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vividxpages · 7 months ago

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✩˚౨ৎ˚✩‧The Great War PART 1 ✩₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧

PART 2 + PART 3

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 1700

summary: Jace and you are lovers, but stand on opposite sides of the war, not allowed to see each other anymore. But love always finds a way. (inspired by “The Great War” by Taylor Swift)

warnings: angst, reader is Alicents's daughter, the Greens being a bad family, hurt/comfort!, kissing

a/n: help, I'm obsessed with this boy and every song starts to sound like a possible fic idea for him!!!

𓆩♡𓆪

All that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, sweet dream was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War

Sometimes, you could only breathe above the clouds.

Up here on your dragon’s back, the trouble you left behind underneath you did not matter anymore. You thought of the castle that slowly poisoned you from the inside, the dark nights where you thought you were completely alone in the world with no comfort in reach but the memories you carried with yourself.

Once there had been laughter at the dinner table, the halls filled with the family you had not seen in months. Now, you only saw your brothers and your mother together in one room during council. You shuddered at the memory of today’s meeting, snuggling deeper into the saddle and closer to the dragon who kept you safe in the sky.

(“Maybe we should send our dear sister.” Your brother Aegon had proposed at some frustrating point of an endless council, taking a deep swig from the wine glass in front of him.

You had simply stared at him, silent. No one was really listening to you anyway and you were past the point of turning to your mother pleadingly. She was just as silent, always frowning, always doing nothing. “What do you mean, Aegon?”

“We can weaken them from the inside.” He had spoken to the others then, who at least looked so confused as you had felt. “Send them my little precious sister who a certain bastard son always had a weak spot for. I don’t see the problem if you kill him while you’re fuck-“

Your chair had screeched over the floor and fell down with a loud thud on the stone floor. You had clenched your hands into fists as you stood, fury in your eyes.

“Aegon, stop with such nonsense.” Alicent had said quietly, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. You fled.)

You welcomed the tears on your cheeks like an old friend, letting them cool your skin as you stirred your dragon through the sky, opting to just turn right and never come back to Westeros.

But oh, how your heart still clung to them.

The family up north in the realm, the family you had lost forever in the middle of his conflict.

Suddenly, you felt your dragon tense and directed your attention to the west, where a shape of a big shadow flickered through the clouds. Your mind began to race with what you’d do if Aemond had followed you, always being damned to bring you back when you had strayed too far away from Kings Landing.

But this shadow was not big enough to be Vhagar.

And those dark curls did not belong to your brother.

You gasped as your dragon let out a recognizing screech, lunging forwards through the clouds until you and the other rider could almost touch at how close your beasts were.

Time seemed to slow down as they flew past each other, teasingly snapping at each other’s necks with the joy of being reunited, but there was no doubt. As you raced through the skies, you looked into your Jace’s eyes.

You let out a broken gasp and quickly looked over your shoulder, but he and Vermax were already out of reach, descending down beneath the clouds. And suddenly, you knew where he was going. You spurned your dragon on, the wind cutting into your skin as you raced after them, faster and faster until you let your dragon spread its wings for a quick landing by the beach Jacaerys had chosen.

Only the silver moonlight illuminated the shore by the cliffs, void of any other soul who could witness the forbidden reunion between the two of you. If you had been in company, Jacaerys would’ve already been dead or held captive.

But you were alone, for the first time in months.

You slid down your dragon’s back, nearly blind by the need to reach him, to throw yourself into his arms like you had dreamed so often.

When you had seen each other for the last time, there had not been a war yet.

And Luke had been still alive.

(You had cried for hours when Aemond had returned, blood still drying on Vhagar’s massive teeth. You had begged your mother to write a letter, just a simple letter to Jace, but everything at court had still been too fragile to do anything but be in shock over what had happened up there. It had nearly driven you mad, to know that somewhere Jace was suffering the loss of his little brother and there was nothing you could do to comfort him.)

Now, he was right there in front of you, leaving Vermax behind him and running towards you on the wet sand by the water. You broke out into a sprint as well, a disbelieving laugh that was anything but amused leaving your tight throat as his features became more and more clear to you.

You crashed together like two waves.

The embrace was nearly violent as his arms slung themselves around you, lifting you up and pressing you into him. There was no strength in your bones anymore and if Jace wouldn’t have held you so tightly, you would’ve crashed onto the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

Only Jace was holding you together right now.

He was everything you had been missing in those terrible weeks. He smelled like sea and wind and smoke and your hands shook as you combed through his wet curls, your tear-streaked face securely hidden in his neck.

You never wanted to let go of him and it seemed like the feeling was mutual.

“Gods- my love…” He mumbled into your ear and you let out a choked sob as you held each other. It was like he could not decide where he wanted to touch you first. His hands drifted over you restlessly, up and down your spine, holding onto you as if you could disappear again at any moment.

“How did you find me?” You asked breathlessly, your bottom lip still trembling dangerously as you caressed his cheeks, needing to refamiliarize yourself with the feel of his skin on yours.

He swallowed thickly, unshed tears glistening in his beautiful years. “I remembered the route you liked to take when you needed to stop thinking. And it’s cloudy today. No one saw me coming. I’ve been waiting for a cloudy night like this for weeks-“

His voice broke and you pulled him closer again, shudders of pain and longing and relief to be with him going through you in an endless loop. How much had changed since the last time you had seen eye to eye: Your father had always said you’d make a good match back then and now Jace had one brother less and you were a captive in your own home.

“I missed you so much.” You whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as you both looked out on the ocean. “I- oh Jace, I tried to write, I wanted to send you a letter, but- I wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t help you and-“

“It’s okay.” He said, but it sounded lifeless, void. “It’s not your fault. I wished I could’ve been there for you too. I know how much you loved Luke.”

Gods, you wanted to cry and never stop again. Even now, Jace was trying to be strong for you, as he had always been.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I love you.” He told you and cupped your cheek, looking deeply and longingly into your eyes. “I missed you every second we’ve been apart. Have you been treated well? Have Aegon and Aemond-“

“I love you too. I want to come with you.” You interrupted him fiery and he shuddered at the insane idea of it, the consequences unimaginable and likely deadly for one of you. “Please, please, let me come with you, I can’t stay a single day there, my mother is not the same anymore and- my brothers have been horrible with the things they want to do to Rhaenyra and you.”

He shushed you gently, drawing his arms tighter around you and swaying you back and forth. “I’ll find a way. I’m not letting you stay there alone for much longer, my love. It makes me sick to think about you being alone in Kings Landing, believe me, but…mother says it’s not safe, not yet-“

“I won’t cause your family any trouble, I promise-“

“It’s not us we’re fearing for.” He smiled sadly at you. “It’s you. I won’t summon your brother’s anger on you. I’d rather take it on myself, but- we need to be a little more patient, okay?”

You could see how much effort those words cost him and you had no doubt if it was his choice to make, he’d take you with him to Dragonstone and never look back. You watched his throat bump with tension, his jaw set, his lips pressed together tightly.

A sudden small smile danced over your face. “So you only came to me tonight because you wanted to see me?”

His eyes were dark with longing, with wanton he could not give in to, not tonight. “My love...I needed to see you.” His thumb lovingly brushed over your cheek, the pad of it briefly touching your lips.

There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you needed to tell him and hear from him, but in this short moment you were only a girl and he was a boy. Your boy.

He met you right in the middle, delicately holding your face between his hands as your lips met, desperately kissing you as his taste exploded in your mouth once again. He kissed you drunk, enveloping all your senses until all you felt was him. His lips were dry and salty from the long flight over the clouds and along the coast, your runny noses sliding against each other, but it was perfect.

Your heart was mended with every little sigh into your mouth, his long lashes brushing over your cheeks, your hands tangling in his hair…

You thought that maybe, in another lifetime, the two of you could’ve been able to stop the war.

Another part of you knew that you always had been damned, cursed.

You blinked into the starless grey sky above you as Jace began to ravish your neck with wet kisses and you thought of the old saying passed on from generation to generation.

Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin.

On which side would yours land if you ever lost him?

On which would his land when it finally sank in that he could never have you?

#jace velaryon #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #harry collett #jace targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing

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anaconamor · 1 month ago

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hiii can u write a fic about you and jude being friends and he unexpectedly kisses you on nye?? super fluff thank youuuu

this isn’t as long but i still hope you enjoy!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

“jude! you’re here!” you yelled excitedly, throwing yourself into his embrace where you heard him laugh. “wouldn’t miss it for the world! thank you for inviting me,” he said during your hug, rubbing your back.

you pulled away, fixing your hair as you lead the way where everyone was. the party was mostly your family and family friends as well, there was gold and black decorations that covered the wall, and a photo booth that everyone was seeming to enjoy.

“i didn’t expect to you show up,” you admitted, jude raised his brow in a “really” manner. “how come? i said i would you know,” jude said, taking a sip of the drink you had made, your signature cocktail. “well you did say that, but i had seen you were out with other friends and it’s almost midnight so-”

“you had lost hope…”

“yes,” you whisper shyly, looking away and around the back yard. but you felt jude’s eyes glaze you through the moment. “but you’re here and i’m happy because it’s all that matters! you met most of our friends and family,” you continued.

“most of it looks like there a hundred people here!” jude exclaimed with a huge grin on his face. “i come from a big family! imagine if my dads side had flew in? yeah we wouldn’t fit,” you joked.

the two of you continued chatting for the remaining of the hour before midnight. you laughed as you played a game of cards, paying attention to a story your aunt was telling, jude playing a small game of footy with your brother, and even had a time to play dj, where jude had finally had the chance to play his old school playlist.

now it was just you two, by a small corner in the back yard, where one would sit awaiting for the grilling to be done. it was just you and jude alone, maybe he couldn’t sense it but there was a small tension growing every minute. you had just laughed at a story he was telling, looking down and fidgeting with your rings to control the sudden nerves.

“y/n?” jude said, placing his drink to the side and walked closer to you, where you were against a wall by the grill. the cool marble underneath your back sending chills down your spine. jude was centimeters close, you were able to see the mole on his cheek and the tiniest scar on his brow.

“yes jude?”

“look at me…”

you nervously looked into his eyes, where even though it was dark you still saw his brown specs glimmering. jude’s heart beat out his chest, the leather jacket he wore was now making him hot despite it being freezing. jude came closer to you, your chests almost touching. he noticed your unraged breathing, the small exhale you let out as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

he leaned down and captured your lips with his. his hand coming up and settling it just below your jaw, his head moving to the side when you began to kiss him back equally with passion. he couldn’t stop, not now or never. your lips moved slowly with his, enjoying the soft pecks and the sounds of clicks as you melted within each other.

jude was sure ge would’ve passed out, you tasted sweet like cherries and the hint of tequila from the cocktail. his scent was strong and manly which made your knees weak. having to hold onto his jacket so you wouldn’t collapse. his heavy breathing increased with yours, the soft kisses now turning more and more intense.

“jude…” you whimpered, pulling back and tried catching your breath, your hand settling on your plump lips. “why did you kiss me?”

jude looked at your eyes and then down to your lips again, where the lipgloss you had on was now slightly smudged. “because i want you y/n all of you… i needed to show you how i felt, how i feel for you… it’s been so hard, and i just couldn’t find the words to tell you how much i like you darling…” jude admitted, making the tiniest gasp escape from your lips.

“since when?” the bubble of cheeriness built in you, his confession now making you hopeful that it wasn’t just you he began to fall deeply for jude. “since i met you? at trents party? when you came to my games? i haven’t been able to stop thinking of you… i just want you y/n…” jude came closer his hand now coming back up to your cheek.

“please tell me i’m not the only one…” he almost begged, nervously gulping.

“no you’re not… i’ve felt the same way for a while now too. this giddy feeling at any mention, thought of you jude… im falling for you too,” you grazed nervously, looking up at his eyes where all you could see was the love and desire he had. in the faint background you heard the countdown behind.

“5…4…3…2…1!”

jude didn’t waste any longer, leaning down and crashing his lips with yours once again. your back slightly hit the wall, and now all the two of you felt was the awaiting passion from the unexpected kiss growing by the second, unable to pull away from each other and now completely ruined for anyone else who wanted to come in between. finally just you and jude…

“happy new year y/n…”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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mochiwrites · 3 months ago

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It’s dark out.

Moonlight casts a softness over the server that isn’t there during the chaos of the day, creating something uncanny and uncomfortable for a game such as this one; softness. It’s not something that lasts, not something that comes naturally here. And yet the moon remains with its soft glow, gentle light sitting around them all like a blanket.

It’s dark out, and it’s hard to see.

It’s just Skizz and him now, their third no longer tied to this Hell. Grian is stuck between jealousy and relief. There is no break for someone like him, no reprieve or rest. The pain of it all doesn’t stop when his lives run out, when he leaves this place—it only continues. It wraps around him, sinks into his skin, his heart. It digs its claws so deep in him that it leaves a permanent mark on his memory. He’s unable to forget any of it.

He has to tiptoe around Skizz when leaving, avoiding stepping on the arm the guy has thrown out to the side of his body. His loud snores grate on Grian’s sensitive ears, and the quicker he escapes the better. He tucks his wings in close as he climbs the bridges, Mumbo’s ecstatic voice ringing loud in his ears with each creak of wood under his feet. Grian holds onto the railings, but his grip is weak, loose.

He doesn’t need to ask himself where he’s going, or even think about it, really.

When he reaches the last of their bridges, he heads up the mountain. It almost feels familiar, like he’s done it one, two, three times before. Cherry blossoms drift to the ground around him, uncaring of the somber air that Grian carries with him. He almost wants to stop and shout at them, can’t you read the room? I lost my best friend today! But he doesn’t. He ignores the tranquility of the petals, ignores how he squishes some under his feet.

Some chests come into view, right at the center of the mountain. He passes by the three parrots, some bit of him happy to see them untouched. He’d have to fix them up himself if they were damaged (and knowing looks would be sent his way the following morning).

He knows he shouldn’t be surprised that no real infrastructure is up here. No base for safety from the night, a small farm or two. At least he’s learned to put torches down to ward off mobs.

Grian moves closer to the center, finding no one else around. Lizzie probably went off to see Joel, and Jimmy… who knows with him, really. That doesn’t matter much to Grian, not in this world where his brother is dead to him.

His eyes roam over to a pink bed, and ah.

Scar is awake, as if he were waiting for him.

Grian’s feathers ruffle slightly as he avoids making a big deal out of it, stalking toward him. The scarred man doesn’t say anything, simply scoots over some to make some room. Grian is quiet as he pulls the blanket back, sliding into place. In this world, he hates how perfectly he fits with Scar. It makes it hard to hate him, to commit to being enemies with him. How is it that Grian can so easily promise his own flesh and blood that he’ll kill him until he’s out of the game—but he can’t keep to being enemies with Scar for more than a session, if that?

It’d be… so much easier if Grian could just hate Scar. If he could kill him without mercy like he does with everyone else and go back to a world where hating Scar is never a need nor an option.

It’d be safer, if Scar hated him too.

(It would’ve been safer for Mumbo, too.)

Rough fingers card through his hair kindly. Grian burns. Something primal and angry and hurt claws at his chest. He lashes out much like a wild animal would, despite having sought Scar out on his own. “I hate you,” he tries to say, tries to keep any emotion out of his voice, tries to mean it.

(He couldn’t help Mumbo. But maybe here—)

Scar’s gaze softens, lacking any hurt. It only serves to frustrate Grian further. “You don’t.” He sounds so confident, so certain of it, like it’s some kind of universal truth that everyone has accepted except for Grian. “I don’t think you could hate me if you tried.” He’s smug.

“I can, and I do,” Grian argues with him, glaring.

“Mhm, and that’s why we’re best friends, huh?” Scar lifts a brow. “Why you gave me the mace and only wanted to ally with ol’ Scar instead of the Bamboozlers. Or why you’re here in my bed, gripping me like I’ll poof.”

“It was an underhanded kill.” Stop looking at me. “I would’ve done that with anyone.” Stop knowing me. “Your bed is the closest.”

Scar’s fingers in his hair don’t stop, soothing and gentle. It feels wrong. “But you didn’t. You wouldn’t have if it was TJ or Pearl.” His lips curl with amusement, “You can’t fool me with any of that.”

