnets at home to complete the look.

But the costume was only one step of my plan.

We’d been able to grow some pumpkins in the garden, but since our food supply was diligently tracked and kept under a hawk-like watchful eye, it was trickier to get my hands on those. Maggie agreed to sneak a couple away for me if I promised to clean her bathroom, which I happily agreed to since it meant getting my hands on the most crucial piece of the puzzle. She managed to get two small ones with ease, insisting on exchanging them with me behind my house at the crack of dawn like we were participating in some kind of back-alley drug deal.

“Sorry they’re so small. They’re all I could get my hands on,” she’d told me.

“No need to apologize,” I assured, “you don’t know how much it means that you did this for me. Thank you.”

Even sweet little Judith was dressed up in a cow costume, the hood pulled up around her head adorned with ears, eyes, and a snout. Having her along wasn’t originally part of my plan, but after finding the costume buried with mine, I knew I had to give her baby’s first Halloween.

“Are you a good witch or a bad witch?” Michonne asked, doing her best impression of Glinda from The Wizard of Oz.

“Depends on the context,” I smirked, biting the interior of my bottom lip, “and who you ask.”

“How does it feel? You look great,” she complimented as she bounced Judith in her arms. The little one made a series of delighted gurgles and babbles as she scanned me over. “I think she agrees.”

“I mean, it’s a bit short, but…” I did a small twirl, the frayed edges of the hem flowing around my thighs. My shorts barely peeked out, hardly visible as they blended in with with the dress. “Ugh, it’s so cute. I can’t pass it up.”

“I don’t think Daryl will mind,” she teased. I rolled my eyes and huffed a sigh as I momentarily stopped away to retrieve my shirt from the bathroom floor.

“Oh shush.” I turned away, gathering my hair over one shoulder and looking back to talk to her. “Can you help me with the back?”

She nodded and placed Judith at her feet, untying the loose bow at the bottom of the corset, tugging gently at the ribbon to tighten it ever so slightly. The soft material cinched in around my ribs and at my waist, accentuating what subtle curves I did have.

“That’s perfect,” I said, “tie it off, please.” She obliged and tied the silk into a small bow, double-knotting it to ensure it stayed in place. I did one last final twirl before giving her a hug, excitement beginning to bubble in my chest. “Thank you, Michonne. You and Maggie are awesome for helping me get what I need.”

“It’s sweet that you’re doing this for him. I think he’ll love it.”

“And thank you for letting me give Judith her first Halloween experience.” I shoved my t-shirt under my dress and into the pocket of my shorts before squatting to scoop Judith up. I folded the hat, pinning it under my arm, and gave her a soft peck on the cheek, the fur of her costume tickling my skin. “Now c’mon my angel. Let’s go surprise your Uncle Daryl.”

My skin became flecked with goosebumps as the crips air nipped at my bare legs. The sun had almost completely set, bathing the community in what remained of its golden glow. Having grown up in the Midwest, I may have been biased towards an autumn sun. There was truly nothing like it.

I bounced Judith in my arms as I walked down the path toward home, disregarding any stares I received from passerby’s doing a double take. She giggled and clapped as a chirping bird flapped past us, likely returning home to settle in with their family for the night. Just as I was about to do.

Once home, I was greeted with the comforting scent of a plethora of herbs and spices. My mom’s lasagna soup recipe, another component to my surprise, was in the slow cooker on the kitchen counter, nearly finished. I was anticipating the timer to go off at any minute. I kicked my boots off and brought Judith upstairs, resting her on the bed before digging my fishnets out of a drawer. Keeping an eye on her, I slipped my shorts off, tossing them in the laundry hamper basketball-style and scoring a slam dunk. I sat back on the bed, bunching my fishnets at my feet and sliding them on, careful to not let my nails snag the material. Standing and pulling my dress down, I placed the hat on, the final touch to my adorable outfit, and turned to Judith.

“What do you think?” I spun in a few circles for her, balancing myself with my arms as to not get too dizzy and topple over. She was grinning from ear-to-ear, giving me her best attempt at a round of applause as she unrhythmically clapped her hands together. “Ugh, thank you. You’re such a girl’s girl, Jude.”

Daryl would be home any minute, so I knew I had to act quickly. I gave myself a quick look-over in the mirror, fixing my hair and adjusting the hat to the most comfortable angle. With the cheesiest grin on my face, I gathered a few blankets from the corner of the room, throwing them over my shoulder. Scooping Judith back into my arms, I took her downstairs, setting her on the newspaper I’d spread out in the corner of the living room. The pumpkins sat atop it, the carving knives I’d found on a run resting on the kitchen island, alongside some spoons. I took the blankets and arranged them in a sort of manger-like bundle in the event Judith needed to sleep. I looked up at her through my bangs, the sigh that slipped out from between my lips blowing them out of the way for a moment before they came cascading back.

“I just hope he likes it,” I said to her.

As I finished setting up Jude’s pseudo-crib, the doorknob clicked, a gust of chilly autumn air rushing in as the door swung open, knocking softly against the wall. Speak of the devil, or in this case, angel, and he doth appear.

Daryl came striding in, grumbling something in an irritated tone under his breath. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but if I had to guess, it had to do with the other guys he was out with, as it usually was. The “clunk” of his crossbow hitting the ground echoed through the front of the house, drowning out the soft laughter of the babe on the floor next to me. She knew her Uncle Daryl’s voice anywhere, and she was elated.

“Wait here, sweetheart,” I whispered to Judith. An adorable grin spread across her face in response, as if she was giving me her approval. I skipped around the couch, doing a small twirl as I approached him.

“Hey you,” I greeted. He was knelt on the ground, untying his boot. He looked up through greasy strands of chocolate locks, and upon seeing me, his features softened, the scowl previously adorning his lips dissolving into a soft smile and the wrinkles from scrunching his face fading. He eyed me carefully, his longing gaze lingering on each and every hole in my fishnets as he brought himself to his feet.

“Hey yourself,” he practically cooed. His accent was thick, his tone as silky as the ribbon on my dress as he pulled me against him by my hips. Regardless of his mood, Daryl was always so handsy when he came home from a long day, needing to feel my soft skin against his and bask in the comfort I brought him.

“Ya cast a spell on me or somethin’? ‘Cause it worked.” My hands wandered to his chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt and feeling his heartbeat under my fingertips. It picked up for a moment, then slowed as he relaxed into our kiss and his body melted into mine.

He bounced the edge of my hat with his finger, an amused chuckle emerging from the deepest part of his chest. “Where’d ya pull this from?”

“Found it in a basement. What do you think?”

“Lookin’ cute.” The mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth sent blood rushing straight to my cheeks. “Real cute.” His hands found the hem of my dress, lifting the back slightly as they traveled underneath and rested on my butt, giving it a gentle squeeze, his fingers tangling in the holes of my fishnets.

“Daryl, please,” I laughed, patting his chest, “there is a child present.”

As if on cue, Judith toddled out from around the corner of the couch, steadying herself with her hands as she walked over and plopped herself onto Daryl’s boot. She wrapped herself around his leg, her tiny arms barely able to reach around his calf. He was beaming as he leaned down to scoop up the little one and kissed her cheek, eliciting a string of adorable giggles from her. I’d seen Daryl interact with Jude countless times, yet still, each and every time, I would be left with a smile that caused my cheeks to ache and fluttering in my chest.

“She likes me, but you’re clearly the favorite,” I laughed.

He was the first to feed her. Of course he was the favorite.

“Ya gonna make me dress up too?” he joked, his fingers fiddling with one of the ears on Judith’s costume.

“Only if you want to,” I teased, “I have something for you. C’mon.” He took my outstretched hand, interlocking my fingers with his as I guided him to the living room, stopping at the edge of the newspaper. The grin on my face could’ve lit up the entire community.

“’S’all this?” he asked, his eyes scanning over the sight in front of him.

“I thought I’d help you lose your pumpkin-carving virginity.” I briefly stepped away to retrieve the carving knives and spoons from the kitchen island, squatting to set them on the newspaper next to the pumpkins. I took his free hand in mine again, kissing the back of it and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you probably didn’t get to do stuff like this growing up. I thought…I thought maybe I could give you the experience of something you missed out on." My thought was briefly interrupted by the obnoxious beeping of the slow cooker, signaling the food was done. “This is how my family used to do it. My mom would make a special lasagna soup—that’s what’s in the slow cooker—and my brothers and I would put our costumes on and carve pumpkins in the living room. We usually did it a few weeks before Halloween. I think I was like 2 or 3 when it started.”

“How come ya put the costumes on for it?” Daryl asked as he rocked Judith in his arms.

“According to my mom, Preston was dressing as a pirate that year, and he was just too excited to wear his costume and couldn’t wait until Halloween.” I chuckled as memories from years worth of Halloweens flipped through my mind.

“So my parents got the idea to have us all dress up to carve pumpkins. Scratch the itch Preston had been asking about for weeks. And it just��kind of became the tradition after that. The soup recipe has been in my family for decades. I recreated it as best I could with what we have.”

He began absentmindedly stroking my hand with his thumb as his eyes wandered from each pumpkin to the tools on the ground, then into the kitchen, landing on the slow cooker before coming back to the pumpkins. I could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he took everything in. A small smile tugged at his lips, threatening to crack his usual stoic demeanor. But there was something else there, something I couldn’t put my finger on, bubbling just under the surface. Whatever it was, he was fighting to hide it, blinking a few times and subtly shaking his head, like he was stuck in a trance and was trying to bring himself out of the clouds and back to reality.

“What do you think?” I asked, tilting my head to get a better look at him.

The small smile that was threatening to break through finally appeared, and a soft, breathy laugh escaped him. “It’s real nice.” He set Judith down at his feet before bringing his lips to mine, his hands finding my waist and pulling me against him, encapsulating me in his warmth. Despite the chill in the air, I was nice and cozy. “Ya didn’t hafta do all this.”

“I know I didn’t have to. But I wanted to.” His fingers fiddled with the silky ribbon on my back before traveling to my waist and pulling me against him once again. Jude grabbed onto my tights, giggling as her fingers played with the texture. “C’mon. I’m excited to help you pop your pumpkin-carving cherry.”

I scooped up Judith while Daryl grabbed the carving knives off the floor. I sat her in the bed I’d made for her, grabbing a stuffed bunny she’d left here prior and handing it to her. Once she was satisfied, I took a seat in front of one of the pumpkins, folding my legs to the side and pulling my dress down as much as I could.

“Sorry, I know they’re small. It’s all Maggie could sneak away for me,” I explained. Daryl crossed his legs as he took a seat next to me, scooting until he closed the space between us.

