#i'm just never going to enjoy reading about it
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I was gonna hold onto this until tomorrow but nah! Have a short little epilogue, very soft. UwU
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Kon was just coming back from morning chores when he spotted a misty figure out on the edge of the cornfield. He rushed to put away the milk and leave the pail drying before zipping back out. Danny, the younger, all white version of him, was standing just on the other side of the fence, hands gently stroking a leaf.
“I was wondering when you'd come back.”
Danny’s face, already more distinct, scrunched up. “I wasn't sure this was real.”
“It's real, it's all real.”
“It doesn't feel real.”
Kon nodded, “I was told it wouldn't, it's going to take a while to get used to all these sudden changes.” He'd pestered poor Black Canary about it until she finally huffed and just gave him some books to read. Actual text books, not just some self help nonsense.
Danny frowned as he looked down at his see-through hands. “It doesn't hurt anymore, so why am I like this again?”
“Because it worked, didn't it?”
Danny looked up at Kon in confusion.
“You were hurting, and when you astral projected it stopped hurting. But more than that you got help and now it's not that you're not feeling the pain, there's nothing causing pain.” Well, all four of the halfas were on meta grade pain killers while their healing factors got to work, potay-toe potah-toe. “It'll take a while to stop dissociating, it may never truly stop.”
“Just another power to add to my long list?” Danny smirked.
Kon shrugged, “Welcome to the club. It's mostly full of aliens, so I'm sure you'll enjoy the meetings.”
“I'll fit right in,” Danny said with a laugh.
DP x DC Prompt/Plotbunny #6
After days? weeks? months? years? in this mercy-forsaken lab, Danny finds himself slipping; his core straining under the weight of what he's been subjected to. In a last ditch effort to save his fracturing soul, his brain simply stops processing the pain and allows his mind to escape into a waking dream.
Danny knows it's a dream. If he thinks about it; he can still hear, see, feel the scientists at work. He doesn't think about it; instead embraces whatever false world his mind decides to concoct for him.
.
Several states away, a young boy opens his eyes to the inside of a strange pod in an abandoned lab. Though he cannot see it yet, a strange metal tag dangles from his ear, stamped on one side with the word 'CADMUS' and on the other with 'R-13'.
#dpxdc#danny phantom#dc comics#justice league#soft epilogue#also vlad's there but like he don't matter
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Hello! I saw that your ask box is open and that you write NSFW. May I request you write about them (headcanons or an imagine, whichever you prefer) trying to find the quiet!reader's* most sensitive spot?
*= quiet, as in, one of the reader's characteristics is being quiet. it doesn't have to do anything with the mouth being covered up lol
Thank you!
Oooooooooo this is interesting! I’ll give it my best shot! I'll just to headcanons for now but do come back inf you want longer write ups!
My ask box is officially back open! Send in your requests, thoughts, and head cannons and I might write a little something for you! Please read the rules first!
Warnings: suggestive content (things are mentioned but nothing is described)
Zayne
Is also pretty quiet
Does find some pleasure in finding ways to get you to vocalize but it is not a priority for him
With his surgeon like precision he finds your sweet spot every time
Because you both are so busy and often have to be quick, your quiet nature helps you both to be able to enjoy yourself without much worry (his office has seen it all)
Xavier
Surprisingly he is pretty vocal and sometimes would like you to be the same
He makes a game out of it, finding your sweet spot then getting you to vocalize
He takes it very seriously and will keep things going until you do (I'm taking hours long sessions)
Once you do vocalize he showers you in kisses and praise before trying again
Rafayel
Makes a point to make you vocalize as much as possible
Finds your sweet spot with ease each time just to hear you
Lots of praise when you do become more vocal
He himself is so loud and he just wants you to do the same
Sylus
He doesn't even have to try to find your sweet spot he just knows
Doesn't mind that you're on the quieter side
He does however get really turned on when you do make noise (but will never admit it)
Kisses you right before climax so you have no choice but to moan in his mouth (much to his delight)
#anon#asks#lads mc#lads x reader#love and deepspace#lnds#love and deepspace x reader#l&ds#lads smut#love and deepspace scenarios#love and deepspace smut#l&ds smut#lnds smut#lads men#lads zayne#lads xavier#lads rafayel#lads sylus#love and deepspace xavier#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#love and deepspace zayne#love and deepspace sylus#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel love and deepspace#xavier x mc#rafayel x mc#zayne x mc#sylus x mc
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By Her Side
Pairing: Bodyguard! Mingi x princess!reader
Genre/trope: fluff, comedy (?), Modern royal au
Word count: 8.5k
Warnings: Age difference, reader is 10 years younger than Mingi, Mingi and reader first met when she was 10, but it was just cute relation back then, reader's hand gets burned. Lmk later if I missed something!
AN: phewww now this might not be for everyone guys. It's a risky trope for some people but because I have parental issues I'm fine with this. But if u still decide to read this after ignoring the warnings and then proceed to hate my work, I'm gonna delete and block you. That being said, enjoy Mingi being an absolute cutie
The Kang family had always been at the center of their nation’s identity, revered for their grace, strength, and modern leadership. Crown Prince Kang Yeosang, the epitome of royal perfection, was frequently seen fulfilling his duties with calm authority. The press adored him, and the people admired his unwavering commitment to the country.
But then, there was her—the mysterious younger sibling, the princess. Her name was only whispered in the media, her face hidden behind the shroud of privacy. She was unlike any princess depicted in the movies or books. She spent her days like an ordinary teenager, far removed from the royal spotlight, in oversized hoodies and sneakers. To her, the palace gates were more like walls keeping her in than protecting her from the outside world.
The princess rarely appeared at public events, and even when she did, the cameras were only granted fleeting glimpses of her, often from the side or with her head bowed. While the media speculated about her personality, the truth was far simpler—she just wanted a normal life.
To the world, she was Princess YN of the Kang family—a figure shrouded in mystery. But to the people who mattered, she was just YN. She attended a regular high school, sat in the same classrooms as everyone else, and blended into the crowd so seamlessly that most of her classmates often forgot about her royal title. She was the girl who shared notes, cracked jokes, and groaned about exams like everyone else.
Her friends treated her like one of their own, never bowing or tiptoeing around her. They teased her when she tripped in gym class and cheered her on during group projects. They knew who she was but never made it a big deal. She loved that.
What wasn’t so normal, however, was the tall figure who accompanied her everywhere—Mingi, her bodyguard. Dressed in unassuming clothes and rarely speaking unless needed, Mingi was her silent protector, always lingering at the edges of her life. Whether she was walking to school, grabbing ice cream after class, or spending hours at the library, Mingi was there.
He wasn’t just a bodyguard, though. To YN, he was more like a guardian, someone who quietly guided and watched over her. While her friends sometimes teased her about having her “personal watchdog,” she never minded. Mingi had been a part of her life for so long that she couldn’t imagine going anywhere without him.
During lunch breaks, while her friends chatted and laughed, Mingi often sat a few tables away, scrolling through his phone but always aware of her. When they walked home from school, she’d casually chatter about her day, and though Mingi’s replies were short, his presence was steady and comforting.
“I bet you think my math teacher hates me,” she said one day, munching on a bag of chips as they walked to her favorite bookstore.
“I don’t think he hates you,” Mingi replied, glancing at her. “But maybe stop arguing about every grade?”
She grinned. “Never. Someone has to keep him on his toes.”
“You’re going to give me gray hair before I’m 30,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“You’d look good with gray hair,” she teased, nudging him.
Moments like these made YN feel like the luckiest girl in the world. She might have been born into royalty, but with Mingi by her side, she got to live a life that felt wonderfully, perfectly normal.
How did they meet? Well the meeting was a bit chaotic.
It had been a quiet spring afternoon when ten-year-old YN first met Mingi. The palace halls were dappled with sunlight, and the faint hum of gardeners at work outside filled the air. YN, dressed in her favorite pale blue dress, sat in the corner of the grand library, building a lopsided tower of books. She was humming to herself when a knock interrupted her focus.
“YN,” the King’s voice came from the doorway, deep and steady as always, “I want you to meet someone.”
She turned, pushing her hair out of her face, and blinked at the tall figure standing beside her father. He was lanky but strong, with wide shoulders and a quiet confidence that seemed far too mature for someone who looked only a decade older than her. His black hair was neatly combed, and he looked stiff in his uniform—nervous, even.
“This is Song Mingi,” the King continued, his tone softer now. “He’s going to be your bodyguard from today onward.”
“Bodyguard?” YN tilted her head, confusion written all over her face. “Why do I need a bodyguard?”
The King smiled. “Because you’re very special, YN. And special people need someone to look after them.”
Mingi bowed deeply, his voice low but clear as he spoke for the first time. “It’s an honor to serve you, Your Highness.”
YN frowned, her gaze darting between her father and the stranger. “So… what does he do? Stand around and look boring?”
Her father chuckled, patting her head gently. “He’ll be here to keep you safe and help you with anything you need.” With that, the King left, leaving YN alone with the unfamiliar young man.
For the first few days, YN wasn’t quite sure what to make of Mingi. He followed her everywhere, always a step behind, silent and watchful. Whether she was in her room playing with her dolls, exploring the gardens, or eating her meals, he was there.
“Do you ever talk?” she asked him one day, spinning around to face him as he stood by the door to her room.
“If you want me to,” he replied simply, his voice calm.
“What’s the point of you being here if you’re just going to be boring?” she huffed, crossing her arms.
But things began to change after a few days. It started with little things—how Mingi always made sure her favorite snacks were on hand during study time, how he carried her books without being asked, or how he gently guided her away from muddy puddles in the garden without a word. When she tripped during a game of tag with her friends, Mingi was the first to rush to her side, kneeling to check her scraped knee.
“You’re not hurt badly,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “But let’s get this cleaned up.”
From that moment, something shifted. YN began to trust him. Soon, she found herself clinging to him more and more. She’d tug at his sleeve whenever she wanted something, ask him endless questions about his life, and insist he sit with her during meals, even if he tried to politely decline.
“Mingi, do you like chocolate or vanilla?” she’d ask, holding up two bowls of ice cream.
“Vanilla, I guess,” he’d reply, only for her to shove the bowl of chocolate into his hands with a grin. “Well, I like chocolate, so you’re eating this one.”
It wasn’t long before Mingi became the center of her little world. To her, he wasn’t just a bodyguard—he was a constant, someone who made her feel safe in a way she didn’t even realize she needed. She didn’t care about the circumstances that brought him to the palace, or that he was the son of a noble family that had fallen from grace. To her, he was simply Mingi, her guardian, her protector, and the one person she trusted with everything.
By the end of the first month, she was practically glued to his side. Wherever YN went, Mingi wasn’t far behind—and she made sure of it.
The palace soon became accustomed to the sight of YN clinging to Mingi like he was a second skin. Wherever she went, her tiny hands were either clutching his sleeve, gripping his uniform jacket, or reaching up to be carried. And Mingi, with his endless patience, always obliged her, no matter how exhausting her energy seemed to be.
One day, while attending a charity event with her parents, YN grew bored of the endless formalities. The long speeches and handshakes weren’t exactly ten-year-old-friendly. Spotting Mingi standing a short distance away, she made her way over to him, ignoring her mother’s disapproving glance.
“Mingi,” she whined softly, tugging at his sleeve. “I’m tired.”
He crouched down, his expression softening. “Want me to take you somewhere quieter?”
“Carry me,” she demanded, lifting her arms up dramatically.
Without hesitation, he scooped her up, balancing her effortlessly on his hip. She snuggled into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. The cameras caught the moment almost instantly, flashes illuminating the hall as reporters whispered to each other. The next day, headlines were plastered across every paper: “Princess YN Finds Her Comfort in Her Shadow, Bodyguard Mingi!”
It didn’t stop there. The media couldn’t get enough of their dynamic. During a public library visit, YN decided to curl up in Mingi’s lap while reading one of her favorite picture books. It was an innocent gesture—she had always leaned on him as a source of comfort—but the sight of the princess slouched against the stoic bodyguard with her book upside down made the perfect photograph.
“Do you think you could sit any straighter?” Mingi teased in a low whisper, glancing down at her as she adjusted herself against him.
“Nope. I’m comfy,” she mumbled without looking up.
The royal PR team later joked that the image single-handedly made the entire nation collectively “awww.”
Another instance came during a school event. YN, participating in a relay race, tripped over her shoelaces midway. She wasn’t hurt, but her face scrunched up in frustration as the other kids raced ahead of her. Before anyone could step in, Mingi walked straight onto the track, kneeling beside her.
“You okay, Princess?” he asked gently.
“No!” she pouted. “I was winning!”
“Want me to carry you to the finish line?” he joked.
Her eyes lit up instantly. “Yes!”
Despite the protests of her teacher, Mingi picked her up, her arms looping tightly around his neck, and jogged to the finish line. The other kids laughed and cheered, and YN wore a smug grin for the rest of the day. The moment was, of course, caught on video and quickly went viral.
In quieter moments, their bond shone just as brightly. During long car rides to royal functions, YN would inevitably fall asleep against Mingi’s shoulder, her little body slouching into his side. No matter how cramped or awkward the position, Mingi never moved until she woke up, even if his arm went numb.
“Doesn’t she get heavy?” one of the royal aides once asked him, watching as Mingi carried a dozing YN into the palace after a long day.
“Not at all,” he replied simply, adjusting her slightly so she’d be more comfortable.
Mingi didn’t care about the headlines or the public perception. To him, YN wasn’t just his responsibility—she was his charge, his little princess. And to YN, Mingi wasn’t just her bodyguard. He was her rock, her protector, and the one person who never let go.
As YN grew older, her dynamic with Mingi evolved, but in many ways, it stayed the same. He was no longer the one carrying her around or fetching things for her—she had plenty of palace staff to do that—but Mingi remained her constant, her anchor, and most importantly, her best friend.
“Hey, Mingi,” she said one day, sprawled across the palace couch, flipping through her phone. “Can you believe someone asked me to bring them a cup of water today? Me. A princess. I mean, can you imagine?”
Mingi, who was sitting nearby with a book in hand, glanced at her, unimpressed. “You could’ve just gotten it for them.”
“I don’t think so.” She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “That’s what staff is for.”
He shook his head, hiding a small smile. “You’re impossible.”
“But you like me this way,” she quipped, tossing a cushion at him.
Mingi might have been her bodyguard, but to her, he was the one person in the palace who never treated her like royalty. He didn’t bow, didn’t rush to fulfill her every whim. And she liked that. She didn’t need to ask him for anything—he already gave her his loyalty, his protection, and his steady presence.
She didn’t hesitate to make the distinction clear to others, though. If anyone dared to suggest Mingi do something outside of his role, she was quick to shut it down.
“Mingi isn’t staff,” she’d say firmly. “He’s my friend. Get someone else to do it.”
Her other staff quickly learned that Mingi held a special place in her life, and they respected it. Meanwhile, YN never held back from treating him like a confidant. She’d drag him to her favorite places, tell him all her secrets, and share everything from her late-night worries to her wildest dreams.
“You know, sometimes I think you’re the only person who actually knows me,” she told him one evening as they sat in the palace garden.
“That’s because you talk my ear off,” Mingi teased, though his voice was warm.
“Well, someone has to listen,” she shot back with a grin, leaning her head against his shoulder.
And though Mingi never said it, he valued their friendship just as much. To him, she wasn’t just a princess—she was YN, his closest friend, the one person who treated him like family in a world that often felt far too formal.
It was a crisp winter evening, the kind where the cold seemed to seep into your bones despite the layers of warm clothing. The royal family stood on the grand balcony of the palace, gazing down at the crowd gathered for the annual winter gala. A sea of people, elegantly dressed in thick coats and scarves, murmured excitedly below, admiring the lights twinkling across the square.
YN stood near the railing, her eyes wandering over the scene, but she wasn’t paying much attention to the event itself. Instead, she was focused on the warm presence beside her. Mingi stood just behind her, always watchful, his dark coat blending with the night as he ensured she remained comfortable despite the chill in the air.
Every few moments, Mingi would glance down at YN, noting how her scarf had slipped a little, exposing her neck to the cold. Without a word, he gently adjusted it, making sure it was wrapped securely around her. YN barely noticed—she was used to it by now. Mingi’s careful attention to her every need had become second nature.
“YN,” Mingi’s voice cut through the soft hum of the crowd, “your scarf came loose again.”
YN sighed, her breath visible in the cold air, and shifted closer to him, her cheek grazing his coat as she stood slightly slouched against his side. She had grown used to his hovering, his need to ensure she was always warm and taken care of. It wasn’t annoying to her—it felt like normal.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the cold air, but she made no move to pull away from him. She liked the way Mingi was always there, always making sure she was safe and comfortable.
Mingi didn’t argue. He simply adjusted the scarf one more time, then slipped a small heat pack into her hands, holding one against her ear, knowing how much she hated the cold seeping into her sensitive skin. He didn’t even ask if she was okay. He just knew.
YN clutched the heat pack with both hands, pressing it against her ear, and looked up at him, offering a small, thankful smile. There was no need for words—Mingi's actions spoke for him. She wasn’t bothered by the constant attention, the way he fussed over her in the cold. To YN, it was just how things had always been, and she couldn’t imagine a winter night without Mingi there, making sure she was taken care of.
She let out a soft breath and leaned against his side, her body instinctively seeking the warmth he always provided. Mingi didn’t pull away. In fact, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her a little closer to shield her from the wind.
To the royal family, the people on the balcony, and the watching crowd, this was simply the expected sight—the princess, calm and composed, standing with her ever-vigilant bodyguard. But to YN, this was the norm. It wasn’t a chore or anything unusual. It was Mingi. Her best friend. Her protector. And for the first time, with the wind biting at her skin, she leaned into him even more, grateful for the comfort that only he could give.
The next morning, as YN sat in the grand dining room with her family, sipping on her warm tea, the morning papers were spread across the table. She glanced lazily at the headlines, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup absentmindedly. As usual, there was a flurry of royal gossip, but one headline caught her eye.
"Princess YN and Bodyguard Mingi: A Winter Night of Comfort and Protection"
She frowned, her brow furrowing as she skimmed through the article. Pictures of her and Mingi on the balcony the night before had been plastered all over the page—images of her clinging to his side, the heat packs in her hands, and Mingi adjusting her scarf. It was clear the media had turned their attention to their every move, almost as if they were trying to capture some deeper meaning behind their closeness.
“Why are they so obsessed with me?” YN asked, looking up at Mingi, who was quietly standing beside her, ever-watchful.
Mingi glanced at the newspaper but said nothing, instead focusing on adjusting the setting of her teacup. He knew what was coming.
“Well?” she pressed, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. "I mean, it’s not like I did anything special. It’s just cold, and you were just… looking out for me.”
Mingi smiled softly, his expression gentle as he gave her a small nod. “You’re not just anyone, YN.”
She blinked, still not fully understanding. “But why? I’m just me.”
“That’s just it,” he said, kneeling beside her so they were eye-level. “You are a princess. People look up to you. They admire you for who you are, for everything you represent.”
YN’s brows furrowed even deeper, and she leaned back in her chair, trying to wrap her head around his words. She was so used to the quiet normalcy of her life that she had never truly realized how the world saw her.
She mumbled softly, tracing a line in the condensation on her teacup. “I don’t want all this attention. It feels so… weird.”
Mingi chuckled softly, his tone warm but reassuring. “It can be a lot, yes. But that’s just the way it is when you’re born into the royal family. You’re not just living for yourself. Your actions, your presence, it matters to people. They care about you because they see you as someone who represents the country, its hopes, its dreams.”