Grian doesn’t answer, and Scar doesn’t push.

Instead, he’s tentatively pulled closer, an arm sliding over his waist. It feels so familiar, in a different home, in a tower. Grian can almost imagine the sound of a llama bleating nearby. He huffs some frustrated noise, and lets the familiarity tug him in. He selfishly takes the comfort Scar gives him, as if they hadn’t been at each other’s throats just a few days ago. But Grian is selfish, and he takes what he wants. Scar is selfless, and is happy to give whatever Grian needs.

He exhales silently, right against Scar’s buttoned shirt. He doesn’t speak, so Scar does it for him, giving him an out. He always gives Grian some kind of door. “I put you back to 100/100 reputation with us.”

Grian can’t help but snort. “Did you put the heart back too?” Contradiction after contradiction.

“Oh, that was only for your name. No offense to Skizz but he and I aren’t like that.” Scar’s hand drifts down to the middle of Grian’s back, right between his wings. “I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” Grian huffs, “might just explode it again if you kill me.”

“Probably. I’ll show it to you anyway.”

Grian rolls his eyes in return. “Better not betray me again then.” It wouldn’t be Scar who does it.

Scar’s eyes hold understanding. Grian almost wants to reach in and tear it out, replace it with the hatred he wants Scar to feel instead. He only digs his fingers into Scar’s shirt. “I’d be a fool to betray you after getting you back today.”

After getting you back.

Grian should be the one saying that. “Whatever,” he mumbles in return. He clings to Scar, allows himself that small mercy, that small kindness. Lips brush his hair.

“Sleep well, G.”

Neither of them say anything more.

#mochi writes #scarian #trafficshipping #wild life smp #wild life spoilers #struggling to cope with losing your bff?#go cuddle your boyfriend who isn’t supposed to be your boyfriend in a death game #we love an emotionally constipated king 👏👏#tbh I don’t even know what this is #I just started writing and shut my brain off #I hope this is good LMAO

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gladiatorcunt · 1 month ago

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- IF YOU GOT TIME, THEN I GOT TIME

baby just relax and ride

cw: unedited, MDNI 18+ content, fem reader, blowjobs underneath the misletoe, season 9!spencer reid, piss kink mentions, dubcon somnophilia (like they didn’t talk about it but he’s into it), slight obsessive behavior (from reader), pregnancy mention, reader’s sensory issues, scent kink, one implication of pseudocest/incest kink, soft dom!spencer at the end, borderline cock slut reader, an age gap if you squint

note: title & subtitle from use your heart by swv.

please do not copy, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinkmas

This isn’t your first Christmas with Spencer, but something just feels different about this one. It snowed all night; the flurries might even still be going this late in the morning. You’ve convinced your boyfriend to take some time from work, he’s gone after his job with BAU like moth to a flame, but you had to tell him that it’s early still in his career (you use that excuse even though it’s been almost a decade since he’s started there). It wouldn’t hurt to be out of the office so he could enjoy the holidays with his very supportive and stunningly attractive partner.

You’re still riding the high of getting a breathy chuckle out of him as leaned over your side of the bed to reach the phone, making the call.

This Christmas morning is your time to suck the life out of your pretty boyfriend, his first gift of the day.

You reach down into the pocket of your sleep shorts and pull out a small piece of mistletoe. You’re already cringing a bit at yourself, but you’re stifling giggles as well. It takes every bit of your focus to creep back into the master bedroom after groggily doing your morning routine (even though your minty fresh breath is going to be replaced by the smell of Spencer’s cum).

The brown plush carpet sinks beneath your feet as you step towards the bed. Spencer’s sound asleep, he must be really exhausted if all your shuffling around and bumping into shit hasn’t startled him awake. You’re normally the deeper sleeper, your mouth leaking drool onto the pillow under your cheek. Spencer made a mini photo album of all the times he’s caught you like that; you teared up when he thought you would’ve flown off the handle.

His recently cut hair is smushed against the pillow and in that moment, you think you’ve beaten the grinch. Your heart grows a million sizes too big and throbs in your ribcage. Every day you’re surprised to rediscover just how much you can love somebody, how much of their love you can hold inside you until you burst.

Your breathing pattern stutters, suddenly it’s all you can think about as you gingerly climb onto the bed, a somewhat awkward left knee first approach. Spencer’s lanky limbs are sprawled over enough of the bed for you to have to squint so you don’t skewer than poor man. You forgot to put your glasses on the nightstand, and they must have fallen in between the mattress in the headboard while you slept, fuck.

“Spence.” You whisper, testing the waters.

“Spencer, big brother.” You whisper louder, using a nickname that you know your boyfriend likes more than he lets on.

His nose scrunches up, but he makes no sudden movements. You breathe a sigh of relief and peel back the covers, planting your right knee into the bed and bringing the left over the bunched-up fabric. You pull the green comforter & sheet set over your shoulder and scoot closer until you’re able to be in the middle of his spread legs.

Your vision is significantly darker now with the covers practically obscuring your head, but you swear you could pinpoint Spencer’s crotch in a room full of cropped underwear modeling photos.

You can tell that he’s wearing the pair of white briefs you bought him because you like how the style enhances his small ass, they smell too fresh to have been worn a decent amount of time. You’re excited for when the musk will start to come through, but Spencer’s extremely on top of washing clothes, both yours and his. You have to earn his sweat and grime.

Another day, maybe even later today after you open presents. It always makes you happy to get something that takes the stressful look off Spencer’s face, which snowballs into you getting turned on and trying suck him off right then.

You hold the piece of mistletoe above his crotch and dip forward to kiss the tip of his cock through his underwear, a habit of yours that Spencer finds so endearing. You can hear him call you cute even if he’s deep asleep, he’s probably praising you in his dreams anyway.

You check to see if he’s woken up, lifting the covers just enough to peek through. You dive back under when Spencer only scratches his nose in his sleep and grunts.

His underwear comes off slowly, you’re not trying to spoil the surprise too soon. Each of his ankles receives a tender peck as you guide Spencer’s briefs off and set them by your knee.

You don’t need light to know how pretty your boyfriend’s cock is, the full bodied thwap it makes against his stomach already has your pussy throbbing. You pick the mistletoe back up and hold it above him one more time, but over his balls instead, a 2 for 1 deal just for him. They’re so full and hefty in your mouth as you suck on them one by one, french kissing his sack. Your heart hurts for him, it must be painful to be so pent up.

Spencer hasn’t taken the recent lack of sex out on you, not when it’s his job that keeps his cock out of your pussy more than anything else. That’s another reason why you’re doing this, you’ve learned that you have to make time for each other if you hope to still be in a relationship, and this is you doing that. Your knees hurt, bent too far for too long, but nothing’s gonna take your mouth off his hardening cock, maybe not even him. You’re aiming to be the perfect little wife; everybody knows the number one job of a perfect wife is anticipating your husband’s needs and bending over backwards to fulfill them.

You take a hot second to mash your nose against his shaft and breathe in deeply, the faint scent of his body wash mixed with the natural odor of his body settles into your jowls and coats your tastebuds. You should’ve brought a bottle to store a few drops of his sweat in your purse for the times when you need a sweet little treat. You wouldn’t need your vanilla musk perfume oil if you had that, but you can reign your obsession in, you don’t need to go crazy on Christmas.

Fuck, he smells so good you could cream your panties on the spot. You’re not one of those girlfriends who bite the shit out of their boyfriends, no, you just have to huff Spencer like he’s a sharpie you could get high on.

You lick up a stray drop of his piss, dotting kisses back up his shaft until you return to the head. The mistletoe you brought in is crumpled under your knee as you wiggle around and adjust your stance, popping your ass out a bit more. It’s annoying to have to maneuver under the covers to suck him off properly, but you’re stubborn as hell and insistent on Spencer being the one to eventually peel back the covers.

You curl your tongue around the underside of his tip, and you hear a muffled groan above you. Merry Christmas, indeed.

A smug smile unfurls across your face, you close your lips around his head briefly in brief slurps, an imitation of a wet kiss. Your toes curl when his taste washes over you, another wave of barely-there soap as well as spine tingling musk, his middle of the night bathroom trip has left a few linger traces of piss too. And well, like a kitten with a bowl full of milk, you lap up that shit. Spencer doesn’t have this unrealistic, perfectly clean dick that some people would expect, he has pubes and a perfect natural scent and sometime his cum’s too tangy. If he insists on you never having to shave or be afraid to pee in his mouth, then it’s only right that you give him the same talk.

You flatten your tongue and drag you face up and down his cock, something that’s not meant to please him directly, you just want to degrade yourself on occasion. For Spencer you’d do things that would make God spontaneously combust, and Spencer’s mind would be blown in all kinds of ways.

You let the drop of precum that peeks out trickle down, stroking your boyfriend’s length, spreading it and slicking him up just enough. You dig your twinging knees into the mattress and tap his cock against your tongue. One, two, three. When you get more sleepy sounds from overhead you start to slide your mouth down on his cock, nestling it back in it’s home away from home.

You sit there for a moment, letting the atmosphere sink in. You’re convinced you can hear the snow falling outside, and the faint white glow of your living room christmas tree lights can still be felt even from under the sheets. You swallow around the length in your mouth, emitting a hum that’s closer to a strong whisper.

You try to say you love him, but you honestly forget your mouth is full of cock, so it comes out thick and muffled. You curl your right hand around the base and caress the skin there, an “I love you.” for his cock too. You slide that hand down to play with his balls and you lift your head up, the sheet scratches your scalp as it moves with you.

You give him a few pumps, suckling on the tip. Spencer’s right leg kicks out, twitching. Hearts bleed in your eyes as you swallow him back down, knowing you must look so pretty with your lips split around his hard dick. Tears bud at your waterline, you’ve trained yourself out of the brunt of your gag reflex, but you think you’ll always have a little tickle in the back of your throat and several tears that threaten to spill over.

You do wish Spencer were awake to chuckle softly and brush each one away his thumb, anchoring you to him.

“Why are you crying? You’re okay, you’ve taken it before, you’re taking it so well now. Shh, there we go.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you press your nails into his thighs, as far as you’re concerned sucking your boyfriend off into oblivion is the only thing you were put on this earth to do.

Spencer moans, a sleepy and guttural sound as he stretches, that brief tension you get in your body before you melt into goo. Your heart rate picks up but you keep up what you’re doing, humming and keeping your teeth away from his shaft as you bob your head up and down.

Your mind runs in so many different directions, but it’s so quiet now. When he’s awake Spencer adores when he can see you softly drift off like this into a certain headspace, hazy and surrounded by his body. You adore taking a plunge into the deep end, proving that you love him by putting your heart on a spike.

You cradle his balls in your palm, rolling them around as you let his cock flop out your mouth with a wet pop. You grasp his shaft in your other hand to steady it and tongue his slit, your clit pulses whenever another spurt of pre hits your tastebuds.

You moan and kiss the base of his cock, swiping your tongue out for little licks.

The sheets rustle around you, brushing against your skin until they’re not touching you at all, because they’re being lifted. A flood of warm lighting illuminates your cock sucking.

You don’t have the proper awareness to be nervous or afraid of his reaction, you mewl mischievously in greeting and drag your tongue up the couple of faint veins along the sides of his cock.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Spencer rasps, settling a hand on top of your head, never dissuading, only handling.

Your pussy clenches around nothing as you rock your hip backwards, drinking up every drop he had in his balls, but the emptiness gets you going too. Forcing yourself to wait, holding out, starving yourself of cock. It’s almost religious, putting yourself through suffering with the expectation of being rewarded.

You have to look in his eyes so you can cum, and there’s something about the way the corners of them crinkle as you cream your panties that spawns nursery design ideas.

The rock that sits on your ring finger by lunch sparkles in the light of your phone camera, nestled in Spencer’s pubes, hand curled around his dripping cock, mid stroke.

The gift that keeps on giving.

230 notes · View notes

slttygeto · 1 year ago

Text

don't be so reckless, don't break my heart —MITSUYA T.

synopsis: an argument with your childhood best friend leads to sweet confessions in the middle of the night.

tags: fluff, confessions, childhood best friend! mitsuya, fem!reader, arguments (so, angst if you squint a little), mentions of the reader being in a panicked state, mentions of mitsuya having injuries and bl00d all over him.

word count: 4,2k

note: thank you to the amazing @jean-kirsteins-real-gf for commissioning me! I enjoyed writing this piece a lot :) what a way to start the year! happy 2024 <3!!

Your first meeting with Mitsuya is a memory that is always present in the forefront of your head. It isn’t something that you could easily ignore or brush off, how such a sweet boy who was about your age had a baby to his chest and a kid younger than you both holding his hand so tightly you could see their knuckles turning white. What a rare sight it was, for a boy so young to guide his sister (after you heard her address him as big brother), the gentle tone to his voice, the carefulness when holding the baby to his chest—his kind gesture seals the deal for you.

Shy and scared as a shrinking violet, your teary eyes face away from the two boys who had pushed you off the swing. Young you was never able to speak her mind so bravely, so freely—yet you watch as Mitsuya—(a total stranger at the time), come to your rescue with a baby wrapped closely to him. It is ridiculous the way he fights and scares them off so easily. At first, they mock him for his soft features, for his lavender eyes and for the tiny human being latching onto him. Yet a single kick to one of the boys’ stomach is enough to send chills down your spine. That looks painful, you think.

As you wipe your eyes, you are finally able to look away from the bullies scurrying away with their tails tucked between their legs, facing your knight in shining armor. Your savior. What do you say in such situations? What do you do? You forget to stand up and dust yourself, only realizing your position when your neck starts to hurt from craning it to look up at your hero.

“Are you okay?” he presents a warm hand which you gladly hold, and he pulls you up with so much ease as you wipe away the excess tears on your cheeks. “I’ve seen them around here, never been nice to anyone.” He continues to talk and you continue to give silent nods as a response. At one point, he questions your ability to speak and your face heats up.

“I’m just…”

“Shy?” The slight to his head, the sweet smile—the crush you developed for the boy was all too expected with how nice he was to you.

As the years pass by, the friendship the two of you have developed turned into something that none of you could quite decipher—not that you wanted to. Strangely, you enjoyed the confusion that paints his friends’ faces as you walk up to him, scold him for missing lunch, for not answering your calls—and he doesn’t blush nor does he shy away from returning your hugs, even more passionately than the way you almost tackle him to the ground. His arms have grown stronger than when you were kids, and the way he smells has become so sweet…so intoxicating—you feel dizzy when you pull away from him, unable to look him in the eye for the next 30 seconds as you listen to whatever lame joke Draken has to say about the two of you.

Unbeknownst to you, the boy remembers the day he saw you as though it was yesterday as well. Pretty girl crying on the playground, heart thrumming in his chest when he saw the tears painting your face—he wasn’t in Toman at the time, wasn’t even a thing to begin with. He lies to himself and says that his brotherly instincts kick in when he saw you, that the protectiveness stems from the fact that he would’ve done the same if it were one of his two little sisters. Nevertheless, whatever he was telling his stubborn brain would not go through. He hears you sniffle and helps you up, gives you a tissue to clean yourself and even questions your ability to speak—when you part your lips, your soft voice is what seals the deal for him at the time.

At the time, developing a crush could be from something as simple as saying hi a bit too excitedly or in Mitsuya’s case, the way you had always been nice to other kids on the playground. You weren’t that talkative, but you played with kids on the swing, built sandcastles with them—until those two boys bullied you and the lavender boy knew he had to do something about it.

Watching you grow was a privilege. In Mitsuya’s eyes, having you was perfect. Knowing you, growing with you, embracing you in his arms—you’ve become more beautiful, your eyelashes brush over your cheeks when you blink and your lips pout instead of wobbling when you get sad. Your eyes still hold the same amount of warmth in them as that summer day he met you. You smell as sweet as a jasmine, handle his little sisters as though they are your own, delicate fingers brushing their hair, fixing their bangs, prepping their meals—you treat him and his family with something that feels so special but he would hate to be falsely reading between the lines.

Empathy and kindness have always been one of your traits, you put other people first and although Mitsuya loved it when someone realized just how much of an amazing human being you were, he hated seeing you get taken advantage of. So nice, so sweet—an angel.