“Whadaya apologizin’ for? Did more than ya needed to,” he replied.

I took one of the carving knives from him and stabbed it into the top of my pumpkin, leaving an inch or so of space between the stem and what would be the perimeter of the opening. The nostalgia coursing through my veins was almost suffocating, but in a comforting way. “God, that felt good.”

“Careful now,” Daryl warned, reaching out to stroke my forearm. His touch was always so light, like being tickled by a feather. “Don’t want ya cuttin’ yaself.”

“My love, I’m a surgeon. I think I can carve a pumpkin just fine,” I assured.

I worked around the top of my pumpkin, the scent wafting out filling me with reminiscence. Daryl did the same with his as I removed the top and began to work at the inside of mine with a spoon.

“Whadaya usually do with ‘em after?” he wondered.

“Like after they sit out for a while?” I asked, and he nodded, “we can…well, we can cut them up and eat them. Let them rot, throw them out a second story window and smash them. Whatever we want. My brothers and I used to either let ours rot or throw them out one of our bedroom windows and smash them in the driveway, if that’s what you meant.”

“Could kill a walker with this thing,” he commented as he took the top off of his.

“Ooh, I’m gonna carve a bow on mine, that would be so cute!” I gushed, “what about you, Daryl? What are you gonna do with yours?”

“Pumpkin’s pretty tiny,” he smirked as he rotated it in his hands before eyeing me, “could carve it into a house for ya.”

I stood at an average 5 foot 7, and he only had three, maybe four inches on me. Still, from the day I arrived inside the walls, he relentlessly teased me about being “small,” often calling me “tiny” and “short stuff.” It never bothered me, as I knew it was all in good fun from the start. The way we teased each other was a love language all its own.

“Y’know what?” I reached into my pumpkin, scraping my hand along the side to scoop up a small handful of guts and seeds, swallowing hard to prevent myself from gagging. I may have been a surgeon, an emergency room surgeon at that, but while I was unfazed by human guts and gore, the texture of pumpkin guts made me queasy. “This is for that.”

I flicked the slime in his direction, some of the slick guts catching in his hair and the rest sliding into his lap. I stifled a chuckle as he took the goop from his hair and tossed it onto the newspaper. “Payback’s a bitch, huh?”

His face contorted into a devious smirk, a subtle glimmer in his eye further corroborating my suspicions of what was coming. Daryl flicked some pumpkin guts in my direction, but much to my dismay, they landed in my mouth. I gagged and spat them out on the newspaper, making a series of disgusted heaving sounds, hacking up more saliva in an effort to get the slime off my tongue.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologized as he reached over to brush some seeds off my dress.

“No, it’s alright,” I replied, wiping my mouth on my sleeve and stifling a chuckle. I grasped his collar and pulled him in for a kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth and wriggling it around his before pulling away. “But if I have to taste it, so do you.”

We talked as we worked on our pumpkins, Jude occasionally offering her opinion with a series of coos and babbles. Daryl told me about his day, how well the hunt went, and about the same guy who was always nearly getting himself killed on every excursion. He’d almost become a meme at this point.

“Still don’t know his name, do you?” I remarked.

“Still don’t care to know,” he retorted.

I peered over the brim of my glasses at Jude, watching her cuddle with and smack the stuffed bunny around in her hands. I tapped on Daryl’s arm and twirled my index finger in circles while nodding toward Jude, indicating for him to spin his pumpkin in her direction. He cocked his eyebrow, but obliged, albeit confused. A smile crept across my lips as I rotated mine around to show her.

“What do you think, sweetheart? Whose do you like more?” I asked.

She looked up from her bunny, her eyes darting between us and scanning over the progress we’d made on our pumpkins so far. A small string of drool spilled out onto her chin as she gaped at us, as if she was mesmerized. Taking her toy, she tossed it in Daryl’s direction, the stuffed bunny landing only a foot away from her.

“’t’s ‘cause I’m the favorite,” he joked, hopping up from his spot to retrieve the bunny. He knelt to grab it, placing it back in her lap and using his thumb to clean the drool off her chin.

“Could you at least have pretended to like mine more?” I teased. She giggled as she waved the toy in rebuttal, grinning from ear-to-ear.

I decorated mine with a classic Jack ‘O Lantern face and a bow, and Daryl had, in fact, carved the rough outline of the shape of a house into his. Initially, I presumed he was joking, but he was committed to the bit, and I had to commend him for that. If men have nothing, it's the audacity.

Despite his initially semi-cheery disposition, something was off. He was becoming increasingly quiet, the tone of his voice changing as his mood continued to dampen. At first, I thought maybe he was just tired. After all, he had been out hunting all day. But I was well acquainted with tired Daryl, and that wasn't who was sitting next to me.

As the night went on, Jude’s yawning became more frequent, and eventually, her eyes fluttered closed, despite her little mind’s protests to keep them open. Scooping her up in my arms, I nestled her into the bundle of blankets on the floor, gently lifting her arm and placing her stuffed bunny at her side. I admire her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall and her tiny fingers grip around the arm of her bunny.

“Seems like her first Halloween really wore her out,” I commented as I rose to head upstairs to the bathroom.

After returning, I went to stir the food, but something stopped me in my tracks. The energy in the air had shifted. It was heavy, thick with heartache, and it filled my chest with an anguish I’d never felt before. Rounding the corner of the living room, my eyes landed on Daryl, head hanging low and slowly tapping the pumpkin in his lap.

“Daryl…are you ok?”

He was somber, the expression on his face dropping into one of sadness. I stepped over to him slowly, carefully, tip-toeing around him as to not stomp too hard and wake Jude. Kneeling on the floor across from him, I tilted my head to get a better look through his fallen strands of hair. He kept his gaze fixated on the floor, not daring to make eye contact with me. His lack of a response was becoming concerning.

“My love, can you talk to me?” I asked. I bit at my bottom lip in a pathetic attempt to soothe my rapidly-building anxiety, preparing for the gut-punch answer that could come after my next question. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Ain’t ya. ’S me,” he replied, continuing to softly tap on the sides of his pumpkin, “never had nothin’ like this ‘fore.”

“I know, that’s why I—“

“Ain’t jus’ this,” he interjected, cutting me off mid-sentence and placing his pumpkin next to him. He hung his head in contempt, the shame weighing heavy in his voice. “Feel like ya might jus’ wake up one day ‘n…”

“Wake up one day and….what?” My skin was growing hot, tingling, the anxiety bubbling just below the surface making the hair at the nape of my neck stand on end.

“Think someone else’s better.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I should’ve seen this coming.

We’d had some newcomers arrive in the last few weeks, a couple of young guys, probably around my age. Eric had recruited them on an outing, and they were both skilled farmers, so they were tasked with tending to the garden and caring for the horses and chickens we’d acquired. I hadn’t gotten to know them all too well, but they were friendly, always offering a “hello” and a smile when we passed each other. We’d had small talk now and then, but nothing more. However, the insecurity that’d been radiating off of Daryl was palpable.

He was the jealous type, but not in a controlling kind of way. Maybe a little possessive, but in a “what’s mine is mine” type way. It wasn’t toxic, he never tried to tell me who I could and couldn’t talk to or be friends with, but it was obvious that some members of the community brought his insecurities to the surface. He’d never said it, nor did I think he ever would, but despite being at Alexandria for far longer than me, he still felt out of place, never feeling like he truly belonged there. And the presence of newcomers--young, smart, conventionally attractive newcomers--in his eyes, outcasted him further.

“Have I ever done anything to make you feel that way?”

He shook his head. “Nah, nothin’ ya did. Been thinkin’ how ya deserve better. That I ain’t good ’nough for ya.”

My heart was on the verge of breaking into a million pieces. How could the most perfect man I’d ever met, the walking green flag with a heart of gold, not think he was good enough for me? He’d been a saint the entirety of our relationship, even before we were official, and he was the kindest, most gentle man I could’ve asked for. He was my sweet archer. My protector. My angel. My Daryl.

“My peach, do you remember when I told you about my first impressions of you? From the day I arrived here?”

“Think so.” Of course he did. He clung to every word I said.

“When I woke up in that dingy, damp, musty cell, your voice was the first thing I heard, letting the others know I was awake. Your sweet, gravely voice...with that gorgeous accent…I still remember the tickling in my ears from hearing it for the first time.” I held my hands up, pretending to hold an invisible crossbow in them and aimed it at Daryl, pressing between his eyebrows with the knuckle of my index finger. “The whole time, you had your crossbow aimed right at my noggin, and I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever laid my eyes on. Still do”

“Ain’t beautiful ‘nough to be with someone like yaself,” he muttered, dropping his gaze to the floor. The sadness lingering in his voice was excruciating.

My heart shattering sent pain radiating through my chest, the tears quickly pooling in my eyes threatening to overflow. I averted my gaze from him for just a moment to blink them away, taking a breath to prevent my voice from shaking. “Did someone say that to you?” I brushed hair out of his eyes and tucked it behind his ear, caressing his jaw as I did. “Cause if they did, they’re gonna have to square the fuck up.”

“Nobody said nothin’,” he assured. While I was relieved to hear no one was being nasty toward him, it broke me to know he was coming to these conclusions on his own accord.

An empathetic sigh flowed from my lips. Dragging my index finger to his chin and tilting his head up, I kissed his forehead. He still kept his eyes on the floor. “Daryl? Can you look at me?”

He hesitantly brought his baby blues to mine, afraid to look me in the eye after he previous statement, as if he thought he would face repercussions for it. “You’re the only man I’ve had eyes for from the moment I set foot inside these walls.” I bit at the inside of my bottom lip, debating whether or not to bring up the elephant that'd been occupying the room the last few weeks.

“I know you’ve been feeling...some type of way since those new guys got here,” I confessed. He sighed as his gaze fell to the floor again, hair falling into his eyes, which I quickly caught and tucked behind his ear, caressing it as I did. “Who cares about those guys? Fuck them. Fuck anyone else. They don’t have your heart, Daryl. No one does."

"You constantly tell me I do too much for you. I don’t feel like I do enough. You deserve this and so much more.” I stifled a chuckle. “This is just all I could conjure up given…y’know, the apocalypse and all that.”

He fiddled with the fabric of my sleeve, rubbing the crushed velvet between his fingers, a habit he’d developed as a comfort for when he was overwhelmed or anxious. I blinked furiously as tears attempted to break free from the corners of my eyes. Taking his face in my hands, I tilted his head back up, mustering up the softest, most empathetic expression I was capable of.

“I love you beyond comprehension.” I delicately stroked his cheekbones with my thumbs, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You deserve everything good. You deserve people around you who love you for exactly who you are. You deserve silly little holiday traditions and a warm place to come home to. You deserve a life full of love, peace, and happiness.”

