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melrodrigo · 2 months

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on your knees - c.s.

Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Valentine’s day and Cairo really needs a date.

Word Count: idk i’ll fill it later

A/N: Hiii, here to feed my babies. Beware the last few parts because i did nawt proofread this. Will come back to edit it eventually! Thanks for all the love

“Come onnnnn, go on a date with me?” The girl in front of you practically begs, leaning forward till her whole body is pressed up to the front of your desk.

“Very funny.” You tell her, dryly.

Cairo’s been whining all week about not having a valentine’s date, but you don’t know why she specifically chooses to whine to you about it. After all, you had heard from around school she had a crush on Mr.Miller.

Your nose crinkles in disgust at the thought. Their coupling would be wild at best, and illegal (not to mention boring) at worst. It would be like seeing Einstein and an Instagram model holding hands. Except Mr. Miller wasn’t Einstein, he was Henry Miller. A spectacularly boring middle aged white guy.

To be completely transparent, you wouldn’t have minded going on a date with Cairo. Since, truth be told, you might’ve had a (tiny) crush on her.

You let your mind wander, think of what it would be like to take her out. The perfect date.

She loves nature, so it would be outdoors for sure. She doesn’t love extravagant gestures, you’d probably make her a little picnic. Your train of thought is cut short by the evil voice that tells you she could be fantasizing about a certain professor on your imaginary date.

Cairo breaks your daydreaming by falling to her knees beside your chair, hitting the carpet with a loud thud.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly grab her shoulders and try to push her up, but she refuses. For such a small girl, she sure had a lot of strength.

“What do you want me to do, beg? I can beg.” She tells you, still on her knees, dress pooling atop the rug.

You’re ashamed to admit the position has a bit of an effect on you. But who could blame you? Anyone would be flustered if Cairo Sweet was looking up at them like that…

It’s a little awe inspiring, seeing Cairo so, desperate. You’re not sure what’s brought this all on, but the cold cut Cairo you once knew has disappeared completely from the equation.

“Cairo.” You hiss, eyes darting between the door and the girl in front of you, praying that no one comes in.

“What’s it gonna take for you to go on a date with me?” She whines again, reaching for your shirt cuffs for something to hang onto.

There’s a swoosh and a quiet “oh!” that brings your attention back to the door.

Mr. Miller.

He stands somewhat awkwardly, smiling the type of smile that somehow indicates he’s unhappy. His eyes narrow when he notices it’s Cairo on the floor, his beloved teacher’s pet.

Okay, now you really need Cairo to get up. You support (force) her up and onto half of your chair, reprimanding her quietly as Miller walks past, coughing.

She straightens only slightly before settling once again on your lap, claiming it’s more comfortable and “a more suitable place for her to focus on her studies”.

“Why don’t you just sit at your desk, hm?” You point at the table, a single chair, smack dab in the middle of the classroom, in front of Mr.Miller. She was such a nerd.

She stares back at you blankly, big brown eyes making you a little distracted.

“That’s not mine.” She says, and you breathe out a laugh. The tension breaks. Her eyes crinkle lightly at the sound.

“You’re so weird.” You mumble, but allow her to sit further into your lap, no doubt much more comfy than her previous position.

“Can I sit here the rest of the class?” She asks, a little bashfully. You give her a pointed look, but nod nonetheless.

“Whatever you want.” You tell her, and she seems happy with that, taking her laptop and notebook out, ready to learn.

You see her lock eyes with Mr. Miller, who looks very confused. She smiles shyly and breaks the contact by nudging herself into the crook of your neck.

Oh.

Maybe all this was just to make Mr.Miller jealous.

You frown at the disturbing thought. Cairo’s breath tingles your skin as she tilts her head up so her lips are right beside your ear. The sensation makes you shiver, quite unwillingly.

“Now will you go on a date with me?” She whispers, huskily. Her confidence has returned, cocky like the Cairo you know so well.

You weigh your options.

You do really want her to get away from Mr.Miller…it might be a good time to slap some sense into the young girl.

“Alright.” You say curtly, already regretting your decision.

Cairo removes herself from your neck, smiling wide. For a second it quells your anxieties, her milky white pearls blinding.

She turns back as more students start filing in, ready yet again to learn.

You can’t focus for the duration of the class, mind wandering. Valentine’s day was tomorrow, what were you going to say? What were you going to do?

You stay quiet until class ends and all the way while you walk her back to her home. Cairo pokes at you a couple times to try and get you out of your head.

“Don’t forget flowers!” Cairo teasingly yells from ahead of you, already one foot into her house. You straighten up, dumbly answer with a “You got it!” and a face palm once she’s out of sight.

Okay. This was it. Last night was spent toiling on your bed, writing a script of what you’ll tell Cairo, prepared lillies- her favorite flowers, and a batch of the best things you could possibly find in your fridge.

Bread, butter, freshly sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and two slices of turkey left, you’re all ready and set.

The script is tucked away into the back pocket of your jeans, snug and cozy. It radiates warmth that makes you think it’d be terribly rude to ever take it out.

You sit down onto the grass, arms on both sides straightened, palms rubbing uncomfortably with the tablecloth.

“I shouldn’t be this nervous.” You remind yourself, but it does almost nothing to quell your worries.

You can’t keep lying to yourself, the truth swims in your head and you’re afraid it’s going to leave your lips the second Cairo arrives. You aren’t nervous about the letter, or anything to do with Mr.Miller. In fact, you’re nervous about the date.

A tiny part of you, no matter how much you try and shun it away, hopes that, maybe, just maybe, if Cairo liked this date, she might start liking you.

The minutes count themselves down too fast, and it’s almost time. You sit straighter, checking your shirt for any wrinkles.

You see a tiny figure make it’s way onto the lawn, and you have to bite back a smile when you realize it’s Cairo.

She looks almost shy as she walks up to you, twiddling with her thumbs.

It’s like a wave washes over you when you finally see her up close. She’s wearing a gray turtleneck, with a denim jacket over it, hair all nice and wavy. She looks unbelievably good.

It takes a second for you to grab your bearings and act like you weren’t just blatantly staring at her.

“You look beautiful.” You say, as casual as you can muster, and Cairo breaks out into a smile. You notice she’s wearing water liner, and it makes your knees feel like jelly. She’s only ever done makeup like this once, during your school dance, and it had all but made you swoon.

“Yeah?” She muses, mindlessly. Bending down and sitting on your makeshift picnic cloth.

“Yeah.” You breathe, even though you can tell she didn’t really need an answer to that. She reaches for your face, pushing a stray hair back.

“You look good too.” Is what she comments, all soft like.

You’re a little ashamed to admit you dressed up particularly for this occasion. Some rosy pink blush, your favorite lipstick just for her.

You cough awkwardly, and it breaks you both out of your trance. You reach for the food and serve her her plate.

You get a good while into talking and laughing that you bring up Mr. Miller.

“So…do you have your eye on anybody right now?” You ask nonchalantly, pretending like you haven’t mapped this whole conversation out in your head a million times.

Something flashes in her eyes but it disappears so quick you can’t tell what it is.

“You know you can tell me anything,right?” You tell her, and you mean it. Whatever or whoever it was, you’d be fine with it. You wouldn’t just stop being friends with her because of complicated feelings. She mattered more to you than that.

She bites her lip, then speaks quick, like she has to get it out before she overthinks too much.

“Yeah I am interested in someone. In this school, actually.” She says.

You feel your heart drop to your ass, you’d hoped against hope that the rumor wasn’t true- but with this new information, it had to be.

So much for ‘being okay with anything.’ That’s it. It’s over for me.

“Oh?” You try and ask, but it comes out as a little squeak. Cairo shoots you a weird look, but continues telling you about it.

“Yeah…I really like her. I just, I don’t know if I should pursue it.” She purses her lips.

Now it’s really time for your heart to flip. Her? Did she say ‘her?’

“Yeah, I did.” She confirms, small smirk playing on her crimson lips.

“Shit, did I say that out loud?” You ask her, cheeks heating up immediately. She gives you a quick nod.

Oh god.

“You like a girl?” You ask again, disbelieving.