YN blinked, trying to absorb his explanation. “So it’s not because I’m cute or something?” she asked, her lips curling into a small, playful smile.
Mingi chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course, you’re cute. But it’s more than that. You’re the princess. The future of this kingdom.”
YN paused, staring down at her tea. She didn’t fully understand all of it, but there was something about the way Mingi explained it that made her feel both strange and important.
“You always say things that sound so serious,” she muttered, not quite grasping the weight of what he meant.
Mingi smiled at her, knowing how young and innocent her thoughts still were despite her royal title. “You don’t have to understand everything now. Just know that you’re more than you think you are. And that’s why people are watching.”
YN let out a sigh, her head drooping as she thought about it. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it, huh?”
Mingi nodded, giving her a light pat on the back. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
And even though she didn’t fully grasp the complexities of her status, YN knew that one thing would never change: Mingi would always be there by her side, keeping things normal, keeping things grounded—just like a friend.
A few days after the whole winter gala incident, YN and Mingi found themselves attending a royal charity dinner, an event full of formalities and stiff faces. YN, however, wasn’t one to enjoy the seriousness of these events. Her mind often wandered, especially when the speeches began. That evening, as she sat next to Mingi, her attention started to drift.
At first, she tried to occupy herself with her phone under the table, but her restless fingers quickly grew bored. She glanced over at Mingi, who was dutifully standing beside her, observing the guests with his usual focused expression.
“Hey, Mingi,” she whispered, poking him lightly in the ribs. “Do you think the soup is too hot? Or do you think they put something weird in it?”
Mingi glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘weird’?”
“Like… I don’t know,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “What if they secretly put... chocolate in it?”
Mingi chuckled, clearly amused by the absurdity of her thoughts. “YN, don’t be silly. Chocolate in soup is—”
But before he could finish, YN's mischievous grin appeared. She leaned over toward him and whispered in a stage whisper, “What if we just sneak a taste? You know, just to see if it’s chocolate or not.”
Mingi looked at her in disbelief. “YN—no, we’re not sneaking food under the table.”
But that was exactly what she was about to do. Without further hesitation, YN grabbed her spoon from the table and casually dipped it into the bowl of soup, all while trying to act as if she were merely adjusting it. The only problem was, she hadn’t quite thought it through. As she tried to raise the spoon to her lips, she accidentally splashed some of the soup onto her dress.
“Oops,” she muttered, trying to cover the small spill by quickly wiping it with her napkin.
Mingi, ever the protector, quickly leaned in to help, but the moment he did, he accidentally knocked his own drink—an expensive glass of red wine—right onto YN’s lap.
“Ah! Mingi!” she yelped, wide-eyed. The wine spread across her dress in an instant.
The room went silent for a moment, and YN couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Oh my god, what did you do? You just exploded my lap with wine!”
Mingi looked horrified, his face flushed. “I’m so sorry, Princess, I didn’t—”
“Don’t worry,” she interrupted, still giggling. “At least the wine looks kind of fancy, right?”
Mingi quickly grabbed some napkins and tried to dab away the mess, but YN was now laughing so hard that she could hardly keep her composure.
“What’s going on over there?” someone whispered nearby.
“Oh, nothing,” YN said between fits of laughter. “Just Mingi trying to drown me in wine and soup.”
Mingi shot her an exasperated look, but even he couldn’t hold back a smile. “You’re impossible.”
The rest of the evening went on with everyone around them trying hard not to giggle at the mess they had unintentionally made. And though YN’s dress was ruined, it was just another one of those funny moments that felt normal between the two of them—a princess and her overprotective bodyguard, who never seemed to do anything quite by the book.
One afternoon, as YN lounged lazily in the palace, scrolling through her phone, she noticed Mingi, who had just returned from his usual workout. The sight of him, all flushed from his session and wiping sweat from his forehead, made her pause mid-scroll.
Her mind, never short of strange ideas, suddenly lit up with a random, ridiculous thought.
What if... she mused, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes. What if I swing from his biceps?
Without a second thought, she stood up and walked casually toward the workout area where Mingi was cooling down with some stretches. His attention was focused entirely on his breathing, unaware that YN was about to disrupt his hard-earned relaxation.
“Mingi,” she said in the sweetest tone she could muster, stepping into his personal space, “I’ve been thinking.”
Mingi, still slightly out of breath, raised an eyebrow, giving her a suspicious look. “Uh-oh. That’s never good.”
“No, no,” she said, holding up her hands in mock innocence. “It’s a good thought. A very good one.”
He groaned. “What are you plotting now, YN?”
She grinned widely, moving closer and without warning, gently tugging on his arm. “I want to swing from your biceps.”
There was a long pause, and Mingi blinked in disbelief. “What?”
“You heard me,” YN said with a shrug, grinning even more mischievously.
“Do you want me to install a swing in the garden for you?” Mingi asked hesitantly.
“No! I’ve seen you working out so hard, and I’m curious. You look strong enough. Come on, just once. Let me swing from your biceps.”
Mingi, still processing what she said, stared at her for a moment. Then, without much else to do, he rolled his eyes and sighed, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, this is the weirdest request you’ve ever made.”
“I know, right?” YN said, bouncing on her feet in excitement. “But come on, you owe me for making me stay in all these boring royal events.”
Mingi could only shake his head in disbelief, giving in because he knew YN was never going to let it go. “Fine, fine. But if you hurt yourself, I’m not responsible.”
“Deal!” she said, her voice full of joy.
With one smooth motion, she jumped toward him, wrapping her arms around his thick bicep. He flexed slightly, just enough to lift her off the ground, and YN squealed in delight as she swung from his arm like a monkey.
“See? This is fun!” she exclaimed, giggling wildly.
Mingi stood there, still holding her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “You are ridiculous.”
“I know,” YN grinned, her legs swinging back and forth. “But it’s a good kind of ridiculous, don’t you think?”
“You’re lucky I work out so much,” Mingi muttered, though there was affection in his voice.
“Thank you!” she laughed, then swung once more before jumping down. “This was exactly what I needed.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
But YN didn’t mind. She was already back to lounging, her weird request fulfilled. Mingi might have had his personal workout time invaded, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but smile at how his friendship with YN always kept things unpredictable—and oddly fun.
It was a sunny afternoon, and YN was feeling particularly adventurous—or rather, particularly bored. Mingi had been called to attend a brief meeting with the palace security staff, leaving her to her own devices. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, but YN being YN, boredom wasn’t something she handled gracefully.
She decided to take matters into her own hands.
“I don’t need Mingi for everything,” she muttered under her breath, determined to prove that she could function just fine on her own. “How hard can it be to make a cup of tea or something?”
She strolled into the palace kitchen, glancing around at the unfamiliar appliances and shiny surfaces. She had seen Mingi brew tea for her countless times before—it looked easy enough. She grabbed a kettle, filled it with water, and placed it on the stove. With a smug grin, she flicked the stove on and waited.
Moments later, the kettle started whistling, and YN panicked. “Oh no, it’s screaming at me!” she yelled, fumbling with the knobs. Instead of turning the stove off, she accidentally turned it higher. The whistle got louder, and in her panic, she grabbed the kettle with her bare hands.
“HOT! HOT! HOT!” she shrieked, flailing her hands and dropping the kettle back onto the stove with a loud clang.
Hearing the commotion, several staff members rushed into the kitchen, only to find the princess standing there, her cheeks flushed, holding her now slightly red hands.
“Your Highness, are you alright?” one of them asked, clearly concerned.
“I’m fine,” YN grumbled, glaring at the offending kettle. “This thing just hates me.”
Before the staff could offer assistance, the door to the kitchen burst open, and in strode Mingi, looking mildly out of breath and thoroughly unimpressed.
“What is going on here?” he asked, his voice low and calm, but his eyes scanning her for injuries.
YN froze, caught red-handed—literally. “Nothing,” she said quickly, hiding her hands behind her back.
Mingi crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing? Because it doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like someone decided to play chef without supervision.”
“I was just trying to make tea,” she muttered, pouting. “How hard can it be? You do it all the time.”
Mingi sighed, stepping closer and gently pulling her hands into view. He inspected her reddened palms, his frown deepening. “You burned yourself.”
“It’s just a tiny burn,” she protested.
Without a word, Mingi grabbed a small first-aid kit from the counter, pulled her to a nearby chair, and sat her down. As he carefully applied some ointment to her hands, YN watched him silently, feeling both guilty and oddly comforted.
“You’re not allowed in the kitchen alone anymore,” Mingi said firmly, wrapping a bandage around her hand.
“But I was just trying to—”
“YN,” he interrupted, looking her straight in the eye. “You are truly hopeless without me.”
She opened her mouth to argue but then closed it again, realizing he wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” she muttered, leaning her head on his shoulder dramatically. “I guess I do need you for everything.”
Mingi chuckled softly, his expression softening. “That’s what I’m here for.”
From then on, YN stayed far away from the kitchen—unless Mingi was there to supervise. And though she occasionally teased him for being overprotective, deep down, she knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.
It was a chilly, overcast morning, the kind where the sky hung low and gray, promising rain at any moment. YN sat with her group of friends in the school common area, bundled up in her scarf and coat. The conversation drifted from homework to weekend plans, and finally, as it often did, to crushes and dream weddings.
“I think I’d want someone who’s athletic,” one friend said, her cheeks pink as she laughed.
“Yeah, but he also has to be super smart,” another added.
“What about you, YN?” one of them asked, leaning in with a teasing grin. “You never talk about this stuff. Who’s your dream guy?”
YN blinked, caught off guard by the question. Normally, she’d deflect with a joke or tease them back, but today, she hesitated.
Her friends stared at her expectantly, but instead of conjuring up a romantic fantasy, her mind went somewhere else entirely—to Mingi.
She thought of how he always stood by her, carrying her heavy school bags without complaint. How he remembered to pack her favorite snacks on long days and made sure she had an umbrella when the sky threatened rain, just like today. How his steady, quiet presence had been the one constant in her life for as long as she could remember.
But then, like a sudden gust of wind cutting through the chill, another thought hit her: One day, I’ll have to leave him behind.
Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t like her friends, free to imagine marrying their crushes or choosing their own futures. She was a princess, bound by duty. One day, she’d be expected to marry someone suitable—a prince or nobleman chosen by her family, someone who fit the royal image. And Mingi… Mingi would remain as he was, her protector, her shadow. But never more.
The thought felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, and she didn’t know why it hurt so much.
“YN? Hellooo?” her friend waved a hand in front of her face, snapping her out of her daze.
“Huh? Oh, sorry,” YN mumbled, forcing a small smile. “I was just… thinking.”
Her friends exchanged amused looks, laughing lightly. “Thinking about your crush, huh?” one teased.
“Something like that,” YN muttered, though her heart wasn’t in it. She laughed along with them, but the unease in her chest lingered for the rest of the day.
The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, and YN packed her things slowly, her thoughts still clouded from the earlier conversation with her friends. The idea of leaving Mingi someday had weighed heavily on her throughout the day, and she couldn’t shake it.
As she exited the school building, there he was, as always—Mingi. He leaned casually against the sleek black car, dressed in his usual suit, an umbrella in hand just in case it rained again. His watchful eyes immediately softened when they met hers, and he straightened up, opening the car door for her.
“Rough day?” he asked, noticing the faint frown on her face as she approached.
YN didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she stood there for a moment, looking at him, her thoughts racing. She thought about how he was always there, waiting for her, protecting her, ensuring she never had to worry about anything. And the idea of losing that—of losing him—was unbearable.
“Mingi,” she said suddenly, her voice firm but her eyes filled with emotion.
He blinked, surprised by her tone. “Yes?”
“I’ve decided,” she said, stepping closer to him, her hands clutching the straps of her backpack. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”
Mingi tilted his head, confused by her sudden declaration. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean it,” she continued, her words tumbling out impulsively. “If I have to marry someone, it’ll be you.”
There was a brief, stunned silence as Mingi processed her words. His eyes widened slightly, and for the first time in a long while, he looked genuinely flustered.
“YN,” he started, his voice gentle but firm, “you can’t just—”
“I’m serious!” she interrupted, her cheeks flushing but her gaze unwavering. “Why should I marry some random prince or noble when you’re the one who’s always been there for me? You’re the one who takes care of me, who knows me better than anyone else. Who else would I want by my side?”
Mingi exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. He crouched slightly so they were at eye level, his expression softening.
“YN,” he said carefully, “I’ve been by your side since you were a kid. My job is to protect you and make sure you’re safe. That’s what I’m here for. But marrying me?” He shook his head lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s not how it works.”
“But why not?” she pressed, her voice quieter now but still determined. “I don’t care about what’s ‘supposed’ to happen. I just… I don’t want to lose you, Mingi.”
His expression softened even more, and he placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here. That’s a promise, remember?”
YN bit her lip, her shoulders relaxing slightly at his reassurance. “You better mean it,” she muttered, her cheeks still pink.
“I do,” he said with a quiet chuckle, straightening up and opening the car door again. “Now, come on. Let’s get you home before you decide to propose to me in front of the whole school.”
She let out a small laugh, climbing into the car, her heart feeling a little lighter. As they drove away, YN glanced at Mingi through the rearview mirror, her mind still replaying their conversation.
That evening, after they arrived back at the palace, YN couldn’t keep the thoughts swirling in her head any longer. As soon as dinner was over, she excused herself and marched straight to her father’s study.
The king was sitting at his large oak desk, reading through a stack of documents when she entered without knocking—a habit he often teased her about but secretly adored. Her mother, the queen, was seated on the nearby couch, sipping tea as she reviewed her own set of papers. Both of them looked up in surprise when YN stood before them, her face set with determination.
“Father, Mother,” she started, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her chest, “I need to talk to you about something important.”
The king raised an eyebrow, setting down his pen. “What is it, my dear? You look serious.”
“I’ve been thinking about the future,” she said, clasping her hands together. “About how one day, I’ll have to marry someone. But I don’t want to marry some stranger or someone chosen just because of their title. I want… I want Mingi.”
The room went silent, the words hanging heavy in the air.
The queen blinked, clearly taken aback. “Mingi? As in your bodyguard?”
YN nodded firmly. “Yes. He’s been there for me my whole life. He’s the one who truly knows me, who understands me. I don’t see why I have to marry someone else just because it’s tradition. It’s not fair.”
The king leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful but hesitant. “YN, you know we’ve always respected your opinions and wishes. But this… This isn’t something we can decide so easily. Mingi is—”
“—not a royal,” the queen finished gently, though her tone carried a note of concern.
“I don’t care about that!” YN interrupted, her voice rising slightly. “Why does it matter? Times have changed, haven’t they? People don’t care about traditions as much as they used to. They care about love and happiness. And I know what I want.”
The king exchanged a glance with the queen, both of them clearly unsure how to respond.
It was then that the door opened, and Yeosang stepped in, his brows furrowed as he looked between his parents and YN. “What’s going on?” he asked, sensing the tension in the room.
“She wants to marry Mingi,” the queen explained, her voice laced with a mix of disbelief and worry.
Yeosang’s eyebrows shot up, and then, much to everyone’s surprise, he smiled slightly. “Well, why not?”
“Yeosang!” the queen said, shocked by his response.
“Mother, Father,” Yeosang said calmly, stepping closer, “it’s not the old days anymore. Things are different now. People won’t revolt just because the princess marries someone who isn’t royal. In fact, they’ll probably love it. You’ve seen how the media adores her bond with Mingi. They’d see it as proof that she’s grounded, that she cares about real connections instead of outdated customs.”
The king frowned, clearly conflicted. “It’s not just about the public, Yeosang. It’s about the responsibility, the image, the—”
“The happiness of your daughter,” Yeosang interrupted gently but firmly. “Shouldn’t that come first?”
YN looked at her brother, her eyes wide with gratitude. She hadn’t expected him to stand up for her so strongly, and it gave her a surge of hope.
The queen sighed, looking at her husband. “He’s not wrong, you know. But… it’s still hard to let go of traditions we’ve followed for so long.”
The king rubbed his temples, clearly torn. After a long pause, he looked at YN. “This isn’t a decision we can make overnight. But… if this is truly what you want, we’ll consider it. Just give us some time.”
It wasn’t a definitive yes, but it wasn’t a no either. YN’s heart swelled with a mix of relief and hope.
“Thank you,” she said softly, bowing slightly before leaving the room.
As YN left the study, her thoughts still buzzing with hope and relief, she heard familiar footsteps behind her. She turned to see Yeosang following her down the grand hallway, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.
“What?” she asked, stopping in her tracks and raising an eyebrow at him.
Yeosang sighed, motioning for her to keep walking as he fell into step beside her. “I need to talk to you,” he said, his tone calm but firm.
She rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to tell me I’m being ridiculous, don’t bother. You already supported me in front of Mother and Father.”
“I did,” Yeosang agreed, glancing at her. “But only because I’m tired of those outdated customs, too. And because, if anyone deserves you, it’s Mingi. He’s practically perfect for you.”
YN blinked in surprise at his honesty, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Really? You think so?”
“Yes, I do,” he admitted with a shrug. “He’s loyal, reliable, and has been by your side for years. I know he’d do anything to keep you safe and happy. That’s the kind of person you need in your life.”
Her smile grew, but before she could thank him, he stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression more serious now.
“But, YN,” he said firmly, “you’re still too young to make decisions like this.”
Her smile faltered. “What do you mean? I know what I want.”
“You think you do,” he replied, his tone gentle but unyielding. “But you’re only a teenager. Marriage isn’t just about liking someone or thinking they’re a good person. It’s a huge commitment, and it comes with responsibilities you can’t even imagine right now.”
“I’m not saying I want to marry him tomorrow,” she argued, crossing her arms. “I’m just saying that when the time comes, it should be my choice. And I chose Mingi.”
Yeosang sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I get it. You’ve grown up with him. He’s been like your rock, your anchor. It makes sense that you’d feel this way. But you need to take a step back and really think about what you want in life—not just right now, but years from now.”
YN frowned, her arms dropping to her sides. “You don’t think I’m serious?”
“I think you’re serious,” he said honestly. “And I think your feelings are valid. But feelings change, YN. And you’ve got so much time ahead of you to figure out what you really want. All I’m saying is, don’t rush into something just because it feels right now.”
She looked down at the floor, his words sinking in. As much as she hated to admit it, Yeosang had a point. She was still young, and the future felt like a vast, uncharted sea.
“I just… I don’t want to lose him,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You won’t,” Yeosang reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mingi’s not going anywhere. You’ve got time, YN. Don’t let fear make you rush into a decision. Trust that the right moment will come when it’s meant to.”
She nodded slowly, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “Thanks, Yeosang. I… I’ll think about what you said.”
He smiled faintly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “That’s all I ask. Now, go get some rest. You’ve caused enough chaos for one day.”
She laughed lightly, the weight on her chest lifting just a little. As she walked away, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for her brother’s honesty and support. Even if she didn’t have all the answers yet, she knew she had time—and the people who cared about her to guide her along the way.
The sound of tennis balls being hit back and forth echoed through the royal court the next morning. Yeosang and Mingi were engaged in a competitive match, their banter as sharp as their serves. Despite the casual atmosphere, Mingi could sense there was something on Yeosang’s mind.
“Nice shot,” Yeosang said as Mingi delivered a powerful forehand that he barely managed to return.
“You’re getting slow, Yeosang,” Mingi teased, smirking as he prepared for the next serve.