Taking my hat off and tossing it on the floor, I pressed on Daryl’s leg, coaxing him to spread them apart to allow me to settle in between. Draping my arms around his neck, I threaded my fingers into his hair, twirling locks between them. “You deserve someone who will stick with you through the good times and the bad, someone who will sit with you on your hardest days and help you heal from the horrors you’ve had to endure.”

Pressing my forehead to his, I kissed the tip of his nose again and stared deep into those gorgeous cerulean pools. Those eyes…god, those fucking eyes. Even after all this time, they gave me the same butterflies in my stomach and weakness in my knees as they did the very first time we ever locked eyes. “You deserve me, Daryl. I’ve never been more sure of anything before.”

His eyes fell to the floor, and his shoulders noticeably relaxed, his nostrils flaring as he breathed a sigh of relief. Snaking his arms around my waist, he pulled me as close to him as was physically possible, resting his head on my shoulder and settling his face in the crook of my neck. His warm breath tickled my skin. His voice came out soft, shaky, barely above a whisper, his Adam’s apple vibrating against my collarbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my little Georgia peach.”

We sat like that for some time, the only sound permeating the stillness being the occasional soft snore from Jude. Every now and then, I’d kiss the top of his head, tenderly massaging his scalp with my fingers and reminding him that everything was ok. He melted into me, every muscle in his body slowly turning to jelly with each passing second. Despite that, he was holding me tight, as if he was afraid I would slip away if he loosened his grip, his arms snaking further around me with any small adjustment I made.

A soft, tender kiss met my shoulder, his lips lingering before placing another one, his thick accent muffled against my neck breaking the silence. “Dunno what I did to deserve ya.”

Tapping on his the back of his neck, he brought himself up from my shoulder, bringing his forehead back to mine. Weaving my fingers out of his hair, my hands traveled to and interlocked on the back of his neck, my thumbs tenderly massaging the sensitive area behind his ears. “Being you. That’s what you did.”

I saw a glimmer in his eye as a single tear caught the moonlight streaming in through the window. “It’s ok to cry, my peach,” I assured.

“Ain’t gon’ cry,” he retorted, his gaze falling back to the floor as he blinked rapidly. The sounds that dripped off my lips was somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. That was the stubborn man I knew and loved.

“Well if you need to, just know it’s ok. And I’m here,” I reassured, “listen, I know marriage isn’t a thing now. Not in the sense it used to be anyway, but…” I bit my lip as a goofy grin spread across my face, stretching from ear-to-ear, lashes fluttering as he made eye contact with me once again. “As long as I’m alive, I’m sticking around.”

“Ya sayin’ ya wanna spend forever…w’me?” Dare I say there was a hint of excitement in his voice. I gave him a crooked half-smile and a nod.

“Mhm,” I hummed. The corners of his mouth upturned into his quintessential small smile. The softest shade of baby pink graced his cheeks, and there was a glint in his eyes, a sparkle I’d never seen before. He was beaming. As much as Daryl was capable of, anyway. “I’ve know that for a long time now. There are very few things you could do to actually get rid of me. I’m not going anywhere”

His eyes fell to my lips for a brief moment before he kissed me, tenderly, the same as he always did. The butterflies in my stomach awakened, and blood rushed to my cheeks as his fingers weaved into the holes of my fishnets, pressing lightly into the flesh of my thighs. “Good.”

“This is probably gonna sound hella cheesy, but…I see home when I look at you,” I explained. His smile slipped out again as our eyes locked.

“Ya sayin’ like that ya ain’t been sayin’ cheesy shit already,” he teased. One of his hands wandered up to rest on my hip, the other taking mine as I playfully shoved his chest.

“Oh shush. It might be cheesy, but I meant every word,” I reiterated, the silly, giddy grin I’d been trying to restrain breaking through my pitiful poker face, “you’re home to me, Daryl. Doesn’t matter where we are. Just as long as I’m with you.”

He bit his bottom lip, his voice timid as he echoed my sentiment. “You too.”

I reached out for my hat and plunked it on his head, giggling softly as I tilted it at a slight angle. He scoffed, but the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t going to be taking it off. Not with how happy it made me to see him wearing it. “Think maybe…” his voice trailed off for a moment before he found it again, “maybe we can do this again? Or a different one?”

“Mhm. We can tackle them all,” I reassured, giving his hand a tender squeeze, “one tradition at a time.”

I peered over his shoulder into the kitchen, my eyes falling to the slow cooker. “I don’t mean to detract from the sap, but you’ve been out all day. I’m sure you’re hungry.” I stared to get up, but he gently tugged on my hand to keep me in place.

“Stay sat, I got it,” he said. He leaned in and placed a kiss on my forehead before rising to his feet. “Ya made it, least I could do is get ya some.”

“I’ve never made it before,” I called out as he wandered to the kitchen, “it’s not the exact recipe, but I did the best I could with what we have access to.”

“‘M sure it’s good,” Daryl asserted, removing the lid from the slow cooker and grabbing bowls out of one of the cabinets, “98% success rate, ‘member?”

I watched intently as he took the ladle and stirred the soup, my eyes fixating on each move he made. Every ounce of love I had for him swelled in my chest, and I was sure my ribs would start cracking. The butterflies in my stomach were working overtime, and as he filled those little ceramic bowls to the brim, I made a promise. Not just to myself, but to him--I was going to spend the rest of my life making sure this perfect human being never thought, for even a second, that he wasn't good enough for me, again.

A half-smile spread across my face, which slowly turned into a full one as he strode back over, handing me one of the bowls and taking a seat next to me, maneuvering to close the space between us. “Do me a favor, sunshine,” he said, nodding to gesture to my dress as that faint pink appeared on his cheeks again, “next time I…take care of ya…promise you’ll wear that.”

I covered my mouth as I took a bite, chuckling at his gentlemanly euphemism. “If you insist.”

Taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie

Divider found on Google via searching for stock images.

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solarmorrigan · 9 months ago

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For the heart prompt could you possibly do 💚 please? Thank you in advance ☺️

My guy, I cannot even tell you how much this one argued with me. A challenge! It was fun, though, thank you for the prompt :D

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

Prompt from this post

It’s practically the stuff of fairy tales – like something out of the story books Steve’s mom would read to him before bed, back when doing stuff like reading to your kid was in vogue.

It isn’t that soulmates aren’t real—it’s the sort of thing you’ll hear about a friend of a friend or see in the news sometimes, that a soulmate pair has come together, usually when one or both of the people involved are already famous—it’s just that they’re rare.

Not everyone is lucky enough to find their fated person – the person who will complete them, whose presence will soothe, whose very touch is said to be healing (and Steve has no idea if that’s all built-up, romanticized bullshit or not, but he likes imagining that it’s true, anyway).

Steve used to fantasize about it, if he’s honest: finding his One True Love, having a soulmate, someone who would love him unconditionally and never want to abandon him.

Of course, as he gets older, he realizes that it’s both unlikely and unrealistic to imagine that he, of all people, would have a soulmate. And in any case, he doesn’t need one. He still finds his people – people who love him and who care about him and who he loves and cares for in return. No soul bond required.

People like Dustin and Robin – and Eddie, who Steve enjoys being around more than he possibly could have imagined. Eddie, who takes the time to explain his references when Steve gets lost, who listens when Steve wants to talk about his own things, who not only tolerates but seems to delight in when Steve wants to take care of him, who sticks up for and takes care of Steve in return.

Eddie, who seems just as drawn to Steve as Steve is to him.

Even now, when they’d had plans to hang out for the day and Steve’s goddamn brain had ruined it all by smacking him upside the head with a migraine, Eddie is there. He isn’t even mad that their plans have been derailed – he’s just bringing Steve water and his medication and making sure that the blinds are closed and that he’s comfortable, and who the fuck even needs a soulmate, Steve fucking loves this man.

In his muddled state, he thinks he might try to say as much, but it comes out as more of a sleepy mumble. The jumble of syllables catches Eddie’s attention, at least, and brings him back to the side of the bed, where he perches and leans towards Steve.

“How’re you doing?” he asks softly.

Steve hums – less of an answer, and more of a confirmation that he’s still alive.

Eddie gives him a soft smile of sympathy and reaches over to brush Steve’s bangs back from his forehead. Steve swears his head clears a little just at the touch.

“Sorry the day got ruined,” he finally manages, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s fine. We’ve always got more time. Sorry you’re feeling shitty, though,” Eddie says.

And then– and then he leans in and presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead, quick and soft, and the touch of his lips against Steve’s skin sparks. It tingles and spreads and Steve gasps and shivers at the weird, weird feeling of all his pain suddenly draining away, leaving him feeling perfectly well and completely fucking stunned.

He stares up at Eddie, who stares back at him, just as startled, his fingers hovering somewhere near his lips as if he’d been poking at them trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Steve can see the moment he comes to the exact same conclusion that Steve has.

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly, and Steve laughs, sitting up to throw his arms around Eddie’s neck.