This time she huffs, sounding almost impatient.

“Yes, I like a girl.” She says, exasperated, with a bit of bite in her tone. Something defensive and possibly jealous stirs up in you fast and quick. Why does she look annoyed?

You can’t help but answer in the same way.

“Okay, so who is it that you like so much?” You ask pointedly. The fire in her eyes that was there just moments before simmers, and just like that, she reverts back to her normal self. It’s almost concerning how she does it so quick, like the flip of a switch.

She suddenly looks nervous again. You give her a small encouraging nod, take her hand in yours as support. They tremble slightly.

“I like you. And I know you probably-” She continues but all you can hear are the echos of her first statement.

I like you. I like you. I like you.

I like you.

You retract from her hands, surprised beyond belief. You regret it immediately when her smile drops.

Her mouth is moving rapidly, and you use the best of your abilities to try and hear what she’s saying.

“I mean why do you think I even begged you on this date? I swear your head is so thick-“ Her words pass through your ears in intervals, and finally, after she’s done, and looking at you expectedly, all you can do is croak out a weak, “You don’t have a crush on Mr. Miller?”

Cairo blinks once, twice.

“What?” But there’s no fear or judgement or any hint of any emotion except disbelief.

Huh, so she didn’t know about the rumor.

“Who said I have a crush on Mr.Miller?” She asks, nose scrunching in disgust. You sigh, looking up to the sky and thanking god.

At this revelation, you’re elated. You scooch just a tad closer and tell her about the rumor. When you’re done, you expect someone shocked, or weirded out, but all she does is letout a hefty laugh.

“God, just because I like a class doesn’t mean I want to fuck the teacher.” She smiles, and you marvel in the way she’s able to shake it off so easy. She’s always been like that, carefree.

You let your mind wander to what she said before. She turns her head to look at the scenery, allowing you guys to sit in comfortable silence.

You say her name, a simple sound, but it makes her look up into your eyes, curious.

“Did you really mean what you said? You like me?” You ask, soft.

She gives an adamant nod, assuring she really does. God, you could not focus right now. She looks so pretty.

“I like you too. Like, a lot.” You breathe, and watch as her eyes sparkle.

“Really?” She blinks, in a state of vulnerability you’ve never seen. You can’t believe that she wouldn’t believe it. You give her the same nod, grin breaking out on your face.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your lips.

It’s all you’ve ever wanted- you can’t even speak.

Her kiss isn’t what you’ve always imagined. Something soft, something gentle. That’s how it always was with the first kiss. You should’ve guessed long ago Cairo wasn’t just anyone.

She surges in, grabbing your face tight like if she lets go you’ll disintegrate. She’s so rough, and you can’t get enough of it. She climbs over your body and settles in your lap, grabbing the collar of your shirt to deepen the kiss.

You break away when it gets too much, both of you panting. Her cheeks are now another shade of pink you can be proud of causing; her hair messed up in a way that makes you want to grab her and kiss her again. And so you do.

You guys stay like that, laughing and talking and kissing till it’s dark out.

“It’s a good thing I forced you on this date, isn’t it?” She muses, rolling in your arms.

You giggle, high from the endorphins.

“You didn’t force me, it was a two person thing.” You try and justify, hoping she doesn’t think you didn’t want the date.

“It’s sweet of you to say that, but we both know you would’ve never asked me out.” She tells you, booping her nose against yours.

“Oh shut up.” And you take her lips in another kiss before she can retort.

#cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #millers girl #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x reader

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nebulaafterdark · 5 months

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Exile (Part 1)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

It’s a crisp autumn morning when Y/N wakes to a pounding at her door.

Bam!

She rushes down, still in her pajamas, flinging open the door to see what the emergency is.

Haymitch, her former mentor.

Haymitch, the town drunk.

Haymitch, her…friend?

“Haymitch, what’s wrong?” Y/N asks, moving away from the doorway as he stumbles in. Clearly intoxicated. Not in his right mind.

“I fucked up.” He snarls, anger rolling off him in waves.

“What do you mean?” Y/N follows him, until he comes to a stop, in her living room, pacing and pacing. Ready to come out of his skin.

“Congratulations, we’re getting hitched.”

“What?!”

“Snow…I don’t fucking know.” Haymitch scowls, “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Haymitch, please, what’s going on?” Her tone is frantic now, to match his own.

“He told me he wanted you to come work in the Capitol and I-“ Haymitch drags a hand over his face. “I lost it.”

“Work in the Capitol? Like as a stylist?” Y/N tries to make sense of it.

Haymitch lets out a bitter scoff, “this is just perfect. You are so- of course I have to be the one to tell you. Of course it has to be me who-” breaks your heart.

“Help me understand.” Y/N puts a hand out towards him. “I need you to tell me. Otherwise I’m clueless and I can’t help you if I’m clueless.”

“Help me? I’m trying to help you!”

“Tell me how.” Y/N tries again. “Tell me how getting married helps me. Or you, or anyone.”

“If I marry you, Snow won’t sell you.” There it is. The truth in it’s horrible entirety.

“He wouldn’t do that.” Y/N gasps.

“He would and he wants to.” Haymitch assures her. “Bad.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me while I was…”

“While you were what?”

“Do you need me to spell it out?” Haymitch spits, his voice full of venom. “While I was fucking the highest bidder so you didn’t have to!”

Her eyes grow wide, welling with tears. That doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.”

“I’m just,” she fumbles for the words. “I didn’t know. I could’ve married you before and-”

“And what?” Haymitch demands, taking a step toward her. “It’s bad enough that I have to make you my child bride-”

“I’ll be twenty in a few months.”

“And I’ll be thirty.” He says, pointedly. “Before you’re twenty.”

“Ten years and some change is not unmanageable. I’m sure lots of people-”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I get it, you don’t want to marry me. I don’t particularly want to marry you either. But more than that, I don’t want anything happening to you when I have the power to stop it. I know you feel the same way or you wouldn’t have agreed to this when Snow brought it up. If we just work together, we don’t have to be miserable.” Y/N offers, wringing her hands anxiously.

“I want to keep my house.” Haymitch tells her.

“Sure.” Y/N has no qualms about it.

“And my liquor.”

“Of course.”

“What are your demands?” His blue eyes are frantic, wild.

Demands; as though they’re negotiating a business deal. “I want you to be honest with me about what’s happening.”

“Fine.”

“I want you to stop blaming yourself for everything that happens to me. It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll try.”

“And never refer to me your child bride.”

“Deal.”

“One more thing.” Y/N says, it’s more of an afterthought really.

“Name it.”

“I don’t want to be trapped in a loveless marriage. I want it to be real someday.”

He narrows his gaze, “ok.”

“Congratulations,” Y/N repeats his earlier sentiment. “We’re getting hitched.”

————————————————————————

The wedding is thrown together in a flash. In under a week, to be exact. Y/N’s family, Madge especially, doesn’t understand.

I thought you hated him?

When you’re older, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.

She protects her, because that’s what big sisters do.

All through the ceremony, the poofy wedding dress scratches at her skin. As if it knows she doesn’t belong.

The crowd of Capitol witnesses is massive, no family or friends. When it is over, the happy couple is escorted to their ‘honeymoon’ suite. A pristine, white room, with ivory bedding; topped with pale rose petals to match.

On the side table, a sealed envelope.

‘Mr. & Mrs. Abernathy,

tonight is cause for great celebration. One to be shared with beloved members of Panem. You will find cameras against the side walls, set to begin commemorating this joyous occasion, at 7:00pm this evening. I am sure you will perform accordingly, to ensure the safety of those you hold most dear.

Best regards,

President Snow.’

“We have to-“ Y/N chokes over the words.

“Tell me what you like.” Haymitch says, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“What I like?” Not this, anything but this.

“Look, we only have a few minutes to get warmed up before those cameras come on, there’s no time to be coy about it. Tell me how you like to have sex.”

“I don’t,” Y/N stammers, “I don’t know. I’ve never-”

“You’re a virgin?” Haymitch pales.

Y/N nods.

“Ok,” he shakes his head, to clear it. “That’s ok.” There’s nothing they can do about it now.