You are present when Toman becomes a thing, celebrate alongside the first few members of the biker gang the birth of something so small yet so significant (with a future so big, nobody could ever foresee it). However, violence was never your thing. And so a frown sits heavy on your face whenever you see small scratches on Mitsuya’s face, remind yourself to scold him later for the bruise on his jaw—how would he explain it to his sisters? They’re probably worried sick about him!

“It’s me, can you open up?” it is a rainy summer night, your favorites. You are wearing light pajama pants and a tank top as you approach the entrance door with your heart beating in your throat. At around 11:32PM, soft knocks come to your door. You don’t move from the couch at first. Maybe they’ve mistaken the property for theirs.

Until a second round of knocks come in, and you hear the muffled voice and—wait, you know that voice! As you rush to undo the locks, nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the scene awaiting you.

Mitsuya Takashi was everything yet nothing—a leader, an older brother and a best friend, but when he comes to you so late at night with bruises and cuts all over his face—purple and red knuckles, the bones almost visible, he hisses at the feeling of the alcohol against his wounds. Tears welling up in his eyes, the sniffles--you realize how utterly small and vulnerable he is, sitting on your red couch with legs that would not rest. His limbs shake and his head hurts, you doubt that he has eaten anything all day and he watches as you sigh and rearrange the first aid kit before making your way to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounds harsh, the softness to it no longer there after having yelled so much during yet another one of Toman’s fights. You give no response. You don’t need his apologies, you do not need words right now—however, starting a fight was the last thing on your mind, and clearly not what Mitsuya was able to handle in such state.

“It’s alright,” you say as you make your way back to where he was and place food in front of him. Hot and delicious, the smell alone is enough to make his mouth water and he digs in with no regard to his wounds—you hear him hiss as he pulls the chopsticks away from his lips and for the first time ever, you give a small chuckle.

Mitsuya smiles at this, a little relieved that you weren’t that mad at him. However, he sees the way you sit and face away from him, how your eyes trail longer on the uninteresting, empty road out there rather than his face. This was unlike you. You were never one to avoid eye contact with him, having openly admitted that you find solace in his lavender eyes and his gentle stare. Clearly, something was wrong.

“Are you angry with me?” It is not a surprise that the emotionally intelligent man was able to pick up on the subtle hints you’ve thrown his way about your sour mood, and you suck in your lips for a bit before finally mustering up the courage to face him. Your eyes are tired, a deep frown sitting heavy on your face and painting your features in a darker light than usual. One that has the wounded man’s heart breaking for a bit.

“Only worried,” you want to say more, Mitsuya fixing his posture to look at you encourages you to do so. “Do you have to do this?” you whisper the question so softly, so afraid that someone in the empty apartment beside Mitsuya would hear. You don’t know why you are so afraid of being heard, perhaps because you know you are overstepping into a territory that wasn’t yours—something you’ve never had the chance to experience—Toman, the community, the people in it. They all meant so much to the guy sitting next to you, wouldn’t it be insulting to ask him if he has to put his life on the line for them every time?

Upon hearing those words, a sigh leaves the guy’s lips and you feel like sinking into the couch. Conversing with Mitsuya was easy, it felt natural and smooth—why was this topic so anxiety inducing then?

“You’ve been there… you know, when it all started.” His words serve as a reminder of the day it all started, the joy on everyone’s faces when Mitsuya handed them the old Toman uniforms. You’ve seen it, how dedicated all of them were. You were understanding—but this was too much.

“I have but—Takashi, this is ridiculous,” you turn to face him and Mitsuya’s eyes flicker down to your pouty lips before staring back at your eyes. He hates seeing you so upset.

“I know, I know…” his hand slides towards your own and you feel electricity through your body when you feel his touch, the way his fingers interlace with yours and his thumb brushes over the skin of the back of your hand. “I just have to and plus, kinda needed that beating as warm up.”

“Huh?” you stare at him confused, pushing him to continue.

“Toman’s been involved in something a bit nasty,”

“But you guys are used to nasty, right?” there’s nervousness in your voice.

“Yeah but this is… This is next level,” when Mitsuya leans forward with his elbows on his knees, the serious look on his face almost sends you spiraling.

“Who?”

“Hm?”

“Who are you fighting?” You’re fighting off high levels of anxiety as he keeps you waiting for a few seconds before replying.

“Tenjiku.”

“Tenji—“ you choke on your spit, unable to finish your sentence out of pure shock. “Tenjiku! You are fighting Tenjiku? No, no no no—you’re not,” you’ve grown agitated at the mention of the name of the gang, and Mitsuya suddenly finds himself unable to calm you down as he normally can.

“Hey, it’s okay we’ve got this, we always do—“

“You always do?!” You repeat, before pointing at his state. “Look at you! You’re barely coming back in one piece, think you can fight Tenjiku?”

“Well excuse you, Toman is also very strong.” Takashi also gets up from the couch, your words having too much of an effect on the usually calm and collected man. As he watches you pace around the living room of your apartment, his hands find themselves in front of his body, reaching towards you in a futile attempt of getting you to calm or sit down. But to no avail. It seems as though the mention of such dangerously reputable biker gang sets you off, and the possibility of what might happen to the man if not careful enough sends you spiraling down faster with each short inhale you take.

“That’s—what? A thousand men against a hundred? Don’t be ridiculous Takashi.”

“How am I being ridiculous? You know Toman,” his eyebrows are furrowed and his body stops moving, indicating that your words were starting to get to him personally. “We are strong, we got this.”

“You always come back beaten up and bloody!” you half yell out exasperated. “You don’t got this if most of your body is black and blue by the time a fight is over!”

The tension in the room has grown so thick. It’s unusual given your somewhat stable friendship with the man. Slight disagreements happened here and there over things that you could easily brush off and say ‘yes, I was wrong and you were right,’ or simply ignore it and pretend it never happened. But as your voice gets louder, and you show more and more evidence of how upset you are, it’s clear as day that ‘slight’ wouldn’t describe the situation accurately. You were having a full blown argument with Mitsuya, and it still hasn’t sunk in yet.

Mitsuya can hear his heart beat in his chest, he feels his ears heating up with the amount of negative feelings he was experiencing towards this—towards you being so against Toman winning. Did you really not believe in him? Were you faking being supportive this entire time?

“You know I’m still going to go and fight alongside them, right?” The tone Takashi uses with you is so unusual that you feel your eyes brimming with tears straight away. Cold and indifferent, two things you never thought you could associate with how the man felt for you.

“Well don’t come to my place for me to clean you up. Find someone else.”

“I will.” He doesn’t wait for you to open the door for him, doesn’t say goodnight as he usually does. He doesn’t even slam the door as he leaves. He is cold and distant as he walks further and further away from you, from the argument. Reality sets in and the heavy weight of your words and reactions to his announcement come flashing back like a short movie made to embarrass you, make you feel guilty.

“Fuck.”

“Mitsuya! You’re distracted!” Another punch lands on the lavender hair’s jaw, sending him flying into the ground with a loud thud. Although his injuries aren’t as bad as half of Toman’s, his disorganized state is sending most of his division members into a panicked state. He was never like this.

“Ugh--!” Before he can stand up, he is being kicked repeatedly in the guts until blood spills out of his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to roll over and away from whoever’s attacking him to avoid another harsh blow to his body. He gets on one knee with an arm around his middle, protecting his injuries and he coughs out blood before letting his wobbly legs help him stand up straight.

“Shit—sorry,” his hand wipes at the blood on his lips. He gets into a fighting stance and immediately, the look in his eyes changes into something fiercer, more passionate. He hates that the argument with you is the only thing on his mind. Your words, your tone, even the way you haven’t reached out to him in a couple of days. He hates fighting with you, despises the fact that maybe you were right, and that Tenjiku are beating them up. But one glance at his division members—at Toman, it reminds him that the roars of victory when the fight ends, the tears of joy. The pain in his body could never compare to the happiness and satisfaction of being in this gang, his second family. However, he cannot wait for everything to be over, and for you two to make up.

The universe has a strange way of showing that two people are meant to be. As Mitsuya makes his way back to his apartment, several groans escape his lips as he drags his bloodied and beaten up body up the stairs. He preferred going to yours because there were less stairs but…It looks like it wasn’t an option now. As his hand twists the knob of his door, he is fully prepared to see a mortified baby sitter asking him what exactly had happened—but instead, he sees something else. Or rather someone.

Earlier that night, things were a bit messy for you. Feeling as though you have been punched repeatedly in the guts wasn’t an enjoyable feeling—the nausea amplified by your shallow breathing, your nostrils hurting from the harsh cold air and your throat dry as a desert as your body refuses to swallow, instead sending you into an anxious state as it forgets to let the oxygen into your lungs. You choke as you get away from the window and run to the kitchen to grab some water, you open the tap and let the cold liquid hit your wrists, calm your nerves. You lean against the sink with your elbows propped against the surface and your lips pathetically wobble as tears threaten to spill. You couldn’t handle this anymore.

You were glad that Luna and Mana had gone down to sleep easily, a short story about a princess that wandered around the forest, slipping down a mystery hole into a magical world which she ended up ruling had the girls’ eyes sparkle, yet the tiredness was visible as their under eyes darkened, eyelids heavy and before you knew it—tiny snores resonated through their shared room. You checked on them a couple of times throughout the night, and although the sight of them sleeping so soundly had you place a hand on your chest as muscle memory, your body wanting to show its relief—your brain was running a thousand miles per hour. Takashi—how was he? Would he even make it back? You feel as though you were a bit harsh with him when telling him that you wouldn’t treat his wounds—but his stubbornness, you couldn’t handle it anymore.

There is a crackling noise coming from the fireplace, and you know that the coldness of your body calls for warming up but—but not now, not when Mitsuya wasn’t back home yet, and it was already approaching three in the morning.

As strange as it may seem, the invisible thread connecting the two of you was tugging from both sides and you find yourself staring at the door knob before it starts twisting. When the door swings open and a bloody Mitsuya comes in sight, the first thing that leaves your lips is a defeated “oh” before your feet rush you to the first aid kit you had brought with you from your place.

“What…are you doing here?” Takashi is the first to break the silence as he limps towards the couch. You don’t answer, you gently place him on the cushions before cradling his face in your hands. He doesn’t like the look on your face, how your eyes are brimming with tears and your bottom lip wobbles before you look away to hide the fact that you were very close to bursting into tears.

“I was never going to come.” You admit, but it was obviously a lie. Not with the way you carefully unbutton his uniform top and hand him a bottle of water to keep him hydrated.

“I know,” his voice had gone low, almost ashamed to be in such position.

“Did you at least win?” You whisper as you open the kit and pull out cotton and some disinfectant for his wounds, a bandage for his for his arms and legs. His uniform was ripped, destroyed from being tossed to the ground repeatedly, but the proud smile on his face eases your worries a bit. You miss seeing his lips curl up like that.

“Toman never loses.”

The next few minutes go by in complete silence, with the occasional hiss and groans from the man being treated and your soft apologies. The living room is filled with something so intense, ready to snap at any given moment. When Takashi groans as you press at a certain spot between his ribs, you freeze and look up at him.

“You broke a bone?”

“I figured with how hard I was getting beaten,” he holds his side with a slight wince.

“Takashi…” said man looks down at you, and his eyes soften when he sees that the tears you once held in were finally spilling out. “You’re so reckless, I—you stress me out,” you try to wipe your tears away, but it seems useless. The more tears fall down, the less control you have over your sobs. You are on the verge of a full breakdown and the man sitting before you on the couch can’t help but reach his hands towards you to smooth your hair, push it out of your wet face.

“Hey…hey I’m fine, I’m sorry that I caused you this much stress I just—“

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you cut him off abruptly, moving your hands away from your face and letting him fully cradle your face. “I can’t imagine living without you, Taka,” before your lip could start wobbling again, Takashi’s thumb gently brushes over it and pulls it down.

“You won’t lose me,” he whispers, leaning down to your level. “Ever. I know I get beaten up very often, but I always come back in one piece, don’t I?”

“But what if something happens?” you’re finally letting your worries float to the surface openly. Rather than telling him not to fight like last time, you are now fully admitting that you were anxious about his absence, how much he means to you and how his well being affects your life. “What if—what if you lose, you die and I don’t have you in my life?”

“That wouldn’t be so horrible, hm? I do cause you a lot of stress apparently,” he tries to joke, lift up your mood but you shake your head almost harshly, hands grabbing his wrists.

“I need you with me, in my life. I need you next to me, I wanna be selfish and keep you all to myself, Taka,”

“All to yourself?” His thumb then brushes your cheek, up to your eyebrows before pushing your sweaty strands out of your face. “Sounds like you got something else to say, don’t you?”

His voice isn’t playful, but rather encouraging. His lavender eyes are filled with something so comforting yet so intense. For the first time ever, you feel nervous in his presence.

“That I love you. I’m in love with you, you don’t even know how horrible it feels when I have to treat your cuts and wounds and have to watch you be so careless about something that is so precious to me,” your hands let go of his wrists to cradle his face, mirroring his actions. He melts under your touch, nuzzling into the palm of your hands like a feline craving heat during winter.

“Lucky you, I’d love to have you all to myself too,”

“You do?”

“I do,” he nods and tilts your head up to stare at him. “I have wanted you all to myself for so long, it’s kind of ridiculous. That warm smile,” his other hand traces your lips. “Those gorgeous eyes,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your eyelids. “This pure soul,” his lips then press against your forehead, between your eyebrows. “I’ve wanted you to be all mine for so long, watched myself fall in love with you harder with every moment we spent together. My heart, my soul—they yearned for yours. For your eyes to only stare at me, for those lips to only smile at me—I love you.”

You feel your cheeks heating up with every word, every honeyed sentence leaving his lips like a sweet melody. You can’t bring yourself to say anything in return, not when looking at him seems so difficult, your eyes, chest and whole body feeling hot at the realization that he feels the same.

Takashi was in love with you.

“You made my confession seem so lame,” you break the silence with a sniffle, and your face heats up even more when he starts laughing at your embarrassed state.

“It wasn’t lame at all, my love, my heart is about to burst at your words,”

“Don’t—you’re so comfortable already!” You try to pull away from him when he uses such sweet pet names on you.

“I am the luckiest to be with my best friend, my baby,” he presses his lips against your cheeks with a grin, going in for another kiss when he feels your hot cheeks. “Of course I’d be comfortable.”

Falling for your best friend seemed like the worst possible outcome when you realized you were developing feelings for him, but when he was holding you with so much care and staring at you with such warm eyes—all those worries melted away against the palm of his hand, accepting the love he had for you with open arms and an open heart.

2024: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #tr mitsuya #tr x reader #tr x you #mitsuya tokyo revengers #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya fluff #mitsuya x you #tokrev mitsuya #mitsuya x reader fluff #mitsuya x reader angst

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ssahotchnerr · 8 months ago

Note

aaron would never admit it, being a man who loves his children equally, but there’s just something about ellie that’s always made him worry more. his career mainly focusing on female homicides certainly doesn’t help, but he swears it’s just something different. something shifted in him the day he held ellie for the first time, an innate desire to shield her from a kind of harm jack wouldn’t have to worry about.

the first time ellie proves her capability to aaron, she’s 9, sat between you two in the principal’s office. her knee is scraped, wild curls springing loose from her french braid, her (aaron’s) brown eyes glaring at her principal analytically, almost as if she’s trying to jumpstart her profiling career in her grass-stained soccer uniform.

the principal explains the severity of why the two of you had been called in—ellie had kicked a boy 5 years her senior in the shins, then had to be pulled off of him by one of the assistant coaches.

“eleanor odette hotchner,” aaron starts, “do you have ANYTHING to say for yourself?”

ellie looks right at him, unwavering.

“he picks on jack all the time. he’s the reason he came home with a bruise the other day. i saw it happen, dad. no one did anything about it, even after jack and i came in and told you.”

you and aaron look at each other, taken aback, and then to the principal as he sputters out an explanation.

“wait,” you interrupt, your own profiling skills kicking in, “is that why you and jack were late that one day coming home?” you look to aaron again, “jack said he hung back to ask a question about his science project.”

ellie shakes her head.

you two look back to the principal again, flushed red at the gaze of two identical sets of brown eyes glaring at him.