“Not slow,” Yeosang retorted, adjusting his stance. “Just distracted.”
Mingi raised an eyebrow but said nothing, focusing on his serve. He sent the ball flying across the court, and Yeosang returned it with surprising force. The rally continued for a while before Yeosang finally missed, and Mingi stepped forward, spinning his racket casually.
“All right,” Mingi said, tilting his head. “What’s on your mind?”
Yeosang sighed, walking to the side to grab his water bottle. “It’s YN,” he said simply.
Mingi tensed slightly but kept his expression neutral. “What about her?”
Yeosang took a sip of water, then leaned against the net, looking directly at his friend. “She told me last night that she doesn’t want to marry anyone but you.”
Mingi froze for a split second before letting out a quiet sigh. “I know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “She told me the same thing yesterday.”
Yeosang raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And?”
“And… I told her that’s not how it works,” Mingi said firmly, his voice calm but resolute. “She’s still young. She doesn’t fully understand what she’s saying. It’s just… attachment. She’s known me her whole life, so she thinks I’m the answer to everything.”
Yeosang studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You’re probably right,” he said eventually, setting his bottle down. “But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s serious about how she feels.”
Mingi sighed again, sitting on the bench and resting his elbows on his knees. “I know. And that’s what worries me. I don’t want her to make decisions she might regret later. She’s a princess, Yeosang. Her life is already so complicated, and she deserves better than—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeosang interrupted, walking over to stand in front of him. “If you’re about to say she deserves better than you, don’t. Because it’s not true.”
Mingi blinked, clearly taken aback. “Yeosang, I’m just her bodyguard. You really think—”
“I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met,” Yeosang said firmly, crossing his arms. “And I think my sister deserves someone who will treat her with the care and respect you’ve shown her every single day of her life. Do I think she’s too young to be thinking about marriage? Yes. But do I think you’re a bad choice? Absolutely not.”
Mingi stared at him, stunned into silence.
Yeosang smirked, amused by his friend’s rare speechlessness. “Honestly, I expected you to freak out more when I brought this up. But it seems like you’ve already thought this through.”
“I have,” Mingi admitted quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since she first mentioned it. I just… I don’t want to cross any lines. My job is to protect her, not—”
“Not fall in love with her?” Yeosang finished, his tone teasing but not unkind.
Mingi’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked away, unsure how to respond.
Yeosang chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Relax, Mingi. I’m not here to tell you to stay away from her. If anything, I’m telling you the opposite. Just… don’t rush anything. Let her grow up, figure things out for herself. If this is meant to be, it’ll happen in time.”
Mingi looked up at him, his expression softening. “You really mean that?”
“I do,” Yeosang said with a small smile. “You’re my friend, Mingi. And more importantly, you’re someone I trust. I know you’ll do what’s best for her.”
Mingi nodded, his chest feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time. “Thanks, Yeosang.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Yeosang said with a smirk, grabbing his racket. “Now, let’s finish this game. I’m not letting you win just because we had a heartfelt moment.”
Mingi laughed, standing up and grabbing his racket. “We’ll see about that.”
As they returned to the court, Mingi couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of responsibility. Whatever the future held, he would make sure YN was happy—whether that meant staying by her side as her bodyguard or something more. For now, he’d take it one day at a time.
Months passed, and YN’s relentless determination, along with Yeosang’s support, slowly melted her parents’ hesitation. It wasn’t an easy road, but the Kang family eventually came to terms with the idea. The modern world was changing, and so were the rules of royalty. What mattered most was YN’s happiness, and it was clear that her bond with Mingi was unbreakable.
One crisp autumn morning, YN was called into the royal study. Her parents were there, seated at the same desk where she had once pleaded her case. Yeosang stood beside them, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“We’ve discussed it,” the king began, his tone gentle but formal. “And we’ve decided that if this is truly what you want, YN, we will support your choice.”
For a moment, she just stared at them, her mind struggling to process the words. Then, as the realization hit her, her face lit up with pure, uncontainable joy. “Really?” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement.
The queen smiled softly. “Yes, really. We only want you to be happy.”
Before they could say anything else, YN bolted out of the room, her heart racing as she ran through the palace halls. She knew exactly where to find Mingi—in the training grounds, where he often started his mornings.
As she burst into the training yard, Mingi was mid-swing, sparring with another guard. He paused when he saw her, his brow furrowing in concern. “Princess? What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer right away, instead running straight to him and grabbing his hands. Her grin was so wide it almost hurt, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. “They said yes!” she blurted out.
Mingi blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“My parents! They said yes!” she repeated, practically bouncing on her feet. “They’re okay with it—with us! You don’t have to just be my bodyguard anymore. We can actually—”
Her words were cut off as Mingi let out a soft laugh, his shoulders relaxing as relief and happiness washed over him. “They really said that?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, squeezing his hands tightly. “We don’t have to hide how we feel, or worry about traditions, or anything. They’re okay with it!”
Mingi smiled down at her, his heart swelling with emotions he could barely put into words. “I’m happy for you, YN. For us.”
She laughed, the sound bright and carefree. “You’re happy? Mingi, I’m the happiest person alive right now! I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy!”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else, Princess.”
“Of course I am,” she said playfully, sticking her tongue out at him. “Now come on, we have to celebrate! Ice cream, movies, anything you want—just name it!”
Mingi laughed again, letting her excitement wash over him. “Whatever you want, YN. Today’s your day.”
As they walked back toward the palace, YN chattering excitedly about all the plans she wanted to make, Mingi couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. He’d always been content just being her protector, her shadow. But now, as he looked at her radiant smile and heard her joyful laughter, he realized that being by her side in this new way was more than he’d ever dreamed of.
For YN, the future felt brighter than ever. And for Mingi, there was no place he’d rather be than right there beside her, no matter what came next.
Taglist: @jonghosbrainrot
#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez x female reader#ateez x you#ateez fanfiction#ateez imagines#kim hongjoong#hongjoong x reader#park seonghwa#seonghwa x reader#jeong yunho#yunho x reader#kang yeosang#yeosang x reader#choi san#san x reader#song mingi#mingi x reader#jung wooyoung#wooyoung x reader#choi jongho#jongho x reader#ateez mingi#mingi fanfic#mingi imagines#mingi x y/n#bodyguard Mingi
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We need a part 2 for the jayce and viktor cuck fic😫
And now.... The fic you've all been waiting for.
Jayce Asking You To Cuck Him w/ Viktor | PT. 2
(Please feel free to read Part One if you haven't already <3)
Pairings: Jayce x Reader x Viktor
Pronouns: None used, can be read w/ whatever pronouns you prefer <3
Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI!! I am not responsible for your media consumption.
Word Count: 1.2k
Tags: Cucking, M/M/F, Slightly OOC Jayce + Viktor (if you squint?)
Summary: Jayce asks Viktor a burning question.
Notes: I'm so sorry this took me so long. I had no idea how to go about it. I know exactly how I wanna do the smut portion, but this conversation had me drawing blanks. There's no denying that Jayce and Viktor are gay as PHUCK for each other, and I was trying to figure out how to subtly include that in here. I hope I did it some justice.
STAY TUNED FOR PT. 3 WHICH WILL BE THE LONG-AWAITED SMUT <3
“Is it just because you want to see me naked?” Viktor teases, his voice a smooth blend of mirth and mischief, the words laced with just enough edge to leave Jayce floundering.
Jayce freezes, caught entirely off guard.
“No!” he blurts out, his voice too loud, echoing off the walls with an almost comical desperation.
Viktor raises a brow, faintly offended in a way that feels deliberate, a glimmer of amusement playing beneath his cool façade.
“I mean—no, it’s not that,” Jayce stammers, his hands flying up in a flurry of aborted gestures. “It’s just… the principle.” He coughs, awkwardly pinching the bridge of his nose as though the motion might magically summon coherence from the chaos of his thoughts.
From his perch, Viktor observes him, leaning casually on his cane with a posture that seems both effortless and deliberate. The faintest curve of a smirk graces his lips—a secret smile, as though he’s already won a game Jayce doesn’t realize they’re playing.
“Should I assume that ___ is privy to this… fantasy of yours?” Viktor inquires, his tone so smooth it could pass for idle curiosity, though his sharp gaze betrays the humor he’s enjoying at Jayce’s expense.
Jayce’s head snaps up, his expression a poster-child of shock and indignation.
“No!” he protests, his voice breaking free in a frantic echo of his earlier outburst. “I mean… No… ____ doesn’t know.. Yet.”
Viktor hums, the sound low and thoughtful, his golden eyes glinting like sunlight through smoked glass.
“I must admit, Jayce, this is an… unusual request. I don’t often receive proposals like this—or, well, any of this nature, to be honest.”
His voice is calm, his words so precisely measured they feel surgical, and yet they land like pinpricks of amusement on Jayce’s fraying composure.
“You can say no,” Jayce rushes out, his voice earnest, tumbling over itself in its haste.
“It doesn’t have to happen. I just—”
He falters as Viktor silences him with a single glance, a gaze weighted with unspoken possibilities.
“I am a man of reason, Jayce,” Viktor murmurs, his words deliberate, teasing out the tension like an artisan pulling silk from thread.
“And it’s quite clear this is something you deeply desire. Besides…” He pauses, letting the moment stretch before delivering his conclusion with a faint, wicked curl of his lips.
“I never said no.”
Jayce’s face lights up with the unrestrained joy of a puppy hearing the word “treat.”
“Really? You mean it?” he exclaims, stumbling over his own excitement, his eyes alight with gratitude. “Viktor—that’s—I—”
Viktor interrupts with a wave of his hand, calm as ever despite the blush that blooms faintly at his cheeks—a rare and fleeting crack in his composure.
“I will… indulge your request,” he says, his voice steady, though tinged with something softer. “But only on one condition. ___ must be fully accepting of this arrangement as well. Since you have yet to mention it to (insert pronoun(s) here), I suggest you do so first. I may be a willing participant, but I am not the only one in this equation.”
Jayce nods fervently, stepping closer with an eagerness that borders on reverence.
“Of course—thank you, Viktor,” Jayce says, his voice warm with sincerity, the words spilling from him with such honesty that Viktor’s lips twitch, betraying a rare flicker of fondness beneath his usual aloofness.
“I’m not in need of thanks…” Viktor murmurs, his grip tightening around his cane as he uses it to push himself up from the chair with careful precision.
For a moment, he struggles, and when Jayce reaches out to help, Viktor waves him off with a gesture that mixes pride and playfulness.
“I’ve got it—thank you,” Viktor adds, his voice carrying that familiar edge of sass, a subtle challenge lingering in the air.
Jayce offers a quiet nod, watching with an understanding that speaks volumes, his gaze unwavering as Viktor stands tall and adjusts his clothes with an almost theatrical grace.
The two are now standing face-to-face, the height difference as pronounced as ever, Jayce’s gaze naturally falling downward as Viktor straightens himself, a silent tension building between them.
“Viktor, I—I feel like I need to thank you mo—”
“Please, don’t.” Viktor’s interruption is smooth, deliberate, and almost too quick. “After all, we’re partners.” His tone softens just slightly, but his eyes remain sharp, taking in the faintest shifts of Jayce’s expression, carefully examining the unspoken truths there.
Truthfully, Viktor hadn’t stood merely for the sake of formality. No, he had risen to peer into Jayce’s eyes, trying to read the true intentions behind such a request, to unravel the subtle mystery that now hung between them.
Jayce offers up yet another nod, a silent acceptance of Viktor’s independence.
"Tell me, Jayce… What led you to choose me? Was it simply because we’re partners?" he asks, his gaze locking with the taller man’s once again, searching intently for any secrets concealed within those eyes.
Jayce swallowed hard, as he often did whenever Viktor looked at him like this—peering straight into his soul with unnerving clarity. By now, it had become almost routine. Every deep conversation seemed to culminate in moments like these.
"Well, yeah. But not just that—" Jayce pauses for a moment, his voice faltering slightly as his hand rose to rest on Viktor's shoulder.
"There’s no one I trust more than you," he finished, his gaze locking with Viktor’s, sincerity shining through the bond they had carefully cultivated over the years.
The silence between them stretched, heavy yet unspoken, as Jayce’s hand lingered on Viktor’s shoulder. Their eyes remained locked, a connection so intense it felt immovable—unbreakable, even if a stampede were to crash through the lab doors.
Viktor felt a tightness coiling in his gut, unfamiliar and unsettling. He struggled to keep his composure, almost appalled by how much effort it took to suppress the warmth threatening to bloom on his cheeks.
Viktor had debated saying more, asking more, but he held his tongue. This moment was already overwhelming enough, and pushing further would only complicate it. He knew, deep down, that if he truly cared for Jayce—and he did—he would honor what his friend was asking of him. There was no room for hesitation in that resolve.
All Viktor could muster was a single nod, mirroring the ones Jayce had given him before.
"Much appreciated, Jayce," Viktor murmured, his partner’s name slipping from his lips like honey—thick and sweet, seeping into the air between them.
Before Jayce could respond, Viktor interjected for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon.
“Please—say no more. You need to go to ____,” he urged, his tone soft yet insistent.
Jayce hesitated, giving Viktor a puzzled glance that lingered just a second too long. For a fleeting moment, Viktor thought he saw something beneath the other man’s gaze, something he couldn’t quite place. But it vanished before he could decipher it, leaving behind only the tightening knot in his stomach. That flicker of hope had come and gone, like a wave retreating back into the sea, leaving him stranded on the shore.
Without another word, Jayce turned to leave, his fingers brushing against Viktor’s shoulder as if reluctant to part. The touch lingered until he pivoted fully, his back now to Viktor.
And then, just as quickly as he’d arrived, Jayce was gone—vanishing beyond the doorway, leaving Viktor alone once more.
PT. 3 COMING SOOOOOOOOOON. <3
#arcane smut#arcane#arcane x reader#jayce x reader#arcane imagine#arcane x reader smut#jayce talis#viktor#viktor arcane#jayvik#jayvik smut#jayce talis x reader#jayce talis x reader smut#jayce x reader smut#viktor x reader#viktor x reader smut#viktor x jayce#viktor x jayce smut#jayce x viktor#jayce x viktor smut
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Italy as a unified nation has had a long and complicated history.
The state currently known as Italy has only existed for about 160 years. I like to contextualise this by pointing out the British had already landed in Australia about 70 years earlier (which is relevant given it is the anniversary of that date today) (also I'm often explaining this stuff to Australians).
One could argue that Italy as a political identity never really existed until 1861: the Roman Empire is probably the closest thing to a united nation on the Italic peninsula, but even in its early stages it controlled areas currently not part of Italy (or when it didn't control them it also lacked other parts of modern day Italy). However, Italy as an idea has existed before the nation. Napoleon was King of Italy, for example, but the area again doesn't match modern definitions.
This same issue, however, affects most modern nation states. Borders are defined somewhat arbitrarily (at best people of the border areas chose to join one country over another, at worst someone just draws a line on a map and calls it a day).
Italy during most of the middle ages and up until its unification was a chessboard of small nation states, some of which were ruled by foreign powers (e.g. Spain and Austria), 'Italians' (e.g. city-states like Florence) or the Pope.
There was, however, a sense of Italian identity before the nation existed. Even Dante (14th century) believed Italy should be united. It was more of an intellectual concern, however. Even post-unification most peasant-types didn't really have a proper understanding of what 'Italy' was since from town to town everyone was often quite isolated (the 'dialects' mentioned above are almost innumerable since they vary not just by region (and there are 20 regions of Italy) but also from place to place within the regions).
Part of the desire for unification was a sort of desire to free Italy from foreign dominion. In a way, perhaps Italianeità can be defined as a 'not-French-German-Austrian-Spanish-etc-etc-etc'-ness. While it has roots in the Roman Empire and the Middle Ages, the Unification of Italy took off in the Romantic period, a time of strong nationalism throughout Europe.
Essentially, a bunch of pro-unification people got the king of a kingdom in northern Italy (close to the French border) to support them and with a bunch of fellow idealists they headed south and got rid of the Spanish and French and Austrian etc rulers and united the country under one king. OK technically two: the Pope wasn't happy with the idea of giving up Rome and it took until World War II for a proper settlement to be resolved (for a while the Catholic Church essentially refused to accept Italy as a nation and told Catholics to boycott elections).
Italian as a language has technically existed since the Middle Ages: the Italian dialect of Florence (the language of the poets Dante and Petrarch who had dreamed of unification back then) is the basis of modern-day Italian. To claim that Italian as a language does not exist is rather specious. Italian is a descendant of Latin, like any of the Italian dialects, and thus it has as significant a tie to the land as any other widely-spoken Italian dialect (except perhaps Latin itself, since the Papacy kept it going for a long time so in a way it still hung around, but even then Latin would have existed with other Latin/Italic dialects). Italian is so similar to medieval Tuscan dialects that with a good knowledge of Italian you can (with a bit of work) read works by those old poets. It's more similar to modern Italian than Old English is to English (even Latin is more similar to Italian than Old English and modern English).
While I enjoy being self-deprecating about Italy's awkward history, it is no less weird than any other country. Germany didn't unite properly until after Italy, although it had been the main part of the Holy Roman Empire not too long before so it had some degree of unity in a way Italy didn't.
But, Italy did have a problem of Italian identity in that it did have to be 'manufactured'. There was a bit of a morale problem in WWI since farmers from the south were fighting in battlefields in the north with no idea why they should care about these 'Italians'. Poor literacy rates also prevented the adoption of Italian as a language for quite a while, so I do concede that dialects of Italian were much more widely spoken than Italian for a long time. So much so that I think my nonni's generation might be the last to have really grown up speaking it from birth and only learning Italian as a second language (i.e. it took that long for it to become commonly used). Mussolini and Fascism helped instil a sense of national identity in the country (as one would expect) and so by WWII Italy was well and truly 'Italy', but even then, Italians still have a strong parochialism and the North and South have often been at odds with each other (there was even a party that advocated for the North to secede from the rest). Also the world wars caused some border-shifting (e.g. Trieste which if you look at it on a map doesn't even look like it's in Italy. There area around there has shifted a lot).
All country borders are arbitrary and ill-defined. All nations are equally made-up and to suggest Italy is any less legitimate is mean. Also I feel like the point of the original post was just to point out that history is weird, so I'm not annoyed about the post. It's just I studied this stuff at Uni and now whenever I get the chance I go into a long-winded spiel about the history of Italy. I wrote this for my own fun.
There isn’t some day in history when Rome started being medieval Italy. In fact, what is an Italy? Why is an Italy? When is an Italy? What am Italy? Does Italy really exist? All questions you end up asking yourself when you stare at history for so long that you go cross-eyed.