She’s shaking, trembling from head to toe. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re ok.” Haymitch soothes a hand up her arm. “I’ll never hurt you.”

Y/N nods again, “I know.”

“We’re gonna figure this out together, alright? But I need you to talk to me, let me know if you’re uncomfortable or if you don’t like something and we’ll reroute.” He can’t stop this, but he can make it good for her. He can get her through it.

“Ok,” Y/N sighs. Trusting him. Giving herself over to him.

They start with a kiss, his hands cradling her face as the cameras come to life. There are two, fully articulated and seeming to move of their own accord. But clearly they are being operated to catch the best angles.

After a while, Haymitch pulls back, slightly. His lips brushing hers as he murmurs, “I’m going to unzip your dress.”

Y/N startles at the words, toying with the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them to distract herself. She is trembling again.

Haymitch catches her hands in his, peppering them with kisses to calm her.

When they are both down to their underwear, Haymitch lies her back on the bed, situating her against the plush pillows. “Comfortable?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Good,” he half smiles. His lips meet hers, hands coming up to palm her bare breasts.

Her nipples tighten into peaks and she lets out a pretty little gasp.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Haymitch breathes. “An angel. My angel.” He closes his thumb and forefinger around her left nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

Y/N cries out. She needs- she wants...

“Here.” Haymitch cooes, bringing his thigh flush with her sex.

“Haymitch,” her voice is pinched. Brows furrowed, sweaty and overwhelmed and all but sobbing.

“I’m right here, angel.” He noses at her cheek. “Never let anybody hurt you. Only make you feel good.”

And he does.

So heartbreakingly, mind numbingly good. Lowering his mouth to her right breast.

Y/N works herself to a fever pitch against his thigh. Grinding against him as he licks and plucks at her nipples. Coming apart against the coarse hairs of his leg.

“So pretty,” he encourages her to ride out her high. “My pretty wife.”

Oh. That’s right. She is his wife. The word twists uncomfortably in her gut. She isn’t supposed to like it. But she does. Haymitch is her husband and she is wife and the rest…really just semantics.

Through the cloud of lust fogging up her brain, Y/N registers that he is moving. A peck against her lips and then lower, lower, lower, “oh!” Her back arches, head pressing against the pillow.

He’s going to kill her, Y/N realizes. He’s going to kill her softly, with his face buried between her thighs. With his mouth on her…

“Haymitch,” the sound of her voice is light, dreamy and he sighs into her wetness. She’s going to kill him. God, she tastes like heaven. And sin. Her hands find his hair, holding him tight to her cunt.

“You can move, angel.” He whispers the reassurance into her heat.

Y/N whines, bucking up against his tongue.

“That’s it, sweet girl.” Fuck my face. Use me. Let me make it better.

“That feels so good.” Her brows pull together and her breathing hitches as his fingers join the exquisite torture. Stretching her open, getting her ready for him. Because Haymitch will never let anyone hurt her.

He sends her careening over the edge a second time.

How many times could she possibly-

She’s so wet by the time he poises himself at her entrance, any nervousness nearly lulled to submission.

“Just you and me.”

The head of him slides in easily, her eyes the size of saucers as he reaches her hymen.

He eases a hand between them, thumbing at her clit, soothing her, distracting her. “Just a little pinch.” He coos, feeling her tense. “I need you to relax.”

To her credit, she does try. Y/N is no stranger to pain but this is different, so different. He’s splitting her open, on the inside. “Ahh,” she squeals as he bottoms out.

“There you go.” Haymitch murmurs, sealing his lips over hers in a haughty kiss. He doesn’t move, only his fingers do, brushing her clit incessantly.

Her orgasm catches them both off guard. Haymitch affords her an appreciative grunt as her muscles spasm around him. But he never stops kissing her, drinking her in.

“You can move,” she says, after a long moment.

He fucks her so sweetly her heart aches. Like he loves her, like she’s the most precious thing in the world. Coaxing her slowly towards another climax.

Oh, no, no.

“It’s too much.” Y/N whines.

“I’ve got you.”

“I can’t,” she wails, feeling the coil tighten in her belly.

“You can, I promise.” Haymitch presses his forehead to hers, drawing gentle circles on her swollen bundle of nerves. “Nice and slow.”

Her fingers are in his hair, desperately clinging to him. “I’m-“ going to cum. Y/N realizes, much to her dismay.

“Good girl, angel.” Haymitch kisses her, swallowing her pleasure. “Such a good, sweet, girl.”

She’s overworked, overly sensitive, but his fingers circle and circle her bundle of nerves. Aching and slick with her arousal, the obscene sound of Haymitch moving inside her makes Y/N dizzy. It’s too much, too good and she’s too full.

Hot tears spill from the corners of her eyes and she’s sobbing. Cumming hot and hard all over his cock. Squeezing him, milking him for all he’s worth as she keeps cumming and cumming and cumming…

“Fuck,” Y/N cries, “holy fuck.”

Haymitch presses sloppy kisses to her damp cheek. “That’s fucking perfect, angel.” He empties himself inside her. Slumping against her, hiding her from view of the cameras. Not that it matters now.

She runs a hand along his back, absently.

When the cameras turn off and fold in on themselves, Haymitch pulls away.

Staring at her face, long and hard. Inspecting her for damage. But she looks content, sated.

“How did I do?” She asks, sweetly and he wants to die.

Rolling off of her without explanation and making a mad dash for the toilet. Managing to lock the door behind himself, before emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

When he returns, Y/N is curled in on herself, shoulders shaking. This is it, what he’d been afraid of.

He comes around, kneeling on the side of the bed, taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry, angel.”

“I’m sorry. I was just nervous, I’ll do better next time.” Her bottom lip quivers.

Oh, honey. Sweetheart. Angel. Don’t fucking do this to me. “You were perfect.”

“I made you sick.”

“No, please never think that I- that wasn’t because of you. Nothing you did. Just this whole thing is fucked. I didn’t want…to take anything else from you. It’s bad enough that you had to marry me, you shouldn’t have had to- and with the cameras-“ Haymitch breaks off again, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“So you didn’t hate…being with me?”

He shakes his head.

Y/N draws in a shuttering breath, attempting to settle her nerves.

“Come on, let’s get you in the bath.”

————————————————————————-

At her request, Haymitch doesn’t leave her alone. Instead he insists on bathing her.

She hisses as she leans up, the soreness between her thighs making itself known.

“I’ll get you something for that.” Haymitch frowns at the discomfort etched into her features.

A pill. Something for the pain.

“I’m ok,” Y/N shakes her head. I don’t want you to leave me.

“I know.” Haymitch assures her, “but you don’t have to be.” I’m going to take care of you now.

She leans into his touch as he continues running the damp cloth over her skin. “That feels nice, thank you.”

“Anytime.” He won’t let her rub her skin raw, the way he had after the first time he had to- Anything for you.

“I still want it to be real one day.”

“You tell me when it’s real and I’ll ask you to marry me again.”

“K.” Y/N tucks her bottom lip between her teeth.

Haymitch knows he’s in trouble then. When she’s looking at him like that. He knows it as he dries her off, dressing her in an oversized shirt meant for him. Knows it as she cries herself to sleep, curled up against his chest. He’ll burn this world to the ground for her.

Part 2

#haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy smut #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch smut #haymitch abernathy #moves & countermoves

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disneyprincemuke · 26 days

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banana cue + oscar piastri!!

beer * op81

word count: 979

oscar bites down on his tongue, your name still on his tongue. as of right now, he's only got one goal in his mind and that's to get drunk – like he's never experienced in his life. while he prides himself in controlling his alcohol, he simply couldn't see himself doing that tonight.

in the back of his mind is the pot of roses on the window sill, returned to him the day you'd solidified your breakup. he can barely look at it, much less think of the way it's still living and breathing in the same vicinity as him.

in his fit of rage the other day, he'd poured the remaining quarter of his beer pint into it hoping that it would somehow wilt the next morning.

you can only imagine his dismay when he woke up and the roses were still standing tall.