Those stupid storybooks were right, Steve decides, as he pulls Eddie in for a full and proper kiss – sometimes dreams really do come true.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddiesteve #stranger things #I've never written a soulmate au before!#I'm not even sure this fully counts but it was fun anyway #anonymous #answers from solar #solar wrote

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tbatthis · 3 months ago

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been thinking about shi-long lang all day as one does and have said this in increasingly incoherent ways with the langnaheads but like. i think it's so so funny how hard he constantly contradicts himself out of pure spite for edgeworth when you first meet him in case 3 lmao like. okay insane rambler long post time

he makes a big deal about showing people proper respect when you greet them, then Immediately calls edgeworth a Filthy Prosecutor who sucks fucking ass. he talks about how he leaves all the lame shit like "logic" and "truth" to the stupid cringe prosecutors and their stupid cringe courts but he also wants to prove that he has really cool epic logic and reasoning because he's the best investigationman who ever lived.

he talks about how Courts And Truth Don't Matter, Just Arrest Any Freak You See but he is actually using entirely sensible logic to accuse people like "hey you're the only guy with an unaccounted-for gun and you've been standing directly outside the place the guy got shot in." like edgeworth gets very tilted about this because lang's a huge dipshit about it but functionally he's doing what edgeworth does in every mainline aa case he prosecutes in. he's basically just using reasonable deduction that would probably land the real killer in a normal case, but he has inadvertently stepped into ace attorney where every culprit is the glue man who has invented a special glue that allows him to walk up and down anything, so Of Course The Guy At The Scene Who Owns The Only Gun That Could Be Involved isn't the dude.

and like all of this adds up to "lang appears to be a huge asshole who arrests anyone and doesn't actually care if he gets the culprit" but he also keeps explicitly demonstrating that he takes the investigation seriously and does actually think about the case and who could potentially be the culprit in a logical fashion. he doesn't literally arrest every single person he sees. he does actually have reasons for his actions beyond Arrest Em All 1989. and again he literally refers to his line of reasoning as his logic.

so like honestly i think the answer to "why does he keep saying truth and logic dont matter and are for gay nerds like edgeworth" is that he doesn't actually believe that and is just so perpetually angry at The Courts and prosecutors that he's just spouting it because he thinks a prosecutor's use of "logic" is inherently suspect and they're trying to reason their way into pushing a lie on people. and because he is shi-long lang and is the most ridiculous man to ever exist this manifests in him talking like a cartoon bully shoving the science geek in the locker. so like the consequence is lang seems insane. and he definitely is because he constantly roleplays as a wolf. but in reality he is a lot more reasonable than he presents himself, i think he's just so far into hating The Courts that he doesn't like to associate what he's doing with anything that might happen in a courtroom. lang isn't using "logic" to find "the truth" he is using "the detainment philosophy" to find "the criminals" which is very different he swears. he is not like the stinky courts.

also i think there's something in how when he's being antagonistic to edgeworth about his methods he says it's fine to just arrest whoever because "hey everyone's done something wrong" but then the second shih-na starts getting accused in case 5 he just totally refuses to entertain the idea she could ever do anything wrong. so like either shih-na is his special exception due to the fact that he is in love with her as know or he was once again just spouting shit he didn't really think to piss off edgeworth lmao

basically i think lang comes off this way because he's coping hardcore and wants to make edgeworth mad. which i think is really really funny and adds a lot to his Dumb Guy Aura

#shi-long lang #more like shi-long ass post am i right fellas!!!!

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alshixxah · 5 months ago

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Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship)

On a hot summer night in Greece, Lewis contemplates her "best friend" eating sorbet.

Notes: 2.1k, girlcedes, not beta-read, english is not my first language, title and references from a Studio Killers song of the same name, first time writing fanfiction, slightly suggestive at times, in true teenage girl fashion Lewis is going through it, there are too little fics where Lewis is just plainly weird about Nico

This is @sionisjaune's girlcedes anon from like 2 weeks ago. Girlcedes and girl!Nico especially have been haunted my brain an unhealthy amount and spilled out into this foul beast. I swear this was supposed to be a drabble idk how we got to 2k. Once again shoutout to @sionisjaune, I wish (not really) i was joking when i said that their girl!Nico fics have quite literally fundamentally changed the way i see my own femininity and relationship to the concept of womanhood.

It was uncommon for Lewis to ignore a cone of soft serve in front of her, it really was. The view before her, Nico licking so methodically at the strawberry sorbet perched gracelessly on the cone in her hand as if it was a corner she was analysing, had her letting the sticky liquid melt from her own cone gently down her hand.

In truth, she hated calling her “friend”, but she had no other word for what was between them. A bond so strong, forged over the many years they perfected the art of knowing each other, first as strangers, then friends, then karting teammates, and now vacationeers together in Greece. A bond seemingly so unbreakable that they swore it would survive any rivalries that came from competition, but so stupidly fragile when Lewis thought of words to describe it other than “friends”.

Nico glanced at her, and wordlessly placed one of the paper napkins from her lap onto hers while gently grabbing Lewis’ ice cream cone. Lewis only took her eyes off of mindlessly rubbing at her hands when Nico spoke. “It's a shame. Cream colours look good on you”. “Better like this. My hands are all sticky”

The air was hot, even at night. She could still smell the night market, two streets down from the sea promenade where they were sitting on the rocks. The heavy spices and oil from their street food dinner had made the air in the market sticky as well, and whether by the wind or them channelling it to come with, the air around them now was sticky too. Lewis knew the napkins were ultimately futile to erase the feeling. While she had spoken, another droplet had escaped Lewis’ cone, and Nico gently tilted her head to lick at it with the tip of her tongue, so as to not get it on her nail. The polish perfectly matched the colour of her sorbet. Lewis wondered if it would taste like it too if placed in her mouth.

The only way to stop this stickiness might be to drown herself in the sea across from them. Lewis didn't know if she wanted to.

She carelessly stuffed the napkin into the back pocket of her jean shorts and took back her cone without making eye contact.

“I should paint your nails cream when we get back. We could match. I'm getting tired of this colour” Nico scrunched up her face as she scratched her left thumb across her ring finger. She had only painted her nails two days ago, sat on the sunny balcony floor of their shared room, hunched over and looked like the most beautiful girl on earth Lewis had ever seen.

“I like it. It suits you, and it matches your ice cream”

“Sorbet”

“It matches your Sorbet”

Nico frowned. “No, you're saying it wrong. Sorr-be”

“That's exactly what I’m saying”

“No you're saying sour-bee. Put your tongue more forward in your mouth like-” Her face froze as she tried to think of a proper comparison. Lewis had never possessed the ease Nico seemingly had when it came to picking up languages. Her tongue stubbornly stuck to only moulding itself around the gentle sloping and stopping of the English accent she was born into. Around the proper way, how she would tease Nico about her German lilt.

Suddenly Nico snapped out of her trance, and looked at Lewis with that look that told her whatever came next was not a suggestion but a demand. “Open your mouth”

Lewis obeyed without thinking.

Carefully, like she could shatter Lewis like glass, she stuck her index and middle finger in her mouth and up to her gum, pushing at the space right behind Lewis ́ front teeth.

To any passerby, it must have looked like she was giving her some sort of dental examination. She was so helplessly but willingly at her mercy with two fingers down her mouth. Who would willingly subject themselves to this, she thought, if not for the nauseating agony that toothaches born of avoidance give you? Nobody would so obediently open their mouth, and keep it open, if sweetness would not melt into cavities.

Lewis could only watch as her friend slowly removed her fingers from the mouth she desperately willed to behave from spilling everything sticky she tried to wipe away. In doing so, Nicos nails grazed her tongue. She tasted the sweet flavour of strawberry.

“Put your tongue there. Say it.”

Nicos looked like a spilled bottle of perfume, so intense and penetrating was her look. All Lewis could do was hold it with wide eyes.

“Sorr-be.”

“Good”

“I think I´d like to taste yours, actually” Lewis reached over to take her cone from her and she immediately retorted by taking hers. She had no desire to taste the strawberry in particular, but if she didn't keep her mouth busy it might start telling Nico all its acronyms for their “friendship”. There was a dent in the sorbet where Nico had last licked at it, no bigger than her thumbpad.

When they found the small ice cream vendor at the end of the market, she had initially hoped to get coconut flavour. They had ventured into the building just on the last street corner from the bustling food stalls like they owned the place, and just for a second Lewis stood back to watch Nico gawk at the spread of flavours before them with such unashamed desire that she so fiercely guarded in public. Desire that was sadly not focused on Lewis.

Stepping into Nicos personal space was always a full sensory experience. For her at least. It occurred to her that when her father only looked at her confused when she once mentioned she could often smell Nico before she entered the room that maybe other people just were not as fixated on everything Nico. God, she needed to get more normal.

Nico matched all of her hygiene products, her body wash, her lotion, her shampoo, down to deodorant and perfume to a scent, and that one scent completely enveloped her entire being.

Well, two scents actually, roses for special occasions, like the celebratory dinner after their last 1-2 finish, and coconut at all other times.

Whenever she knew they would share a room, she made sure to conveniently forget her body wash, or lotion, only to shamefully buy a cheap one in a corner store a few days later to eventually chuck it in the trash when she got home from that particular trip.

The first time showering with Nicos stuff was always like the first time again. Nico would consume her in shockwaves, penetrate her senses and skin in a way that made her almost feel dirtier than before stepping in the shower, and leave her staring at her murky silhouette in the foggy mirror to get a grip and not pounce her “friend” the second she stepped out of their shared bathroom.

It made her nauseous the fourth or fifth time, always. She could not handle it, being so filled and surrounded by something she then had to pretend was her friend, but she could never resist lathering her skin just a couple seconds extra with hands that smelled like Nico. She would buy the other body wash then.

Nico never commented on how often she would forget hers in the first place, or when she would buy the second, or when Lewis never gave her back the shirts she would steal from her.

When she was back in Stevenage, she used them as her pillowcase, just the white back without a print to keep it her secret, so Anthony would think his daughter was normal, and bury her face into them and scream.

She needed to microdose this way, she would lash out and convulse and bloom like a werewolf into something hideous if she indulged on her “best friend” in the way she wanted to.

Maybe that is why she always borrowed her lip gloss only after Nico used it first, or why she wanted coconut ice cream. She could not have the real thing, but something sticky and wet on her lips that she knew was to some degree her “best friends” saliva was all she could allow herself.

She looked at the indent on Nicos sorbet in her hands that glistened in the moonlight. She flattened her tongue against it while closing her eyes. Just a little indulgence. When she looked up again Nico was staring at her, soft serve untouched.

“I'd let you paint my nails. But keep yours. I like them. Plus you painted them like yesterday.”

“No. I want us to match.”

Lewis popped the last of the sorbets cone in her mouth and took Nicos free hand in hers. She closely examined her still pristine nails.

“And that wouldn’t look good on me or what?”

She gently caressed the nail bed of her elegant pointer finger. Nico, suddenly, as if she remembered she was alive, or as if Lewis had rubbed the death out of her, she grabbed Lewis’ wrist.

The motion was so sudden it almost scared Lewis if it wasn’t her “friend”. Her hand slowly travelled up her arm and she began to slowly whisper. “No.”

Her hand brushed past the strap of her top as Lewis’ hand came to join hers, “No”.

It tangled itself firmly on the back of Lewis’ neck and Nico pulled her down, down, down, until her forehead was pressed to the sticky expanse of Nicos sweaty naked shoulder and she closed her eyes. "No."

This close she could almost pretend she crawled inside Nicos skin, deep underneath the surface like she was her lungs, or brain, or heart if she wanted to be vulgar. Something precious that would kill Nico to get rid of.

All her senses were assaulted by coconut, but this was the first time that under it she smelled the faint mechanical, almost animalistic floral scent buried deep beneath it. It reminded Lewis of speed walking past the alleyway on her way back from school where everyone knew the cokeheads gathered after 3 p.m. and it made Nico seem just as dangerous.

“Talk to me Lewis”, her best friend for years said above her.

“You terrify me. Paint me every colour you want. Please.”