“you two have to understand, coach carter is one of the best JV coaches-“

“carter?? as in nathan carter’s dad? the same nathan carter who bullied jack so bad we had to switch classes in the middle of the school year?” you connect the dots, anger rising at the man in front of you.

the principal remains silent, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

ellie leans over to aaron, lowering her voice, as if telling him a secret.

“it’s called nepotism. uncle spencer told me about it.”

when the three of you leave that day, ellie is still suspended for three days, as opposed to the week she had been eyeing originally.

he saves the story till the perfect time arises, only a few days later. it’s a tense moment on the jet, when everyone is exhausted from a long, grueling case.

he starts it with an offhanded comment about how ellie has been on suspension, and 5 sets of eyes and ears perk up.

“ellie? our ellie? what happened?”

he hits the story’s climax right as dave is taking a sip of his whiskey. at the mention of nepotism, he laughs so hard it comes out of his nose.

ellie’s gonna be fine, aaron tells himself. as long as she doesn’t give her old man a heart attack first.

oh my god?????? yes. yes yes yes yes YES

not only does ellie favor aaron’s traits, she’s just as fiercely protective.

plus, aaron and jack have always been coming to her rescue whenever she needs it — her being the ‘baby’ of the family, being more vulnerable in different instances, they love her and want to protect her. so when the time comes for her to do the same, she does not hesitate. it’s what they would’ve done for her.

and of course she knows better — fighting is never the solution, doesn’t solve anything (and the fact she’s now on nathan’s and all his friends radar) — she was not about to be a bystander and let her big brother take a beating. absolutely not. so as she’s sitting in the principal’s office waiting for you and aaron, she’s extremely nervous, but regardless of what follows, she doesn’t regret what she’s done.

and while aaron has to be Dad and not condone fighting, he’s so incredibly proud of her. ellie apprehending a kid who’s twice her size — his little ellie???

it settles a bit of his worries. like, he’ll always be worried due to what he sees everyday, but ellie has proven can defend herself (at just 9 years old) and he has to give her more credit. she’s not some little weakling — she’s a hotchner.

and the bau finding out??? incredibly shocked, but just as aaron and you — proud.

#i’m SCREAMING THIS IS PERFECTION #THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS 😭#ellie hotchner <3 #aaron hotchner #criminal minds

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halsteadlover · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Will Halstead x Female!Reader.

• Requested by @klovesreading: I was wondering if you could do a story where the reader is married to Will but is a detective with Jay and is really close with Jay. But one day a case goes bad and the reader gets shot and almost dies and just a lot of angst but the reader survives in the end!

• Warnings: mention of blood, drugs, gunshots, tiny bit of angst and swearing.

• Word count: 5018.

• A/N: this is my first Will Halstead fic and it’s ugly as fuck, I don’t like one bit how it turned out 😭 you can actually notice I didn’t want to write anything else but I know if I kept going it would’ve ended up being so much longer than this so here is this piece of shit. I hope you’ll like it anyway but please bear with me 😭 comment, like and reblog if you want. I love you all so much ❤️

You, Will and Jay had been good friends for as long as you could remember.

The three of you grew up in the same neighborhood, your families being friends for a very long time. They were like big brothers to you or, at least, only one of them was.

You never managed to hide the crush you had on the redhead since you were a teenager, no one missed this detail – not even Jay who never wasted time teasing you about your crush on his brother – only Will seemed to not to see it.

You spent years of your adolescence and youth pining for him, trying to suppress your feelings knowing he didn't feel the same. You tried to move on, you had some boyfriends but it always ended the same way: you leaving them because you could never completely get Will out of your head. And as time passed you had resigned yourself to it, accepting you’d never be anything other than best friends.

There was a time when the three of you drifted apart, Will had gone to medical school, Jay had joined the army and left to go overseas and you spent a lot of time training to get in the police academy.

But fate really seemed to work in wonderful ways.

You thought you’d never reconnect with the Halstead brothers again but this was proven wrong when one day you met Jay at the police academy. You were a patrol cop with about two years of experience and he had just joined the Chicago PD after returning from his mission overseas.

And just like that you learned that Will had recently returned to Chicago and started working at Med's. It was as if time had never passed for the three of you, returning to having the deep bond that had united you since childhood.

But just as you thought your love for Will had somehow passed, it was enough for you to spend just a day with him to understand those deep feelings had never faded and that Will would forever be in your heart.

As time passed though, Will realized he was starting to look at you differently, continually craving your company. He didn't know when it happened or how it happened but he found himself inexorably losing his mind for you, in a way that shouldn't have happened with his best friend.

So for an amount of time you found yourselves lusting for each other from afar without either of you growing any balls and confessing your feelings.

The turning point came when the morning after spending a night at the bar and drinking too many shots and cocktails, you woke up in Will's bed with only a sheet covering your body. You were both too drunk the night before to remember what had happened but that blurry sexual encounter didn’t only happen once.

In fact after this rendezvous, it was as if a magnetic force attracted both of you and no matter how much you both fought it, one way or another you ended up having sex at one or the other's house.

Jay's teasing was pure torture as he could see from miles away that something really had happened between the two of you.

It was Will who confessed his love first, in the grip of emotions and no longer able to pretend you were just friends with benefits for even a second. You told him it took him a long time and that you loved him madly too, and the rest was history.

So here you were several years later, married to the love of your life and living the fairy tale you've always dreamed about.

“Babe please…” you sighed, eyes half closed as his lips worked their magic on that particular spot on your neck. You had to go to work but that seemed to take a backseat as your mind was completely dazzled by the hurricane that was your husband.

His arms wrapped around your hips and his hands went down to your ass, which they squeezed and groped without any shame. That made you sigh as you wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his soft hair and pulling it lightly.

“Fuck,” he hissed, making him lose the last bit of control he had in his body and you grinned knowing how much he liked it when you pulled his hair. Before you could say or do anything, his lips had captured yours in a deep, passionate kiss as you took slow steps towards the bed

You both fell onto the mattress, bouncing slightly and you both let out a laugh before kissing again, him on top of you. It didn't take long for both of you to undress and throw all your clothes on the floor, losing yourself inexorably in each other.

Needless to say, you arrived at Intelligence incredibly late, thanking all the angels in heaven when you realized Voight hadn't arrived yet by the time you entered the unit.

“Why were you late?” Jay asked as soon as you arrived, handing you a cup of coffee he had set aside for you. He only had to look at you for his question to be answered, the stupid smile on your lips clearer than sunlight. “Actually never mind, don't answer. You're disgusting.“

“Hey! First of all you asked and second, go talk to your brother, he’s always so insatiable,” you replied with the sole purpose of annoying the younger Halstead. You succeeded in your aim when an expression of pure disgust and horror appeared on his face.

“You make me sick I don't want to know about you having sex with my brother for God's sake!” He exclaimed as you continued to laugh out loud.

You and Jay were now detectives and members of the Intelligence Unit for quite some time and as luck would have it, Voight even assigned you as partners. It was great to work with a friendly face, to have someone to deal with all the shit that humanity presented, to be there for each other when the other felt like everything was too hard to handle.

You and Jay continued to have a little banter but that little idyllic moment was interrupted when Voight entered the unit with Sergeant Platt and from their expressions you immediately understood they didn’t bring any good news.

Badly cut drug was circulating through the Chicago streets, causing numerous overdose victims, and there was pressure to get this case solved immediately.

Something told you this case would take much longer than necessary, so you took advantage of every free moment to text Will and update him on the evolution of the situation.

Will was afraid he’d be committed to Dr. Charles' psych ward sooner or later due to the stress your and Jay's job brought him.

He couldn't help but feel the anxiety eating his stomach up every time you told him you had some kind of field operation to do. It was a horrible feeling, having no idea what was going on out there, not being able to protect you or his brother if something horrible happened.

Every single day was a prayer. He prayed you both would come home safely, he prayed he could hug you both again at the end of each shift.

He tried not to give too much weight to his paranoid thoughts and convince himself it was only his sense of protection speaking. You and Jay were more than capable of defending yourselves even in dangerous situations, Will knew that, but that didn't make it any easier.

Many times he had wondered why neither you nor Jay had opted for a safer career, so he wouldn't risk a heart attack every time you left the house. You could’ve been teachers, or cooks, coaches, anything, but no, you both had to choose one of the most dangerous professions in the world. And so he didn't have to worry about his wife or just his brother's, but both.

His heart could only bear it to a certain extent.

And that day was no different when you texted him you and Jay were on your way to question a suspect.

Knowing you were in the district would calm him down a little since you were safe there, but knowing you were both out there with the risk of dying just around the corner was pure torture.

“How much you wanna bet he’ll run away as soon as he sees us?” You asked Jay as you got out of the car and walked towards the driveway of the house where the suspect was supposed to be. He wasn't directly involved with the drugs but, after the team started the investigations, you discovered he knew who was indeed involved and both you and Jay were determined to find out who that person was.

“Nah I pass, I know for sure this will happen so let’s just get ready to do some running,” he replied and you laughed before knocking twice loudly on the door.

“Chicago PD! Open up!” You exclaimed and you and Jay waited a few moments in which there was nothing but silence.

Jay moved away from the door and went to the window to check if there was actually anyone inside and you knocked again with two more loud thuds. “Open the door we just want to talk!”.

What happened was so quickly you wouldn't have been able to tell it if someone had asked you.

The suspect you were supposed to question – a guy in his mid-twenties – opened the door but you had your guard down so you couldn’t react as quickly as you wished. You saw him hold the gun and point it at you, you had tried as quickly as possible to take your gun from its holster but before you could do so a shot had already been fired and a bullet had already passed through your abdomen.

As you said, everything happened quickly.

The bullet shot immediately triggered Jay who quickly pulled out his gun and only then realized with pure horror you had been shot.

Before he could attempt to shoot the suspect, the bastard had already run away at the speed of light even if at that moment Jay didn't care.

He ran towards you and picking you up he dragged you away from the porch of that house, not wanting to run the risk that someone else might shot at you, and he carried you behind your car.

“Hey, hey, hey it's okay, don’t move. Everything's going to be okay, you hear me Y/n? You’ll be fine,” He tried to reassure you, to no avail as you had a bullet in your abdomen and were bleeding profusely, before immediately calling for help as panic coursed through his veins.

You were still shocked even as you lifted your head for the asphalt and saw your wound bleeding more than it should have. You tried to cover it with your hands but Jay did it for you, after taking a jacket he had in the car and pressing it to the wound.

“Shit,” you hissed. The pain was excruciating, even if the adrenaline helped to dull the sensation a little. A flood of emotions overwhelmed you, panic, fear, confusion. Your eyes looked around frantically as if to try to convince your mind you were still alive, that everything was going to be okay.

“Help is on the way Y/n, please hold on okay? You’ll be fine I’m sure,” Jay continued to babble, more to himself than to you.

“It-it hurts…” you stuttered, closing your eyes for a few moments as you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“Hey, hey, hey, don't you dare fall asleep, just hang on for a minute. Please… Everything will be fine...“ he kept repeating.

But his voice began to reach your ears far away. That warm, burning sensation coursing through your abdomen was starting to fade and the weakness was instead starting to take over you. You were fighting so hard to try and stay awake, even though you were in that state you knew this didn’t mean anything good.

“Y/n!” Suddenly you heard Jay's voice and your eyes widened. You didn't even realize you had closed them.

“Jay can you believe…” you winched “Can you believe for just one second I will live?” You continued trying to smile seeing the way Jay was looking at you. You saw him so scared and worried for other few times in your life, and if it hadn't been for the bullet, you would probably have made fun of him.

“Of course you’l live Y/n, of course I believe it. Who will make my life a living hell if you're gone?”.

You giggled at those words. “L-look at my little brother-in-law worrying about me,” you whispered, as you got weaker with each second that passed. Your eyelids felt heavy, you were struggling to keep your eyes open, or even just to speak.

Your mind was racing, a thousand thoughts were invading it, which was in stark contrast to your physical state as you struggled to even lift your hands.

But the first thought was your husband, your beloved Will. How would he react? What would’ve he said? You hated the thought of not being the first to tell him, to comfort him knowing how worried he would be.

“No of course I’m not,” Jay replied, letting out a sound of mock disdain, making you smile weakly again. “I'm just worried about Will, I don’t care about you. I know he’s going to fucking kill me once he’ll find out.”

You tried to let out a laugh but a cough stopped it.

You fought for Will above all, because you refused to leave like this, to give up right when you were living the life of your dreams with the love you had wanted for so long. But in that moment, as your strength slowly left your body as quickly as your blood spread across the asphalt, you needed him so much.

You wanted Will, you wanted him to hold your hand, you wanted him to whisper it was going to be okay and you’d be fine in no time, you wanted him to hug you and make you forget all the pain and fear that was paralyzing you, you wanted to run a hand through his hair and tell him to calm down when he’d freak out.

And you really tried to resist.

But you were tired, so exhausted, you just wanted to be able to rest a little.

And that was exactly how you let yourself slip into the darkness of oblivion, the last thought being Will's eyes.

“Y/n? Hey! Please don't play with me right now,” Jay shook your shoulders slightly when he realized you had closed your eyes. “I know you're joking, just wake up it’s not funny.”

But nothing, he didn't receive any response.

And after several attempts to wake you up he had to accept you had lost consciousness and you weren't joking at all.

He looked around waiting for the damn ambulance to arrive and when he finally saw it from afar, he thought it was a mirage, too good to be true.

Meanwhile Will was unaware of everything that was happening out there, that his world was collapsing on him without even realizing it.

“Your tests came back normal but we'll keep you here for observation for another couple of hours just to make sure everything is fine, and we'll keep you hydrated in the meantime, okay?”.

“Okay, thank you so much Dr. Halstead.”

Will gave the lady lying on the bed a smile before leaving her room and closing the door behind him. He sanitized his hands and walked over to the nurses' station where he took the patient's medical records, updating her tests and treatment.

He couldn't help but take his cell phone from his uniform pocket, noticing with disappointment there was no message from you. He let out a sigh, trying to stay calm and convince himself he was just overreacting even if anxiety was gripping his stomach.

He put down the patient’s chart he had just seen, playing with the ring on his ring finger while a nurse informed him of the arrival of another patient who was already waiting for him.

If only he had waited a few seconds longer, if only he hadn't immediately entered that room, he would’ve seen that the person who had just entered the emergency room, unconscious, was the very last person he would’ve ever wanted to see in those circumstances, the person whose safety he worried about night and day, one of the people he loved most in the world.

Jay couldn't reach you at the hospital right away since he was waiting for Voight's orders on what to do but nevertheless he didn't stop thinking about you for a second and hoping that you were still alive.

Will treated the patient who came to the hospital following a chainsaw accident while chopping wood. With the help of a nurse, he sutured and dressed the fairly deep cut on the patient's leg while in the next room Connor and the rest of the team worked to revive you from the cardiac arrest you had just fallen into.

It took about twenty minutes for him to finish treating the patient, who he recommended to return to check the wound and assigned medicines in case of infection or pain. When he left the room, he did again what he had done earlier: disinfect his hands and update the medical records.

“Woah, what happened in there?” Will asked one of the new nurses that had recently started working when his gaze fell on the now room.

He saw the state in which that room was, copious traces of blood stained the floor on which numerous bright red patches were scattered, soaked in the same blood of the victim he thought he didn't know. The defibrillator was nearby and positioned crookedly on its trolley indicating it had been used and Will hoped that whoever it was, had managed to survive.

“A gunshot victim, bad story. She went into cardiac arrest twice but they were able to revive her and Dr. Rhodes just took her to the OR,” explained the nurse who, being new, didn't know that said victim was his superior's wife.

Will nodded, looking away from the room for a second before handing her the patient’s medical record he had just seen and putting the pen back in his white coat’s pocket.

He took out his cell phone again, noting with equal disappointment that no message had arrived from you. He sighed again before putting it down and his gaze fell on that room again.

His gaze fell on the victim's objects which were in a transparent bag placed on one of the bedside tables next to the now absent bed. He didn't want to snoop but curiosity got the better of him and he thought maybe he could help track down the family.

His heart almost stopped when he recognized your clothes in that bag.

“What the fuck?” He whispered as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. There was a police badge, among other items. Anxiety gripped his stomach in a vice, twisting it until he almost felt like he was going to throw up.

“No, no, no, no,” he babbled to himself as his eyes continued to scan the numbers on the badge again and again.