"i hope she doesn't forget," he says in a sad grimace, leaning forward on the table, cheek resting in his palm. his other hand drags the water droplets that's formed on the surface, tracing your name out.

lando, sitting next to him, raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "is everything okay? forget what?"

it's not lando's fault that he's clueless. oscar has yet to admit to his older teammate that he's parted ways with you, the girl he'd sworn he'd marry and live happily ever after with.

the kids he'd planned with you and the house you'd supposedly have built together in the suburbs to fall back on in the future.

that's all gone.

"mate," oscar whispers. he picks himself from the table and leans towards lando, head hung low with an arm loosely slung over the brit's shoulder. "i need you to promise me one thing tonight."

lando hums with furrowed eyebrows, truthfully still not knowing what the australian is rambling on about. “alright?”

“you need to make sure i get super drunk tonight.” he tears himself from lando and drops both hands on the table with a soft thud. “we broke up.”

he takes a swig of his beer pint and hisses at the taste as lando opens his mouth to respond. lando flinches slightly when oscar turns to him with a small grin. “this beer tastes amazing. good choice.”

“thanks?” lando tilts his head. he shakes his head. “what do you mean you broke up?”

“we had to break up,” oscar mutters.

oscar had been mourning your relationship is silence for the past 2 weeks. he hadn’t really known who he could turn to, really.

especially when the breakup had been prompted by his shortcomings, finding his schedule slowly getting harder to fit you into it. he doesn’t blame you for not wanting to stick around for it to free up — you deserve to not be in the backseat.

“she doesn’t want to wait around for me, you know? i’ve barely had the time to be with her,” oscar shakes his head, his hands balling into fists as the day you’d brought up the breakup vividly replays in his mind. “different stages of our lives or something like that, she said.”

he remembers the way you’d cried to him, confessing how much you’d miss him every single time he was away. admitting how much you wished that he hadn’t pursued racing because it was slowly getting tougher to spend so much time away from him.

you’ve got your whole life ahead of you and he couldn’t bring himself to blame you for not wanting to wait around for him.

graduation is right around the corner and life is just about to start for you.

his had already started the moment mclaren signed him into f1.

he takes another big gulp of his beer after he hears your whimper in the back of his mind, telling him that it’s just not the right time to keep the relationship.

“take it easy,” lando pleads, snatching the pint away from oscar gently, rubbing circles on his back. “the beer won’t make you feel any better.”

oscar hums and reaches back out for the pint that lando’s holding away from him. “maybe the beer will help drown my heart then i’ll stop missing her.”

lando scoffs, a hand coming up to try and swat oscar’s hand away. “possible alcohol poisoning won’t help you, i promise.”

“you don’t know that,” oscar hiccups. “the beer is so good, and not strong. my won’t really drown with that.” he drops his head. “but i sure hope it does.”

beer has never been oscar’s favourite drink. he’d found that the bitterness of the drink really helped to encapsulate how he’s truly felt over this entire situation.

he knows that it’s impossible to make it work with you. the vast difference in your current stages of life made it so difficult to connect at times; he’d felt you slip out of his grasp the moment he found success in his sport while he’d left you behind while you were still planning out your own future.

“you take a break after this pint,” lando grunts, putting the pint back down on the table. he inches towards the end of the booth they’re sitting in. “don’t go anywhere, mate. i’m going to get you a glass of water, alright? i got you.”

oscar watches with downturned eyes as the older man slips out of their booth, leaving him with his thoughts. he glances at his phone on the table as he takes another swig of his beer.

now he needs to decide: to continue drinking this god-sent beer, or tell you that he misses and loves you.

celebrate 4k with me!

@33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #dpm 4k celly

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just-a-girl-who-wrytes · 7 months

Note

Omg I just accidently found your blog and I'm so freaking happy, cause there are not enough writer who writes for Deacon 😭 unfortunately I'm super obsessed with him, with an unhealthy amount of fic ideas in my brain xD so I give it a try and send you one of those, hopefully jot annoying you with this (or with my shitty English, it's not my first language, so I'm sorry).

Well buckle up for my request:

Reader is a new Swat member and instantly everybody loves her, with her bubbly friendly self. She's bonding great with her teammates and especially her and Deacon grow super close (they develop feelings for each other but don't want to tell the each other afraid to ruin their friendship, so their feelings stay hidden). When one day a case goes sideways and it leaves her injured (maybe a concussion or something like that) Deacon blames himself for her injury and the next days he distances himself from her, cause he thinks that it is unhealthy for him to have such deep feelings for her and him constantly worrying for her wellbeing. She notices his change of behavior and she's super sad. He starts to being unfriendly to her and being a little bit of an ass?! Even alerting the other members with his behavior. The whole situation is taking a toll on her and she is starting to effecting not only her poor heart but also her health. (so maybe she falls sick, but keep it from her teammates especially Deacon, cause she thinks that after her injury during a case he thinks of her as not capable or something like that). That is until one day she doesn't show up to work which very uncommon for her, cause she's always on time and the first one at the station. They're all worrried and Hondo tells Deacon that he has to drive to her apartment. Well he tries to refuse and send Stress but Hondo insists, so Deacon drives to her apartment. He finds her suffering from a very high fever..... So maybe with a happy ending like Deacon regrets his shitty behavior, she instantly cries when she recognizes him in her feverish state, asking him why he hates her suddenly, which is now breaking his heart. He cares for her and nurses her back to health, or at first tries to bring her fever down. Later he confesses why he was an asshole.

Soooorry it's so long. There's so pressure for you to write this. Maybe you just want to use some ideas? Well I would be so happy.

Please take care lovely

Here you go, hope you enjoy!

“Nice!” Luca exclaimed as the team watched you send rounds down range from your firearm.

With the increase in officer related shootings, LAPD had decided to provide each team a SWAT medic and you were the newest member of 20 squad.

“Who knew girls can shoot?” You heard Deacon asked. You turned to playfully scowl at him and noticed him wink at you.

“Better watch it, Kay, or I’ll show you just how good I really am.”

You had been a part of the team for just over two months and they were the best guys you had ever worked with in your career. You truly became a part of their family – you had their backs and they had yours. There was one that was different though.

David Kay.

You had noticed him watching you on more than one occasion, stealing winks from you, sharing small, flirtatious smiles. You weren’t sure if your attraction to him was mutual or not, but if you had to guess, you would say yes. However, you didn’t want to complicate anything by dating one of your teammates and you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had developed with Deacon. You assumed Deacon adopted the same mindset because he never brought it up either.

However, that didn’t mean your flirting with each other fell on blind eyes.

The entire team noticed it and often gave you both shit over it.

You both were in the middle of denying another teasing round of friends with benefits accusations from your teammates when you were dispatched to a school shooting.

The mood immediately sobered up as all of you put on your gear and grabbed your bags and firearms. The ride to the school in Black Betty was quiet minus updates from Hondo.

“Stay liquid, guys,” He told the team as you pulled up on scene.

There were multiple reports of injured children inside of the school.

This call was all yours.

It was going to be your job to go inside and assess each injured child to see how critically injured they were. It was your team’s job to protect you while you did that. You were going in without any knowledge of where the shooter was, but you knew if you had children, you would want someone to go in and save your baby. You swallowed your fear and prepared to do your job.

You got out of the armored truck and took your spot in the middle of your team. You slowed your breathing down to get your heart rate under control and keep your emotions in check.

Deacon made sure that he stayed close to you as you entered the school. He knew his teammates would have your back too, but he felt… differently about you. He cared about you a lot. He had quickly fallen for your smile and your personality. You didn’t let the team’s banter intimidate you one bit from the start. You were quick and witty with your playfulness with them. You were smart as hell when it came to medicine and you had proven to be a solid member of the SWAT team in training exercises and on calls you had run together. He wanted so badly to ask you out to dinner, but he wasn’t willing to change the dynamic of the team by adding a relationship to the mix. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be protective over you – whether you noticed it or not.