#also yeah I can only just make sense of my family's dialect despite being fluent in Italian#it's not even that weird it's just it has a lot of odd words here and there#but like there are some dialects that are just German or Slavic or Greek#Nations are geographic boundaries around groups of people who agree to live under the same rules usually due to a shared sense of culture#but I mean Italians of the south and the north have very different cultures#even the food is different#I will agree fully that there is no Italian cuisine#that's too broad a brush in most cases#but the language is enforceable#The fascists tried to get people to stop eating pasta and eat rice because they were low on wheat due to sanctions and stuff#that clearly did not work#also I don't like Mussolini btw in case that was not clear#(also 'agree to live' also includes 'are forced to agree')#but yeah Australia is such a multicultural country that the idea you need one culture to be a country is hard for me to swallow#so I think the culture side of things is largely irrelevant#anyway thus ends the sermon#italian history
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Hello! I hope this is the correct way to request..., can you write a lewis story for prompt 28? It can be something like, reader is a new wag and there is some online hate, and lewis comforts them. It's completely fine if you don't wanna do this story, Thank you!! 💞
DON'T LET THEM SAY THAT. YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL | Lewis Hamilton
Lewis Hamilton x Actress!Reader
SUMMARY: Lewis and you decided to make your relationship public in Maranello before 2025 Formula 1 season starts. However, love from fans isn't there as you expected ↳ REQUESTED: Part of VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST (VOL. I)! Feel free to request anything you want <3 Hope you liked it anon! 💖
WORD COUNT: 2043
WARNINGS: Age gap (reader is on her early 20s and Lewis is 40), fans acting like crazy, hate towards Y/N
VEE'S NOTES: I received this prompt on the inbox today and I don't know how I wrote, corrected, translated and corrected once again it today. Also, first ever Ferrari!Lewis fic I'm so emotional right now. Not really happy with the result since like Y/N in this fic, I have many intrusive thoughts about my writing and I didn't have the best of the weekends, but hope you enjoy it anyways! Remember that I appreciate your comments, feedback, as well as reblogs, thank you so much! :)
© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!
The whirlwind of emotions you’ve experienced since your relationship with Lewis Hamilton became public has been unimaginable... and that’s putting it lightly.
Although you were somewhat used to the spotlight thanks to your rising career as an actress, flashes from cameras, crowds shouting for you to turn around so they could get a picture, and the occasional fan asking for a photo or autograph, the world of Formula 1 was completely new to you.
You couldn’t deny that you were unhappy with how drastically your life had changed. The man who had just joined Scuderia Ferrari had become everything you had ever imagined in a partner. kind, undeniably caring, and, most importantly, empathetic enough to understand how overwhelming this sudden rise in fame was for you.
Lewis had noticed how down you’d been ever since he decided to post those photos of you both in Maranello. You had both agreed to go together so he could test one of those legendary red cars for the first time, fully aware that people would inevitably start talking. That day, you decided to make your relationship public after keeping it a secret for about six months, agreeing that it was best to do so before the 2025 season began.
Despite it all, despite how much you had started closing yourself off in the following weeks, Lewis remained by your side, making you feel like the most important person in the world. But it was becoming increasingly difficult for him, especially when all you did was act like everything was fine on the outside while you were slowly destroying yourself inside.
The nightmare began with small comments on the photo Lewis had uploaded to Instagram, just you, posing timidly in front of the Ferrari while he held you around the waist, smiling like never before. At first, the comments didn’t seem like a big deal, with people just wanting to know more about your relationship or if it was serious. But soon, the messages started pouring in, insults and threats far worse than you had ever imagined, many of them coming from underage girls. Eventually, you had to disable comments on every single one of your photos, no matter how old they were.
However, what truly became a living nightmare for you were the Twitter threads and, especially, the accounts dedicated exclusively to Formula 1 wags. They were relentless, tearing you apart, analyzing your every move as if dating one of the 20 drivers on the grid was equivalent to committing first-degree murder.
“She’s just looking for fame now that her acting career is taking off.”
“She doesn’t deserve someone like Lewis.”
“She’s too young for him.”
“And let’s not even talk about how ugly she is… have you seen her?”
You sighed, throwing your phone onto the couch with such force that it ended up crashing onto the floor. But you didn’t even bother to check if it was broken. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t read any more comments, wouldn’t even open your Instagram account, yet you couldn’t resist. After all, you were human, and the weight of it all was becoming too much to bear, even more than you were willing to admit to Lewis, to whom you hadn’t fully opened up yet.
The hotel room in Tokyo, where you and Lewis had decided to stay for one of your last vacations before the season began, fell into complete silence. The only sound that filled the space was your muffled sobs.
“And who even is she? Nobody knows her.”
“Lewis deserves someone better, that’s for sure.”
Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away.
You couldn’t understand it. It felt so unfair... Why were you being treated this way just for loving someone? Why did people throw venomous words at you without even knowing you, without even trying to? Did being a fan of Lewis automatically mean they had to hate you?
You tried to relax, to break free from the spiral of thoughts that only led you to overthink, but it was impossible. Once your mind started down that path, the only thing it knew how to do was tear you apart from the inside.
As you tried to steady your breathing and quickly wiped away your tears, a knock echoed at the door.
You pulled yourself together as fast as you could, forcing a smile while glancing at your reflection in the mirror. You swore to yourself that you’d do everything possible to pretend that everything was fine, that you were fine.
But the moment you opened the door and saw Lewis, drenched in sweat from his gym session and pulling out his earbuds, you immediately turned around and rushed into the nearest room, the bathroom, locking yourself inside to keep him from seeing you like this.
“Come on, Y/N...”
Lewis knew you too well by now. No matter how hard you tried to convince him otherwise, he could see right through you, he knew you were struggling, and struggling pretty badly.
He didn’t do anything at first. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid that whatever he said or did might only make things worse, might make you shut down even more. Instead, he rested his forehead against the closed door, feeling defeated, thinking of ways to make you feel worthy enough to stop torturing yourself over what strangers were saying online, people who knew nothing about your relationship and even less about you.
Eventually, you decided to come out. Lewis saw you, completely defeated, and he cursed himself for letting things get to this point. What had he done wrong to make you feel this way? God, you were just a girl in your early twenties who had recently made the leap to Hollywood stardom after moving to Los Angeles at sixteen, waiting tables in a run-down bar, and facing countless failed auditions until you finally landed the role that changed everything.
“Hey, love,” Lewis spoke as gently as possible, his eyes scanning your red-rimmed ones and your tangled hair. “What’s wrong?”
He knew exactly what was wrong, but he wanted you to be the one to speak, to let it all out.
You took a deep breath and pointed at your phone, still lying on the floor. A nervous knot tightened in your stomach, and your hands began to fidget anxiously. As if on cue, tears started streaming down your face once more.
“I just… I don’t understand why they have to be like this. What did I do to deserve this? Am I not good enough? Not pretty enough for you?”
Lewis sighed. He had known from the beginning that not everyone would accept your relationship, but the amount of hate you were facing was beyond excessive. He was exhausted by the senseless comments and social media accounts created solely to spew hate at you. And even more, he was tired of becoming tabloid fodder, followed everywhere by paparazzi eager to capture any moment they could.
Seeing you like this hurt him in ways he couldn’t even describe, and it made him feel miserable.
“Hey, Y/N… look at me.”
Despite speaking to you firmly and holding your hand, gently rubbing your skin with his thumb to calm you down, you didn’t respond. Lewis then cupped your chin delicately, forcing you to look at him.
“I know I’ve told you this a thousand times, and I also know that with how stubborn you are, you probably won’t listen to me, but don’t let what they say about you bother you,” he wanted to say, but all he really cared about was you. “What matters is that I love you, okay?”
“But... why does it have to affect me? Why did I used to not care about anything, and now I care so much about the opinion of strangers?” you asked, hesitantly, biting your lip in an attempt to relax.
Lewis moved even closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. He hated seeing you like this, especially when before all of this started, you were a light in his life, and it was him who used to lean on you when race weekends got overwhelming.
“Because you’re human, babe,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you tighter. “Even though we sometimes say the opposite, we all care about what others think of us, especially when all they want to do is bring us down.”
“But... what if they’re right? What if I’m not what you deserve?”
“Do I need to remind you again that they’re wrong?” Lewis said, pulling you slightly away so your gazes met. “You need to remember how much you mean to me, but more than that, you need to remember who you are and all that you’re worth. That’s all that matters.”
You didn’t say anything else. Instead, you buried your face in his chest, once again crying quietly to avoid him seeing you like this.
“I’m ugly, Lew. Really ugly,” you confessed without lifting your head. “I don’t even know how you love me, or how you agreed to be with me after all those months we spent talking and hanging out as friends, or…”
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t let them say that. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, and you’ve always been, alright? Anyone who says otherwise needs to get their eyes checked.”
You laughed, and Lewis felt that as a small victory.
You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. For the first time in a long while, you pushed aside the intrusive thoughts, the destructive comments you saw daily on social media, and allowed yourself the luxury of, for just a moment, trying to stop torturing yourself and accepting that there were things you couldn’t change.
Lewis’s words, while brief and somewhat familiar to you, brought a peace you hadn’t felt in days. You did your best to let the tension in your shoulders melt away, slowly separating from him and moving your arms bit by bit.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lew,” you whispered, once again wrapping your arms around his waist, wishing you could never let go of him.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Lewis chuckled, planting kisses on your forehead. “I’m never going to leave you, and I hope you’ll never leave me either.”
Neither of you said anything more. Your bodies remained close, exchanging shy kisses, making promises that everything would get better as you both talked about the changes you’d face in 2025. That was enough for you both to know things were going to be okay.
You both understood that the big, risky changes you were taking, especially your relationship, were going to be difficult, just like what was happening with you and the wave of hate you were receiving. But once you stopped giving it too much importance, or rather, no importance at all, no one would stop you as the newest couple in Formula 1.
“Hey, listen to me, please... I’ve been thinking about something.”
Lewis’s words caught your attention as you were starting to drift off to sleep in bed. You straightened up, your hand still intertwined with his.
“How about we take a walk, and you can get to know the city a bit?” he suggested. “You know… we could go eat out, hit up an arcade, or maybe…”
“Can you get me a stuffed animal from one of those weird claw machines?!” you interrupted him, excited, which made Lewis burst out laughing.
“Of course, I can get you a stuffed animal, or buy you all the ones you want.”
You smiled, and as Lewis went to the bathroom for a shower, you began to prepare for the day. That moment was exactly when you realized you needed to trust yourself more and, specially, just as Lewis valued you. Because if there was one thing you’d learned from him in the short time you’d been together, it was that, no matter what you did, you’d always be the envy of others, so you just needed to remind yourself that you didn’t need to feel worse for living the life you’d always dreamed of and, moreover, you worked hard to have.
#formula 1#f1#lewis hamilton#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#formula 1 fluff#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton x y/n#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton fic#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#lewis hamilton f1#lewis hamilton x female reader#lewis hamilton x you#lh44 x reader#hamilton
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hiii! I'm a big fan of yours !!
Can I request ? Bcs like I love Agatha but I barely find fluff of her it's just smut, I know it's good but we need fluff 2!!!
( something very domestic fluff, maybe based on wandavison Agatha! )
Little Temptress
Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Fem! Reader
Summary: A relaxing afternoon with Agatha.
Fluff
Warnings: Slight suggestive themes? Talks of skinny dipping/being naked. | 0.8K
AC: Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x
The late afternoon sun casted a long, warm shadows across the living room of the Harkness house in Westview. You were curled up on the sofa with a worn-out book in your lap, the sun’s warmth distracting you from the words in front of you. Enjoying the gentle breeze that drifted through the open window.
Agatha was in the kitchen, softly humming a tuneless melody while she moved about, wanting to make you a warm mug of tea to drink while you read your book. The world outside never really saw this soft side of Agatha. To them, she was a loving neighbor who loved a bit of gossip and always had a sarcastic remark for everything.
“Extra milk, just how you like it” she said, her voice low and soft not to disturb you too much.
You smiled, taking the mug from her, “you read my mind! Thanks, honey”
“Call it my sixth sense!” The woman with long wavy brown hair winked.
You chuckled at her playful remark, “it’s a bit too quiet today, don’t you think?” You asked.
Agatha lightly shrugged, “Honey, you should hear the rambling Dottie was going on about today! And between you and I, something weird is happening at the Maximoff house”
“How so?” You questioned with a light frown and a quick sip of your tea.
“It’s practically humming with… chaotic potential” she said, taking a seat beside you.
You raised a brow, “humming? You mean like a refrigerator?”
“Oh, far more dramatic than that” she chuckled, “Vision seems to be on edge a lot” she added.
“Well, I’m sure with you keeping an eye on them, they’ll be fine” you teased, you always teased her about being the neighborhoods watch dog. She chuckled once more, “somebody has too”
You hummed at her words before taking another small sip of your tea. Almost naturally, Agatha gently placed a hand on top of your knee, “so, what would you like do on the weekend, hot stuff?”
“Mmm, what about we go out for lunch tomorrow?” You suggested, “I heard there’s a new Greek restaurant in town”
Agatha smiled softly, “I’m listening” she said she with a raised brow
“I also need to stop at the hardware store to get some gardening supplies, so maybe we could do that after” you replied, stretching your legs and carefully placing your mug on the coffee table.
“Or, instead of you getting attacked by the rose bushes again, we could do a picnic by the creek?” Agatha suggested with her lips curling into a knowing smile.
“A picnic? With you? You hate things like” you looked at her.
“If the mood strikes, we could skinny dip”
“Ahh, right” you chuckled, shaking your head playfully at her before straddling her lap, “and why would skinny dipping be on your list of things to do?” You asked. Her hands resting on your hips as she looked up at you with a mischief grin on her lips. “Oh honey, it’s not for me. I know how much you’ve wanted to go skinny dipping before, my little temptress”.
“Or is this just your way to see me naked?” You cocked a brow at her. Agatha chuckled, “honey, I don’t need to take you skinny dipping to see you naked, we save water every morning” she reminded you.
You leaned closer, your nose almost touching hers, a smirk playing on your own lips. "So, it's purely out of the goodness of your heart then?" You purred, your fingers teasing the edge of her shirt. "You're just selflessly fulfilling my deepest desires?"
Agatha’s grin widened, “something like that” she said. Her fingers now tracing lazy circles on your hips, sending a shiver down your spine. “Though I must admire, the thought of you splashing around all bare and breathtaking….it’s rather appealing image” her voice dropped that made your heart skip a beat.
“Breathtaking, hmm?” You repeated, one hand going to cup her cheek, “and you expect me to believe that’s the only reason?” You lowered your head until your lips were a breath away from hers. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking with yours, “alright, maybe there is a tiny benefit in it for me” she said in an almost whisper before your lips locked with hers. Her fingers tightened on your hips, deepening the kiss while the image of skinny dipping flashed through her mind.
Pulling away, you smiled against her lips, “well, who am I to deny a little selflessness?” You nuzzled into her neck, breaking in her familiar scent. There was no need for further discussion. A silent agreement passed between the two of you. The afternoon was spent in each other's arms, enjoying the peace that comforted the two of you. Agatha, not that she was a great one, cooked dinner for you both to enjoy while making her watch a trashy rom-com.
“Honey, promise me one thing” you looked up at her.
“What’s that cutie?” She asked.
“Don’t cook anything for our picnic” you chuckled, making her playfully roll her eyes at you. “I was going to get Wanda to whip something up” she confessed.
“Of course you were” you replied, still giggling at her reaction.
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#yelenasdiary asks#anon#fanfiction#marvel#Agatha harkness#Agatha harkness x reader#Agatha harkness x you#Agatha all along
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mess of me | S.H.
Summary: Steve breaks a promise and it ruins your friendship. He doesn't hide the frustration about the possibility of seeing you leave Hawkins.
Warnings: SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, slight praising
Word count: 2.8k
♥
Steve likes the way you dress up when you go out with your group of friends, but this is the second time he sees you in a bikini. And it makes him want to punch his own face.
You all decided to take a small trip to a lake with a waterfall. The late spring days started to feel hotter and you just wanted to do something different. Hawkins isn't exactly the best destination to spend a day doing something good.
He watches as you swim with Robin and the other girls. She splashes water at you as you both laugh. Nancy and Jonathan are enjoying the waterfall, all while Argyle and the boys fight with water guns.
Steve is sitting next to Eddie under the sunshade, the latter reading a fictional book as he wears dark shorts, a bandana wrapped around his hair that's tied in a ponytail.
"If you keep looking at her that much, I'm pretty sure she's gonna have third degree burns from your staring" Eddie speaks up, still focused on his book.
He snaps his head to the side, scoffing at his friend's words. "M'not looking at anyone. Just watching the view from the lake"
Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. "Yeah, right. The view, huh?"
"Shut up, Munson" He rolls his eyes.
They're talking about you. You are the reason why Steve keeps staring too much at the lake, not even caring to jump in the water for a refresh. His friend knows you don't get along with him ever since he broke his promise of keeping your secret safe with him.
He ended up telling everyone you were planning on going back to New York. No one knew about your plans, not even Robin who's your closest friend after him. You didn't want to tell them just yet.
They were disappointed at you at first. But then, they all seem pretty understandable. Because any other place in the country would be better than Hawkins. Even if your friends lived there, even if the man you ever really liked lived there.
Even if it meant being away from everything that made you feel safe and happy. And Steve was mad at you because of that. He was mad you were willing to get away from them. He thought you were running away from everything.
He never really meant to betray you. He was nervous, frustrated. He didn't want you to leave. He still doesn't want you to leave. If he thinks too much about it, his body starts to get rigid and tense. His fingers curl in rage.
Eddie knows all about his friend's feelings. He knows how much he cares about you, how he would fight for you to stay. But now, you can't even really look at him without feeling sad and angry. Angry because you trusted him. Sad because you thought you had his back.
You've been friends for almost a year now, but you're close enough to trust each other. That's what you actually thought until he told everyone you were leaving soon. Now you just can't stand looking at his face.
His pretty fucking face, painted with moles of various sizes. His sun-kissed skin, strong muscles and sharp jawline. Maybe this is one of the reasons you have doubts about staying. But who knows if you're his type anyway.
Through his sunglasses he can't keep his eyes off you. His jaw is clenched and his teeth are gnashing from the pressure. All he wanted to do right now was to push you against a wall and ruin you. Not even in a good way, because he can't stand the fact he has to deal with your cold shoulder.
And he knows he did wrong with you. It wasn't his intention to. And he apologized whenever he could. He would kneel in front of you at random moments and apologize. He would send you roses with small notes. Damn, he would leave letters on your doorstep. But you would never respond to them, you would never actually let him know if he was forgiven. Steve didn't want to see you leave without forgiving him. And it was chewing him alive.
He watched as you got off the lake, grabbing a towel and drying yourself before you walked back to the car to pick a snack. He took it as an opportunity to follow you. You were fumbling through the basket looking for a bag of doritos when he stood right beside you, leaning against the car.
"Fuck off, Harrington" You grumbled, not even daring to look at him.
You recognized him by his scent, and you hated that you knew him just that much.
He didn't answer. Rather, he crossed his arms and waited until you finally picked what you wanted. You gave him silence again, and he sighed.
"How many times do you still want me to apologize? Because I'll do it"
"Doesn't matter, Steve. That's the problem, you were so selfish you couldn't keep my fucking secret safe with you for more than a week!" You snapped at him. He seemed unfazed by your anger because that's how you've been treating him ever since then.
"I was desperate because how could you even do that to us? You're leaving everything and everyone behind!" He pulled back from the car, extending his arm in exasperation.
"I don't want to go through this again, especially with you. I told you why, I don't think I have to give you an explanation for my decisions"
As you tried to walk back to the lake, he gripped your forearm carefully so he wouldn't hurt you. Steve pulled you back only a few steps, hesitantly closing the distance. You didn't want to be this close to him, it was too hard to look at his face.
"You're right, you don't. But– it's hard to let you leave" He looked at your face, how you were still hurt.
You were avoiding his gaze at all costs. His hazel eyes were too intense at this point.
"We barely know each other, Harrington. We've only met months ago. Don't say things like that when you don't mean them"
"The way you think you know me is so frustrating, by the way" He places his forefinger under your chin and lifts your face so you can finally look at him. "Stop being so stubborn, please look at me"
It takes several seconds for you to give in. You're still angry at him, you still wish you could just punch his perfect face. But you stay still without saying a word. Your creased brows are the only response he gets besides your watery eyes. You obviously want to cry. You wish you had another option, but you already made peace with the fact you want to leave Hawkins.