It was yours.

No, it couldn't be true, there had to be an explanation. There had to be a reason why your badge and clothes had to be there.

While his heart continued to beat voraciously in his chest, Will continued to look among those objects. There was also the gun and a cell phone, yours.

His hands began to shake as all of his worst nightmares seemed to come true. He couldn't believe it, he just couldn't, until the very end he hoped there had been some kind of misunderstanding, that it was definitely someone else but for some strange reason they had managed to take your gun, badge, cell phone and even your bloody clothes.

But it was when he saw the ring that he felt as if a train had hit him. There was no doubt it was your ring, a ring that was stained with your own blood.

Will felt as if the ground had slipped beneath his feet, for a moment so out of his mind everything seemed to happen in a blur.

He immediately ran out of that damned room, making space among his colleagues and passers-by and running like a madman towards the ORs. He looked crazy, but he didn't care, he didn't care to stop and apologize to the people he was clashing with, he just wanted to reach you.

This can't be true, please God.

He had to make sure, it couldn't really be happening.

He didn't even wash his hands before entering the OR, he simply took a surgical mask and placed it in front of his nose before entering where Connor was operating.

If Will had to describe how he felt, he would’ve said he felt like he was dying, that he felt the air stuck in his throat and his lungs collapsing. He felt his legs give way and had to lean on the doorframe leading to the OR to avoid falling on the floor.

It was you.

It was really you.

Unconscious and with a tube down your throat, but it was you.

“Why the fuck didn't anyone call me!” Will almost shouted, his hands shaking with fear and anger, holding back the desire to run to you and grab your hand since he wasn't sterile.

“Will, get out of here,” Connor replied, looking up from your open abdomen for just a second so he could look at his friend and the desperation he had on his face.

“How is she? Connor please tell me something,” the redhead begged as his eyes filled with tears.

“Will. Out. Now.”

“I'm not going anywhere until you tell me how you she is. She's my fucking wife, I'm her husband! I have to know!”.

“This is exactly why you can't stay here! I can't operate if you're here and I'm trying to save her fucking life so get out of my OR immediately!” Rhodes exclaimed loudly, feeling guilty for the tone he had used since Will was only worried about you, but thinking it was necessary. He looked up at one of the nurses and nodded at him at which he nodded back and walked over to Will, inviting him to come outside.

“Don't fucking touch me,” Will spat through gritted teeth, his eyes shining before walking out of the OR.

He slumped against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, legs bent and elbows resting on his knees while he had his hands on his face.

What the fuck happened?

It was unbelievable, he couldn't process it.

How did you go from making love that same morning to you having surgery a step from the death?

Where the fuck was Jay? Why wasn't he there?

Will let out a sob, praying with all his heart that at least his brother was okay. God only knew he wouldn't be able to survive if Jay got hurt too.

“Will!”.

But when he heard Jay's voice calling him out, a wave of relief washed away some of the anguish that had been plaguing him. Will stood up and saw Jay running towards him. He hugged him, in tears, holding him so tight his bones almost broke.

“What the hell happened Jay? Where the fuck were you? Why didn’t you call me? You okay?” Will peppered him with questions, taking a look at his brother and noticing with horror the blood staining his shirt.

“I'm fine… I-I'm so sorry Will, this shouldn't have happened I…” Jay blathered, also scared to death even though he knew what he was feeling was nothing compared to how Will must’ve going through at that moment. He told him what had happened. “How is she?”.

Will shook his head, as if to tell him he didn't know, and collapsed, letting himself go into tears full of terror, fear, fright. Jay wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him sit down, trying in vain to comfort him.

What would he have done if you hadn't survived? How could he go on with his life if you weren't there?

He didn't even want to imagine it, he didn't want to find answers to these questions because there actually weren't any answers. Will couldn't be without you.

He had known you since they were only a few years old, he had grown up with you, he had laughed, he had cried, he had fun with you, he had confided to you his deepest secrets, his deepest fears, he couldn't even think of not being able to do all this anymore. He remembered your friendship with so much warmth and joy before falling in love with you without even realizing it.

You made him happy, you understood him, you were his best friend, his lover, his wife, his confidant. Loving you felt like winning the lottery, marrying you was the most beautiful gift life could ever give him, he couldn't even think that all this was hanging by just a thread.

What would he have done without your laugh, your horrible jokes, without your smile, your eyes, the warmth of your hugs? How was he going to survive?

No, no, no, she’s going to be fine. She will be okay.

You were strong, one of the strongest people he had ever met in his life, there was no difficulty you wouldn't have solved, there was no obstacle you wouldn't have overcome. If anyone could do this it was you, Will knew you were going to be okay.

He jumped up, no longer able to sit still. Time seemed to stand still, passing so slowly that every minute was pure agony.

“Will…”

“Shut up Jay!” Will exclaimed loudly, not caring about other people. Jay remained silent as he stood up as well, letting his brother vent. “Where the fuck were you! You were supposed to protect her why weren't you there?!”

Will was not thinking clearly anymore because of the anger, not anger directed towards Jay – he knew it wasn’t his fault but only of the bastard that pulled the trigger.

He approached Jay and pushed him but Jay didn't react, his heart actually clenched as he saw the suffering Will was going through. He would probably have reacted the same way if his wife was fighting between life and death.

“If anything happens to her Jay… Fuck!”.

Jay raised a hand and shook his head when one of the doctors passing by tried to intervene, telling him he had everything under control.

“She’ll be fine brother. C'mon, this is Y/n, we know her, there’s nothing that woman can’t do.”

“How do you know huh?!” Will exploded, running his hands through his hair in frustration and desperation.

“I just know Will, she’ll make it, I'm sure of it,” Jay replied more calmly, moving closer to his brother. This time he was the one to hug him although Will resisted for a while, telling him to let him go. Jay didn't do it, he continued to hug him and hold him until he gave up and returned the hug.

Will cried on Jay's shoulders for the longest time, praying with every fiber of his being and whoever was up there to make you survive, to make you okay.

“I just want her back…” he whispered, not sure if Jay had heard him.

Jay helped him sit back down. “And you’ll get her back, just have a little faith. She is so strong man, do you really think she’ll leave us like this? C’mon, she has to be here and annoy us for the rest of our lives.”

Will chuckled through his tears, his eyes so blurry he couldn't make out the objects in front of him. He and Jay sat in that waiting room, waiting for hours to hear from you as he kept desperately praying.

Will sat with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees while he continued to move a leg obsessively.

He had always tried to calm the patients' families, never fully understanding how they must really feel. But now that he knew, he felt guilty for not trying harder.

Please stay with me baby. Please just hang on for a little bit, please fight for us.

He had never understood what it felt like to be completely useless, what it felt like to be unable to do anything for the person you loved most in the world, to be unable to do anything to prevent that person from suffering.

He had always sworn to protect you, to not let anything hurt you and he felt like a failure for not being able to do this. He wished that damned bullet had hit him, that it had been him on the operating table having to fight for his life.

At every slightest noise he jumped, hoping it was Connor bringing good news but when he finally actually saw him appear in front of him, he feared it was just a hallucination.

Connor approached Will and Jay who jumped to their feet as soon as they saw him arrive.

“How did it go? Is she okay? Please tell me he's okay, Connor,” Will stammered, his heart beating so fast he thought he was going to have a massive heart attack.

“It was tough but she did well. The bullet had hit an artery and I managed to extract it but she lost a lot of blood and the next few hours will be delicate. But I'm pretty optimistic and she'll make a full recovery.”

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

DAY ONE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

pairing: stepbrother!frankie x santi's gf!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: you were seventeen when Frankie became your stepbrother, but no matter the title, he never felt like a brother to you, going off to college right after your father remarried. But no matter the circumstances, he was still off limits. Years pass and when he returns from the army your relationship with him is even more strained. You end up settling for the second best thing instead, his best friend. Everything seems to be going fine until Frankie stays over and Santi needs to leave for work.

word count: 5k

warnings: infidelity (reader cheats on santi), stepcest, possesive!frankie, y'all this fic isn't morally okay at all but it's not exactly "dark" it's just really messed up so read with caution, breeding kink, dirty talking, fingering, mild degradation kink, male masturbation, piv, oral sex, spitting, pillow humping, size kink, poor santi didn't deserve this, size kink, cuckolding kink???? (santi isn't there but frankie gets really turned on talking about it)

a/n: i don't know who's or what's gonna do it but I need someone to forgive me for this. also hopefully this turned out okay, it's very loosely edited and feel a bit all over the place but hopefully I'm just overthinking it. enjoy babes

Your father remarried when you were seventeen.

You felt cheated at the time. And not because your father had found love again—no, that made you quite happy actually. You just wished he’d done it sooner, you could’ve benefited from having a big brother early on. Your relationship with your birth mother wasn’t easy, especially when you were young, and having someone there to vent to would’ve been like a dream. Your dad listened, but you know he felt someone guilty for it even though it wasn’t his fault.

Frankie was only three years older than you. Sadly, he didn’t stick around for long, going off to college a year later. But his visits were frequent enough that you two developed a somewhat friendly relationship.

Emphasis on the somewhat.

Being young and dumb, you developed a crush on him instead. It was an innocent thing. Just some hearts around his name and following him around like a duckling whenever he was around. Your dad and stepmom found it cute, endearing. Frankie seemed indifferent most of the time. He listened when you needed to vent, brought you soup when you were sick and your parents were working—and that was pretty much it.

Then he went and joined the army.

You remember the chaos that decision brought over the household. You were applying for colleges all on your own, your dad busy trying to console your stepmom, the latter being distraught over the potential of losing her son. You were just. . . sorta around, floating and looking over them, listening without really being there, just. . . there.

A month later you were surprised to find a letter addressed to you. There was one for his mom and one for you, you just stared at it, confused when your dad handed it to you.

You opened it in your room. You swore the damn paper smelled like him, the beat of your heart too loud to your own ears.

You read it. There was only one sentence scribbled down, his handwriting even more crooked than usual.

I’m sorry.

You didn’t write back to him. You had no idea why he was apologizing and you were too afraid to ask at the time. During your first day of college you just assumed it was because he left you to deal with the mess his absence caused.

Then he returned.

The house was bustling when you came for your weekend visit. Your stepmom grinning from ear to ear when you arrived, hugging you tight with tears shining in her eyes. Frankie had brought a friend with him, a friend almost as handsome as him.

Said friend had smiled at you, squeezing your hand tight, “Santiago,” he introduced himself. He stayed over for about a week and so did you, charmed by this sudden stranger that was your brother’s best friend.

Frankie didn’t address the letter. Or what he’s written inside of it. He was the same as he’d ever been and for a second you doubted if you ever did receive a letter. But you knew you did. You still had it.

At the end of the week, Santi officially asked you out, telling you that he’d already spoken to Frankie about it. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole ordeal. It wasn’t like Frankie ever was protective towards you, you were pretty sure Frankie couldn’t care less about who you dated. But nonetheless, you said yes, hoping that Santi would bring you the normalcy you so desperately craved.

And he did. You were happy, enjoying every moment you spent with him. Santi didn’t push you aside, he didn’t make you feel like you had to fight for his attention. You didn’t have to play tricks or games, you weren’t second place to no one. Finally, you felt like the lead in your own goddamn life and you would always feel grateful to him for that.

You couldn’t say the same thing with your relationship with Frankie thought. He completely iced you out, only talking to you normally when people were around, especially Santi. No one seemed to notice. You wanted to ask him about it but too much of a coward to do so. And honestly, you didn’t have it in you to care anymore. Neither you nor Frankie were young anymore; if he had a problem, he could just ask.

Three months into your relationship, you moved in with Santi.

The setting sun's warm, orange glow pours through the open windows. A gentle breeze brushes against your skin, as you place a cup of hot black coffee on the table in front of him.

Santi sits on the couch, absorbed in the files from work. His fingers flip through the pages as he studies them intently. The soft rustling of paper mingles with the soft summer air.

You sit next to him, your legs brushing together. Unlike him, you didn’t hate yourself so you were cooling your insides down with an iced coffee. You take a sip, your eyes eating at the way the sun kisses his skin, sharpening his jawline further.

“Thanks,” he mutters, lifting his mug to your lips. His eyes find yours midst of drinking. “What are you looking at, querida?” he asks, lips twitching into a smile.

“Oh nothing,” you hum. “Just looking at my very hot boyfriend.”

“Very hot hmm,” Santi places the mug on the coffee table and gives you all his attention. “Seems like someone’s gonna miss me when I’m away.”

Before you can quip back, he pulls you to his lap, your thighs framing his hips. You instinctively grind down and let out a shuddering breath, Santi drops his head back against the couch. “Fuck, you really are going to miss me, aren’t you? Sweet thing.”

You cradle his jaw with both hands, leaning in, you press your lips together. Santi eagerly licks the seam of your lips, a silent order for you to let him in, you do, moaning at the feel of his tongue dancing alongside yours. He sucks the air from your lungs, tracing every inch of you with his tongue, a shiver runs up your spine, your body rubbing against his despite yourself.

When he parts away you take in the sight of his swollen lips, his lustful gaze. Your heart skips a beat and your insides flush.

“Oh, by the way, Frankie called,” he says out of the blue and out of breath.

Well, that certainly kills the mood.

“He needs a place to crash a couple of days, is that alright?” his eyebrows raise. “I’m actually surprised you don’t know. What kind of sibling relationship do you two have?”

“You know we never actually lived together right?” you shrug. “But of course, he’s my brother and I love him. He can stay as long as he wants to.”

He nods. “Good,” then nods again before giving you a quick peck on the lips. “It’s a bummer I won’t be here when he arrives.”

“You could’ve rescheduled.”

“This isn’t that kind of job sweetheart, you know it.” he nuzzles your cheek, feeling your discomfort. “But anyway, I’ll see him plenty when I get back.”

You draw him into another kiss, and you take your time with it, feeling the fat strokes of his tongue delving into your mouth as you part your lips further. You wish he’d be here when Frankie comes. He still doesn’t talk much unless there are others around and after all these years you don’t know what you did to anger him enough so that he’d hold a grudge.

Santi moans into your mouth and cups your breasts, toying with your hardened nipples with his thumbs. You wonder how okay he’d be with it if he knew about your past crush on Frankie. He’d probably laugh it off, it was a long time ago anyway.

Your mind drifts to Frankie. To his messy curls the ballcap he refused to take off. Deep down you wonder what his reaction would be in learning about your past crush. A gush of heat rolls down your spine, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. Santi's fingers glide downward, tracing the path between your legs. You shudder, a moan breaking through your lips.

You’re not sure who you’re thinking about right now, two faces merging as one.

You’re sitting on the couch, rigid, when you hear the knock that you hoped never came.

All day you’ve been pacing around thinking about it, thinking about Frankie. He hadn’t called you not even once. All of his travel info was forwarded to you by Santi. It hurt to a degree. Him ignoring your presence so forcefully. You haven’t visited home in ages just because you knew he was staying there, helping your dad with the business. Sometimes you teased your father that Frankie was the son he’d always wanted, and despite your awkward laughter, you knew there was some truth to that statement.

Another forceful knock.

You finally push yourself off the couch and head to the door. Blood pumps vigorously through your veins, your heart beating too fast—too loud. You don’t have time to calm yourself as you yank the door open.

His eyes immediately meet your own. Dark like chocolate chips but bitter like coffee. Sweat clings to his skin, hair curling at the ends, his shirt darkened in color sticking to his sternum, highlighting the contours of his chest and the swell of his stomach. You swallow.

“Hey, Frankie,” you make a move to help with his luggage but he pulls it away before you can touch the handle. Filled with unease, you take a step back and leave enough room for him and his luggage to pass through. “How was the flight?”

“Good.”

Jesus, why does he always make everything so difficult?

You close the door when he fully steps in, he does a brief once-over across the living room. His eyes linger on the picture of you and Santi on the coffee table, then quickly turn back to you, ignoring his own picture entirely. “Which room am I in, hermanita?”

Your eyes widen at the endearment, your pulse picking up again. It had been years since he last called you that. “Uh. . . last room down the hall,” you murmur, mind absent. When he’s about to leave, you grip his arm, stopping him. His muscles tense underneath your touch, his eyes burning holes into the hand that’s holding him. “I cooked,” you say, choked. “You must be hungry, let’s eat first then I’ll show you around.”