That was why Deacon had taken it so personally when you were knelt down, applying a tourniquet to a fourth-grade student’s leg and got shot by the hidden gunman. His team covered him while he immediately turned to you to make sure you were okay. The round had struck your vest, but you knew it had broken ribs. The pain you felt in your side was unmistakable. Regardless, you threw your body over the child’s to protect her from the gunfire that ensued. Deacon and Luca dragged you both behind a desk behind a wall in a classroom.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asked without taking his aim from the door way.

“We’ve got to get her out of here.” You ignored his question as you continued to try and stop the little girl’s bleeding.

Your voice was forced and you were breathy.

“I asked if you were okay,” Deacon said angrily.

“I’m fine.” You retorted.

You soon heard Tan’s voice over the radio that the shooter had been neutralized. You didn’t know if there was more than one shooter, but didn’t see any signs of one so far. When you got the clear from Hondo, you radioed for another team to come in and get the girl out and get her to a hospital. Once she was safely removed, you resumed your formation in the middle of the team to continue to clear the school building. Deacon could tell you were injured because you didn’t shoulder your firearm correctly, but he didn’t see any blood so he let it go. He was pissed off at you for not stopping and going to get help yourself, but he was even more pissed off at himself for not seeing the gunman before he shot at you.

It took two hours to clear the rest of the school and stabilize the remaining children. By the time you were done, you were visibly diaphoretic and short of breath. You could hardly manage three words without stopping to catch your breath.

“20-David to command,” Deacon radioed, “We need an EMS unit to our location, we have a team member who needs to be checked out.”

You were in pain, you couldn’t breathe, and you were pissed off that Deacon asked for EMS without consulting you first.

“Why did you do that?!” You managed to asked through clenched teeth. “These children need those paramedics.” You took a few shallow breaths, “Not me! Cancel. Them.”

If looks could kill, your sergeant would be the one who needed a medic unit, not you.

“Officer,” Deacon said sternly, “You look like hell and you cannot breathe.”

You started to open your mouth to cut him off, but he started speaking loudly again.

“Now, I suggest you shut up and listen to your sergeant. I am not the one who takes orders from you.”

His harsh words hit you harder than the bullet hit your ballistic vest and left you just as speechless. David had never been so disrespectful to you. If the paramedics hadn’t arrived to assess you, you would have turned in your badge right there. You knew the rest of the team had noticed as well because they were all silent which pissed you off even more. Where was your support?

The paramedics tried helping you onto the stretcher, but you refused it. Despite not being able to speak for being short of breath. You held onto the stretcher for support and walked to the ambulance. By the time you finally made it outside to the ambulance, you were physically unable to get into the ambulance because you were hurting so bad and so short of breath. The EMS providers finally convinced you to get onto the stretcher and they were able to load you into the truck.

When you arrived to the ER, you were taken to a trauma room due to the fact that you had technically been shot. Your chest x-ray revealed a collapsed lung due to the broken ribs.

The rest of the team finished debriefing before being cleared to leave for the day. Hondo met Deacon in the quiet locker rooms since most of everyone else had already left.

“Deac…” Hondo paused, knowing he needed to tread carefully, “What was up back at the school? I have never heard you speak to anyone like that – especially one of our teammates.”

Deacon slammed his locker shut.

“Hondo, now ain’t the time, brother.”

The lieutenant raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t press, but I do ask that you consider an apology. It was unwarranted today. We all performed immaculately given the circumstances.”

“No, Hondo. No. We did not all perform immaculately.” His tone was biting.

Deacon walked passed Hondo and left the locker rooms. He left the station and threw his duffel bag in the backseat of his truck. He climbed in, started it, and drove to a nearby lake that off the road and would likely be deserted after dark on a week night. He parked in the dark and slammed his fists against the steering wheel in frustration.

Tears filled his eyes as he mentally kicked himself in the ass for missing the shooter that injured you today. He didn’t fight the tears as they spilled down his cheeks. What had gotten into him? Why were you different? Why was he so upset? Why did you getting injured bother him so badly? You were okay and you were expected to make a full recovery according to Hicks. Where along the line had he developed feelings and why was he so afraid of talking to you about them?

You spent 6 days in the hospital, 4 of those with a chest tube before being discharged home. During your entire hospital stay, Deacon had not been by to see you once despite daily visits from the rest of your teammates. It made you mad, but most of all, it hurt your feelings. You really liked you sergeant – or you thought that you did. His actions since you had been injured spoke louder than any words that could have been said.

Luca and Chris were there to take you home and help you get settled. They carried your bags in and Chris helped you unpack your things while Luca cooked supper for the three of you. Chris helped you remove your bra so you could put on a loose, comfy t-shirt. Being the only females on the squad left you two comfortable around each other.

“That is one hell of a bruise, babe.” She said as she looked at your black and purple side.

You had to agree – the entire left side of your torso was bruised. It looked awful. Thankfully, the doctors had been able to help manage your pain with narcotics.

“I’m glad it finally looks worse than it feels… Which is saying a lot because it still hurts like hell.”

You slipped on a pair of sleep shorts and made your way back into your kitchen with Chris.

You took a pain pill and joined your teammates in your living room to eat the spaghetti that Luca made.

“Thank you so much for taking care of me guys,” You said several hours later as you walked Luca and Chris to your door.

“That’s what we’re here for, love,” Luca said, pulling you into a gentle hug.

You kissed his cheek, “Supper was delicious, Dom. Thank you times a million.”

He returned the kiss to your cheek and Chris pulled you in for a hug.

“Call us if you need anything?”

You smiled at her after the hug, “You know I will.”

You settled onto your couch with a glass of wine. You knew the alcohol and narcotic wasn’t the smartest elixir, however, you needed to mask more than your physical pain.

You couldn’t get Deacon off your mind and your heart had yet to stop hurting. Your emotional pain screamed much louder than your physical pain.

“Dammit!” You heard through clouded consciousness. “What the fuck?”

You felt yourself being picked up and carried to your bed. You recognized a familiar cologne but quickly disregarded the scent and winced at the pain in your ribs before drifting back off to sleep.

You woke up the next morning nearly in tears again as you entered a coughing spell. You managed to get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen where your pain pills were, but you were scared shitless by a man sitting at your kitchen table. As soon as your heart began racing with fear, the fear subsided, realizing that it was Deacon sitting inside of your home.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck, David?” You held your chest with one hand and braced your broken ribs with the other.

He didn’t answer you.

You ignored his silence and took your morning pain medication.

“Ya know… I said the same thing last night when I came over and found you unconscious on your couch. So, I can also say, what the fuck? What were you thinking?” Deacon’s voice grew steadily louder as he stood up and turned to you. “Pain pills and alcohol?”

You were angry. “Something to make this shit stop hurting,” You spat as you snatched up the side of your shirt to reveal your black and blue torso.

You could tell the extent of your injuries caught Deacon off guard. His facial expression softened and he didn’t respond.

You let go of your shirt, letting it fall back down to your waist and continued fixing yourself a glass of water to take your pain pill with. You took your medicine and continued to ignore your sergeant as you turned your back to him to get the milk out of your refrigerator to fix yourself a bowl of cereal. His hand stopped yours mid-air reaching for your cabinet. He gently held your wrist with one hand and you felt the edge of your shirt being lifted again. He let go of your hand, staring at the bruising that covered you. You could sense his demeanor soften.

There was a long silence as he took in your injuries.

“I’m so sorry…” He whispered.

The tone in his voice felt like a hug to your soul.

“Deacon-” You turned around to face him.

“No, listen to me,” he interrupted you. “This…” He grazed his fingertip down your side, “is all my fault.”

The confusion was written all over your face.

“I should have seen that bastard before he ever had a chance at you.”

You began shaking your head but you weren’t quite sure what to say.

“You’ve been an asshole to me ever since it happened, David, what the hell has changed now?” You were beginning to grow angry again.

“Look, I am so, so sorry.” His voice was gentle. “I should have stopped that guy before he shot you. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did. I should have visited you in the hospital. You are a teammate and I failed you, but I really should have told you from the get-go that I have developed feelings for you.” He didn’t take a breath the entire time he spoke so you struggled to follow him, but his last sentence hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Excuse me?”