Nico pulled her up by the scuff of her neck, even when her hands went just shy of jerking upwards and grabbing her hair. There was no place to hide from the other now, nowhere to put yourself except for your lips to move except against each other with restrained obsession against each other. Neither girl could guess how many kisses the other had, even as they refused to break eye contact over the kiss, blue eyes staring in deeply, deeply unsure brown ones.

The string of spit that emerged when they finally broke fell into both their laps at once, where brown legs had tangled with tan ones. Neither made a move to kiss each other again or touch the other further, they just swayed in each other's orbit, like a snake and a flute, panting each others air that was laced with something as sick as devotion.

“I'm scared.” Lewis finally admitted. “I was scared. You’re my best friend. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship”

At this Nico finally moved, head cocked to the side, eyes wide not in surprise but laser focus, and pressed her soft chest into Lewis’

“Ruin it.” She gripped Lewis’ upper arms with a bruising grip, her flesh spilling out between her fingers, “Do it.”

She feverishly pecked at Lewis’ cheek, “Destroy it. Wreck it. Break our friendship.”

Her hands finally found the courage to angrily weave into Lewis’ hair and she pressed their faces so close that their noses were touching and speaking became awkward. “I don’t want it anymore. We are more than friends. I will follow you to the end, Lewis.”

Lewis’ hands had raked themselves around her shoulders and waist, more leverage to never, ever, let her go, and she needed to restrain her teeth to not make Nico an even bigger part of her than she already was when she crashed them together to kiss again.

“Take me back to the hotel.” Nico said with crazy eyes and her usual restrained voice. “I will paint your nails and never let you use another body wash.”

And the only things that proved two friends were ever there in the first place were an abandoned cone of sticky, melted vanilla soft serve, and the constellations they had given new names that night.

#brocedes #girlcedes #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 fanfic #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #nico is such an only child in this (i am definately not projecting)#just girls being girls #they are insane your honour #they painted each others nails and then they f- *gunshot*#for everyone that also had an insane teenage girl friendship they never got over #weird psychosexual freaks <3

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schvmacher47 · 9 months ago

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venus | oscar piastri (preview III)

oscar piastri x fem oc

author's note: enjoy this little preview of my beloved best friends to lovers story, which i am currently uploading on wattpad! i would appreciate it so much if you would give my work a chance and i am 100% sure you'll love kaia as much as i do! feel free to share and also come over to my wattpad to enjoy the full thing. much love xx

read preview I & II here!

13 | how i obsessively adore you

»You know, I’m getting major flashbacks right now. This feels like the old Prema days all over again.«

»Oh really?«

»I’d call this a proper full circle moment.«

»Oh so you want the full Prema experience?«, I grinned, immediately turning on the camera and practically shoving it into his face. »How about this then?«

»And here I was thinking you were past the days of ambushing me with a camera.«, he complained. »You better cut this out!! I swear, if this makes the final cut…«

»Well, you did say you wanted the full Prema experience… So don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.«, I steadied the camera in my right hand, a grin still present on my lips. Oscar just shook his head at me, a smile tugging at his lips nonetheless as he finally fell back into the old habits of his Prema days.

»So we’re here in Monza..«, he began, stating the obvious. »Not so much in holiday mood this year. No thongs, all serious business.«, he added, grinning, referring to last year’s mishap. I rolled my eyes. »We get it Mr. popular F1 driver…«, I mumbled, shaking my head. Oscar chuckled, ignoring my playful jab.

»I’m being serious! Gotta be focused all the time. But yeah, it’s definitely great to be back.« I nodded in agreement. It all felt so familiar, as if it never really changed. As if it was yesterday, Oscar was still in F2, just about to win the championship in Abu Dhabi. I was experiencing a proper deja vu, it almost gave me the chills.

»So what’s the game plan for today?«, I asked, getting back to our little made-up interview as we made our way to the gates of the F2 and F3 paddock.

»Well, this isn’t our strongest track this year. Low downforce, high speed. Not really suiting our car, but we’ve been working hard and my pace yesterday was quite good. So the main goal is to score some solid points, maybe even a podium… Monza can be quite chaotic so…«, he shrugged.

»Confident as ever, huh?«, I remarked, a smile playing on my lips. »It wouldn’t be a proper Italian GP without a bit of drama..«, I agreed, secretly hoping and crossing my fingers for another podium finish.

»Confidence is key and a little bit of luck here and there doesn’t hurt either..«, he quipped, shooting me a playful look. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

»Speaking of luck, any superstitious rituals this time?«, I asked, but definitely wasn’t prepared for the answer Oscar was going to give me despite him already mischievously grinning.

»You know I’ve added a few new ones since the Prema days. Can’t spill all the secrets though.«, he grinned. »Let’s just say there’s a lucky charm involved.«

»Intriguing.« That cheeky little bastard. He was clearly referring to Silverstone. My cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, growing suspiciously hot and I was just glad that nobody was there to witness it. Oscar’s mischievous grin widened as he noticed the subtle blush creeping onto my cheeks.

»She’s blushing.«, he mouthed, definitely not planning to stop teasing me anytime soon.

»Am not!«, I protested, already thinking of how I can best cover up this situation. He glared at me, a smile tugging at his lips as if he was trying to say ‘you sure are’.

»But for anyone wondering, no I won’t go into further detail. I don’t plan on sharing my lucky charm anytime soon. I’m definitely not gonna favour any of my opponents, that’s for sure.«, he quickly added, closing off that part of our conversation.

I bit down on my lower lip, trying to control and stop the blood rushing to my cheeks. If people only knew what he was talking about. I gulped as I pulled out my passes just to press them on the scanner seconds later to enter the paddock area.

»You know it’s only fair if I get to film some bits too, I’m pretty sure people would love to see what you actually do behind the scenes.«, he said, pointing at the camera in my hands. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man walking. I knew he was up to no good.

»Oh come on, you tortured me all season last year, just let me have fun this one time?«, he practically begged until I gave in.

»Fine…«, I sighed and handed him the camera. Internally, I already prepared for my own downfall. I knew that he would get back at me for every single bad angle and ‘torturing’ challenge I put him through. He was most definitely going to beat me at my own game.

Seconds later, I was the one awkwardly smiling into the camera.

»So folks, it’s finally my turn now. I’ve been waiting for this moment since last year!«, Oscar declared, dramatically gesturing behind the camera.

»You better not make me look ridiculous. You know I still have unseen footage from last year.«

»I don’t care, your bribing won’t work today.«, he grinned, as we were on our way all the way to the back of the paddock.

»But let’s start easy, what’s your plan for the day?«

»Well, hopefully we can celebrate a championship.«, I said, shrugging my shoulders. »Apart from that, just the usual things, might start editing in the break between F2 and F1, depending on what mood I’m in.«, I added. »And I can’t wait to go home again tonight.«

»No books involved in your planning?«, he asked in disbelief.

»I’m here to work, and considering my plans for later, I actually don’t have the time to read.«

»I’m actually shocked.« I chuckled at his facial expression, pure disbelief visible on every inch of his face.

»Anyway, let’s stay with the books for a second. Last book you read?«

»Some random biography on the plane to Zandvoort.«, I lied, knowing that if I named the book I finished two days ago, we’d end up in the same situation as the morning after Silverstone.

»Lies. I call lies.« Shit. I was fucked. There was no way he'd skip this one now.

»How would you know?«, I tried to overplay it, not daring to look at him. I knew he had that smug grin on his lips knowing he caught me.

»Well I don’t want to break it to the world, why don’t you tell them about your reading habits like you told me?«, he asked, raising an eyebrow. I shot him a death glare. There was no way he was using that conversation from that morning against me right now.

»Ohw come on Kaia, it’s not that bad.« No, just ‘soft porn’ as he liked to call it. Just when I thought the red tint had finally left my face, I felt my cheeks growing very warm again.

»Fine, the last fictional novel I read was ‘The Cheat Sheet’.«, I gave in. »It was very good, definitely a recommendation worth.«, I added. »And no, not for the reason you’re thinking it’s recommendation worthy.«, I grumbled, shooting Oscar another death glare before he could even dare to say the ‘forbidden’ words.

»For anyone who's interested, it’s best friends to lovers, but both of them think they’re in the friendzone with the other one, but they’re both in love with the other. They’re so in love, it’s almost annoying. Like, why don’t you just tell each other.« I explained, glancing over at Oscar, giving me the ‘I see what you did there’ look. I grinned in so thought victory, until the mischievous grin spread on his lips again.

»So it wasn’t just soft porn?«

»Oh for fucks sake Oscar!«, I exclaimed, my cheeks blazing with embarrassment.

»Don’t blame me, you’re the one who made it sound so scandalous in the first place, if I remember correctly.«, he grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

»So if I heard correctly, you’ve basically been reading about us, huh?«

»Oh my god, stop it, will you?«

»No, winding you up is too easy and easily my most favourite thing to do.«, he grinned.

»That’s it, I’ve had enough.«, I grumbled, closing the gap between us to try and get my camera back. »Can I please get my camera back? I think you’ve embarrassed me enough for the rest of this season.«, I added and let out an annoyed groan, when he held the camera far out of my reach. He just grinned, stopped in his tracks and held the camera above his head. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, shooting him yet another death glare, but he just grinned at me victoriously. I got on my tiptoes, trying to reach for the camera, but my arm just wasn’t long enough.

»A kiss and I’ll think about giving it back to you.«, he grinned, trying to bribe me.

»You’re impossible.«, I muttered, already scanning our surroundings for the possibility of any prying eyes. Oscar’s mischievous grin widened, as he continued to hold the camera just out of my reach. It was clear that he was enjoying every single bit of annoying me.

»Fine..«, I sighed, ready to surrender. Getting on my tiptoes again, I pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.

»You know that’s not what I meant.«, he chuckled at my terrified expression.

»Feeling a bit risky, are we?«, I said, raising an eyebrow.

»If it means I get a kiss from you, then yes. Definitely.«

»Oscaaar…«, I whined as a laugh shot through his body. He put his arm, that was not holding the camera, around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I could feel the warmth of his body radiate against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t help, but look into his eyes, getting lost in the infinite shades of brown. I was unable to suppress the smile that was tugging at my lips, as I felt my tummy doing turns again.

»If this ends up on the internet, you’re the one who’s gonna deal with it..«, I mumbled, as I brought my right hand up to his face and ran it through his hair.

»I don’t care.«, he whispered. His mischievous grin faded away as our faces drew closer. His lips were just mere inches away from mine and it felt just like the very first time.

He was so close. So close, I could tell every little detail of his skin. Every little detail of his eyes.