Frankie rolls his shoulders and moves his jaw from side to side. You’re about to take back your offer when he sighs, his shoulders dropping. “Fine. Okay.”

You’re heating up the food when Frankie walks through the kitchen door. He’s wearing a clean shirt, cheeks damp from where he splashed water over himself.

“Smells nice,” he mutters, standing next to you and peering from above your shoulder. “Is that mom’s recipe?”

“It is,” a soft smile touches your lips. His eyes follow the curve of it, a slight surprise etching between his brows. “But I don’t make any promises about the taste. It’s my first time making it.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

There’s something in his tone that prompts you to stop your stirring and look at him. You’re surprised to find him already staring. His eyes clouded, lips tight as his gaze searching yours. “I shouldn’t have. . . what?” you ask very slowly, every word chosen very carefully.

“Cooked,” he’s so unbelievably close. So close that you can hear the rasps in his voice, feel the heat of his breath across your cheeks. Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling in your stomach.

“O–Oh, well it’s nothing,” you force a chuckle. “Didn’t want to feed you something you didn’t like when you’re already probably uncomfortable.”

He laughs, a sound you hadn’t heard in such a long time. Your body vibrates with the sound. “What am I? A dog?” However, the moment is fleeting like the sand dancing under the wind. His brows furrow. “What do you mean uncomfortable?”

Ah, so much for picking your words carefully.

You shrug and turn off the stove. Your eyes move up to the cupboard, you so desperately want to break away from the hold the close proximity has on you but it just feels good to be physically close to him again. He’s taller than Santi, that combined with broad shoulders and chest, Frankie’s presence can be quite demanding when he wants it to be. You guess that right now is one of those moments. He cups your chin, his fingers brushing against your neck. Your throat bobs heavily under his palm, sweat gathering at the small of your back.

“Don’t play dumb,” you answer him sharply. “You barely talk to me when we’re alone. You didn’t even tell me you were staying over or your itinerary, I had to learn it all from Santi,” you break away from his grip, your anger starting to boil over. Frankie’s unphased by your sudden movement. “So what? All of that changes just because I cooked for you? Just because you only now noticed that I actually care about you? Do you have any idea how—”

You clamp your lips shut. It was too much— too much threatening to bubble out. The inside of your mouth feels like sandpaper, your throat convulsing painfully as regret coats your tongue. You dare a glance at Frankie. He doesn’t seem taken aback by your outburst. In fact, he’s giving you a look as if he’s been waiting for this.

“I know that you care,” he murmurs and you look away, the softness in your tone more than enough to convince you that he knows. And he had known, all this time. “I had to ice you out. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

You need to hear him say it. You need him to tell you that he knows—you need him to blatantly tell you that every time you averted your gaze at the last second years before. . . he noticed.

“Choice in what? Just tell me,” you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling like your entire body might shatter into a billion pieces at any second.

He gives you a knowing look, eyes moving up and down your figure. “You know why.”

“So as always it’s my fault.”

“What?” he blinks rapidly and comes closer, hands finding your waist in an odd sense of familiarity. “No no, it’s not your fault. I. . . I was protecting you,” he licks his lips, eyes dropping to your mouth. “I was. . . protecting you from myself.”

You shake your head, fighting every urge to nuzzle his neck like a wounded animal. To smell his scent to soothe you. God, you’re unbelievable. And here you thought all your feelings had disappeared, apparently, they were just laying dormant under the flesh and bone.

His nails bite into your skin despite your clothes.

“Do you know how hard it was seeing you with him?” he spat the last word as if it was poison. A shiver crawls up your spine, needles digging into your skin. “You started to look at him the same way you used to look at me. I had to pull away.”

“You were jealous?” you ask, confusion crossing your face. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s wrong, hermanita.”

The Spanish hit his tongue more violently this time. A reminder of what this relationship was supposed to be. However, the word doesn’t stop him from coming closer and closer, until his lips are only a breath away.

“We’ve never been brother and sister, Frankie,” you say voice surprisingly hoarse. “Everyone knows that.”

He scoffs, “You’re dating my best friend.”

For that, you don’t have an excuse. All you can do is swallow and nod, his chest now flush against his, the only thing separating you to is your own arms that were still squeezing you tight.

Frankie observes you a second longer, eyes flitting across your face; taking in the sight of your parted lips and dilated pupils. “But,” he continues, voice dangerously low. "I'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

You enter the bedroom and as soon as you do guilt rapidly builds in your chest, Frankie is right behind you, closing the door while your gaze remains glued to the picture that’s on your nightstand. A picture of you and Santi; there’s frosting on his nose from your birthday cake, your face split in a huge smile. You also remember being mildly bummed that Frankie hadn’t called.

He follows your gaze, frowning when he notices what it was that you were staring at. With large steps, he walks over to the frame and slams it down.

“Do you want this?” he breathes out, voice nothing but gravel. He doesn’t turn to look at you, his face lowered to the nightstand. “Because if you don’t, you have to tell me.”

He’s asking the wrong question.

You walk up to him, sliding your arms to his front as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades.

Of course, you want this.

The question he should be asking is if it’s worth throwing everything away just for one night. Because this is what that was. You don’t think you can hide it, and you’re not even sure if you want to hide it.

Being with Frankie tonight means that you’re saying goodbye to Santiago, whether you tell him or he figures it out.

You clutch the front of his shirt. It’s damp with sweat. You press a kiss, enjoying the moisture gathering at your lips. “Do you?”

He turns around and grabs your face, pulling you to him immediately. Your mouths crash together, tongue and teeth eager to explore more of the other. He’s already pulling you away before your brain can’t even comprehend the taste of him, “More than anything,” he growls, hands still cradling your face. “Get on your knees.”

Your drop instantly, not even bothering to take off your shirt. Warmth blossoms all over your skin as he drops his pants along with his boxers, cock already hard and ready. He starts stroking himself and tilts your head back. “Open your mouth,” he orders.

Slotting the head of his cock between your lips, fist moving up and down his length. You close your lips around him, dipping your tongue into the slit. He groans with a rock of his hips, the first drops of precome stain your tongue, a loud moan ripping from your throat. You desperately want to bury your hand between your legs, your clit throbbing angrily.

Frankie moves his hand away from his cock and brackets your head with both hands, pushing you forward down his cock. Only halfway down and you begin gagging, struggling for breath. You knew he’d be big, you just weren’t aware of how big.

A cruel laughter rings above you, “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s all you can take?” you look up, eyes teary as he thrust a little bit more. Your throat squeezes helplessly around the width of him, your nostrils flaring. Frankie clicks his tongue, “My poor baby sister,” he tuts. “You’re not used to taking something this big huh?”

You attempt to convey an answer but end up choking around him instead, your lids flutter, wet lashes kissing the skin under your eyes. “I guess I’ll have you train you myself,” your nipples harden at the promise, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. “But later,” he says and much to your disappointment, pulls out.

You breathe heavily, chest heaving as oxygen floods your lungs.

“Strip,” he says, pulling off his shirt and kicking his pants away. “And get on the bed.”

“So bossy,” you mutter, and as soon as you do, Frankie tugs you roughly against him, his tongue slipping between your lips hastily. He doesn’t allow you to breathe, mouth moving before you get the chance. He licks deeper into your mouth, and sucks your tongue as he parts away. Your insides flush. Your head spinning and legs trembling. Lightheaded, you grip his shoulders.

“I’m not bossy,” he grunts, wet lips touching your forehead. “I’m just eager.”

That makes both of you. Quickly stripping, you climb the bed waiting for him to show you just how eager he was.

Instead, he walks around the bed, examing the pillows, “Which one is his?”

“Santi’s pillow?” you raise an eyebrow. “It’s the one on the left.”

He takes it with a hum, “Spread your legs,” he says and when you do, he places the pillow between them. Your heart races, a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. You don’t lower yourself down on the pillow, too embarrassed to do so. Frankie sits on the footstool at the end of the bed and takes his cock into his fist. He stares at you expectantly.

“Uh—What am I supposed to do?”

His cat-like grin makes you realize he wanted you to ask that, he leans forward, touching himself slowly, “I want you to make a mess of his pillow,” he groans. You clench at the order, your cheeks heating at how slick you’ve gotten just from the thought of it. “I want you to drench it so when he lays his head, he knows you don’t belong to him.”

Frankie’s gaze flash with hunger, it frightens you to a degree, how angry he truly is.

The fact that you actually do it, frightens you more.

You lower yourself onto the pillow, feeling its softness beneath you and a strange thrill whispering through your body as your arousal surges higher. With a moan, you begin to ride the pillow, sinking your hips deeper with every thrust. You feel it grazing your clit, a whimper dropping from your lips. Mouth agape, you lift your gaze to Frankie.

He’s stroking himself with a smile, wet noises coming from his fist fill the room, he swipes a thumb over the head. Your mouth flooding with saliva, you press against the pillow harder, the muscles of your legs clenching. Frankie notices and spreads his legs further, giving you a show of cupping his balls before moving his hand up again.

“You look like you’ve never seen cock before,” he purrs. “You can’t wait can you? For me to fill that hungry pussy up. Don’t worry, big brother is going to take care of you.”

“Fuck—” you can feel your body becoming increasingly slick, your breathing heavy and labored as pleasure ripples across your skin. Your body tenses and trembles as you rock against the pillow relentlessly, the coil tightening as you circle your hips.

Dampness gross underneath you, Frankie’s eyes fixed on where you and Santi’s pillow connect. You’re embarrassingly wet, strings of slick stretching between. Your movements start to slow as your orgasm nears, it’s too much and you have the need to just bend over and let Frankie fuck you hard without any of the games.

The legs of the footstool drag against the hardwood floors, the sound making you jump. Climbing the bed, he sits on his knees, “Let me feel how wet you are,” he groans. He pushes his hand between your legs without waiting for an answer. He slips a finger in, your eyes rolling back at the pressure. “He can’t get you this wet can he?” he asks rhetorically. “Bet he’d loved to see you getting yourself off like this, coming for another man.” he curses, thrusting into his other hand.

You hover above the pillow, your thighs starting to shake for exertion.

“Don’t stop, baby. Come on, soak it—soak it and I’ll fuck you.”

Your nipples tighten and your skin begins to tingle with arousal. Your head tilts backward and your mouth opens slightly as your body arches and grinds against the pillow. Something devastating builds inside, it builds and builds and builds—builds until you can’t take it anymore. Liquid heat sprays out of you, your walls convulsing as you drip down his hand and soak the pillow, just like he said.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he murmurs, pulling out his finger and dragging the wet digit over your cheek. He kisses you deeply. “Good fucking girl,” he growls into your mouth, nipping your chin.

You gasp for breath, your hips slowing but still shaking with pleasure even when you stop. Your mind is in a state of ecstasy. Frankie forces your jaw apart and purses his lips, spitting into your mouth. You jolt when it hits your tongue. “Swallow,” he murmurs.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweet girl,” he coos. “Gonna claim you on the bed you sleep with him every night,” he chuckles into your mouth. “I’m going to fuck you so good that Pope’s gonna keep wondering why it always smells like sex in here.”

God, you wish it didn’t but the words and the depravity he said them in makes your skin prickle, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips.

Frankie turns you over, pulling the pillow under your hips as you remain on all fours. Your arms feel weak, legs still trembling from your orgasm. “F–Frankie,” you slur your words.

“Don’t worry baby,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth over the small of your back. “I got you, and I’m never gonna let go.”

He positions Santi’s pillow under your hips, the fabric dark in color from your slick. Your arms finally gave way and you drop face-first into the sheets, you can smell him now, Santi’s pine scent fills your lungs.

Shit, what the hell is wrong with you?

“Stop thinking about him,” Frankie hisses from behind you, parting your folds by dragging his length. He lets out a deep sigh before you can answer. “It doesn’t matter, you won’t be able to think of anything else soon anyway.”

You shudder at the promise of his words. He leans in, the heft of his body covering yours as his lips touch your ear, “I’m gonna come inside this pretty cunt. Then you’re going to squeeze every bit of it out and taste it—Got it?”

“Y-Yes,” your voice is trembling, your body burning from the inside out.

Suddenly he grips your nape, squeezing until pain ebbs under the skin. You swallow, tears stinging the corner of your eyes; he doesn’t say a word, pushing his cock between your wet thighs. It’s filthy how he makes you feel, how badly you want to surrender to him. You drool all over him, your walls spasming until the head catches against your clit and a whimper leaves your lips.

Frankie comes to a halt and his grip around your nape lightens, caressing the skin.

You let out a little groan as he eases himself inside you. He moves further and further until he’s fully sheathed. A thrill surges through your body. Your eyes roll back at finally faving him inside, a wanton moan falling from your lips.

Frankie flexes his cock and you groan at the stretch, “Who’s bigger?” he huffs, pushing deeper. Your body becomes limp underneath him. “Me or him.”

“You,” you manage to garble a response. “You’re so much bigger than him, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he pants, chest heaving. “He can’t fuck you like this can he?”

He presses your hips flush against the pillow, the dampness that touch you scorching your skin. You nod helplessly and claw against the sheets. “He can’t—” you choke out. “Frankie please.”

He gives you what you want, grinding against you, cock filling you up with every forceful thrust. His ragged moans echo around the room, and you grasp onto the sheets tighter. Every thought is knocked out of your head every time he buries himself into you. Hips bruising where it hits your skin. You reach the peak quickly, that familiar tingle blossoming between your legs.

“Fuck—” beads of sweat line Frankie’s body, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. “You feel so good, so fucking good.”

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you out, holding one breast tight. His thumb goes in circles, lust lapping at your tired body as he presses deeper. “I want to feel you coming just on my cock,” he moans into your cheek.

Frankie angles himself in a way that he brushes against something devastating inside of you. It’s like a jolt of electricity, the force of it enough to empty the air in your lungs. He drags his cock over the same spot again and again, his thrust quick paced. You cry out his name when static fills your ears and dots dance over yoru vision. Your head falls back, chest heaving as your body quakes.

Your cunt continues to squeeze and throb around him, and soon enough, you feel the hot spill of come filling you to the brim. You swear another orgasm washes over you, the flavor of it thick on your tongue as you meet his thrusts. Frankie huffs a tired laugh and grips your asscheeks, spreading them.

“I can feel you dripping,” he murmurs, you hear the smile in his voice. “Makes me want to stay buried in your forever,” in contrast to his words, Frankie pulls out. “I hope you didn’t forget what I said,” he kisses your neck, long and slow. “Drag that full pussy all over his pillow.”

You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips over the soft material, you hiss when it brushes over your clit. “S-Shit, Frankie—”

“Bet he never fucked you like that before,” he remarks. Satisfied with the mess, he gestures you to move away. You practically collaps, head thudding against the headboard. Frankie’s gaze is fixed on the poor pillow, drenched in your slick and his come.

No matter what Frankie says, you’re not letting Santi sleep on that pillow. You’re fucked up, but you’re not that fucked up.

Staring at the pillow, reality finally settles in. A sharp inhale parts your lips and Frankie’s eyes snap toward the sound, his gaze searching yours. “There’s no going back from this,” he says. “When’s he coming back?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Good,” he crawl over to you, taking place between your still trembling legs. He slides his palm up your tigh and presses his mouth against your neck. “That’ll give us more time.”

You’re too much of a coward to ask time for what.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x fem!reader #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown

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daryltwdixon · 4 months ago

Text

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 18

summary: When the group heads out on their search for Sophia and Daryl doesn't return at first, you know something is wrong. In a flashback, you run into Merle after months of no contact, stirring up memories of your past with the Dixon brothers.

warnings: daryl gets hurt, little bit of gore, emoshie, if you have mommy issues like me some mentions of y/n’s mom are a bummer

notes: two chapters in one night!!! I couldn't help it I'm so emotional!!

x flashback x

Your first school year had dragged by, maybe because of your intense yearning to be home. As messy as your childhood had been—from your drunk mother who barely noticed you, to the cramped, damp trailer you shared with her—there was still one thing that had made it all bearable. Well, one person, and the need you felt to get back to him had been debilitating.