“Ever since you have been on the team with us, you have become more than just a teammate to me. Truthfully, I have liked you from the day that I met you and my attraction to you has only grown every single day. I like you so much more than just as a teammate. I would dare say that I am falling in love with you.” He slowly reached up to cradle your face with his hand, hesitant, wondering if you would allow him to touch you.

You did.

“I am so, so sorry that I have treated you so poorly this week – so wrong. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that I hate myself for not being able to protect you like I should have. I’ve been so afraid to let you know how I feel about you. I’m sorry I was more afraid of affecting the team than I was giving you the honesty that you deserve. Please, please forgive me.”

He looked into your eyes as he nervously chewed on his bottom lip.

“Deacon…” You said quietly, leaning into his hand caressing your jaw.

He took a deep breath and continued, “If you don’t feel the same way, I understand, but I came over here last night to apologize and tell you all of this. When I found you passed out on the couch, barely responsive, it frustrated me. So, I stayed here last night to make sure you were okay. Please don’t be mad.”

Silence fell between you while you considered how to respond. Given the emotions that you had worked through over the past week, going from feelings for your partner, to physical and emotional hurt, to anger towards David for not visiting, texting or calling, resentment towards yourself for having feelings towards David despite how cruel he had been to you with his absence while you had been hospitalized, you struggled to find any words.

Deacon watched you suffer through a week’s worth of feelings as he watched your eyes. You took a deep breath.

He decided that you were taken too long to respond and if he didn’t act now, he never would.

He leaned down and softly pressed his lips on yours.

You instinctively closed your eyes and allowed David to kiss you. When you didn’t pull away, he parted his lips just enough to run his tongue tenderly along your bottom lip. You opened your lips, allowing him to kiss you deeper. You began to return the kiss when David went to place his hands on your waist, forgetting about your injuries. You stopped kissing him and winced.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, your voice shaky.

Deacon noticed the tears that trickled down your cheeks.

He wiped them away with his thumbs and began apologizing to you again.

You interrupted him with another kiss. You reached up and intertwined your fingers behind his head, softly rubbing his neck with your fingertips. He moaned quietly into the kiss. He grabbed your arm and squeezed it, needing to touch you, but being mindful of your injuries. You enjoyed the feeling of his tall, muscular body, towering over yours. You felt protected.

“Deacon?”

He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing a stand of hair behind your ear, “Mmhmm?”

“I love you.”

"I love you too."

#christina alonso #david kay #dominic luca #hondo harrelson #imagine #jay harrington #jim street #swat #swat cbs #david deacon kay #Deacon #David deacon kay #deacon x reader #deacon fanfic #deacon kay x reader #swat officer #love #swat x reader #swat imagines

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cultofdixon · 4 months

Text

It is no one’s fault for unexpected tragedies

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Accidents happen every day. That hasn’t changed because of the end of the world…so why are you trying to blame yourself, Dixon? • ANGST/SFW • TW: Major Injuries / Blood Loss / Anxiety Attacks / Nightmares

Requested by: Anon

“You’re going on that run tomorrow right?” Daryl asks his partner who was busy packing for said run, so it was stating the obvious in hopes that Y/N would invite him. But she knows his games.

“Yes, and I’ll be at the Kingdom by nightfall. I’ll manage without you” Y/N smiles leaning into her man when he brings himself close bringing his arms around her. “Think you’ll manage without me?”

“Nah. I’ll always need yea” Daryl felt the twitch of a smile grace his features when Y/N turned around to face him and pressed her lips to his cheek.

As the next morning follows, Daryl leans against the car Y/N will be taking as she puts her bag in the trunk along with the trading good for the Kingdom.

“Don’t cause too much trouble when I’m gone, Dixon”

“You try not to cause any trouble, Dixon” He smiles warmly bringing her into his embrace for a moment holding her and occasionally planting kisses on her temple.

“You’re trying to butter me up to invite you or to distract me long enough to stay”

“Is it working?” He hums bringing his lips to hers as she happily returns the soft gentle kiss before gently pushing herself off of him. “You wound me, sunshine”

“You have work to do as well, love. Better go get it done.” Y/N smiles pulling him off the car before getting into the driver Daryl instantly brought himself to the window stealing one more kiss before getting roped into anything and everything Rick asks of him.

It’s been a couple of hours and Daryl sat on the porch of his home holding the radio in his hand giving it another second before calling in to any open line hoping someone from the Kingdom to answer. Just his luck that Carol was the first to chime back.

“Hey?”

“It’s Daryl”

“Ha, no shit. Did you need something, Daryl?”

“I was uh wondering…if Y/N made it there and if I could talk to her” Daryl frowns hoping for a yes from the other side as he never liked being apart from his partner.

“She’s currently sleeping. Went hunting on her drive over here.”

“Seriously? She didn’t take her hunting rifle”

“You know Y/N. She’s a creative person, she got creative and brought a buck over. You are uh missing out if I do say so”

“Well I can always come—-“

“She’s sleeping! Are you seriously going to come here and disturb her?”

Daryl didn’t like where this conversation was going and grew a bit of a suspicion. “Carol. I was talkin’ to try the buck. I ain’t gonna interrupt her sleep…but a little hunting just for one piece of game shouldn’t have worn her out”

“Well, she did also stop at a few cars along the way to siphon for gas. Yknow, what we are supposed to do while Maggie devises a plan for an alternative fuel source that isn’t solar”

Carol is a smart woman and knows how to knock the archer off her “scent”. “Seriously Daryl. Just come over tomorrow”

“Y/N is supposed to come home tomorrow”

“Well, that’s too bad. Guess she has to stay here so that the two of you go home together. Besides, you were already planning to come for breakfast if Rick didn’t ask you to take the morning watch” Carol took a swing with her guessing and the silence from the other end only confirmed it. The grumble that got picked up also did. “We shall see you tomorrow”

“Tell Y/N I said goodnight.” Pause. “And I love her” Then the line finally turns off.

Carol stood in the hallway to the housing section of the Kingdom that included the mess hall and their designated rooms for their infirmary when she took the call from her best friend. Her best friend could sniff out lies…but didn’t this time.

“Hey,” Carol quickly turned to Siddiq, who did weekly visits to other communities, giving her a concerned look. “She’s awake”

“Okay…Can I be alone with her?”

“Yeah, I’ll be getting her water. Were you talking to Daryl? Did you tell him yet?”

“No…Should I have?”

“If she was dying, yeah. But it’s still…a lot. Maybe in the morning tell him?” Siddiq questioned while passing his friend he didn’t overhear the conversation because Carol knew for a fact Daryl would be coming in the morning.

Whether Y/N had a near death experience or not.

When Carol entered the room to find her friend lay in bed. She looked exhausted, broken in physical and mental places, but brought her attention to the soft steps her friend gave and shown her a smile on her face before it faded when looking at her injuries.

“Can’t believe I almost died over a deer…”

“You did bring us back a plentiful feast from the buck” Carol tried to joke with her to lighten the mood but the way Y/N went from exhausted to emotionless to overwhelmed in the matter of seconds, it wasn’t the time. “Hey hey…I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried to make light on very recent matters…I’m just. So thankful you’re still alive”

“I could’ve died…could’ve been worse than broken bones and several deep wounds. I’ve…I’ve gotten so used to this life and how grateful I am for the now…how the fuck did those stupid fucking deer not see me?” Y/N sobbed no matter how painful her broken ribs felt when trying to catch a deep breath to calm her, or the throbbing pain from her broken wrist and dislocated ankle. More had happened and more could’ve happened.

Throughout the night, Ezekiel came in to check on Carol who wasn’t going to leave her friend’s side and helped in any way that he could for both his partner and Y/N. Eventually they decided to use the oxygen tank they found to keep some flow steady for Y/N given every chance she tried to sleep she would trigger an anxiety attack making it difficult to breathe and her ribs were already doing a number on her.

The morning came and Daryl had radio’d in before coming so Carol could prepare entirely for what she was going to tell him. But she also prepared for in the moment it was going to fly out the window.

Daryl came through the gates of the Kingdom noticing Ezekiel first as he waves at him giving him a waiting gesture so that he could fetch Carol. But the archer grew curious about the tense atmosphere when he parked his bike, not finding the vehicle Y/N had came in.