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lurafita · 7 months ago

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POV Asmodaddy

(I tried to find the actual post to link up, but this account has so many posts and I gave up... 🤣😅)

Anyway, make it even more chaotic. Alec doesn't know that Magnus is the son of Asmodeus, villain extraordinaire. But Magnus doesn't know that Alec is the famed Shadowhunter. So when Shadowhunter crashes into Asmodeus' villa, loudly proclaiming about the villain releasing his boyfriend right the fuck now, Magnus just turns a very unimpressed eyebrow at his father and goes: "Really? You kidnapped his boyfriend?" And Asmodeus will be indignant, like: "I did no such thing! Clearly this is a petty ploy of his to manufacture proper cause to invade my home. And on the day that I finally get to have a nice luncheon with my only son. See how two-faced these heroes are now, my boy? Will you join my side now?" And Magnus like: "No thanks."

Magnus at some point: "Wait. Why did you think I was kidnapped in the first place?" Alec: "Okay, don't get mad, but I might, technically, maybe, have …. bugged you. NOT FOR CREEPY REASONS! But my superhero persona can make things dangerous and I hadn’t gotten up the courage to tell you about it yet, BUT I WAS GOING TO SOON I SWEAR! And Simon said stuff about how in those comics he reads bad stuff always happens right before the hero comes clean and I wanted to be able to find you if something happened. And then your GPS location was going to Asmodeus lair, who everyone knows is a villain but no one can fucking proof it so… I got a little panicky." Magnus: "So you thought you were about to walk into a trap… and you didn’t even take your sidekicks with you?" Alec: "If I tell Jace you referred to him as my sidekick he will have a conniption. And I told you, I got panicky when I thought you were in danger. I couldn’t waste time with getting the others together. I love you." Magnus: "You love me?" Alec: "I do. I really do." Magnus: "I love you too." Alec: "That's the first time we said that to each other." Magnus: "Yeah, so you should definitely kiss me right now." both leaning toward each other Asmodeus: "Could you not?"

#magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters tv #malec #malec prompt #crack #asmodaddy #asmodeus #superheros and villains au

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therhythmafterthesummer · 2 years ago

Note

Hi!

First wanted to say I love the wereroomies series!! You’re doing a great job!!

Second, small lil headcannon if you don’t mind. I know Channie’s gf is thick/curvy. And while her self confidence is normally impeccable, there are days when it gets to her cause she doesn’t look like what media wants. You can’t tell me Chan wouldn’t be behind her in the mirror helping her with her routine leading her through mantras to herself.

hooo hooo hoo, anon. you're so smart and sexy, honestly.

i'm glad you're enjoying wereroomies ! your headcanon inspired me, so i wrote this. it's barely proof-read (i went over it like, once), but since it came out of my system i figured i should share it with you all !

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series). | Word Count: ~1k. | Warnings: use of the word fat (not in a derogatory way. we must destigmatise the word fat and i'll stand by this til i die sdjfbsdhjkf), references to 13 going 30, discussion of body image.

“This is bullshit…” You threw your pair of jeans on the bed, huffing and swearing away as if the thing had burnt your skin.

What a fucking week. First, the coffee machine at work broke. Second, your favourite undergarments store closed for good. And third, your favourite pair of jeans just ripped at the crotch, right where your thighs rubbed against one another. The universe was clearly testing your patience and that self-assurance you’d worked so hard for.

“Baby?” Chris peeked from the door of your bedroom, looking incredibly puzzled–not like you could notice much anyway, since you were pulling clothes out of your closet like a mad person. “Are you… Good?”

“No, I’m not fucking good”, your reply was maybe a bit harsher than how you would usually address your boyfriend, but you couldn’t really measure your words right now. “I’m pissed! Why does it have to be like this?”

You kept grumbling to yourself, pulling jeans after jeans from your closet, dropping them on the floor, trying to find a pair that would fit you like the ones that just ripped. None would, though. You knew that already. That was why these were stored here, untouched. None would hold your tummy like those did, none would make your ass look as good, none would hug your waist and your hips as well as those did.

“Hey…” Chris spoke softly, walking close to where you had dropped your pile of clothes. “Talk to me?”

You huffed, annoyed, dejected, defeated by the weights of society you so desperately tried to pretend didn’t exist. “Why? Tell me why the universe decided to make me fat in a world where fat people can’t even find proper jeans to fit us, huh? It’s bullshit…”

Chris opened and closed his mouth a few times, and you just huffed again, slightly annoyed. What would he know? He wasn’t only a male, but also a male in shape, handsome, surely personally sculpted by whichever wolf deity werewolves worshipped.

You started gathering your jeans from the floor, just as Chris took a look at the entire room, his eyes finally landing on the pair you had dropped on the bed earlier. He walked to them, taking them in his hands and examining them closely. Ultimately, he heaved a sigh once you dropped your pile of denim on the bed, fully intending to try them all on, even when you knew none of them would fit. They never did.

“Babe, come here…” Chris took a hold of your hand, his soft caresses on your thumb did ease you a bit, but you still felt infuriated by the entire thing.

Pulling you close, he sat on the bed, right in front of your full-length mirror, motioning for you to sit on his lap. Chris could withstand your weight with zero difficulty, you knew this already, he’d carried you and thrown you around like a ragdoll countless times.

Hell, he’d often ask you to sit on him, borderline begging, so of course you knew he could most definitely hold your weight, but today you were particularly apprehensive about it, and it must’ve shown on your face, because he gave you his sad puppy eyes, with his sad puppy pout, and honestly, you were convinced this man must’ve studied the art of persuasion with the secret services, the intelligence service, or even fucking Kingsman.

With a sigh, you plopped yourself on his lap, letting his arms wrap around your waist and pull you close.

“I’m sorry, baby”, you mumbled against the skin of his neck, placing a quick kiss there. “I’m all grumpy today… You know I can usually stand these things, but today…”

“Don’t apologise, pretty”, Chris threaded his fingers in your hair, softly massaging your scalp in soothing motions. “It happens”.

“Mmm…” You pulled away from his neck, pouting. He chuckled softly once he took a good look at your face, pecking your lips until that pout disappeared from your face, until you were smiling and giggling.

With one final kiss, he patted your hip, a silent request for you to turn in his lap. “C’mon, let’s do that thing you do, yeah? The mirror thing?”

With his arms around your waist, his chin on your shoulder, and pressing kisses on your cheek, you looked at yourself in the mirror–admittedly a bit hard to focus on yourself when you had your incredibly warm boyfriend smothering your face and neck with kisses.

One thing you learnt while you grew up, while you tried to find comfort in your own skin, was how the way you talked about yourself affected your self-confidence. People failed to realise how strong one’s words could be, so when you took notice of this, you started to change the way you referred to your own body, and honestly, it did help immensely.

“C’mon, pretty baby…” Chris mumbled, unravelling his arms from around your waist, shamelessly starting to caress your body. “Twenty…”

“Flirty, and thriving”, you continued the phrase, stolen from one of your favourite movies. You had been updating the decade as you aged, and it was honestly comical how much comfort it brought you.

“Mm, good, good. I’m…?” Chris attached his lips to your neck, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses, admittedly distracting you way more than helping, but you certainly weren’t going to complain.

“The baddest bitch”, you sighed, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of your boyfriend’s lips against your skin.

“Open your eyes, babe. Say it with your whole chest”, Chris chuckled, squeezing your thighs.

You swallowed the saliva that had gathered in your mouth. “I’m the baddest bitch”.

“What else?”

“I’m hot as fuck”, you added, following the movement of Chris’ hands around your body, sounding a bit less steady than you should have. “Scrumptious. Full of love…”

“And?”

“Society can kiss my ass”, you finished, sighing at the feel of your boyfriend’s hands kneading your lower belly under your t-shirt.

“C’mon, one more time. All of it”, he whispered, so close to your ear you felt the fine hairs at your nape stand on end.

“I’m twenty, flirty, and thriving. I’m the baddest bitch, scrumptious, full of love, and society can kiss my fat ass”, it was a silly little phrase, but the more you said it, the more you believed it.

“That’s it, baby. You are all of those things and more”, Chris sounded genuinely satisfied, and it made you smile just at how supportive of your silly little ritual he could be. “Can I kiss your fat ass, too?”

You laughed at that, turning in his hold, straddling him and resting your arms on his shoulders, holding him close. “Of course you can, babes. You can kiss me anywhere you want”.

“Anywhere I want?” Cupping your rear, he squeezed your buttcheeks, attaching his lips to your neck immediately.

“Anywhere”, you confirmed, sighing in content at the feel of his plump lips on your skin.

“Mmm…” Chris hummed, pressing a trail of kisses from your neck to your lips, kissing you deeply. “Then I will. And later, if you want, we can go around the city to get you a new pair of jeans. After we drop these ones to get repaired, of course”.

“Repaired?” You pulled back, looking him in the eyes, incredulous.

“I know a place”, Chris shrugged, sneaking his hands under your tee and dragging his arms up and down your sides, generously squishing your soft flesh. “It’s really easy to destroy clothes when you have supernatural strength, baby. We need to get thrifty”.

With a chuckle, you pushed on his chest, and Chris immediately let his body fall on the bed with the motion. Leaning into him, you attached your lips to his, revelling in his satisfied hum as soon as you rested your body weight on him and kissed him deeply.

also figured i'd tag anyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments, if you don't want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know !

@raspbinniecreme @staaa96 @oiminho @dundullresident @honey-lemon-goose @straylightdream @carefully325 @lavenderxkies @starshine-moon @biribarabiribbaem @meowmeowhoon @100layersofdaddyissues @dearalice @alexis-reads-fics @xcookiemonsteer @knowleeknow @chanlovesme @liminaldaydream @sstarryreads @svngiem @notastraykid @princelingperfect

#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids werewolf au #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf chan #werewolf bang chan #✨🌙✏#ask #anon #wereroomies ask #wereroomies headcanons

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anavatazes · 1 year ago

Text

Learn to be a Texas Southern, From Austin.

Ok. First of all, I love you all. I truly do. I adore my fan fic writers, especially if you write my Joel crack... um, stories. *cough* The man keeps me in a bear hug and refuses to let go. Not that I am complaining ;).

BUT, for the LOVE of all that is holy and good and Joel, STOP using any American TV show or movie for reference to how things are in Texas as far as the food, the way they talk, the way the weather is, how and what a BBQ is, and I swear if I see another one with snow...

Like I said, I love you all. Yes, fan fiction is fantasy. You can write what you want. How you want. That's what is so great and wonderful about it. Get creative, get wild. Go crazy! But don't sit there and act like you do your research and are an accurate little miss that can do no wrong. Nuh-uh. I will find a slew of little old ladies that will Bless Your Hearts from here to Oblivion if you call Ribs with BBQ sauce proper BBQ in Texas. Believe you me. Every State in the Union has their own form of BBQ, and in the Southern States, it's a fucking religion akin to College Football and Jesus.