"I'm fucking sorry I was an idiot. I never wanted to hurt you in any fucking way. And if I could actually go back in time I would shut my fucking mouth" He curses through every sentence. His irises are almost burning holes into yours from the intense staring.
You keep looking at each other. Your mouth is closed in a thin line because what else can you say? You're reluctant about forgiving him. But maybe it's time to give up on it and finally move past it.
You’re both quiet, he crosses his arms again and just stands there with his head hanging low. You’re not sure what you should do. You don’t know what’s the right thing to do right now. You hate the situation, you just didn’t want it to be like that.
“Just-” He sighs deeply. “Think about it, alright? I’m not gonna force you into doing anything”
You nod. There’s a small tension between you two, and you the meaning of all of this conversation.
"You know you're very obvious about the way you look at me, right?" You suddenly ask, watching his expression turn into surprise as his eyes widen. You can't help but smirk. "Everyone keeps saying you're not exactly disguising it".
"What– I never did that" He tries to be oblivious, his tone was nervous and he averted his eyes from yours.
You chuckle at his defensive response. "Come on, Steve. Let's settle something, then. I'll forgive you if you admit this as your secret".
You look at him expectantly. He's still not looking at you, holding his hips as he bites into his inner cheeks. Steve groans and throws his head back. If that's what it takes for you to stop hating him, then it's worth doing it.
"Okay. Yeah, yeah, it's true" He glances at you again and moves his hands to place them both over your face and it surprises you. "Actually, I can't help but think about you for a while. It's stupid, but it's true. I think maybe it's why I reacted so badly at the news of you leaving. Because I didn't want to believe it".
His words hit you like a punch to the guts. And everything makes sense. He was definitely desperate and he couldn't think of anything else to do. His reaction wasn't really honest. He lost a few people before, he didn't want to lose you either.
But now, the thought of leaving the town and leaving him behind is starting to lose meaning. Because yes, you also couldn't stop thinking about him either.
You're too fond of him to be honest. Your first instinct is to pull him closer and finally kiss him. He didn't expect you to do it, so he stumbles forward a little. His hands still planted on your face, now cradling it. He kisses you back, sticking his tongue out to touch yours. It's delicate, but fervent as well. You taste the gum in his mouth and it's addicting already.
He doesn't let go of you until he tries to catch his breath. He retracts his head back only a few inches so he can take a look at you again. Steve pulls you for another kiss and struggles to hold back the groans in the back of his throat. Because you're too good to actually be true. Your taste is better than anything he's had before. Your tongue is fighting for dominance and he likes the way your teeth latch onto his bottom lip and gently pull it.
Still glued to you, he guides you behind the trees and bushes until you can't see the lake. The sun is peeking through the leaves and your breath hitches at the sight of him shirtless in front of you. His hazel eyes look brighter because of the light. You feel him pushing you against the tree, one of his hands splayed against your chest as the other one he uses to hold your waist.
"Steve, what are you–"
He pecks your lip hurriedly to shush you. "Just let me, okay? I know I lost your trust, but trust me on this just for today".
Steve plants soft kisses through your skin as he goes down, leaving traces of spit against your stomach, reaching for the straps of your bikini bottom. It takes your breath away to see him undoing the knot with just his teeth, watching as he looks up at you with something different in his eyes. You've only seen him looking at you like that only a couple of times. His fingertips graze the material as he pulls it to the side, revealing your cunt to him. You thank God you've shaved it.
He breathes against your skin and it gives you goosebumps. His hands are holding your ass tightly, squeezing it hard as he looks at your glistening folds. It almost sparkles against the sunlight and he can't think of anything more admiring right now. He kissed just a few inches close to your center, leaving a wet patch on your skin. You try to hold yourself, gripping the tree with both hands.
Steve holds your left leg high until he places it over his shoulder, opening your folds just a little. It's enough for him to grow into his shorts. He effortlessly uses his thumb to open your cunt, watching in awe the way you're soaking for him. He pecks your skin softly, just above your clit and it makes you whine.
You hear him shushing you, because no matter if you're far from the lake, you wouldn't wanna be loud. Even though your friends know that, if you're taking too long to come back, you might as well be doing something they don't even care about.
You throw your head back, holding his hair through your fingers. It sends shock waves through your body as soon as he licks your folds for the first time. He slides his tongue up and down your slick, tasting your juices, humming in appreciation. He still holds one of your inner labia with his thumb to have more access. Everything seems to fade away in front of you, the sound of the waterfall is muffled and the air becomes dense. He draws circles with the tip of his tongue over your clit and you squirm under him.
"You're too fucking sweet, fuck" He grumbles, his lips softly grazing your skin.
He licks your pussy with so much pleasure, trying to taste you as much as he can. Steve changes between licking you and flicking his tongue over your clit. He slides his thumb down your entrance, making no effort to push into your hole and he hears you whimper. His finger works its way in and out of you, sliding up and down your core, feeling your walls contracting. You pull his locks tighter, messing with his hair as you feel the knot in your stomach grow wider.
You snapped your eyes open suddenly, your lungs missing the air that left your body when Steve sucked on your clit, still fucking you with his thumb. He was humming against you, his mouth trapping your soft and sensitive skin, his tongue savoring you.
"Oh my God, Steve. That's–" You couldn't even finish your sentence because he didn't let you.
He was too focused on eating you out and fucking you mindless. You felt him shaking his head, giving you more pleasure than you thought it was possible. His thumb was quick to pump you, his lips adorning your clit in such a lustful way. His hair was so messy, it gave him the look of someone that was so pussy drunk, you throbbed against him.
Steve pulled your skin harder, feeling your body jolt in response. He took only a few seconds to look up at you, pupils dilated and blown eyes. His brows were knitted as he kept fucking you. He loved the view from down there, your chest heaving, your eyes also blown out. Mouth agape and nipples almost piercing through the fabric from being too hard.
His cock was pounding against his shorts, he could feel the burning sensation of it, because he was about to explode inside it. And he couldn't hold it back, especially because he didn't want to.
When he started to feel your pussy clenching around his finger, he slowed his pace, knowing it would give you more pleasure. He knew what he was doing. It makes your orgasm last longer too. Each second that passed, he could see how tense you were becoming. Every flick of his tongue on your clit was a jolt to your body. Your legs were trembling really bad and your mouth was dry.
You tried not to moan his name too loud, you tried to keep your whimpering down. He didn't even try to keep silent. You could hear him moaning and groaning against your core as well. You watched the moment his face contorted and he breathed heavily, hissing against your skin.
Steve sucked on your clit a few more times, circling your pussy with his thumb until you broke down on him. You throbbed and clenched, soaking his finger. He could feel you falling apart for him, pulling his hair up and forcing your cunt into his face, his nose nudging on your pubic bone. He stayed there for a while, now licking your wet pussy, gathering the rest of your juices left. He pecked on your skin gently, pulling out of you, hearing you cry out from missing his touch.
He tied the knot on your bikini back and pushed himself up. Finally meeting your flushed face after the show he just gave you. For a moment, you missed the way his shorts were wet because you could barely see it. He brushes a few strands of your sweaty hair off your face and glances at you.
"I'm really sorry I was an idiot before" He pleaded. You couldn't even process his words because you were still in a haze.
You closed the gap between you two and kissed him softly. "Please, don't leave Hawkins".
He held your waist desperately, squeezing it a little as he opened his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. You didn't answer him. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. Only right now you wanted him, just him.
"You're gonna need to refresh when we get back" You joke, feeling the wet short touching your thigh. Looking down at himself, he understands immediately and chuckles.
"You made a mess of me, in so many ways" Steve doesn't let you go out of his touch, he wants to stay there like that forever.
He holds you against his chest as you lean against the tree for several minutes. He leans on top of your head and closes his eyes. He feels his heart thumping against his chest. Steve fears he's still gonna lose you after this, but even if you go, at least he knows he's forgiven.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x you#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader fluff#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#i'm not well
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in every universe. | nakahara chuuya
chuuya x gn!reader
written in 2nd person :3
"i'd give the world to her, as long as my heart's still beating, as long as she's next to me, because I like her." -> 20191009 i like her by (mac demarco)
2.7k words
notes: use of pet names sweetheart/doll (for reader) and love/darling (for chuuya), established relationship, a lot of flirting and teasing on both ends because they love each other and can handle it, chuuya cursing, chuuya being head over heels for reader, gifting giving as a love language taken to the MAX, just two people being bookworms :3 i hope you enjoy! the bookstore they go to (spoiler alert) is very much based off of a bookstore i went to while visiting my mango anon, so i dedicate this work to her <3
nakahara chuuya who never had time to read or stop to take a breath until he met you. in the sheep, even when he was first taken in, he soon began to help on food runs. once they found out about his ability, there was never a day he got to catch a true break. then joining the mafia kept him busy, and what he few things he did read were half-assed reports or those typed by someone who obviously should have been a novelist rather than a mafia lackey.
for him, there was no middle between never reading and reading something that made him want to set the paper in his hands on fire. but that didn't mean he outright hated the idea of it. he liked the idea of books and the stores and libraries that were filled with shelves of thread-bound tens or hundreds of sheets of paper from every decade of the world; some having recently found their way onto a shelf while others had been printed, placed on shelves, and traded hands for centuries. he liked the idea of the worlds each of the books contained, the different stories they all told, and the inferences and messages people would take with them after finishing a book.
once, he’d been trailing a target who'd entered a nearby bookstore to browse their selection. he'd done his own bit of wandering, mainly to fit in with the atmosphere until it became less of an act and something more genuine—a few covers would catch his eye and he’d felt tempted to pull them off the shelf and buy them right then and there before he remembered what he was here for. but that interaction had been his first experience with the allure of books; it wasn't really something he'd learned in that moment, but, more precisely, from you.
you, who would get too caught up in a book until he'd called your name for the umpteenth time, not angry, but worried about why you weren't responding to him. he'd feared you were purposely ignoring him and was unsure of what he’d done until you’d silenced his concerns with a laugh. when he'd settled onto the couch next to you after finally getting your attention, you'd climbed on top of him, pressing a kiss to his lips, "i'm not mad. i was just reading a good book, i promise."
a book had the ability to distract you that much?
"i just get lost in books sometimes—too focused on what’s happening in the world within them. that's what a good book does," you explained further, his hands trailing down to settle on your sides, pulling you close and flush against him.
he hummed, processing your words. it sounded like an interesting experience and anything you liked he was bound to like, right? the only kind of book he didn't want to read was a mystery. he had enough of that kind of shit in his everyday life when he had to figure out where the hell his rookies went off to every day–not to mention that cursed book he'd been trapped into by that detective boy from the agency several months ago.
a few days after your explanation, he was taking you out on his day off when you both passed the bookstore he'd previously found himself in on that last mission. recognizing the sign that hung on the wall above the store, his feet almost stopped as if he was feeling a pull to return back to the store before he ignored the feeling. noticing his interest in the bookstore, you’d squeezed his hand. "hey, I wanna go in there. can we?" you asked, tilting your head while pointing to the store.
he'd never been able to resist that sweet smile of yours and this is–of course–his day to spoil you, but he still can’t help but tease you a little bit first, "huh? you don't have enough books already?"
you pout, already settled on your decision as you begin tugging him towards the entrance of the store, "how rude! never say that to a bookworm. there's no such thing as having too many books."
"yeah, yeah, sorry." he rolls his eyes half heartedly, but he doesn’t put the effort to tease you above making it to the door before you do, holding it open before walking in after you.
the bookstore is worn, the small bell at the edge of the door more of a dusty bronze than a gold, showing its age. the floorboards have started to bow with how many seasons of cold and warm temperatures they’ve been through and they creak loudly, flattening back into their original flush position whenever he steps on them. there's a large dark walnut wooden ladder reaching the shelves of the store's abnormally high ceiling, looking as cliché as it gets, yet it was the first thing he noticed upon entering the store weeks ago and it’s one of his favorite touches to the store even now.
he almost protests when your fingers slip out of his as you run off to admire in awe a row of books that adorn the top of a piano, but he smiles at the look of wonder in your eyes that only grows when you turn to the left to see a staircase descending down.
"chuuya! look! they have a lower floor!" you say, straightening back up to point at the stairs, looking at him.
he's shoved his hands in his pockets, finally making it back to you after you’d run off and now he's staring you down with a look in his eyes that makes you melt and drop your arm shyly under his adoring gaze, "yeah, you just noticed, sweetheart?"
"well– not a lot of bookstores have something like this," you purse your lips, looking down at the floor, "you're acting like you've been here before."
"i have," he replies, arm coming around your shoulder to guide you to the staircase, where he knows you want to go. you look up at him in surprise as you begin descending the broad wooden planks and he shrugs, "was following someone last week and they came in here. spent like an hour walking around...they must've been a bookworm like you."
you giggle at his words, leaning closer into his touch, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw, nuzzling your nose into the side of his neck before pulling away. "well, now you're going to have to watch me wander around this bookstore. don't go too far, alright?"
"says you," he sighs, shaking his head as you run off the moment you reach the bottom of the stairs to the nearest bookshelf. while you spend a few minutes observing every spine lined up in front of you, he begins to wander around on his own, trying to find the books he'd looked at last week. there was no harm in it, right? it looked weirder if he just stood around in the middle of the store waiting for his sweet partner to be done. although, another unique touch to the bookstore was a small projector that hung from the ceiling of the basement of the bookstore. it was casting an old black and white film onto a side of a wall, where a few rows of seats had been placed for anyone wanting to sit for a moment.
but he didn't need to pretend he was here for a reason, he’d wanted to come in here just as much as you did even if he wouldn’t admit it. he soon found himself searching the shelves too, gloves trailing along the edges of several book's spines, ever so often stopping to pull one that stood out to him.
a blow against the shell of his ear makes him jump and he spins around to face you, his cheeks a little pink, "shit, you scared me, doll."
you only give him a teasing smile and laugh, your eyes flickering down to the book in his hand, "did you find something you liked?"
he turns the object around in his eyes, looking at its back as if the answer to your question was supposed to be there. the entire cover was made out of blue thread, and the gold text that had been etched into it had grabbed his attention. "i don't know, i think i just liked how it looked. what about you?"
he can see you holding your hands behind your back and at his prompt, you flash him a grin before revealing a pile of books balanced nicely on top of each other.
the large stack isn't what makes his eyes widen and lips part slightly–it's how familiar all the covers of the books look to him. "did you–?"
"you fell right into my trap, chuu," you keep teasing him and it pieces together.
you had plenty of books, and yeah you could always have more but you hadn’t wanted to come here for you. you'd noticed his slight trip up at the sight of the store, and brought him in here for him. so that he could look at books. you'd been secretly paying attention to what books he'd picked up out of the corner of your eyes. and once he'd finished talking himself out of buying a book and placed it back where he found it, you trailed behind him to pull the book right back off the shelves.
you'd snuck up on him at the end of an aisle, where there were bookshelves on all three sides of you both besides the way you'd come from. he used that to his advantage, suddenly pulling you in by the hip to press you against the bookshelf facing the opposite end of the aisle. to anyone else, he probably only looked like he was browsing the selection this shelf (unless they were unfortunate enough to look just a little bit closer, to the pair of shoes trapped between his own).
you'd exclaimed at the sudden pull, tightening your grip on the books, shuddering when you felt his breath on your neck.
"you're sly, you know that? when'd you start behaving like this?" the words went straight to your stomach where you felt a flutter, and you reached out a hand to grip the sleeve of one of his arms.
"well, i learned from you, of course," you fired back, your mouth immediately going dry at the trail of kisses he left down your neck.
"you're too cute for your own good, you know," he murmured, pulling away, leaving you a blushing mess. "are you done? should we keep going?" he asked, looking at you like nothing had happened.
"i– um– just want to buy these books and then we can leave," you fixed your clothing, trying to cool down.
he quirked a brow, "were you actually interested in those books too? in that case, let me pay–" he reached for the books in your hands but you dodged his attempt, shifting your arms to hold them out to the right.
"no, i'm buying them for you, silly!" you teased, already walking past him before he could process your words and catch you.
"[y/n]—"
"i know what you’re thinking. you didn’t want to buy them in the first place because ‘i’ll never have time to read them... what if I don't like them... blah blah blah…’ but that all changes today. starting now, i'll be taking you on reading dates at least once a month. got it?" you turned to face him on the stairs you were climbing back up and he stopped behind you, a look of surprise on his face. "you'll never know if you like them until you try, chuu."
"i–"
"good, it's settled," you winked before turning back towards the top of the stairs, walking over to the counter.
once you got there? chuuya fought with you to pay, the both of you whipping out your cards while the cashier in front of you continued to stare forward with a smile on their face as if the couple in front of them wasn't shoving at each other, cursing one another out as their arms got tangled up, grabbing at each other's wrists.
your card won in the end, and you laughed triumphantly before placing the books in his hands while he muttered something you couldn't quite catch. when you made it out the door, he'd pulled you by the waist to bring your back flush against his chest again, face pressed into your shoulder, his new books still held at his side. "thank you, doll," he whispered, face slightly muffled by your shoulder.
but you heard it still, turning to place a gentle kiss to the side of his head. "of course, love," you smiled, reaching your arm back to find his free hand, intertwining it with yours. "now, where were we going again? before we got sidetracked by the books?"
"i was going to treat you to coffee," he came back to your side as you both began to walk again.
you bobbed your head at the reminder, "ah, right! although i think you're mistaken. i was going to treat you."
he looked at you from the side, brows furrowed, "hell no. especially not after you paid for these books. you're not gonna win this time, i'll pin your feet to the ground with gravity if i have to."
"you wouldn't dare," you stuck your tongue out at him before looking forward and refusing to say anything else. and he didn't argue back, because you were right. he'd much rather wire his entire savings into your account or pay you back a hundred times over before ever even thinking about using his ability on you in such a way. "hey," you suddenly perked up again and he hummed in response, waiting for you to continue, "do you wanna read at the cafe? or just go home? don't tell me it's up to me, tell me what you want."
he sighed at how quick you were to shut down his default answer, taking a second to think through his answer. "i think i just wanna go home. don't wanna hear anyone's voice but yours."
the way he smirked at you afterward, seeing your face warm at his comment told you that he was flirting on purpose to get a rise out of you. but you also knew by this point that his compliments came from an honest place, it was just for his entertainment that he’d word them in such a way to leave you a blushing mess.
"alright then," you mumbles back, cheeks flushed, "we'll grab something and go home."
and that day off had started a routine. "reading dates" as you had called them.
you.
you.
he loved you.
he loved coming home, no matter the time, and seeing you on his couch, knees pulled to your chest where a book was nestled. he loved the way you beckoned him with a hand and a soft call of his name, carded your fingers through his hair as you changed your position, just to accommodate him, so that he could rest his head in your lap.
sometimes you seemed to read his mind and had the current book he was reading on the other side of you and would hand it to him so that he could read as well. sometimes, you simply rubbed his scalp, telling him, “just rest, darling. how was your day?”
maybe it was because he was always so busy, always on the move, always out of the house and returning home late, but he much preferred staying inside with you on his days off to going out if you didn’t want to. he liked it when you both lay against opposite sides of the couch, legs intertwined where they met in the middle, or when he was nestled between your legs, head resting on your middle as you both read in a peaceful silence.
he liked best when neither of you even made it the couch, but woke up in each others arms, and stayed in bed the whole day. or when he woke up, an arm still slung around your front, keeping you close, but you were sat up, resting against the headboard of his bed, book in hand.
he loved you, it was that simple. it was the root of his life, his purpose for living, the feeling in which everything else could stem from.
perhaps you were a kind of book yourself, always able to take him to another world, where he could be separated from his problems and just focus on the beauty of creation and humankind. and he could do that all just by tracing the side of your face every morning.