“Hey man! You here for breakfast with Carol?” Jerry approaches Daryl as he gave the man a confused look. “Hey? What’s up?”

“Y/N’s car ain’t around. Did she leave?”

“Uh no. She uhm. Got a flat so one of our people is taking a look at it. She’s still…somewhere!” Jerry laughs with a shrug as he quickly takes his leave into the direction of where Y/N really is, knowing Carol is there. But he kept glancing behind him to make sure Daryl wasn’t following.

He wasn’t. But he is investigating further.

But it meant him being a bit nosey in his scary silent way.

A few Kingdom people were tending to a lot of repairs regarding its community and Daryl thought those few would be the best to ask around about any vehicle maintenance but the answers revolved around…

Had to fill one up with gas

The tire repair would’ve been tricky if we didn’t have to spare

Did you know duct tape is a good tool to keep a bumper on?

Nothing really of use until Daryl found a man going through the engine of a familiar model to the car his partner took but he honestly can’t entirely recall what the car was since he was more focused on Y/N.

“Need a hand?” Daryl decided to come off the helpful route to see if he gets more out of the guy.

“Uh” This guy gave the archer a confused look before moving aside giving him access to look for himself.

“There’s nothing wrong with it” Now Daryl was even more confused while looking at the engine before reaching in and taking out a piece of an antler. “Someone hit a buck?”

“More like…a buck and a half. I was just told to get rid of the evidence before trying to repair the car cosmetically” He groans gesturing for Daryl to step back to close the hood as they watch it bounce up. “Yeah this’ll take a while”

“What happened to the person driving it?”

“Oh you should’ve been there. She came in with the buck through the windshield and the deer barely hanging onto the hood. It was fucking awful. I haven’t heard about her condition yet, that Siddiq fella that makes his rounds every few weeks? If he wasn’t here when she came in, she probably would’ve died to her injuries”

Daryl watches the man round the car to check the back of it, leaving him to check the drivers seat and once he opened the door he brings himself to sit so he could reach the glove box finding Y/N’s journal. She always brings that on her drives. His anxiety went from steady to overwhelming in the matter of seconds as he left the vehicle knowing exactly where to go next.

Carol stood in the hallway after being informed that Daryl was on the premises and it will only take him a matter of time before he barged into the building.

“How bad is it?!”

“Daryl—-“ Carol stopped him in his tracks as he instantly fought against her.

“NO! If she’s dead and yea didn’t tell me I’m gonna—-“

“She’s not dead, Daryl!” She raised her voice loud enough for her words to pass his rushing thoughts as he relaxed from trying to toss his friend over to get to Y/N. “She’s in a lot of pain, even with the meds we gave her. You need to be careful going in there”

“H-…Sh…She’s fine?”

“Yes. She’s going to be fine. You need to get that look off your face” The archer instantly scoffed as Carol gripped his shoulders. “She’ll read your expression in an instant Daryl. You know she will. Don’t even try and make this your fault when it’s not. It’s not hers either. Freak accidents happen”

“I know that…w-what makes yea think…” Daryl frowns avoiding her eyes contact knowing damn well she’s giving him a concerned but obvious expression. He tries to make everything his fault when most incidents aren’t.

They all know this.

The door creaked open startling Y/N a bit as she’s been in and out of that exhaustion fog caused by pain and medication. She tried her best to look at what made the noise but when she saw Daryl step in she felt her heart race and the tears threaten to spill.

“H-Hey” She rasped out as Daryl brought himself to sit carefully on the side of her bed taking note of her injuries resulting in his pulling it all together look to one of fear and sadness as he tried to turn his face away but she used her good hand to grab onto his forearm forcing him to look at the connection before connecting their eyes. “Don’t…”

“…I’m tryin’ not to…”

“This…ugh” Y/N tried to stop the tears. “Was so f-fucking freak. It’s no one’s fault but the goddamn buck”

Daryl couldn’t help the short lived chuckle to escape him as he held onto her arm keeping close as he could to her.

“It did a number on your car. Yea lucky I saved your journal”

“Okay it wasn’t a fucking monster deer that tore the car a new one. It was multiple and no where near the glove compartment” Y/N laughs lightly pulling her hand away only to hold her ribs when she laughed. “I’m so not including this in that book”

“I don’t know…it’d be a page turner” He decided to keep lighthearted on the matter for the time being.

Even if the nights they’ve spent there, Daryl found himself awake by her side in case she needed anything. Least he wasn’t bullying himself as he sat awake. He was just. There for her.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

244 notes · View notes

the-authoress-writes · 8 months

Text

Dangerous Games

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Navy Nurse Wife!reader

Synopsis: The saying goes “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes”.

Well, Mrs. Thomas Kazansky is about to learn another version of this saying; “Play dangerous games, win dangerous prizes”.

But she doesn’t exactly mind.

Warnings: Mrs. Kazansky gets a little frisky in public, but nothing explicit, some cursing, and a little bit of steaminess, but again, nothing explicit.

Author’s Note: “I don’t write reader fic”, she said.

“I really don’t”, she said.

But here we are.

And I entirely blame both @valmare and Val himself.

I wrote this as a writing exercise, actually, because @valmare and I have slightly different approaches to Tom Kazansky; she has a more dominant take on him, while mine is more romantic and soppy, but no less passionate (I think).

I wrote this just to see if I could somehow combine both traits/takes in one story.

And… hoo, boy, I like to think I was successful.

That, combined with reading one of my grandmother’s ancient Silhouette Romance novels, I thought it was about time that the turns were tabled on the men.

Let’s be the ones to snap them like twigs, and not the other way around.

Without further ado, here we are!

“So what’s on the agenda today,” she asked her husband, as he sat at the kitchen counter eating his breakfast, while she stood on the other side, finishing her cup of yogurt, before she had to head to work for the shift she was called to fill in at the last minute yesterday.

“Well,” Tom began, after swallowing, “not much, just a meeting which apparently couldn’t wait until Monday, in the afternoon—other than that, nothing else really.

And uh, Mav and the guys are coming back home tonight; like I said last week, Sli and I were going to greet them, and they’re going out for drinks at the O Club later, but I can tell them I can’t go—”

“No, you go, enjoy yourself, I know it’s been a while since you last saw Mav and the flyboys,” she smiled.

In a rare occurrence, Mav and Tom’s deployments didn’t match up, leaving him and Slider on shore, while Mav and Merlin, Wood and Wolf were at sea.

She could hear the calls Tom would make in the evenings to the Vinson, to the various officers who owed him, already rather influential at the recently-received rank of Lieutenant Commander, for updates on Mav in particular.

She’d heard the stories both from the man himself, and from Tom, how the Mitchell name hung like an albatross around the diminutive pilot’s neck, how his basic medical needs were overlooked by dint of his “traitorous” surname.

As a nurse, especially a Navy nurse, it was beyond unconscionable.

She was glad that Mav had Tom as a friend, and it touched her to see the care he extended to his whole TOPGUN class.

“Such a Mother Goose,” Mav and Slider would say, both with sadness, but the former with a soul-deep sadness.

“Are you sure, milaya?” Tom’s voice brought her back to the present, as he came around the counter to step into her personal space, his hands on her waist, infusing her whole being with the warmth that only he could give her. “Because I’m really feeling bad that I have basically a whole day off, and you have to work.

We could have a movie night with some popcorn and ice cream, and you can talk about how people like me are the craziest sons of bitches around,” he grinned, referring to how they met a little over three years ago, after a little training mishap. “I’ll gladly keep your misery company.”

She smiled, resting her hand on the chiseled plane of his bare chest, as her index finger idly played with the chain of his dog tags, “No, like I said, even last week, you go and enjoy yourself with the boys.” Her smile took on a more devilish quirk, “Besides, you can make it up to me later.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I can, can I?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll manage,” she teasingly replied.

“Uh-huh,” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer, “and how exactly do you want me to make it up to you?”

“You’ll think of something.”

“How about a little down payment, then?”

He didn’t even bother waiting for her positive, always positive, response before one hand was buried in her hair, and his lips were on hers.