American TV and movies are pretty generic when it comes to the accuracy of our own culture and will take great liberties when trying to pass off one area for another. This includes accents, ways people speak, and how the areas they are in truly are. I touched on this briefly when I went over the whole Bless Your Heart phrase and how it does not mean what you think it means and it can get pretty offensive quick. American TV likes to go for the shock value, and the drama more than it likes to go for the accuracy and really doesn't care who it offends in the process. And older shows, like Dallas, Southerners don't talk like that anymore. Except maybe a few left in Kentucky... Maybe. Watch play-throughs of the games if you want a feel for how Joel speaks. Especially the first one. Stay away from the second one if you are trying to avoid season 2 spoilers for the show.

No Outbreak!/Pre-Outbreak!Joel will spend Saturday mornings with Sarah hiking. And there are next to no hills (unless man-made) in Austin. It's all flatland. No mountains. A few rivers, and Lake Travis isn't far away. A lot of trails all around Austin from 1999 to 2013, depending on when you wanted to have Outbreak Day if you wanted it at all. They'd probably go to one of a trillion restaurants in Austin for lunch, depending on their taste. It is canon that Joel can't cook. Tommy, Ellie, AND Sarah all bring it up in Pt. 1 and Pt. 2, if you know where to look. I would say one of their favorite places would be Home Slice for some great pizza. Or maybe even Torchies for a wide variety of tasty Tex-Mex food. Maybe even pick up some Brisket (Texas BBQ) to take home to get ready for an afternoon spent watching the University of Texas football game on the TV, if we're in August to January. Honestly, May through the beginning of October, they probably aren't doing too much hiking. The temperature of 100° plus (in Fahrenheit) is all the rage at this time. And you might have high humidity one day, with non-stop thunderstorms that might seem like a hurricane, and can spawn a tornado, but really isn't a hurricane. Then the next day, be the dryest heat that you've ever experienced in your life. Though, from what I've heard, the latter rarely happens now. More humid days are common now.

Texas BBQ.

If you are ever in the Southern United States, do yourself a favor, and just do not call anything related to the grill BBQ, ok. You will be better off and have a nicer visit, and life overall. If you like to live dangerously, go ahead and call the grill a BBQ. Call a cookout a BBQ. Go ahead. I'll wait. I'll have the tissues ready and waiting for the passive-aggressive politeness from the ladies and the open hostility from the not-so-gentlemen. You have a Cookout, or you Grill out. A BBQ is a way of life and means something different in each state (and will start a war in North Carolina because they are so special, they have two kinds of BBQ). Most everyone in (at least the South) can agree that BBQ food is some sort of slow cooked meat. In Texas, almost 99% of the population agrees it's Brisket, and the rest are wrong. (That's another Southern thing, they are right, and everyone else is just wrong. Drives me nuts when they use it in an argument). Now, they will have different ways of preparing it, and they will have fights over it (have witnessed several), but they all agree on Brisket.

Being close to the Mexican border and Texas' history as a part of Mexico once upon a time means that there is a heavy Mexican influence in Austin. As much as Texas likes to claim to be white bread, it really isn't. From the food to the people to the names of streets, cities, etc, there is a heavy Mexican influence. The idea that, somewhere, that Joel and Tommy have Latino blood is not far-fetched. Especially on the show. At the very least they would have a basic understanding of Spanish. That is being from Austin, regardless if they share any Mexican heritage or not.

Politeness and the True Southern Gentlemen.

I hate to break it to you, but there is no such thing as the great Southern Politeness and Hospitality. In fact, if a guy comes up to me and says he's a True Southern Gentleman, I'm running the other way. That "Gentleman" is 9/10 times a walking sexual assault case. This is not to say there are no nic+e and polite people in the South, but it is no different from any other place in the US. But, I will tell you, from the upper middle class on up, they can be some of the most passive-aggressive mother fuckers you will ever meet. From the Mid-Middle Class on down, the more hospitable they will be, and they fit the stereotype the upper class has somehow gotten. It's a mess.

Religion

Not everyone in the South is Christian, or devout, but will say a phrase that will make you think they are. I touched on this in my Bless Your Heart post. As God as my Witness, Good Lord Willin', Christ Almighty, and others are common phrases you will hear in the South. It DOES NOT mean the speaker is religious by any means. Trust me.

That's all I have for now. I could go on, as there is more. And please remember, fan fiction is fantasy, it's creative. Write what you want. This is just to help out those who are looking for more accuracy. And as it has been a while since Austin for me, and you are from Texas, and more specifically Austin, and you wish to add more info, and/or correct anything, feel free, please. There are a lot of differences among the Southern States, and it can be a pain to keep it all straight. So I have no problem in receiving help to keep in all in line :).

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction

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fairy-writes · 1 year ago

Note

Hey! Could you please write about Fred porlock, where him and the reader go on a mission and there’s loads of tension between them and everyone can tell please? :)

BE CAREFUL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): Fred Porlock x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Arguments, Tension

Notes: I’m starting to forget things about mtp 😭I need to go back and reread the series

This one is specifically a female reader, unlike my typical gender-neutral one

References to but not explicitly depicted with sleeping with someone.

__________________________________________________________________________

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You knew you messed up when Fred began to curse and swear. But you paid him no mind. You stand in front of the full-length mirror, unlacing your corset with some difficulty.

“I did what I had to do.” You say as you yank at the lacing. Your crinoline and skirts had been discarded in the corner, and you could see Fred pacing angrily by the bed.

It wasn’t often that you would see him so angry.

“You could have ruined the mission! Seriously! Doing something like that—”

“If you’re going to reprimand me, then at least use the proper words.” You cut him off, and he whirls to look at you, anger glittering in those dark gray eyes of his that you loved so much. You can see him through the mirror, his jaw clenched and teeth grinding.

“You slept with him. And for what?!” He snaps, and you huff.

“For information. I told you this. There was no other way for me to get to his chambers without being seen. William asked that I do what is necessary, so I did.”

Fred was running his hands through his hair, positively fuming and angry. He had discarded his scarf and coat on the bed, leaving him in his trousers, suspenders, and white button-down.

You finally manage to get your corset loose enough to wiggle it down over your hips and step out of it. You didn’t want to bother unlacing it all the way at the moment. Your body aches in an unpleasant way, and as you head toward the bathroom that’s adjacent to the bedroom to clean yourself up, you can’t help but step gingerly.

Just because you had done what you did, doesn’t mean you liked it.

So you clean yourself up the best you can, run a bath, and sink into the steaming hot water. Your hair is carefully pinned out of your face, and you lean back against the porcelain, closing your eyes in relief.

You sit in the tub until the water goes cold and notice that the entire time… Fred doesn’t come in. Normally, he does, if anything, at least to wash your hair for you.

Perhaps you had been pampered for too long by Fred’s affection.

The next day was awkward, to say the least.

While Fred and you did share a bed, he had made it a point not to speak to you. He didn’t throw an arm over your waist like he usually did. Instead, he stayed on his side of the bed, back turned you as he supposedly slept like a rock. You, on the other hand, were wide awake the entire night.

Was he really that angry?

As the two of you headed down to breakfast, you were silent. However, just as you reached the double doors of the Moriarty’s dining room, you opened your mouth to speak.

“Fred, I—” The door opened, and Moran ushered you both inside.

“Took ya long enough! I’m starvin’!” He exclaimed loudly as everyone had seemingly waited until you two arrived to start breakfast.

Your elbow brushed his, and you mumbled an apology. At that, Moran looked up from his eggs and sausage with an eyebrow raised,

“What’s the matter with you? You never apologize.” He asked, and you rolled your eyes,

“I have manners too, y’know.” You retort, and now William looks up from where he had been conversing quietly with Albert and Louis. He caught your attention with a call of your name.

“Good work last night. Your information was invaluable.” Was all he said, and you ducked your head, ears burning with the praise.

Abruptly, Fred stands and leaves the table, leaving his picked-at meal behind. You watch with wary eyes, but he doesn’t meet yours and instead slips through the doors, allowing it to shut with a bang.

Immediately, eyes are on you.

“I think it’s best you go after him,” William says gently, and you sigh,

“He’s just being dramatic.” You say and move your eggs around your plate. William chuckles, and you look at the man who had changed your life.

“I think it’s a bit more than that. Go after Fred. I think what he has to say will surprise you.” You get to your feet and gather your skirts about yourself. Just as you leave, you hear Moran speak up,

“What’d she do now?”

Fred is halfway down the hall, sitting with his back against the wall and head on his knees. He looks up when he sees you,

“Are you okay?” You ask as you take a seat next to him. The skirts of your dress billow out around you, and you take a moment to push them down.

“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.” He says quietly, and you frown, taking a moment to lean your head on his shoulder. He relents and wraps an arm around your shoulders, tilting his head back on yours.

“I’m sorry. For not taking your feelings into consideration.” You say softly, and he tightens his grip marginally.

“I was just worried.” He replies, and you look at him with a frown.

“I was careful.” You say, and he shakes his head,

“It only takes a moment for something to go wrong. Especially in situations like that.” He says, and you sigh, leaning your head back on his shoulder.

He presses a kiss to your hairline.

“Just… be careful, alright?” He says, and you smile, bringing one of his hands up to kiss his knuckles.

“Of course, I will be.”

#moriarty the patriot x reader #fred porlock x reader #fred porlock #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #ynm fred x reader #ynm fred #moriarty x reader #fairy writes

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getitoutofmymindwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: A private conversation goes wrong when your boss overhears you commenting on him and decides to teach you a lesson. Will he have his way or does he meet his equal?

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: not in my books, let me know if you feel otherwise! 😅 (well, if you really squint you might see a hint of smut, blink and you’ll miss it!)

A/N: There’s definitely another part coming because I wanna see these two collide in more than one ways 😏

Antagonists.

“Oh my GOD, did you see him today?”

“Saw who?”

“He’s driving me crazy with these belts; the way they hug his waist, like, Oh. My. God.”

“I still don’t know who you are referring to.”

“And the unbuttoned buttons on his shirt? Do you think he does it on purpose?” And that’s Carrie. Your best friend in and out of workplace. Spontaneous, funny, brutally honest and your bigger supporter. Your rock.

“Woman, if you keep rumbling like that, I swear to God..”

“The boss! I’m talking about the boss, Jeezzz!”

“Oh, what about him?” you respond, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, standing in the lunch room, at the quarters of the Company.