#ness' planet ✧˙#chuuya#nakahara chuuya#chuuya x reader#chuuya x reader fluff#nakahara chuuya x reader#chuuya x reader oneshot#nakahara chuuya x reader oneshot#chuuya x reader oneshot comfort#chuuya drabble#nakahara chuuya drabble#chuuya fluff#nakahara chuuya fluff#bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader drabble#bungou stray dogs x reader oneshot#bungou stray dogs x reader oneshot fluff#bungou stray dogs drabble#bungou stray dogs oneshot#bsd#bsd x reader
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michelle's buddie fic recs: week 4!
oh have i got some good ones for you this week! enjoy <3
this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading!
if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!
and i'm not good at winning fights anymore | spaceprincessem/@spaceprincessem | 24k | T
five times Buck needs to feel Eddie's heartbeat and the one time Eddie needs to feel his. this is one of my absolute favourites, it was a reread this week and wow did it hit the spot once more. genuinely a masterpiece, cannot recommend this enough!
baby, say you'll always keep me | hattalove/@hattalove | 8.3k | T
the one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing. soft and sweet and a little silly, the buddie fic trifecta <3 all here in one fic!!
cause i'm tired of sleeping alone | rarakiplin (gmontys)/@hoediaz | 14.5k | T
five (ish) times eddie and buck go on dates with other people, and one time they go on a date with each other. oh this is so FUN i love mutual pining and jealousy and firefam meddling!! so good <3
didn't think you meant it | EtoileGarden | 33.5k | E
“Y’know,” he said. Shrugged again. “That last call? I kind of thought I’d have that by now.” “What,” Eddie raised his eyebrows at him. “A roof collapsing on you?” Buck grunted, elbowed Eddie. Lightly, because he did appreciate the humour in Eddie’s voice. “No,” he said. “Just - married.” i love love love the combination of pining and angst and comedy in this!! it's such a good time all around. another reread, and i'm glad i picked this up again!
i could spend the whole day just gettin' by | rowan_wood/@transboybuckley | 4.5k | GA
“I’m sick,” Buck said, eyes closed, when he could sense Eddie reached the loft. softest loveliest fic <3 i'm such a sucker for these two taking care of each other when they're ill, and this hits the spot so perfectly!
if i get burned, at least we were electrified | kaistinlove/@kaistinlove | 9.9k | E
Out of all the bad decisions Eddie has ever made. This one takes the cake. What did he think would happen when he's watching porn in broad daylight at the kitchen table? listen listen okay. buck's TATTOO. no i won't specify further, just read the fic. the TATTOO. trust me on this one. hot and fun and just so so good!!
if you leave the light on | cloudydaisies | 27.9k | GA
the check engine light comes on in Buck's Jeep, Eddie volunteers to fix it and carpool with him in the meantime, and it all breaks down from there, literally and metaphorically. such a delight of a fic <3 i love how this one nails not only the buddie dynamic, but the firefam as a whole!!
my heart will lead me there soon | ColorfulThoughts/@miscellaneouscolorfulthoughts | 7.4k | GA
Buck is pining for his best friend and copes with a new hobby. Who knew fish would bring them together? mutual pining, they are just too blind to see that is my new favourite tag combination <3 the hurt/comfort hurts and comforts so well!!
never known comfort like laying next to you | thelikesofus/@thelikesofus | 2.6k | GA
A long shift ends with a quiet pizza and movie night within the walls of the Diaz house followed by a quiet confession beneath Eddie’s duvet. this was another reread - quite a few of those this week - and wow does it continue to hit so hard <3 literally all of my favourite tags are right there!! i love soft domestic fluff, and this delivers exactly that!!
the evan buckley matchmaking agency | mmtion/@mmtions | 28.6k | M
Buck tries to set up Eddie. It goes well for absolutely no-one involved. (a 5+1 fic) the best oblivious buck ever!! this fic has such lovely characterisation of all the characters <3
the worm vs the universe | lightyears/@bisexualbellamyblake | 6.9k | T
Adriana moves to LA. It would be great, except that Buck starts dating her. adriana!! i love her so much!! the fact that we know so little about the diaz sisters in canon is wild to me tbh, but until proven wrong, i will just assume that adriana is exactly like this <3
slide it in, right to the top | oklahoma/@chippingmill | 4.3k | E
After Buck shows up at Eddie's door with a six pack, Eddie's mind begins to wonder. A bottle of tequila gives him the courage to ask for something he wasn't aware he's been wanting. this is hot and fun and so good and just so very them <3 i love scenarios like this for buddie, and this one is just perfect!!
vanilla disaster, lemon dream | BlueAzalea/@attack-of-the-blue-penguins | 39.8k | T
Eddie leans on his friends, shaves his mustache, goes to therapy, becomes besties with Maddie, admits he’s in love with his best friend, and learns to ask for what he wants. such a glorious glorious eddiemaddie friendship!! lovely introspective fic, an instant bookmark <3
wake up, boy, you're far from home | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 23.8k | E
Eddie is miserable in El Paso, having seemingly made things worse. Buck is miserable in Los Angeles, without him. When Buck agrees to go home to Hershey for the holidays, everything implodes. oh and implode it does... such a fascinating look at the buckley and diaz families (i loved madney here!!) and at buddie themselves, of course. such a brilliant fic!!
when the tequila runs out | Artemis_Unbound/@artemisthehuntress | 5k | T
Drunk Buck is an octopus, Eddie is a pushover, and cuddles are had by all. soft and funny and just the perfect nighttime read <3 this might come last alphabetically, but it was the first fic i read this week, and what a delightful start it was!
#this one did not want to be formatted lmao#please lmk if any tags or links don't work! i completely lost track at some point rip#buddie#buddie fic#buddie fic rec#911 abc#911 fic#911 fic rec#michelle’s recs#fic rec list#hope you all have a lovely week <3
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Why Me?
PAIRINGS | collegeboy!yeosang x fab!reader
TAGS | plot with some porn, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, angsty & high tension dialogues bcs reader and yeosang are in situationship & figuring it out, reader is a player and avoidant, yeosang gets attached too easily. oopsie.
RATING | NSFW 21+ (Minors pls DNI/if it makes you uncomfortable don’t read thx)
SUMMARY | Yeosang realized he had feelings for you at the worst possible moment—now he’s spiralling and needs an outlet. Lucky for you, you’re here. Unlucky for you, it comes with a cost.
AUTHOR’S NOTE | oK this was plot heavy. lowkey in my feelings when i wrote it and i didn’t rlly want smut to be the focal point of all the stories — especially if i didn’t think it fit the members. so we’re trying something new out with yeo’s part. i hope you like it! guess which member is next hehe enjoy freaks (complimentary). if you catch any mistakes, no you didn’t. i proofread with vibes not scrutiny.
💌 click here to see my Love Interrupted series masterlist [ot8] — check out the other parts!
inspired by pink matter & bad religion by frank ocean
(frank come home pls i can’t do this anymore.)
Yeosang wasn’t the nosy type—he liked to think he was above that.
Normally, he’d get himself to stop missing you by scrolling through your posts or replaying your story highlights like a perfectly chill (totally not obsessed) person. But today curiosity dragged him into the abyss that was your tagged photos.
And that’s where he saw it. Them.
The two others you were seeing on the side. He’d heard rumours but didn’t believe them until he saw Lee Chan’s hands on your ass as you were hugging him or a selfie where you were a little too close to Choi Yeonjun.
Even he never had a photo with you where your cheeks were squished against each others.
“Relax,” Wooyoung had told him that night he confided in his friend, “It’s normal. They’re probably just on her roster. You guys aren’t exclusive anyway.”
Now, every time he lay flat on his back, staring at a ceiling, his mind went into the same place:
How did you meet them? How long have you been seeing them? Do they know what you like? Or worse—did you touch them the same way you’re touching him right now?
And seriously, how the fuck did you and Yeonjun even meet?
“Yeosang, i’m talking to you.”
“Huh?” His head jerked up at the sound of your voice, only to find you staring up at him from between his legs, mouth hovering just shy of the fabric of his underwear.
His pants were bunched at his ankles, and he was sprawled out with his knees hanging off the bed—one hand casually tucked under his head.
The angle was doing the most to show off how much gym time he and San had clearly been clocking lately.
“I asked if I can—“
“Uh… Y-Yeah, yeah go ahead.”
You sighed, rising from your knees to gracefully mount his body. Straddling him with elegance, you leaned down, your face inches from his clearly preoccupied gaze.
Speaking of gazes, his eyes were your favourite. Your knuckles grazed his birthmark, then you casually swept his hair back.
"What's going on?"
He reacted instantly, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply as he leaned in. You felt his hands glide down your spine, past the hooks of your bra. He shook his head, "Nothing. I'm fine."
"Something’s definitely going on because I was about to suck you off and you haven’t looked at me once.”
Yeosang gently placed his hand on the back of your head and flipped you over, landing you on your side.
He then adjusted himself, kicking off his jeans with a nonchalant flick of his ankle. Scooting closer to your flushed face, his silence was starting to make you a tad more nervous than usual.
“Is everything okay?” You shifted closer to his body.
“I wanted to ask you something, and I need you to be honest.”
“Oh. Sure.” Your eyebrows rose. “But maybe we save the serious talk for after, you know, the fun stuff?” You started trailing your fingers along the faint ridges of his abs.
He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he stared down at your joined hands. “Do you…” He trailed off, recalibrating mid-sentence. “How long are we going to keep having fun?”
“Well,” you said, blinking like it was the most obvious answer in the world, “A few rounds, a few hours—though if you do that thing I like, I might have to keep you here a bit longer.”
You leaned in for a kiss, slow and deliberate, your lips skimming his bottom lip. His hand slipped to your ass like muscle memory, but instead of diving in, his brain just had to keep working.
“No, not this,” he mumbled between kisses before pulling away with all the self-control and focus in the world. “I mean… this—as in, us. How much longer are we going to keep this going?”
“Oh.” You paused, your eyes darted between his face and the diminishing gap between your bodies. “I don’t know… as long as we want to?”
His jaw tightened, his expression unreadable.
“Do you not want to anymore?” You asked.
“It’s not that,” he sighed. “I’m starting my internship next semester. I just… I needed to know if I have a reason to turn down that offer in Busan.”
His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could hear was the faint hum of the city beyond your creaked window.
“Well,” you said. “I told you…if you want to, you should.”
“So you think I should go?”
“I think you should do whatever makes you happiest.”
“And what if what I want doesn’t make you happy?”
You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a shrug. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“But it does. It matters to me.” His voice dipped, tinged with frustration, though his gaze softened into something you hadn’t seen before.
“So… what do you want me to say?” you asked.
“I don’t know,” His voice cracked just enough to make your chest tighten. “That you want me to stay. That this is something important to hold on to or that…” He gestured vaguely to himself, as if it physically pained him. “…that I’m not just someone you fuck when everyone else is busy.”
Oh.
You sighed, sitting up to rake your fingers through your hair while pulling your knees to your chest.
Maybe it was one of the guys you’d been seeing who ran his mouth. Word gets around campus pretty easily when you have mutual friends. It’s also not like you were deliberately hiding it, but you somehow still felt a little ashamed for him to find out.
Yeosang, on the other hand, looked like he’d rather dissolve into thin air. Maybe insecurity had sucker-punched him or he was catching feelings and scared you’d bolt the moment he brought it up.
“I don’t know why I said that,” he muttered, voice soft and far away. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” He shifted to sit next to you, his posture mirroring yours.
“It’s fine,” You tried to sound reassuring, but the weight of his question hung in the air.
You glanced at him, and damn his side profile wasn’t helping you think straight. “So, what is it? You don’t want me seeing anyone else?”
His sharp inhale said it all. “I can’t tell you what to do, but just so you know, I’m not seeing anyone else,” his voice was rough, like he was trying to swallow the words before they came out. “I don’t even want anyone else. I don’t know how you do it, how you can… be with anyone else.”
Yeosang turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “I just… I want to know if it could ever be… just me.”
He’d meant it when he swore off relationships — especially after what happened to San, he believed that was more than enough to convince him that relationships weren’t worth it.
But the more he saw you, the more his wishes began to crack. The more he wanted it to be only him you came back to.
“What am I to you?” he asked finally, the question breaking the silence.
You swallowed, searching for words that felt like truth but wouldn’t cut too deep. “You’re…” The answer wavered, unsure even as it left your lips. “You’re someone I care about. A lot.”
You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss him, trying to drown out the conversation in the only way you knew how.
His fingers gripped your hips tightly, grounding you against him, and you felt a flicker of guilt at the way you were avoiding his question but it melted away when you felt his tongue slip in.
When you pulled back, he was breathless and flushed, his chest heaving as if he’d just surfaced from underwater. His hands stayed firmly on your love handles, and his forehead leaned against yours.
“For fuck’s sake…” he muttered, the frustration thick in his voice. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair like that would somehow untangle the mess in his brain. “Why me?”
“Yeosang?”
He realised right then and there, there was no changing your mind.
He snapped back to reality, his grip tightening as his hands slid down to your thighs. In one smooth move, you were on your back and he was settling himself right on top of you.
Yeosang settled between your thighs. He rocked his hips, grinding himself against you, seeking friction and relief as your lips wouldn’t leave his alone.
You cupped the side of his face, looking up at him between breaks of the kiss to slide a gentle slow finger into his mouth for him to suck as he held your stare.
Your other hand pushed away the curtain of hair falling from his face, admiring his bare beauty in your touch.
You liked how he reacted to your touches, how at a single command he kneels, he’d do anything for you if you’d ask — maybe that’s what scared you in return but you’d never tell him that.
You both eventually fell on your sides, not a single word besides the usual moans and gasps of “yes”, “like that”, and yeosang’s personal favourite: “i need you right now.”
Before you knew it, your back faced him and you were both entirely undressed.
He held you tight, pressing his face into the sweet spot where your neck met your shoulder. His lips trailed kisses there as his hands explored your familiar curves. Your hips ground back against him, rubbing your ass over his erection.
His fingers danced across your stomach before slipping lower. You groaned, feeling his fingers open to a ���V’ to graze the sides of your entrance with light strokes.
His focus on you was primal and hungry as he started circling the your folds in a distinct pattern. He sunk two fingers deep inside your slick clenching heat, earning a breathy whine that was turning him on relentlessly. Your breath was hot against his ear as you watched him work, your inner muscles clenching greedily.
Yeosang knew your body the best out of the others. He always paid attention to your physical reactions to what you really like and what hurt you. After a while, he got the hang of it pretty damn quick.
Between the gentle caresses and firmer strokes, he was driving you higher, teasing you mercilessly—and yet, he hadn’t even gone all the way. But holding out much longer wasn’t an option; the things you were saying were wrecking his focus, leaving his restraint hanging by a thread.
You’re the only one I want.
You make me feel so good.
I want you so bad.
Don’t get him wrong, the sex was great — but even with you naked in his arms, swearing he was the one you wanted, he didn’t feel it. Because desiring him wasn’t the same as making him yours—and you never would.
You held his face behind you, anchoring your hand on the nape of his neck as he pounded into you with his hard throbbing cock into you at an angle that was blurring your vision.
He was eagerly grabbing a handful of your breast, teasing your nipple between his fingers as he sucked onto your neck, whining against your skin.
He pushed your knee higher. Gripping your side like he was holding on for dear life, he thrust into you with the determination, only to pull out slowly, and savouring the moment.
The increasing pace turned your moans into a symphony of pleasure, loud enough to give the neighbors an unsolicited introduction to Yeosang’s name. They might not have seen him, but they sure knew who he was now.
The sound of skin meeting skin, punctuated by the occasional slap of his hand against your ass made you grin.
“Fuck! Yeosang!” You exclaimed.
“I know baby, I know,” he replied, his voice a low, reassuring rumble that sent shivers down your spine.
His focus unwavering. It was as if he had a singular mission: to bring you to the peak of pleasure and join you there.
He eventually sent you over the edge. You bit down on your lip as he showered you with open-mouthed kisses on one side of your face.
“Shit… Yeosang, that was— you felt so fucking good.” You barely caught your breath.
You held his face over your shoulder and he smiled back, feeling your thumb stroke the side of his face before coming in for a rewarding kiss.
Yeosang had it all—looks, charm, the perfect height for you, and you always had a soft spot for the shy types. Sure, his borderline obsession with video games wasn’t exactly your favorite thing, but hey, at least it wasn’t destructive.
Still, no matter how great he was, Yeosang realised the truth you’d never admit: a relationship wasn’t exactly your thing.
Still, his visit to your neighbourhood didn’t end on that note.
After a few rounds of small talk and a necessary bathroom breaks, you were back to your usual routine — with a few new surprises.
It included him kneeling before your parted legs as you sat on the edge of the bed, watching him savour, and lick up your core. It wasn't long before your leg found its way over his shoulder, trembling and quivering as you held onto the back of his head.
Then came the moment when he held your wrists behind your back, taking you from behind. Fucking. Hell. The spanking returned, accompanied by a string of praises in that low voice of his and it turned you on more than anything else he’d ever tried.
You were so caught up in the bliss and pleasure of the moment, reveling in how he truly outdid himself tonight, that you missed two things:
Yeosang had whispered "I love you" at the peak of his final climax.
And this was going to be the last time.
Yeosang was so haunted by the painful realization that if he ever walked away, you wouldn't miss him.
After all, there were plenty of others ready to take his place by your side, as if he were just another face in the crowd.
He knew you were never going to change your mind, even when he was the one on the line.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, you were fast asleep. Yeosang watched the steady rise and fall of your bare back, the room quiet except for your soft breathing. The faint jingle of his belt buckle broke the stillness as he slipped into his jeans.
He caught sight of himself in your full-length mirror in the corner, you sound asleep behind him, and all he felt was emptiness. The faint marks on his neck and chest—your handiwork—didn’t even draw the usual smirk.
He slipped his shirt back on and crept out of your place, the same way he’d done countless times before.
Standing on the corner of your street, he pulled out his phone and fired off an email accepting the position. One press of “send”, he raised his arm, hailing a taxi without a second glance back.
A yellow coloured taxi pulled up just as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. He climbed in, saying the name of his street and sinking into his seat, completely worn out.
The driver nodded without saying much from the rearview mirror where a string of beads with a tassel hung. The car pulled away from that street.
He stole another glance at Yeosang, whose watery eyes and faraway stare made it seem like the weight of the world was crushing his shoulders.
“You okay, kid?”
“Yeah,” Yeosang muttered, leaning against the glass. “Just got a lot on my mind.”
His phone buzzed in his jeans pocket, and his gaze dropped to the screen—Wooyoung’s name lighting up, accompanied by that dumb photo he’d set as his own contact picture.
He’d hoped that by the sixth missed call—during the time Yeosang had your arms pinned behind your back—Wooyoung would finally give it a rest.
But if there was one thing everyone knew about Wooyoung, it was that his commitment to annoying his friends was unmatched.
“Fucking finally, where are you?” Wooyoung’s voice came through, loud and chaotic, with the telltale background noise of a busy restaurant.