After your confrontation with Daryl in the fall semester, you hadn’t tried calling him. He had dropped out of your orbit completely, leaving you feeling emptier and more alone than you’d expected. Shane had come and gone, but your relationship with him had been rocky—he’d known you couldn’t shake the sadness of losing your best friend. Every once in a while, you’d managed to have a good night with Shane, but the second you were back in your dorm, the loneliness had hit again, especially when your roommate, Dana, had been out.

You’d kept busy, though. A part-time job at a local, family-owned coffee shop in downtown Atlanta had filled most of your days, and the bus ride back and forth had been a welcome distraction. Some days you’d volunteered at the women’s shelter, other times at the dog kennels. You hadn’t been afraid to get your hands dirty. Physical labor had kept your mind off the ache inside. But sometimes, seeing the bond between mothers and children, even in the most dire straits, had made your heart pang with longing for what could’ve been—what should’ve been—your life. A life where your mother had cared enough to even notice you.

The dogs, though, had brought a different kind of joy. You’d often taken them for runs, letting them burn off their pent-up energy—and your own. But no amount of running could have stopped your thoughts from circling back to Daryl. He would’ve loved it. You could almost see him grinning at the sight of those dogs, playful and free. His dad never would’ve allowed a pet, though. Daryl wouldn’t have wanted to leave any animal alone in that house with his monster of a father anyway.

Sometimes, your hand would twitch toward your phone, ready to call him, ask him to walk with you like before. But then you’d remember—you couldn’t just pick up and call him anymore. He wasn’t yours to reach out to.

One afternoon, as you’d been walking to the bus stop after a long shift at the shelter, a familiar figure had caught your eye. Your steps had faltered.

It had been Merle, leaning against the bus stop post, a cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. You hadn’t seen either of the Dixon brothers in months. Panic had fluttered in your chest, and you’d briefly considered turning around, finding another stop, maybe even wasting money on a cab.

But it had been too late. Merle’s sharp blue eyes locked onto yours.

“Well, hey now!” Merle called to you, pulling his cigarette from his mouth, his voice carrying that rough, sarcastic edge you’d remembered so well. You had frozen, your heart thudding in your chest. It had been so long since you’d seen either of the Dixon brothers, and you hadn’t been sure you were ready for this.

Merle approached, his pale face even thinner than you’d remembered, but his eyes were still sharp. “Look who’s all fancy now,” he drawled, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Miss Big City College Girl. Thought you’d done gone and forgot ‘bout us nobodies.” His smile was crooked, teasing, but there was something behind it—something worn down.

You swallowed, trying to think of what to say, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you just stared at him, taking in how different he looked.

Merle raised an eyebrow, taking another drag from his cigarette. “What, cat got your tongue? You ain’t too good to talk to ol’ Merle now, are ya?” He chuckled, but his eyes never left yours, gauging your reaction.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, it’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Merle smirked, stepping closer. “So what’s the matter? You runnin’ from somethin’ or just runnin’ late for your fancy bus ride back to the dorm?” He gestured loosely with his cigarette, clearly amused by the discomfort he was causing.

You glanced down the street, half-hoping the bus would miraculously show up, but it hadn’t. “I was just—on my way home.”

“Home,” Merle repeated, tilting his head, his grin widening. “Ain’t that somethin’. You got yourself a nice cozy place now, huh? Doin’ all good for yourself?” His tone was still mocking, but there had been something beneath it, something almost bitter.

“I’m just... trying to get through school,” you said quietly, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

Merle chuckled, shaking his head. “Tryin’ to get through, huh? Yeah, that’s what we’re all doin’, sweetheart. Only some of us don’t got no fancy degrees waitin’ for us at the end.”

He took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a sigh. “You talk to Daryl?” His voice had suddenly been more serious, the mockery slipping for just a moment.

You hesitated, the pang of loss hitting you again. “No... not in a while.”

Merle’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite read—disappointment, maybe, or concern hidden behind his usual bravado. He scoffed lightly, “Figures. Kid’s been mopin’ around like a damn lost dog since you left. Don’t take it personal, though. He’s just stubborn as hell.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down.

Merle flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. “Well, you know where to find us, darlin’. Don’t be a stranger.” He’d flashed you one last teasing grin, but there had been a softness in his eyes before he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite sort through.

X flash forward x

You’re out by the vehicles with Carol, hanging laundry on the line, keeping busy in the cool morning light. You’d had such a deep sleep overnight after Daryl returned safely, but at first light, you were up, eager to occupy yourself. Surprisingly, Carol had been outside too, fussing with the linens, and you decided to join her.

After an hour or so, Lori makes her way out of the tent she set up for her family. You pause at the sight of her, instinctively averting your eyes as you pin another shirt to the line.

“Can’t believe I slept in that long,” Lori mutters to Carol, wiping her brow.

“You must’ve needed it,” Carol replies, holding your pins as you straighten the shirt. Lori pats Carol’s shoulder, but then her eyes land on you. There’s a long pause, and you catch her gaze for a moment too long before quickly looking away. She doesn’t say anything, and you turn your focus back to the laundry, accepting a pair of jeans from Carol.

As Carol and Lori start chatting about cooking a meal for the Greene family that evening, you stay quiet. “You in, Y/N?” Carol asks.

You barely hear her, distracted by the sound of the guys coming up behind you, calling out good mornings as they approach the blue truck. Shane lays down a large map across the hood, and once you finish clipping the jeans, you walk over to join them. Daryl is nearby, slipping into a red plaid shirt as he approaches the group.

As you move up beside him, you feel his eyes on you for a split second before he looks away. You don’t say anything, listening as Rick starts assigning new grids to search. One of Hershel’s boys is there too, volunteering to join in. You glance at Daryl, trying to gauge his reaction.

Shane, ever impatient, grumbles from the passenger side of the truck. Daryl ignores him, pointing to the map. “I’m gonna borrow a horse, head up this ridge here,” he says, his finger tracing a creek near the northern mountain with steep elevation.

You lean in, lowering your voice. “You sure that’s a good idea? Do you even know how to ride?”

Daryl’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at you. “If she’s up there, I’ll spot her,” he says simply.

T-Dog chuckles. “Maybe you’ll see your chupacabra up there too,” he teases, grinning.

Despite Daryl’s brush-off, you manage a small smile, remembering that story.

“Chupacabra?” Rick asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dale laughs as he approaches from the other side of the truck. “First night at camp, Daryl was tellin’ us about the time he went squirrel huntin’ and swore he saw one.”

Rick smirks, and even the new kid lets out a chuckle. You cover your mouth, trying not to laugh. You’ve heard the story before—the blood-sucking dog Daryl claimed to have seen during one of his long trips in the woods.

Daryl glares at the new kid. “Whatchu brayin’ at, jackass?”

You bite your lip, barely holding back another laugh.

Rick, still amused, shakes his head. “You really believe in a blood-sucking dog?”

Daryl doesn’t miss a beat. “You believe dead people are walkin’ around?”

Rick nods, conceding the point, as the conversation returns to the trails and search plans.

“I’ll go with this guy,” you say, nodding toward Hershel’s boy. “We can cover more ground if Daryl and I split up. Both bein’ trackers and all,”

Rick gives you a concerned look. “You sure you’re fit to be out there?”

You square your shoulders, giving him a firm nod. “I’ll be fine.”

The boy heads off to grab a gun, and you call after him, “You ever shot one before?”

He grabs it with a cocky grin. “Well, if I’m goin’ out there, I want one.”

You stifle a laugh at his confidence. He’s pale, tall, and lanky—clearly not someone used to being out in the sun. You wonder how he’s managed to stay so sheltered, living on a farm and all.

Daryl, rolling his eyes at the boy’s bravado, mutters, “Yeah, and people in hell want Slurpees.”

This time, you can’t hold back the laugh, the sound escaping you before you can stop it.

As you start walking past Shane, who’s been watching the whole exchange, he throws one last jab your way. “He’s yours to babysit then. Like a toddler watchin’ a baby.”

Without missing a beat, you raise your middle finger over your shoulder, and keep walking.

—

It’s just about evening when you and Jimmy return, the sinking sun casting long shadows across the farm. You’d found out that Jimmy wasn’t even Hershel’s kid, but Beth’s boyfriend. Strangely, you hadn’t even seen the girl yet—her name floated around every once in a while, but she seemed to be staying holed up in the house. You couldn’t blame her, really. In this new world, hiding away seemed like the safest thing to do.

As you and Jimmy approach the tree line, the rhythmic drum of hoofbeats draws your attention. You turn toward the sound, scanning the horizon. A chestnut horse gallops toward the farm, its reins flapping wildly, stirrups bouncing against its sides.

Your stomach plummets. Daryl had taken a horse earlier.

But the horse running toward the farm is riderless.

Jimmy runs out to try to slow her down, and your heart is pumping in your ears now. He’s lost, he’s hurt, he’s stuck somewhere, or –no, you’re not letting your mind think the worst things yet. But where the fuck is he?

The sky turns pink as the sun lowers, and a yell whips through the air. Andrea’s voice.

You run toward the RV, your heart pounding in your ears, ignoring the ache in your side. As you approach, you hear the clatter of a rifle being loaded.

“Andrea—” you say quietly, climbing up the RV to see her aiming the rifle. Her eyes are locked on something moving in the distance.

“Maybe we should—” You’re cut off by Rick and Shane arguing nearby, saying they’ll handle it without shooting. They start sprinting toward the figure, and you breathe a sigh of relief–just a lone walker. They’ll take care of it with a knife.

But then Andrea drops to her stomach, her finger twitching on the trigger.

“Andrea, I think they’ve got it covered.”

“Back off, Y/N,” she snaps, her tone sharp and dismissive. You pull back, stunned by her attitude, but remain quiet. Your eyes drift toward the walker shambling out of the woods, still too far to identify. It moves sluggishly, holding something behind it. Mud and blood coat its body.

The others slow as they approach, Rick raising his gun. Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog are lowering their weapons. You can barely hear their voices, and the walker lifts its head.

Daryl.

“Andrea, no!” you shout, but she’s pulled the trigger, rifle cracking through the air.

A scream rips from your mouth as you watch in horror as he’s thrown backward by impact. You don’t remember your feet hitting the ground, but your heart is in your ears as you run as fast as you ever have in your life. You’re flying through the tall brush, Rick screaming back at Andrea, but you can’t hear him. You just see the anguish on his face.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die–but what about those who are the most important to you? Memories flash in your mind now, Daryl laughing about something stupid as a kid, punching kids in the face when they messed with you, sitting by the lake, looking into his eyes…

Shane and Rick are already hoisting Daryl up as you reach them, your heart pounding so hard you feel dizzy.

“Daryl?! DARYL ?” Your voice is ragged as Shane and Rick approach with Daryl’s limp body between them. Panic twists inside you as your hands grab his muddy, blood-soaked face. His eyes are closed.

“Unconscious,” Rick says sternly, irritation dripping from his words, “she just grazed him,”

“Look at him,” Glenn’s voice cracks, “look–he’s wearing ears ,” he’s pointing wide eyed at the cord around Daryl’s neck, where you see three shriveled, blue tinged walker ears hanging.

“Jesus, Daryl,” you say, disbelief and horror in your voice. You begin walking beside Shane, watching Daryl closely. As they drag him back through the pasture, Rick plucks the cord from Daryl’s neck, shaking his head and hiding them in his shirt, “Let’s keep this to ourselves.”

T-Dog’s voice calls out from behind. “Guys—isn’t this Sophia’s?” He holds up a raggedy doll, the one you remember seeing Sophia clutch for dear life. Your heart skips a beat, staring at the fabric doll with red braided hair and green eyes.

You sit beside Daryl’s bed as Hershel finishes cleaning the wound on his side. The farmhouse feels too quiet as Daryl describes where he found the doll to Rick.

“Washed up on the shore. She must’ve dropped it crossin’ there,” Daryl says, his voice scratchy and hoarse as he presses a cloth to his head.

Talk of the search grid fades into the background as you watch Daryl. They bring up the horse you saw run wild across the field, and Hershel’s soft voice echoes in the room. “That one’s Nelly—nervous Nelly. Would’ve told you she’d throw you if you’d bothered to ask.”

You shake your head, dropping your face into your hands. Elbows resting on your knees, the weight of everything crashes over you. Hershel, Rick, and Shane slip out of the room quietly, though Shane makes sure to meet your eye before closing the door behind him.

The silence thickens.

You finally look over at Daryl. His back is to you, still covered in mud and grime, but his wound is a glaring contrast—so clean, a strange beacon against the mud and grime of him. You study the familiar tattoos and the old scars, remembering every one. It feels strange, loving someone so deeply, yet feeling like they’re a million miles away.

There’s a soft murmur of voices outside, but you ignore it while gathering the courage to sit beside him. You settle at the crux of his knee, where it’s bent on the bed. Your weight causes the mattress to sag. The irony of the traded positions isn’t lost on you.

“Tryna’ get even with me?” you ask softly, trying to ease the tension with a little humor.

Daryl remains quiet, chewing his lip, his eyes fixed on the wall. Something’s bothering him—something deeper than the physical pain. Gently, you rest your hand on his hip, offering comfort.

He finally turns, his eyes locking with yours. His lips twitch slightly, but there’s too much swirling in his gaze to form words.

Before you can ask him what’s on his mind, the door creaks open. Carol pokes her head in, a sad smile on her face. “You comin’ to dinner?”

You glance between her and Daryl. “‘M not hungry,” you say quietly, and you add a “thank you,” as she nods and closes the door, leaving the two of you alone again.

The silence stretches on for a beat too long, both of you staring at each other. You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing it, waiting for him to speak.

“Shane threatened me,” he finally mutters, his voice low and gravelly.

Your stomach flips on itself, “What?” the word is barely a sound, the breath feeling like it's been knocked out of you.

Daryl begins to sit up gingerly, pushing himself up against the headboard and wall of the bed to fully face you, “Back, before all this shit…” he begins, looking around the room. Eventually his eyes meet yours, “when you were with him. He came to me before ya went to school,”

Your brain is trying hard to keep up, but inside you feel like your insides are on fire at this admission.

“He came to me and told me if I didn’t stay away from ya, he’d make sure Merle or I’d get in trouble. That he’d lock up Merle ,” his voice is so quiet now, you’re leaning in inch by inch to fully understand, “Said he’d be able to make it look legit, ya know? Plant somethin–drugs, weapons. Didn’t matter–said all he needed was an excuse, that it would be easy, and Merle was good as done. You remember how Merle was back then, Y/N,”

The fire inside is rushing up into anger, disbelief washing over you, but Daryl isn’t giving you time to respond. His words tumble out now, faster, like a dam breaking. Like he’s been working up to this moment the whole time, “I didn’t know what to do. Hell, I didn’t even tell Merle. Just figured it was better to keep my distance, y’know?” After a long pause he adds, “Figured you were better off without me around, anyway,” his eyes glance away at that, his hands coming up to rest his face in. He slouches over, and your hand hovers his shoulder–unsure if you should touch. You’re so close to him now.

After a deep sigh, he looks up at you again, hands falling, “I was such an asshole, Y/N. I’m sorry. I hated it everyday. Couldn’t stand to look at ya, think of ya… it was too much,”

Your throat tightens, your mind racing as you try to process his words. “Daryl, you… you should’ve told me.”

“I couldn’t,” he says, his voice sharp, pained. “What was I supposed to say? That I was too damn scared to stand up to him? That I let him push me away from the only person that ever mattered?” His fists clench in his lap, frustration and guilt boiling over. Your heart is doing somersaults in your chest, “I was just tryna protect my brother… and you.”

You’re silent for a long moment, the weight of his confession settling in. You hadn’t known. All this time, you’d thought Daryl had pushed you away because he didn’t care—because he didn’t want you around. But now, hearing the truth, it’s like a punch to the gut. Shane had been manipulating everything.

“Daryl,” you breathe, letting your hand finally rest on his arm. He flinches at first, like he doesn’t deserve your touch, but then he brings his hand up to yours, and his fingers close around yours.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice cracking just enough for you to hear the depth of his regret.

You shake your head, trying to keep the anger at bay—anger at Shane, at everything he did to control you both. But more than anything, you feel the sharp ache of how much Daryl had kept inside, all this time.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you whisper, your voice cracking now, “I never would’ve chosen him over you.”

His head dips, a shadow of a sad smile flickering on his lips, “Didn’t feel like either of us had much of a choice.”