“I just told you! Oh, I bet his wife can’t have enough of him. Do you think he has a huge-”

“Carrie! I told you before, not this kind of talk at work. It’s not proper. Especially about a superior officer, we could get in trouble.”, you stop her anxiously. You hated even the possibility of anyone overhearing something that they could later hold against you.

“Oh, relax you virgin, you’re driving me crazy with all your rules. So, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me-”. She always called you that, a virgin, when she thought you were too uptight. It bothered you at first, because you were not uptight. Right? Now you don’t even register the sound of it.

“Carrie..” A sign of warning in your voice as you squinted at her.

“Ok, ok, but in my defense -if you really think about it- I’m praising him! What, I can’t put in a good word for him?” The woman is insufferable.

“Well.. No, if it has anything to do with his genital area. I’m pretty sure it’s a strange way to compliment your boss! Of course, knowing you, you could always find a way to make any filthy praise work!”. You both laugh at your comment.

“I don’t know about strange, but it would definitely be original!” Carrie responds.

“Jesus..” you pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, almost exasperated.

“But you can’t deny he’s sweet!”, she persists. Unbelievable. You side-eye her and roll your eyes.

“What?! He has a good reputation around here, he’s always fair, polite and his smile is kind. He is sweet! We can give him that! Or I could give him the ride of his l-” she gives you a lopsided smirk, but she doesn’t get to finish her answer. Is she serious right now? Are you even talking about the same person? Could your gut be so wrong?

“Ooh, ooh, ooh,” you almost laugh nervously, “I definitely wouldn’t call him sweet.”

***

“What a man has to do to get a cup of coffee around here?”, he mumbled to himself running his hand down his face. He felt exhausted. His secretary had called in sick, so the routine of having his coffee served and waiting for him on his office table was disrupted.

Be polite Dave, he thought to himself, you can get your own coffee.

He wore his best smile and made his way to the lunch room. He felt so tired, the intel he had to go through before passing it up the chain of command, was overwhelming. Even with all hands on deck, sorting out the useful data from the noise, still, the load of work was massive. It was going to be a long, boring day. He wished he could be on the actual mission sooner rather than later.

Turning the corner and arriving almost outside the entrance of the lunch room he heard low-voiced chatter.

“…not this kind of talk at work. It’s not proper. Especially about a superior officer, we could get in trouble. ” He recognized your voice but he wasn’t sure who were you talking to. What are you talking about? He stumbled, trying to decide if he wanted to know or not.

“Oh, relax, you virgin, you’re driving me crazy with all your rules. So, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me-” A virgin, huh? He wondered if that was a literal description.

“Carrie..” Ok, good to know the other side of the secret conversation, he thought to himself, smiling. Something got him hooked, the back and forth of your chatting, this kind of communication between two people who know each other well and the way you responded to each other, intrigued him.

“Ok, ok, but in my defense -if you really think about it- I’m praising him! What, I can’t put in a good word for him?” To whom they’re referring to?

Shit.

Are they talking about me? Last time I checked, I was the only boss around here. And why would they -or more accurately, Carrie- be talking about my cock?

“I don’t know about strange, but it would definitely be original!”

“Jesus..”

“But you can’t deny he’s sweet! What?! He has a good reputation around here, he’s always fair, polite and his smile is kind. He IS sweet! We can give him that! Or I could give him the ride of his l-” Holy sh-

“Ooh, ooh, ooh, I definitely wouldn’t call him sweet.” Oh, wouldn’t you, now? he thought with a smirk.

Suddenly, another agent is making his way to the lunch room so he has no other option but to abandon his little surveillance and pretend that he had just arrived outside of the room.

***

“Good morning, sir.” Carrie says suddenly, looking behind your back and then back to you with an uneasy look on her face, while you are still laughing in the aftermath of your observation.

Shit. Shit.

“It sure sounds like it.” Dave says smiling like he knows something both of you don’t.

“Good morning, sir”, you also say sheepishly, looking down and then to Carrie. Is there any chance he heard what we were talking about? And what does he even do here. He never comes here. And then it hits you. The fucking secretary. Absent when you need her the most. What a mere secretary can save you from. Ok, stop thinking about the secretary, Jesus! You should just focus on getting out of here, going back to your office. Back to where you would have been if Carrie -fucking Carrie- hadn’t distracted you with her nonsense.

“How’s the presentation coming along? The director is breathing down my neck about it, he wants to be briefed as soon as possible.” Dave asks, looking at you. Why on earth is he looking at me? I’m not the only person in the room. Carrie is here, too, even Gregor just came in with him. Ok, get a grip, you are the head analyst. That’s why. Don’t overthink this.

Of course, that was part of your job. To overthink, analyze, choose and put together the right pieces of information. See behind unorganized, seemingly irrelevant scraps of intel and connect the dots. See behind the veil, as Carrie always teases you. Then hand your results to the next of command and pray you didn’t just kill a fellow agent with your trail of thinking.

A deep voice calling your name pulls you out of the depths of your thoughts. Three sets of eyes are looking at you expectantly.

“Ah, no, yes, we ‘re very close sir, we will have it on your desk by the end of the day. The presentation is set up for tomorrow afternoon, so you’ll be able to go over it until then.” you answer. He’s looking at you for a second as if he’s deciding something.

“Good; you have ‘till midday.” he says in a casual tone. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops open.

And then he’s gone.

***

“That doesn’t mean he heard us, don’t be absurd! He knows these things take time, he wouldn’t have rushed us if it wasn’t important! And he wouldn’t put the safety of an agent on the field -or his, in this case- in line just to get back to you! AND you didn’t say anything wrong! AND there is no way he heard us!”, Carrie insists.

“And you are so sure of that, because..?” You want to believe her so badly, but your goddamn gut always knows better and the knot in your stomach is there to remind you of that.

“Because!”

If looks could kill, she would have been seriously injured right now.

“Ok, think about it. He walked into the room with Gregor. What do you think, they grabbed their popcorn and eavesdropped together like the great friends they are? I ‘m telling you, there is no way he heard us.” She almost makes.. sense?

“Fine! But there is also no way this presentation is ready till midday.”

***

Midday.

Three knocks on the door separate you from disaster. Embarrassment. You never were late on a deadline. Ever. Always on time. Or ahead even. How did this happen? Why did he rush you all of a sudden? Something wasn’t right. On the other hand, he was always precise, fair, careful. He was never careless about those things. He knew the importance of them. What the stakes were. You had to give him at least that much. If your life was hanging by a thread it was him that you would count on. He was oozing authority.

Well, there goes nothing.

“Come in,” his voice firm, invites you in, his head not moving from the board he's staring at, full of photos and notes. He seems preoccupied. His left hand is crossed in his chest, his palm enveloping his side under his armpit. His right elbow rests on the top of his other hand, while his palm rests in front of his mouth, pinching his lips absentmindedly. His shirt is stretching on his back due to his posture, exaggerating the broadness of it. Why are you analyzing him like this? Jesus.

You're about to step into the office and before you close the door behind you, Carrie pops in and sneaks in with you, staying a step back. Good for her, because you want to hit her right now. You are so dead, you think, rolling your eyes to the ceiling. Thank God, his back is still turned on you. You try to shoo her away with gestures but suddenly he turns and looks at you. Both of you. Great. Now he thinks I need backup.

“Do you have something for me, agent?” It was so fast you almost missed it, but you swear you saw a mocking smile for a second.

Deep breath. Steady. “No, sir.”

He looks at you, emotionless at first. “What do you mean, no?” he asks, flatly. Then, his brows furrow and his head tilts in question, his hands move to his hips and you swear he’s not even trying to compose himself. Like he’s enjoying this turn of events. Like he’s preparing for more. Almost challenging you.

“Like I said earlier, sir, we can have the presentation ready by the end of the day, like the schedule was.” Carrie is taking a sharp breath, stunned by your directness.

“Maybe I should apologize then, for the inconvenience I have caused you?” If you couldn’t see his expression you would think he was really apologizing. He was clearly not.

“That wouldn’t be necessary. Sir.” Carrie is hyperventilating at this point. He’s looking at you clearly annoyed and secretly amused.

“I’m sure you understand the importance of the task in hand, agent, don’t you?” His eyes darkening and sparkling at the same time.

“I do, as I’m sure you do, too, sir. After all, I’m only looking out for your well-being. Sir.” Carrie is mentally seeking a convenient place to faint.

You’re staring at each other, none of you breaking the silence. His gaze is so intense, you’re starting to feel.. something. Not uncomfortable, not exactly vulnerable, but something; almost arousing. Well, you always loved a good challenge.

You would never defy a superior officer, especially about something so serious. But you stand your ground, because deep in your gut you know there is an ulterior motive behind this. And the excuse of maybe hearing you in the lunch room is not convincing you. Something else is on his mind and you want to see how this unravels. What’s the worst that could happen?

He could fire your ass, the wheels on your mind turning as you process the situation, trying to read him at the same time. No, he wouldn’t do that, he knew your value, your worth. You have rent to pay. Your work was solid, reliable, that’s why you were the head of your department. You have bills running. He wouldn’t jeopardize that over a game. Right? Oh, fuck it, too late now, you’re calling his bluff.

The balls on this woman. I could have her fired by the end of her shift and yet, look at her all steady and unwavering. Does she know what’s going on? Does she suspect I’m messing with her? Is she fucking enjoying it? Is she wet under all those clothes? What I wouldn’t give right now to slip my fingers inside her and see for myself. Maybe she needs someone to put her in her place. You little brat. He haven’t felt that excited in a long time. Apart from the thrill of the action on the field, that is. It was refreshing.

You don’t know how long you would have stared at each other, if his office phone line hadn’t rung. A whispered “Thank God!” escapes Carrie’s lips.

He touches the telephone handset, his fingers freeze on it, but doesn’t pick up. Still staring at you, he commands “You have by the end of your shift.”

“Oh, thank you, sir! We will be more than ready for you by then!” Carrie almost yelled in relief. You mentally roll your eyes. And then she has to take it a step further. Of course she does. “You ‘re so, sooo..-”

You just wanna laugh and cry simultaneously. This isn’t happening. An awkward silence fills the room; you stare at him, he stares at Carrie, while she’s trying to find the right word and the fucking phone is still ringing.

“Well, as much as I ‘m curious to hear what you think I am, I have a phone call to answer to but to help you limit your options, I definitely wouldn’t call me sweet.” His eyes slowly turn to you as he says the last words, his mouth curling upwards with a smirk.

Shit, shit, shit.

***

#pedro pascal #fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york x female reader #dave york x you #dave york fic #pedro pascal fandom #dave york x reader #dave york imagine

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