“Home,” Yeosang lied, voice barely above a mumble and cleared his throat. “Why?”
“Perfect, so you’re close. Everyone’s already here—your roommate, Hwa, the usual. San and Mingi bailed though. Typical. Anyway, you promised you’d show up tonight, so—“
“Yeah, yeah,” Yeosang cut him off, not in the mood for one of Wooyoung’s endless rambles.
Wooyoung, sharp as ever, caught the attitude immediately. “Don’t be a dick. We’ll just see you at the club if you’re gonna take forever.”
“Yeah, sure. Bye.” Yeosang ended the call before Wooyoung could get another word in. He didn’t even flinch when he heard Wooyoung start to curse—cutting him off mid-sentence was the point.
The driver glanced at him as they pulled to a stop at a red light, an eyebrow quirking in silent judgment. “A lot going on, huh?”
Yeosang’s eyes stayed fixed on the city lights, streaking and blurring as they sped past. “You have no idea.”
The driver shrugged, settling back into his seat. “Well, it’s a long drive to where you’re headed. I’ve got time.”
#yeosang smut#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#kang yeosang#atz smut#atz fanfic#ateez smut#yeosang x reader#ateez x reader#ateez oneshot#yeosang#atz x reader#yeosang angst#ateez#atiny#hetmongi look away plz#yeodungies#ateez yeosang
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Okay, since requests are open, I wanted to ask for something, especially after seeing that you are comfortable with most male characters.
I present:
Scott Summers x fem!reader who's just a little too rebelious and annoying for his taste but he still can't help but love her? Like, enemies to lovers kind of style?
If you want to do a oneshot or headcanons is up to you, I'm just starving for Scott content.
Don't know, if you wanna do is, especially since he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought "hey, give it a try, maybe she wants to try someting different" so here I go
Anyway, love your work, you#re amazing <3
Cyclops/GN!Reader I've had this prompt saved in my drafts for SO LONG. Basically since the moment it came in!! I was so happy you sent this in bc i had been thinking about writing for Scott, but then I couldn't think of a good enough way to carry this out so I waited on it for a good bit until I had it down to a science!! Hope you enjoy!! Man, I started writing this and then realised I had to make a banner for him too 😭 I did this to myself tho Most of the characters I write for are written as combinations from different x-men media, but I'm still figuring out how I want to characterise Scott since he's a new character for me. Just wanted to put this out there in case I change how I write for him in future fics. (also, let me know how you feel about him in this one! Tell me if yall think I should tweak his attitude a bit :) ) Edit from the future: I started this draft so long ago and damn did it turn out long. TWs: Idk at the moment, will add if I think of any! Reader has a specific power that is kinda vague at first. I've written them out at the very bottom BUT if u read u will spoil the surprise of the fic so fair warning
Scott does not like you. At least, not anymore.
You've known each other for a long time, both coming to Xavier's school within weeks of each other. You used to be friends- or at least friendly. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves and your powers, a gap began to form, and then continued to grow once both of you became members of the x-men.
It's not like he didn't notice your tendency for rebellious behavior before, but on the field? the two of you clashed more than ever. He's doing his best out here, and the last thing he needs as a leader is both you and Logan going out of your way to put yourselves in dangerous situations because you think you know better.
And the moment you get back to the mansion? You clash all over again- and over the dumbest things. You practically avoid him all of the time, refuse to spar with him unless you're forced, will scoot away from him if he has to sit next to you on game nights. It's like the very thought of brushing against him is enough to get under your skin.
The moment the blackbird lands, you should have known what to expect. But you're in such a good mood, with the mission having gone well despite all odds. Sure, you didn't exactly follow Cyclops' foolproof plan, but when did you ever?
Scott is standing at the end of the ramp when the doors open, watching with a rather sour look on his face as you laugh with Jubilee, the others trailing shortly behind. He crosses his arms, and you barely stop short of him, acting like you had never seen him in the first place as you sigh, nodding at the others to go ahead before finally turning to him and crossing your own arms.
"Go ahead. Say your piece." You say. It only stokes the irritation in him, and he scowls.
"You can't go one, single mission and actually listen to what I say, can you?" He snaps. You roll your eyes, knowing that if he had it his way, you'd never have gone on the mission at all. Still, you stand defiantly, unwilling to back down.
"Look, you weren't even there, you can't expect me to-"
"It would be different if I was there, but I wasn't." Scott interrupts you, and the aggravation it lights in you is practically all-consuming. You can't hold back your scowl. "You were the only senior member of the team on that plane, do you understand how detrimental it could have been if you had gotten hurt, or worse?!" Oh, what a load of horseshit. It's alway the boy scout schtick with him- I'm the leader, do what I say, If I was there none of this would have happened- what an asshole! Hell, in the second half you might have actually thought he was concerned for you and the team, but you knew better.
"Don't act like you actually give a damn, Summers." You snap. "Everyone is fine, no one got hurt, I don't see your problem." You're done with this. You're tired, sweaty, exhausted, and the last thing you want to be doing right now is talking with him. You knock shoulders with him as you brush past, but he reaches out and grabs you by the arm. You feel a mix of strong emotions- anger, concern, frustration- and thoughts swim in your head, before snatching your arm away from him like you'd been burned. He pauses for a second as you whip around and look at him, a rage in your eyes. He still looks at you with that stupid, stubborn look on his face.
"I get that you think I'm just some stuck-up asshole, but there's a reason I get angry when you do something reckless." His voice has lost the smallest a bit of fire. You scoff at him immediately, before turning away to storm out.
"Eat shit."
So no. things weren't exactly cool between you two.
It's not like you weren't friends at some point though, back when you were kids. You didn't know what happened to cause this rift, but he only really thought of you as some reckless idiot as of late, and you didn't care to learn anything else about what was going on in his brain.
Unfortunately, that didn't mean you could avoid him forever. Not when the both of you are on a team.
You only realise how much pain you're in when the blackbird's autopilot clicks on. Your suit was scuffed and worn in some areas, starting to burn at the edges of your sleeves as the protective coating started to wear away. You noticed it in the midst of battle, trying to focus on manipulating debri to a colder temperature rather than a hot one, but sometimes you can't afford to be picky in fights. Your suit may have been temperature resistant, but you were temperature invulnerable. Besides, heat did the most damage anyway.
You frown a bit at the sight of your burnt sleeves. Normally, you'd be worried that Hank would be mad at having to make a new suit again, but if anything you were sure he'd be grateful for the challenge of improving it. Scott was really the only one who would scold you for it, always coming back to the same arguments of being too reckless, ect, ect... and speaking of Scott, he was being awfully quiet right now.
The cockpit is empty exempt for the two of you, being the only two assigned to the mission. Scott is sat in the pilot's chair, and you can't really see much of him besides the top of his head. He's silent, and it makes you worried.
When you stand and walk. over to him, his face looks pained. You're sure his eyes are closed under his signature visor, his head leaning back limply in the chair, hair tussled. You furrow your eyebrows. You knew he'd be tired, but he's not usually this burned out.
"Scott? You alright?" You ask. he only hums in response. It's then when you realise what's wrong.
"Migraine?" You ask, and he hums in the affirmative. You wince at the thought. You knew he got migraines often, especially when using his mutation more than usual, and having migraines yourself, you knew he was hurting. You take a look at where the emergency aid box usually is, knowing it had painkillers, but the space is empty, and you sigh to yourself when you remember you used it on a local- Scott agreeing with you for once when you wanted to leave it with them for any more emergencies. You look back at Scott, and think for a moment more.
Scott jumps when you place a cold hand on his forehead, having settled your weight on the back of the chair behind him. It sparks a feeling of surprise.
"What are you doing?" Scott asks, and instead of his usual accusatory tone, he just sounds tired.
"Don't be a baby." You respond, chilling both hands and combing through his hair gently. Scott is confused as all hell. Why were you doing this? You go out of your way to avoid him at any cost, and then... this? What even was this?
But... he'd be lying if it didn't feel nice. Scott begins to relax underneath you as you continue to comb through his scalp, pressing gentle touches to his forehead as you do so. It's... it feels good.
"My mom used to do this when I was little." You say softly, after a long moment of silence. "Whenever I had a migraine, she'd run her hands under cold water for a long time, lay my head in her lap, and run her hands through my hair. The cold usually helped." Scott's shoulder's are sagging now, and he sighs every once in a while. Although he doesn't say anything, you don't need to ask. There's a question beginning to brim, but you answer it before he can even speak- saving him the effort of talking in the midst of his pain.
"...And it just felt nice to feel her play with my hair, I guess. 'figured it might help you, too."
You try not to dwell on whatever thoughts begin to swirl after that.
It's hard to tell when things shift after that. Even harder for Scott to understand why.
Eventually you go from avoiding him at any given chance, stiff and petty with your actions, to casual. Not quite friendly, but almost.
"And... Right hand red!" Jubilee calls from the couch, having entirely too much fun for someone who isn't even playing this game. Everyone who's already lost has dispersed, either playing a different game or having good conversation. The game of twister had started with four? Maybe five of you? But at the moment, it was just down to you and Scott. -The two of you being way too competitive to let the other win. At the moment, both of you were in a bit of a strange position, with Scott managing to crawl over you at some point. Aside from that, the game had been going on for uncomfortably long- long enough for the pizza to get here.
The doorbell rings and it's pretty instantaneous when people start to flock to the kitchen for the feast, Jubilee included. There's a flicker of panic in both of you as she quickly leaves.
"Hey!-"
"Jubilee! Wait!"
"You'll be fine, you big babies!" She calls out, giggling in her pursuit of the cheesy goodness. That just leaves you and Scott on the matt, pressed together in some places and a but uncomfortable, but awkwardly? Still competeting.
"God, that pizza smells good." Scott groans from above you, the smell of food becoming more and more tempting. You think about it, for a half a second maybe, but that competitive little devil on your shoulder gets to you before your stomach can.
"You know what? why don't you go ahead and grab a piece!" You say, causing Scott to cock an eyebrow at you.
"What, and let you win? Not a chance." He huffs. You shrug best you can, it was worth a shot! Neither of you were going to budge any time soon, determined not to let the other win. But the longer you stayed pressed together...
It's not like you hadn't noticed how handsome Scott was. Hell, who wouldn't? Even Logan isn't immune to his good looks, but obviously you weren't going to be... wierd, about it. You're just playing a game, right? But the sight of him above you, slightly flushed, shifting every once in a while while keeping his balance? It was... tempting.
It doesn't take long for other thoughts to begin swimming around, worming their way into your mind. The two of you in various states of undress... gasping, gripping onto one another... marks on his neck, your lips swollen and stained by the lipstick your wearing tonight.
Each and every thought leaves you more flustered than before, slipping on the plastic mat and accidentally knocking into one of Scott's weight bearing arms and sending the two of you colliding into the floor. You hear Scott let out a noise of pain and you're not down there for long before you shove him off of you, face burning as you grumble about his win. You stalk off without much fanfare, leaving Scott a bit befuddled.
"What was that all about?"
But regardless of how aggravated you made eachother sometimes, everyone has their breaking point...
You're surprised when Scott kisses you in the hall some weeks later, less than a second after a heated spat started to take a bit of a turn, but to be honest? You were into it.
His lips are soft, if a little chapped, heated kisses full of force and urgency before they soften just a little. You kiss him back in a similar manner his hands falling to your waist as you grab him by the collar and pull him even closer. You're quick to start moving the two of you backwards fumbling for a closet door you could have sworn was right... there.
As soon as the door swings open, you pull him inside, pushing him against the wall once it closes again and cupping the back of his neck as you pull him into another kiss. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth shoots through you as you do, and you almost giggle as his thoughts start to flood with more and more tempting situations for the two of you to be in.
After each and every dirty thought he has, you start to wonder if he even remembered your touch telepathy after having known you for so long- but hell, even if he didn't, you weren't complaining.
If u made it this far, I wanna give u details about the Reader's powers some more!! Specifically, the powers are temperature manipulation/temperature invulnerability/touch telepathy! They get a bit complicated bc reader can't light shit on fire or make ice out of the air, but they can melt shit and freeze existing water though! As long as reader touches it in some way! Due to this they're invulnerable to heat/cold for obvious reasons. Touch telepathy was added bc i love mutations with unnecessary layers (Emma frost) and... u really think I was gonna let scott get away without banging another telepath? wrONG
#goofyspeaks#x men#x men comics#x men 97#x men headcannons#x men 97 x reader#x men x reader#scott summers x reader#scott summers#cyclops x reader#x men cyclops#cyclops#x men headcanons
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I've been reading your posts for awhile now and I genuinely enjoy reading your takes especially with Harry's characterization. so I've been wondering what are your thoughts on the lupin family? especially with teddy? although I still kinda dislike his parents' relationship i still think he's an interesting character and i wished people talked about him more outside of shipping. What would his relationship with harry be growing up? Also Lyall's death was never really confirmed, only hope's was so do you think he and Andromeda raised teddy instead of harry? It still feels odd that remus chose a 17 year old to be his son's godfather surely there were other suitable candidates than a literal teenager.
Thank you so much 💕
So, this is like entirely in my headcanon space since I did not watch/read Cursed Child and I'm not planning to. I don't consider any of the post-book material canon at all except the Quidditch World Cup in 2014, which I accept since it's fun and doesn't go out of its way to ruin established characters. I enjoyed reading it more than the epilogue, so that's something.
That being said, I often prefer to ignore many aspects of the epilogue and the World Cup article when headcanoning post-books events. I also don't engage much with next-gen stuff since I'm more interested in Harry's generation, but I do have some thoughts about Teddy.
With all this out of the way, let's talk about the Lupins.
So, I like Remadora, I think they're alright for the little we see of them. Tonks just deserves so much better than Lupin in my mind. I mean, he wanted to leave her, after he got her pregnant, for his own sense of inadequacy, guilt, and allergy to taking responsibility. Harry was so justified in ripping Remus a new one.
Now, I mentioned here, how I think Remus didn't make Harry Teddy's godfather because he thought Harry was ready (though Harry is more mature and responsible at 17 than Remus is at 37, so...), but as a way to promise Harry that he isn't going to push him, or Tonks, or anyone who loves him away anymore. It was Remus trying to apologize in a weird way that didn't really land. Especially since he goes and dies right after. (can you tell Remus is my least favorite marauder?)
Now, I find it really hard to imagine Remus as a father for Teddy had he lived. Like, I can see Tonks being a cool mom and her and Teddy matching hair colors when walking together and messing with people (and I think she could become more responsible had she lived longer). Remus is a harder one for me to envision as a parent. I mean, I think he'd be relieved that Teddy wasn't born a werewolf, but whenever he'd look at Teddy and Nymphadora, I think Remus couldn't help but feel sorry for himself and like he doesn't deserve them. While making Harry Teddy's godfather was meant to be a sort of promise, I can't see Remus fixing his habits so quickly. I mean, he'd try. But I can also see him, trying to up and leave a few times only to be talked out of it by various characters.
I think his behavior is going to put a lot of stress on Tonks too. Like, While I think they do love each other, I don't know how well their relationship would work in the long run if Remus doesn't bother to work on himself and get his fucking act together.
But in the books they both died, so Teddy is spared the mess his parents' relationship likely would've been and is instead stuck with a different mess of being an orphan with a 17-year-old caretaker. (This kid cannot win. Maybe because both his parents were kinda irresponsible and didn't quite get a grasp on adulthood when he was born)
So, post-DH, Remus and Tonks are dead, Ted Tonks is dead and we are left with a grieving Andromeda who lost all her family (again), a grieving Harry who just keeps losing people, and a newly orphaned barely a-year-old Teddy Lupin.
I think Teddy is an interesting mirror to baby Harry and Neville in a way. His parents died/couldn't take care of him because of Voldemort/his followers and he was left with only a godfather/grandmother. Teddy got both and his godfather isn't in Azkaban, so he has it a little better.
I like to imagine Harry makes sure to be super involved with Teddy's childhood, but I can't imagine a 17-year-old (almost 18) Harry post-war and maybe going back to Hogwarts for 8th year (depends on headcanon) being in a state to take care of a baby full time. I like to think Andy helps out in that first year a lot. I think Andy needs someone, some family to get her through loss. And I think Harry could enjoy Andy's company too. I'm sure she has plenty of stories about a young Sirius, and maybe even a young James, and in my headcanon, Andy somewhat adopts Harry as an extra son too.
Which means she ends up seeing way more Weasleys than she ever expected to. I think the Weasleys, who just lost Fred would understand a lot. I mean, both Andy and Molly lost a child and other family. I want Andromeda be more involved with all of them post-canon. That's my wish.
So Harry is Teddy's official guardian, but he spends loads of time with his grandma and the Weasleys growing up probably. Like, I don't mind him and Victoire being together, though I wouldn't necessarily have been my preferred choice, but I don't really care. They're probably childhood besties because they grew up together.
As for Teddy's relationship with Harry, I think Harry would end up treating him more like a much younger brother than a son. I mean, when Teddy would be 10, Harry would just be 27. Don't get me wrong, Harry could, technically, be his dad, but I think their dynamic is going to be different than that of Harry with his own children. Just because of how young and traumatized Harry is when he gets Teddy.
So, I think their relationship would have its tense points, but they'd also love each other. Like, you know Harry would do his best. He'd be super protective over Teddy, Andy would be, too. Like, no one messes with this kid.
But I also kinda want Teddy making a: "you're not my dad" joke/comment when Harry tries to send him to his room or something and Harry doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry the first time it happens. But I think it would become a recurring joke Harry laughs from.
I think the first years would be the roughest. Everyone's grieving and trying to settle back into a semblance of normal life. Harry never really had a "normal life" he's gonna have no idea what to do with himself and I think Teddy could be a purpose he dedicates himself to. I think these two and Andy could all help each other figure their lives out. But as Teddy grows older and things settle down, it becomes easier.
While I think Harry and Teddy would end up really close, it's not going to be exactly the same relationship Harry and Sirius had. Teddy is going to have a happy childhood, Harry and Andy wouldn't let it be any other way, so he won't have the same grief and trauma Harry did as a child. Like, their dynamic would be less desperate, I think. Like, Harry wouldn't need to stay in a cave and eat rats for Teddy, their situation would be way chiller. Like, I think Harry would be constantly confused about how Teddy ended up being such a cool kid/teen because he doesn't think he could've raised him like that and he would joke about it with Teddy who'd be all sarcastic like: "Obviously, I raised myself here,"
Like, I imagine Teddy with his mother's punk fashion sense and goofiness (the goofiness I believe was 100% shared by Ted Tonks), Remus' voice and constant self-doubt, Andromeda's posture (he sits with his back perfectly straight, okay, Andy didn't let him slouch by the table), and Harry's sarcasm. He's like this mix of them and still his own person.
I think Teddy is likely to go through quite a lot of personal phases to try and figure out his own identity and how he portrays himself. Becouse everyone treats him as the godson of the famed boy who lived, but his dead parents were the last Metamorphmagus and a Werewolf. And he is very close to his grandma, who is a disowned daughter of House Black. Like, this is a kid rip for angst about who he is and who people see him as and him being a Metamorphmagus really leans into it.
Like, a young Teddy making sure to look like Harry in public because he's proud of the connection. Or Teddy mimicking Remus or Tonks' appearance from photos when he thinks about them and misses them or wants to remind strangers who his parents actually are becouse they seem to forget. Like, that could be super fun.