You sit quietly beside him, letting the truth of it all sink in. There’s a long silence between you, but this time, it’s different. It feels like a space that’s been opened up—something that needed to be said finally coming to light.

#daryl #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl one shot #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl twd #the ruins of us

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a-sin-to-be-rin · 4 months ago

Text

Trying to Get Along

Dick wants to connect with his little brother, but no matter what he does, one major problem keeps them at odds.

---

“Ugh, you’re still here?”

Dick ignores the disdain. “Have you seen Bruce?”

“Not home,” the boy says, spinning in his chair. “League business.”

“Figures.” After he was fired - after Bruce replaced him - Dick all but cut Bruce out of his life. He left Gotham behind and let himself become swamped with his work with the Teen Titans. He didn’t go to the manor for anything. Not even to see Alfred. (He should have. He knows he should have. But he just… couldn’t.)

But after an unplanned team-up with the Caped Crusader and the Boy Wonder, Dick tried to reconnect. He made a concerted effort to visit. Tried to call when he could. And…

And he tried to get to know the new kid. After all, it wasn’t his fault that Bruce thought Dick was so easily replaceable.

But even now, Bruce is tough to pin down. More and more often, Dick visits the manor to find Alfred and the copycat. No Bruce. So Dick tries to capitalize on the time without Batman.

“Wanna do something?” Dick offers. “Gotham could use a couple crime fighters while Batman’s away.”

The boy, usually eager to do anything with Dick, be that a patrol or math homework, is hesitant. “I dunno.”

“C’mon, I haven’t broken a nose in almost a week. Just a couple hours.”

“You don’t have to do this anymore.” The little boy fixes Dick with a curious look.

Something cold and pointy sinks into Dick’s heart. “Don’t have to do what anymore?”

“Play big brother.” The boy blinks owlishly. “I’m not your brother anymore. I’m dead.”

“You’re not-” Dick takes a deep breath. It does nothing to calm the hummingbird wings in his chest. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

But a much more typical frown graces the boy’s lips. “You’re not helping anyone by doing this.” He approaches Dick carefully, arms folded and yellow cape swallowing his figure. “You’re just worrying Bruce.”

Dick copies the boy’s posture, sending a glare that would make even the toughest of street thugs sweat. “Bruce doesn’t care what I do.” He can barely hear himself over the pounding in his ears. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“It’s too late for that. I’m not alive anymore.” The boy’s voice is too chipper. Too reminiscent of-

Late nights against the Gotham skyline. An unexpected visitor at Titans Tower. A rare trip to the Batcave, a kid hot on his heels and talking like his life depends on it-

“Don’t say that!” he snaps, fingers itching and blood roaring. “Don’t say that! You are alive! Would you quit-?”

A small hand reaches up to pat him dismissively on the shoulder. “C’mon. You don’t really believe that. Not even Bruce believes that, and he’s crazy.”

“Bruce has nothing to do with this. Bruce…”

Bruce didn’t say a word. Not a word. You had to go digging. You had to call Barbara. He never would’ve told you.

“Dick,” the boy stresses. “I’m dead.”

“You shouldn’t be! If he’d just told me he needed help-”

“You would have failed too. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” It might be an attempt at reassurance. To Dick, it sounds like an excuse.

“I could’ve helped.” But something in his voice breaks. His heartbeat slows to a loud, painful thud. Thud. Thud.

The boy sighs. “No, you couldn’t have.”

There’s a heavy pause. And then the boy’s expression hardens into tense panic.

“You couldn’t save me, Dick. Dick. Dick, you there?”

Dick blinks.

“Dick, you’re scaring me.”

“Sorry. Sorry, Tim.” Dick runs a hand through his hair, grimacing against a new headache.

“You okay?” Tim fidgets with his cape, still watching Dick like he might disappear. “You zoned out or something.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Dick doesn’t truly believe this and, going off of Tim’s expression, neither does Tim. But even so, it’s been over a year now. Dick should be over this. He shouldn’t still be seeing those leftover remnants of Jason. Dick has no right to be haunted when he didn’t even know Jason was gone.

“Mm-hm.” Tim rocks on his feet, letting his cape fall away and playing with his mask instead. “If you say so.”

Desperate to change the subject, Dick asks, “Are you headed out to patrol?” Because Tim is suited up.

Tim shrugs. “I wanted to, but then Bruce had that League thing, and I’m…” He shrugs again. “I’m not allowed to go out on my own.”

The unspoken is obvious: I would go out on my own if you weren’t here to tell me no.

“Right.” Dick pulls his mask from his belt and presses it to his face. “Well, we can watch Gotham together, then.”

“Really??”

“Gotta make sure you don’t do anything reckless, and I need to stretch my legs.”

“Cool!” Tim puts on his own mask, rushing to the garage. “Can we take the Batmobile?”

“Not unless you want to be grounded for the next thirty years. Let’s go by roof, huh?”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so, Jason.”

Dick doesn’t notice his mistake. Tim doesn’t point it out. They just patrol the skies, each brother looking out for the other.

#whumptober2024 #no.4 #hallucinations #“You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett More)#batfamily #fic #canon character death #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #nightwing #robin #cross posted on ao3

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lisa-grdjc · 2 months ago

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NegaPosi Angler ep12 ramblings 🎣

(ofc it’s about takaaki again..what can i say. i love him so much.) i had always assumed that his little brother’s passing was due to his illness (hence why he was so adamant about hiro having to go to the hospital asap and stuff) but it’s so much worse and heartbreaking than i thought…

no wonder he hadn’t gone to visit his grave even once during those three years holy shit. i myself have a kid brother i care about a lot i can’t even fathom the immense guilt that must’ve been crushing him since… rewatching that scene from episode 10 right after hits different now i love inflicting pain upon myself

im placing takaaki breaking down in my top3 of things that caused me the most emotional anguish this year, and never before in my life have i been that desperate to reach out through my screen to hug and comfort a fictional character idc if i sound crazy i was literally whispering/yelling and begging for hiro to do something, anything. like, your friend is crying and looking like that right in front of you and you’re just. standing there, how. (tho i understand it now, this is hiro we’re talking abt, dude was a blubbering mess over a simple ‘thank you’ earlier and how he wasn’t used to saying alot of things and mayhaps it would’ve been ooc for him to physically comfort takaaki there. also he was pbly feeling awkward enough as it is and wanted to give him space but STILL. I WANTED THAT HUG. (fyi i am so writing a fic abt this later i could alr see it creating itself in my head while watching the scene like—)

i swear these VAs are so goated i can’t stress this enough—legit felt my heart twisting itself inside out hearing him sob im not strong enough for this

almost forgot to mention how frigging wholesome and funny the first half of the episode was; takaaki sulking and trying to give hiro the cold shoulder and failing miserably every time had me in stitches, like, c’mon. just admit it, dude you can’t even stay genuinely mad at him for more than two minutes straight you love him too much for that

this dumbass lmaooo (they are So cute)

even hiro finds it funny…

overall that first half was awesome as hell and the whole sequence of hiro catching his first big fish with takaaki’s help got me soooo happy and emotional i was so proud of him… he did it ;-;

also loooook it’s the lil girl and her mom from episode one,, she grew up🥹

and fuck, that ending… it got me crying real tears of joy,, i had a feeling we might get a timeskip and they absolutely delivered with it… ngl to me hiro started off as a okay-ish, almost annoying mc whom i didn’t think i’d even end up liking at the beginning, but here i am two months later weeping bc of his big, genuine grin as he reunites with his friends after years of medical treatment…

look at him!!! 2 years later and he’s all better now!! he gets to hang out with takaaki and the everymart gang and go fishing with them again!! this is everything i needed rly i couldn’t have asked for a more perfect and satisfying ending.. im gonna miss them all ofc but im so so happy rn

#negaposi angler #negative positive angler #np angler #ネガグラ #takaaki tsutsujimori #tsunehiro sasaki #negaposi

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xoxochb · 8 months ago

Note

hiii!! first time doing a request so i apologize if im doing it weird😓

could u please do a leo x reader angst?? but then make it better in the end😇 sorry if that’s vague i truly don’t know what else to say

ty and please take ur time!

⋆·˚ ༘ * leaving me bereft and reeling

warnings: angst (with redeeming fluff)

pairing: leo valdez x fem reader

“I didn’t think that-”

“yes, that’s exactly the problem! you never think!”

you stand in the infirmary in front of leo who is sitting on an infirmary bed, badly wounded from a reckless attempt trying to climb a tree to grab a paper plane for one of his younger siblings. although this was a sweet act of kindness he almost killed himself when he fell from the top branch

now here he is in the infirmary with a broken wrist and tons of bloody scratches, along with you yelling at him for risking his life

he frowns at your words and tears begin to make their way out of his eyes, but he’s quick to wipe them away so you don’t see

“I’m sorry” he whispers, he thinks if he spoke any louder the tears would start pouring out

“that’s what you said last time, and the time before. this is the third time this month you’ve gotten badly injured” you cross your arms

you wait a moment to let leo speak but when you realize he isn’t going to you leave the infirmary and head back to your cabin

that night leo didn’t sleep, instead staining the pillow with pools of tears until he couldn’t breathe, and on the other hand, you lie awake staring at the ceiling regretting your choice of words

☕️

for the next three days you don’t speak with each other, you were too afraid he hated you after what you said to him. you would’ve went longer if nyssa hadn’t spoken to you

“you’ve gotta talk to leo, I’m dying over here” she takes a seat beside you at your cabin’s table

“why?” you inquire

she sighs, “he’s sad, won’t stop talking about you. well more like whining. that’s all he does, I’m getting sick of it”

“I don’t know…” you begin

“this isn’t an option. you are going to talk to him because I’m going to throw myself off a cliff if you don’t” she stands up and walks away before you have a chance to reply

it’s your turn to sigh now, maybe you should talk to him

you stand and make your way to his bunker where you’re sure he’ll be but when he’s not there you go to cabin nine, where you find him lying on his bed facing the opposite side of the door

“leo?” he turns at the sound of your voice and you take this as a sign to walk over to his bed, “can we talk?”

he sits up and rubs his bloodshot eyes, “yeah”

you sit on the end of his bed before speaking, “I’m sorry about what I said. I know you were just trying to help your brother, and I admire that you care so much but I worry about you. you’re always putting yourself into life threatening situations to help someone you love and I’m afraid that one day you’re going to kill yourself doing it”

he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off, “let me finish. please” you sigh, “do you remember the day we met? my bracelet broke and fell into the lake, you saw this from afar, and you didn’t even know me, but regardless of this you jumped in to retrieve my bracelet, you would’ve drowned if I wasn’t there. I knew the moment I brought you back to shore, where you sit coughing up water handing me my bracelet, I knew I was in love with you because you decided to risk your life to help me, and I think that’s the sweetest thing someone could do. I love that you have such a big heart but you really need to be careful because I don’t want to see you hurt”

he leaves the room to be silent and when you finally look up at him and notice the tear stains covering his cheeks you pull him in for a hug. he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been craving your touch

“I’m sorry” he mumbled into your shoulder, a few single tears wetting your shirt

“I know” you kiss the top of his head “I love you”

“I love you too”

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #percy jackson #pjo fandom #pjo #xoxochb #percy series #pjo hoo toa #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader

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nightbutterfly09 · 27 days ago

Text

Am I doing the wrong thing?

hii so the next part is officially out. I hope you'll enjoy.

Warning: Vulgar language = SWEARING

If you aren't comfortable, don't proceed

part 3

The “date” between yourself and the prodigy went better than expected. He sucked at racing games but you obliterated him in those. Although you have to say, he is great at winning plushies from the machines. Plus naturally, he is the king of the soccer games. Still if you count all his and your losses, he lost more.

It was an hour or so after lunchtime so you excused yourself to your mother and explained how you want to stay longer, which she went along with, ‘If Sae-kun drives you home safely.’ On the car ride back home you felt exhausted and your eyelids seemed to lower by the minute.

“We’re here” said an awkward voice. You felt a big hand on top of your head slightly stoking you. Saying goodbye to the comfortable position you were in you sat up.

Realisation struck you. You fell asleep on Sae’s shoulder as he drove you home. It was his hand on your head. “I-I’m sorry..I didn’t mean to-” “That’s fine, we are playing the dating game right now, so it’s alright.” He grinned.

Your father sat in front of Sae with a stern look on his face. You were helping your mother out with preparing the things for the meal. “So you want my daughter?” Sae gulped and nodded. “Yes sir.” He was nervous, like an anvil dropped on his chest. “Why do you like her?”

“Because she is beautiful, talented. While she is mostly impatient and likes to complain she will still make the most out of herself. She is diligent regardless of her complaints. She likes unique things and she’s different from the other women who've liked me.”

He spoke without a falter in his words. It was so honest and genuine. You couldn't help but wonder whether he meant that or those were words he rehearsed. “Stop eavesdropping and wash these utensils.” Your mother smacked your head lightly.

“Is that all?” Sae looked away. Your father leaned on the table staring at Sae. “She’s…” See looked up, into his eyes. “I want her to be mine forever.” He seriously hoped you didn’t hear any of that but especially this last confession. He didn’t say it loudly but it was filled with certainty.

The father’s eyes widened a little. If his eyebrows would’ve been capable of rising to his hairline they would’ve. “You plan to marry her?” “Yes sir.”

Were you going too fast? You just met not long ago and now he feels all these emotions. He feels his face get red whenever you say something heartwarming to him. Whenever Rin says something about you his attention splits from whatever he was doing and focuses on his little brother’s words. Even if he seemingly hated him, he still tried talking to him once a day.

Regardless, one thing he was positive about, was that you made him feel emotions he's never experienced before.

At lunch your father stayed quiet, almost ignoring Sae deliberately. You were seated next to your “boyfriend”. “You should eat this, it’s my favourite.” You giggled as you put some of the food on his plate. “Y/N, don’t feed him everything, he’s an athlete” Your mother coed. “It’s fine, I’ll just go on a severe diet when I go back to Spain.” He grinned with a smirk. HE did ruffle your hair up a little which earned him a soft glare in return.

“How do you plan on handling your relationship when you’re overseas?” Your father glanced at him, taking in a spoonful of soup. “Long-distance..probably but if she is ready, she can move in with me.” he looked devoted as he said that. This small moment made your heart skip a beat. ‘I think I’ll have to visit a cardiologist later, this is getting out of hand.'

The air froze around you two. Your heart was beating at a different pace, Sae was trying to suppress his blush spreading on his face. Your parents though, they had an unreadable expression.

After saying bye and after you walked him out the man drove off.

Sae was halfway to his house when he got a phone call. Seeing as it was his manager he picked up. “What do you want?” “Sae! You have an ongoing dating scandal, you haven’t heard??” “I do? Already?” "What do you even mean?” His manager sighed and got to the point in another three minutes. “I assigned two interviews, they will ask about the girl but nothing terrible.” “All you have to do is disagree with them, and tell them the truth that there isn't anyone.”

“Actually, there is someone.” his manager visibly froze. He knew from the way he didn't hear any breaths or exclamations. He was sure that whatever the older was doing was left astray right there on the spot.

“What?” he finally mustered some curage to ask. “I have a girlfriend, well, fake girlfriend for now.. but she is different..” he gulped down all his pride. He’s been doing that a lot with yoi and your family. It was quite funny actually. The Itoshi Sae would bow down to you and them if it came to it.

“So you really were on a date? With that girl? At the arcade?? It wasn't just her forcing you?!? You took out a human being?!?” Okay now that was mean. Sae couldn't help but get irked at his last comment. He scoffed. “So what do you want to do about it?” He sighed and took a sharp turn into his street. He decided to step on the gas pedal. He couldn't wait to get home.

The manager sighed. “You know what, go do what you want. I don't actually mind you admitting a girlfriend. But do talk to her about it! The media will be happy too to know you actually feel human love.” “Seriously, do you think I’m some robot or what?”

The manager let out a soft chuckle. Without any further words he hung up. Sae got pit of the car and headed inside his building. The last message he received was his manager texting him the time for the interviews. That dumbass put in two just to get on his nerves.

Previous parts:

-> part 1

-> part 2

-> part 3 (HERE)

#bllk itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk #itoshi sae #blue lock #blue lock fanfiction #fake dating #fanfic

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