I think Harry's kids would really like Teddy. He's like a cool older cousin/brother who lives with them. Like, I can see them really looking up to him and Teddy would complain to Harry about being followed around by a 3-year-old that won't leave him alone and Harry would just find the whole thing amusing.
(I can also see a post-war Andromeda getting back in touch with Narcissa, so you could involve the Malfoys too if you felt like it. Though I feel like Teddy would just, not like Lucius much)
(Also also, I think Lyall is dead. I feel like if he was alive we would know, yk?)
#harry potter#hp#hp meta#asks#anonymous#hollowedtheory#harry james potter#remus lupin#nymphadora tonks#teddy lupin#andormeda tonks#andromeda black#hp next gen
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Please tell me I'm not the only one who when I read the words "we never left the desert" always reads it in my head to the tune of "we didn't start the fire"
Grian: When I first met you, I did not like you. Scar: I'm aware of that. Grian: But then you and I had some time together. Scar: Uh-huh? Grian: It did not get better.
Scar: I’m serious! They’re watching me! They’ve even got an agent following me! Don’t you believe me? Grian: Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you… It’s that I don’t believe you and I don’t care.
Scar, holding a toy lightsaber: I’m Darth Vader! Grian: I’m done with everyone’s bullshit.
Grian: I feel awful about killing you. Scar: Grian: Even though technically you never even died, so I don’t know what you’re bitching about.
Scar to Grian: Turn that frown upside-down! a little while later Scar: What are you doing? Grian, trying to do a handstand: You told me to “turn that frown upside-down” but it’s not working .
Grian: Why are we friends? Scar: Poor decisions on your part.
Scar: Grian! I thought you were dead! Grian: No, just in deep cover. Scar: …But it was an open casket. Grian: It was very deep.
Grian: Can you name a single city in Oklahoma? Scar: Oklahoma City, bitch!
Scar: Grian, I need some advice. Grian: You need advice from ME? Scar: Yeah, frightening, isn't it?
Scar: You don’t deserve me. Grian: At your worst or your best? Scar: I don’t have a worst. Grian: Because you’re already at your worst?
Grian: I'm gonna get my pilot's license. I've already got a driver's license and a cosmetology license, that's two of the big five licenses. Scar: The big five licenses? Grian: Driver's license, cosmetology license, pilot's license, fishing license, and… license to kill! I can't wait to get that one.
Grian: I’m a reverse necromancer. Scar: Isn’t that just killing people? Grian: Ah, technically.
Grian: Hey! Scar: What do you want? Grian: Remember what we were talking about yesterday? Scar: Nope.
Scar: Why are you late? Grian: A technical error occurred, causing an unexpectedly long bout of unconsciousness. Scar: Overslept? Grian: Overslept.
Grian: Hugs Scar from behind Grian: Tucks Scar's hair behind their ear Grian, whispering: Eat all the frosted animal crackers again and they'll never find your body.
Grian: When we get back, I'm going to step on you! Scar: Okay, as much as I might enjoy that, Grian–
Grian and Scar are cuddling Grian: Tell me something I don't know about you. Scar: leans in to whisper in Grian's ear, voice deep and sensual I like Japanese food so much that every time I watch Lord of the Rings and see Gollum eating the raw fish, my mouth waters. Grian: Grian: Grian: I meant like your favorite color, but okay.
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i'm not yours - part 7
summary: Daryl and you are (were?) friends. He's dating Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart. Will it ever go back to normal?
words: 3.2k
warnings: rough language, I have no idea what else so please do let me know! <3
A/N: Hello, my lovelies! It took me so long to write this because I was ill and then it was my birthday, so I spent it away from electronics and with my family. It was partly proofread, so sorry in advance for any errors. Hope you enjoy it!
Read previous part: part 6
~ 11 MONTHS AGO ~
The sun shone brightly through the tree canopies, shimmering in the nearby buckets of water and reflecting in the cars’ windows. Shadows danced gently on the ground, as the breeze swayed the branches. The air was warm, filled with the scent of the lavender bush that was growing by the road and the distant hum of the bees. You could hear the generator noises coming from a shed, and some birdsong in the woods. You sat on the soft grass, feeling the dappled sunlight kiss your skin. You could see Carol and Lori doing the laundry. You could still see Dale sitting in a foldable chair on top of his trailer, wearing his bucket hat and Hawaiian shirt, even though he wasn’t with you anymore. You missed him dearly, and your heart ached whenever you thought of him. He most definitely didn’t deserve to die. Not like that. Not yet. Andrea and Shane was nowhere to be seen, and Daryl and Rick were on a supply run for some medicine. Glenn and Maggie were chopping wood in the shade not that far away from the camp. Carl was playing in the sun with some sticks and stones.
To your right stood a big, white farmhouse that belonged to Hershel and his family. It was a modest, two-story building with a traditional American farmhouse style. Sitting on a large plot of rural land, it was surrounded by rolling fields and patches of woodland. The front porch, with its white railings and steps, offered a welcoming, rustic charm.
You met Hershel’s family a while ago, in an unfortunate situation of Carl being shot by Otis. Hershel helped nurse Carl back to health afterwards. Even though he was a veterinarian before the outbreak, he have done a great job saving the boy. Slowly, Carl came back to being himself and soon enough was bragging about being like his father - having a shot wound and having survived it.
Maggie and Beth, Hershel’s daughters, were the ones who convinced Hershel to let us stay around his farm for a while. Maggie had a good point in saying that there is strength in numbers, and Beth was adamant that they indeed needed more people around to help out, because Hershel was getting older and couldn’t do much much than he was already doing. He eventually agreed with reluctance.
You were really grateful for it, especially considering that some of you were not in the greatest health. Like you, who suffered a nasty cut on your ankle during the evacuation from the CDC. You have cut it on some rusty metal bars sticking out of one of the cars around the building. You were really lucky to find Hershel when you did, not just because of Carl’s shot wound, but because you were suffering from some type of infection, that not even Merle’s bag of magical drugs could cure. It turned out that a piece of metal was stuck in your ankle all this time, causing your body to try and fight it off, but it never could as the infection was happening over and over, no matter how many drugs you took. Hershel have taken out the smallest piece of metal and gave you some antibiotics, saying that a couple more days and the infection would’ve kiledl you. Soon enough, the fever and the shivers subsided. The wound looked less infected and swollen, but you still weren’t able to walk on your leg properly. It made you feel like a burden to everybody who was helping you move around.
While sitting under the tree, you were chatting away with Lori and Carol, who you made friends with along the road. I guess you could say you made friends with everyone in the group to some extent, and it felt like home with all of them. They all made the world a little bit better by being in it - some more than others. Especially Daryl, who you had been close with since he rescued you, but his confession at the CDC made you grow even closer. He worked tirelessly, helping out the group as much as he could. He usually wasn’t staying at the camp, with everybody - he preferred to stay away, alone in the field. But, because you weren’t able to do anything on your own, he took it upon himself to help you out. So, he moved closer to the camp, right next to your tent.
Daryl showed up with Rick after driving to the town for some supplies. He took the bag of medicine to Hershel and left some for our group. Walking towards you, he put his crossbow down on the ground.
“You alright?” he asked, sitting next to you. He pulled his knee up and rested his arm on top of it, as he looked at you with his blue eyes, his hair covering his face in a ragged fashion.
“Yeah,” you nodded to him and smiled lightly. “Feeling like I’m absolutely useless right now, though.”
“You’re not useless. You’re healing,” he gruffed out, shaking his head. “Being hurt doesn’t make you useless.”
“It sure as hell feels like it.”
“Let’s go for a little walk,” he said suddenly, standing up. He stretched his hand towards you.
“No.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“You’re giving orders now?” you looked at him amused.
Before you knew it, he hooked his arm around your waist and stood you up, holding you tight. You fly up and you have to hold onto his arms to steady yourself. As you put both of your feet down on the ground fully, you feel some pain in your ankle and you wince. You knew that part of the recovery was making sure you move the ankle and put weight on it to regain some strength and balance, but it didn’t change the fact you hated moving when you were in pain.
Daryl held you close as you walked, or should we say hobbled, on the gravelly path around Hershel’s house. With each step, you felt your foot going a bit more numb, but you kept on going. The sweat drops showed on your forehead. You squeezed Daryl’s side harder to make sure you were not gonna fall. Daryl stopped in his tracks for a minute.
“I got you,” he said and looked over to you. “We can stop and have a breather if you want.”
“No,” you breathed out. “I can get to that bench over there.”
You pointed to a small bench under the big oak tree, and Daryl nodded once, turning slightly before you walked further. The bench was on a slight downward hill, which made it harder for your ankle. You struggled for a couple of minutes, trying not to grunt in pain. You took slow, small steps towards it, your hands clutching Daryl’s top so hard, that your knuckles were turning white. He wasn’t stupid. He could see it on your face, how much you struggled, so he scooped you up in one swift motion and carried you, princess style, for the remaining distance to the bench. Once you were seated, you sighed deeply and smiled at him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, taking a deep breath. You wiped your forehead with your forearm and licked your dry lips. “I could’ve done this.”
“Oh, really?” he said, looking me up and down with some type of amused look. “That is a brave comment to make when I could clearly see your face was contorted in pain.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t in pain, I said I could’ve done this.”
“And hurt yourself even more in the process? Yeah, I don’t think so.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile never left your lips. It wasn’t like Daryl, to care so much about people, but once you make a family out of strangers, it changes. And he cared about you the most out of everybody. You were so dear to him, the closest friend he’s ever had.
You stayed on a bench for a little while, talking about Daryl’s day of supply runs and stupid jokes Rick made before Daryl took you to your tent and gave you a worn-out book from Dale’s trailer. You thanked him, seeing how the book can be a great distraction from the fact you were stuck with a hurt ankle and couldn’t help out with anything. You settled on your cot bed and you read that book pretty much in one evening.
The next day, everything was going smoothly, until the evening. You and the group were sitting in Hershel’s house, talking about future crops to plant, water and medical supplies, when you heard a gunshot. It was close, ringing through the walls of the house. You all got up abruptly from your seats and ran towards the doors. Getting out on the porch, you saw Rick running, shouting something about walkers. Seconds later, you all saw a large group of walkers, appearing from the darkness, and all of you started to scramble around, trying to get guns and weapons to fight them off.
You hobbled towards the house, and grabbed your knives, putting them in a holster. Then, you reached towards your machete. It was clean, so clean that you could see your reflection in it. Your face was calm but your eyes panicked. You quickly avert your gaze from it, and you step out onto the porch again. You tried your hardest to ignore the pain in your ankle. Your people needed you, so nothing was more important.
Looking around, you tried to find Daryl, but he was already out there, firing the arrows at the crowd of walkers. He was a good shot, all his arrows landed in walkers heads.
You quickly made your way down the steps and started killing the walkers with blows to the head, your machete bloody and bits of skin and brains all over it. Soon enough, the group got broken up, and everyone flew in different directions.
You find yourself in a situation where you were sure you couldn’t escape from. Your breathing quickened when multiple walkers cornered you off against the side of Hershel’s house. The chaos of the situation was getting to you and you frantically searched with your eyes for anyone from your group, but no one was around. You swung your machete, killing some of the walkers, but there were more and more of them pooling around you, and there was no way you could outrun them with your ankle. Your eyes started to water, thinking that this was definitely your end. How could this possibly get better? - you thought to yourself.
Suddenly, Andrea popped up in the corner of your eye and shouted something intelligible to your ears. Most of the walkers turned to her, and began walking towards her. She broke into a run and it gave you enough time to hobble out of the situation. You turned left and you grunt slightly, trying to weave around the walkers as well as you could.
One of them grabbed your shoulder and yanked you towards them. You took out your knife and stuck it inside his eye socket, some blood spilling on your face and your clothes. You closed your mouth just in time for the blood to stain your lips but not get inside of them. Before you could turn and kill the other one, that was lunging towards you with their bare teeth and eyes rotten and green, an arrow flew through the air and killed it with a pop. You could’ve sworn you heard the skull breaking and the flesh ripping.
“Come on!” Daryl yelled at you.
You broke into a run, ignoring the shooting pain in your ankle. As soon as you got to him, he wrapped his arm around your waist. Swinging his bow to his back, he took out a knife from his belt. You moved quickly through the horde, killing any walkers in your vicinity, until you reached Daryl’s bike. He put you on it, swinging your leg effortlessly around the seat, before swinging his own leg around, sitting down and kicking the starter pedal. The bike roared to life. He told you to wrap your hands around him and you have done so. He accelerated forward, taking you both out of Hershel’s farm.
“You came back for me?” you asked once you were on the road, away from the walkers.
“I couldn’t let ya die now, could I?” he said. “I knew you were in no condition to make it by yourself.”
“I thought I, for sure, was a goner.”
“Not gonna let ya die, as long as I live,” he said looking through his shoulder and at you. His smile was barely visible, but not to a trained and knowing eye like yours.
~ PRESENT DAY ~
You woke up with a headache the next morning. Your head felt like it’s been bashed in multiple times, leaving your brains scrambled and confused. The light coming from the window was almost too bright to look at and the sound of people outside the house was as loud as someone putting an air horn to your ears and pressing a button. All you dreamt about was some painkillers but you knew that hangover wasn’t the greatest reason to use up the already small medicine stash Alexandria had. So you settled for a shower.
As soon as the cold water hit your body, you shivered and your eyes widened, like someone injected you with adrenaline. You wash your hair while at it and then get out of the shower, feeling a bit better, although the headache persisted just a tiny bit. You were for your lookout tower duty, so you jolted around your bedroom, trying to find a clean pair of socks and combat boots. When you finally got dressed, you walked out of your home and jogged all the way down to the lookout tower by the gates of Alexandria. Rosita, who had an entire night shift, looked at you, impatiently tapping her leg. Her arms were crossed on her torso and her mouth was contorted in a slight annoyance.
“You’re late,” she says, observing as you're climbing the ladder. “I hope you have a good reason for it.”
“I got drunk last night.”
“Good enough for me.”
You laughed when Rosita said that and hugged her. She began to tell you about a date she has with Abraham later and shared some explicit details of what they’re going to do. That was all Rosita. Always really honest and straightforward. You didn’t mind at all, and you secretly put all the things she described to you in a little vault in your mind titled ‚shit to do with my next partner.
The day was long and quite boring. Nothing crazy happened. You thoroughly took notes on everything - every walker outside the gates, every opening and closing of the entrance, what ammo you used and if you used any. That was basically the job of a person that was on a watch tower. And it was probably the most boring thing you could do around Alexandria. You knew that you'd rather be out and about, collecting supplies or hunting, but everyone had their duties shared fairly.
Spending an entire day on the lookout tower, you were happy to go home, when Sasha came and switched with you. You gave her a rundown of what happened during the day and then made your way down the ladder and down the street.
It just so happened that you had to walk past Daryl's house to get to yours. As you were walking, you heard some noises coming from the inside of the building. You didn’t think much of it, you just thought it was loud music as Daryl liked to listen to some music pretty loudly at times. But as you were about to pass the house, you heard a loud crash and then a boom.
You turn around at the speed of lightning and you look at Daryl’s house. The living room window was broken, the glass and wooden frame were in pieces, and the yelling emerged from the inside of it. Almost at your feet, there was an old vinyl player, also in pieces. You could see the few plastic bits that broke off of it and rolled in many different directions. Your eyes widen at the sight, and you turn your head towards the house, your body freezes in place. You couldn't see anything but you definitely heard every single word.
„Leah, please, don’t be ridiculous!” you hear Daryl’s raised voice. He sounded frustrated and confused.
„Ridiculous? RIDICULOUS?! You’re the one who’s being ridiculous!” Leah’s voice sounded like screeching, and you could tell she was crying.
„Where the hell is this all coming from?! You didn’t care about it last night or any other fucking day! Why now?!”
The smell of cigarettes gets to your nostrils and you knew almost immediately that Daryl was stressed out and angry. He only ever smokes when his emotions are a bit too much for him and he’s looking for something that will help him relax. Usually, he had a few packs hidden around the house for easy access.
„How comes I don’t know shit about you? Not one thing?” Leah’s scream sounded desperate. „How come she knows more than I do?!”
"She doesn't know more!" Daryl's voice resounds in the air, a roar that could only come from a man who is slipping into a rage mode.
"Oh, don't fucking bullshit me! I could see it in her eyes! She knows you! She knows things about you! Why aren't you telling me shit?! I want to know you, too!"
Your heart stops in your chest realising that they’re arguing about you. Oh, God.
There is a deafening silence after Leah’s last words and you chose not to stick around for more. This wasn't meant for your ears. This wasn't something you should listen to. Shaking your head, you looked at the vinyl player on the ground. It was completely broken. That bitch, you thought to yourself, feeling a bit frustrated at Leah yourself. You picked up the pieces, threw them into your pockets and lodged the music device under your arm. You decided on taking it with you before someone helps themselves. You started walking away, but you could clearly hear the next words Leah said to him.
„This whole relationship is fucking bullshit! You’re not worth it, you’re not worth me or my love! You are nothing! Just a stupid, little man that is too broken to care about someone as much as they care about him!”
You almost stopped and turned on your heels. You wanted to storm inside and let her hear a piece of your mind, but you didn't. It made your blood boil. The way she spoke to him. The way she assumed he didn’t have feelings, because he didn’t share some past experiences with her. The way she thought that he didn’t love her, because he didn’t tell her things about himself. And the way she said he was nothing and worthless. That there made you thirsty for blood. It was the farthest from the truth. He was worth it. More than anyone. He deserved the world. And more.
You quickly made your way home, not wanting to hear anything else, the vinyl player under your arm. The words echoed in your head like some kind of mantra.
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x female reader#the walking dead#the walking dead daryl#twd daryl#daryl fanfiction#twd daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction
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Just dropping in your inbox to say that I enjoy in your writing and also in reading the criticism you have about the show. It's a nice feeling to see someone else's insights on some writing choices in LMK (ex: Pigsy's denial of being father figure to MK never made sense to me personally). I'm looking forward to seeing more of your future stories and takes and I hope you have a wonderful day.
Yeah, I am not a fan of that decision either. At absolute best I think the show is planning to go down the “Pigsy has daddy issues”, given that none of his photos feature a parental male figure, in spite of having both his mother and grandmother portrayed very positively. It might be that his father walked out, died early, disowned him, was racist against humans, etc, but clearly there either isn’t currently a father figure in Pigsy’s life or he never had one, at least not that he’s fond of.
Especially since, given how incredibly important heritage and tradition are to Pigsy, I doubt he simply “forgot” to put something up.
But, even if we do get a retroactive explanation for the absolutely insane “You’re not my son” -> “Okay never mind, you totally are!” we would also need flashbacks to his character growth between those two points, because as it stands his “Dad Arc” is basically just an extremely truncated version of the “Redeemed Iron Fan and Bull King” or the ongoing “Sun Wukong and Macaque Reconciliation Arc”, which already are not good. It can’t just be that a character changes, you know?
We should be able to watch how they grow and change, not have them come onscreen with a radically different personality or dynamic in play that got jerry-rigged onto them offscreen!
As it stands, Pigsy literally does not develop or grow as a character at all in terms to his relationship with MK- he simply goes from “I’m not exactly your dad.” to “Good job… son.” without actually bridging the gap between those two halves.
Which is… not great. So either the show cuts into an already very small running time (100-140 minutes, minus the intro and outro lengths!) to have his growth portrayed purely through flashbacks, or it simply gives us a reason why he reacted the first way without actual depicting his growth from Perspective 1# to Perspective 2#.
I can hope, but I don’t think we’ll get anything too satisfying in regards to that.
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