It was a kiss full of the easy confidence of a man who knew he was given what he took, and the passion and devotion of one who knew what a gift that was.

She could have gotten lost in her husband’s embrace and kiss for eternity, but the rude realization that she had a shift to prepare for, made her reluctantly, oh-so-reluctantly, push him away.

“As much as I’d really love to continue this, I can’t.

I have to go.”

He pouted like a child, the effect amusing to see on his already-full, kiss-swollen lips, and she gently carded her hand through his hair, soft and slightly curling without the gel, pushing it away from where it flopped onto his forehead. “I know most of this day didn’t pan out how we wanted it to, but we’ll make the best of it—we always do.”

“I know.

You’re sure it’s okay with you if I go out with the boys tonight?”

“Yes, Tom, how many times do I have to tell you?

Go have fun—but not too much fun,” she smiled.

He leaned forward, tucking his head into her neck, inhaling deeply, “You’re the only one I want to have fun with.”

“I would hope so, Thomas Vasilyevich,” she replied, lightly poking him in the side, “seeing as I’m your wife.”

“Oof,” he mock-winced, drawing back to look her in the eyes, “Russian naming me, huh?

Well, Mrs. Kazanskaya, two can play at that game,” he rejoined, leaning in to kiss her again.

However, she pushed him away, laughing, “You are a menace, Thomas Jacob Kazansky!

I have to go!”

“Worth a shot,” he laughed, letting her go.

She gathered her lunch into her bag, along with her paperwork, and shouldered the tote, before turning back to face Tom, who was leaning against the counter, long, sweatpants-clad legs crossed at the ankles, mirroring his arms, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Not going to kiss me goodbye?”

With a sigh, she asked, “If I kiss you goodbye, will you keep your hands to yourself?”

He clicked his tongue, “You drive a hard bargain, lyubimaya moya, but I’ll try.”

“Don’t try, just do,” she replied, amending one of Mav’s favorite sayings, stepping closer to peck him on the lips.

True to his word, he didn’t move an inch, but the regret on his face made her have to resist the temptation to kiss him and say to hell with her shift today. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

And here, a sudden idea struck her. “Hey, wait a minute, you said that you guys were going to the O Club, right?”

“Yes,” he replied, drawing out the syllable. “Why?”

“Because I was thinking that if I can, maybe I can meet you guys there, join you flyboys.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “That’d be great!”

“You guys won’t mind?”

“I won’t mind,” he shook his head.

She good-naturedly rolled her eyes, “I know you won’t mind, what about the guys?”

“I’m sure the guys won’t mind, but they can take it up with me if they don’t like it.

Try to make it?”

“I will—hopefully, I’ll see you later.

And you’re sure you don’t need your other girl today?” she asked, double checking that he didn’t need his Chevelle, since her car was in the shop that week.

“No,” he shook his head, “Slider’s picking me up, you take her.

I love you, milaya.”

“I love you too.”

With that farewell, she dashed out the door, fleeing her own house like Lot, because she knew she’d never leave if she looked back at Tom.

Chaos.

That was what her shift at NMCSD was like.

Some unlucky or hapless person somewhere had probably said “It sure is quiet around here,” or some other variation of that phrase, and brought the wrath of the medical gods down upon them.

She’d had no less than ten emergencies to deal with, and at the end of her shift, she felt—no—knew—she deserved a drink.

A quick glance at her watch showed that it was just before 1800–from her experience, the carriers usually docked at 1500 or 1600, which meant they should all be at the O Club already.

Not wanting to give the charge nurse an opportunity to call her for something else, she practically ripped off her uniform, changing into the nicer spare clothes she kept in her locker just in case she had somewhere to be that wasn’t the grocery or straight home.

It was a worn, but well-fitting pair of jeans, sensible shoes, a tank top, and finally, a white buttondown with vertical blue stripes which she pilfered from Tom’s closet, that she never saw him wear.

After throwing on the shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, and tucking in her tank, she hastily walked (okay, ran) out of NMCSD, and headed to her parking spot.

God had mercy on her, as the traffic was light all the way to the O Club, the Almighty surely knowing that she’d reached her limits of bullshittery, that all she wanted after this day was a stiff drink, and her husband’s company, despite the fact that there would be others around, friends as they were to her.

It was a Saturday night, and the parking lot was full, but she managed to find a spot on the far end of the lot, a slight sheen of sweat breaking on her skin despite the AC, as she maneuvered in, not wanting to scratch her husband’s beloved car.

The flaring, insistent ache in her feet was testament to the long walk to the entrance, exposing just how many people had to be here, and true enough, once she pushed the doors open, the bar was hopping.

She moved through the crowded bar, searching for Merlin, Slider, or Tom—there’d be little hope of finding Wood or Wolf, and no hope of finding Mav, in this press of people.

She was heading through the crowd towards the bar when she smacked straight into someone.

An apology was on her lips, when the person turned, and she heard, “Hey, Mrs. Ice, how are you!”

And she looked up, up, up into the smiling face of Sam “Merlin” Wells.

“Hey, Merls, how are you, how was deployment?” she said, hugging the ludicrously tall RIO.

“Ehh, hot, as usual, but otherwise, uneventful; just running our CAPs, and buzzing the tower every now and then.”

She guffawed, “That’s Mav for you—I don’t know who’s crazier; Mav, or you, for willingly sitting in the same jet as him.”

Merlin leaned down, “Tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Probably me, because I actually enjoy it,” he murmured.

She chuckled, “Oh, Samuel, never change.”

“Hey, what am I doing, let me get you to the guys’ table!

Come on!!”

He put his hand on her shoulder to make sure she didn’t get lost in the crowd, and led her to a table in the back. “Guys, look who I found!”

“Well, hey, if it isn’t my favorite Ice Queen!” Mav cried, leaping to his feet and pulling her into a hug.

“Hey, Mav, how are you?” she beamed, glad to see her husband’s best friend and wingman.

“Better, after seeing your pretty face,” the black-haired pilot grinned a grin which would probably make quite a few people here swoon, if its full force were turned on them.

She smacked his shoulder, though she was unable to stop her smile, “Stop it, you incorrigible flirt, you’re not my type, and even if you were, I’m very happily taken.”

“Ah, you wound me, my fair Ice Queen,” Mav dramatically clutched his chest.

“You’ll live,” she teasingly rolled her eyes.

“Mind getting your hands off my wife, so I can say hello to her, Mav?”

A glance behind Mav showed Tom standing there, a sight in his summer whites, an arch expression on his face, but those who knew him would be able to see the glowing humor in his eyes—but over all, the joy and love.

Mav moved aside, gesturing grandly at her. “All yours.”

“You bet your ass, Mitchell,” Tom nodded.

“Excuse me, I have a very nice ass, I have that on good authority,” the other pilot affrontedly stated as he walked backwards to his seat.

The voice of Charles “Chipper” Piper called, “Ugh, come on, Mav, no one wants to hear about your pasty ass.”

“You’re one to talk, Chip,” Marcus “Sundown” Williams chuckled.

Tom shook his head and stepped closer, making everything else fade into the background, his beautiful smile on his face. “You came.”

“I needed to,” she sighed, “I need a drink.

And the whole you being here is a nice bonus.”

He blushed slightly, ducking his head. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, come on, let’s get you that drink,” he replied, leading her to the table, around which sat Mav, Merlin, Slider, Wolf, Chipper, and Sundown.

“Hey guys,” she waved, taking the seat beside Tom.

They all greeted her as Tom called over one of the waitresses, ordering his usual vodka on the rocks along with her usual Old Fashioned.

When it arrived, she shocked them all by drinking more than half of it in one sitting, heavily setting the glass down on the table.

“That kind of day, huh, sweetheart?” Tom asked, his voice full of sympathy, warmth, and the slightest hint of laughter.

She turned a baleful look on him. “What do you think?”

He blinked, obviously weighing his words, the rest of the flyboys holding their breath. “I think maybe I should get you another one when you’re done with that.”

“God, I love you, Tom Kazansky,” she breathed.

The table collectively exhaled, as Tom grinned. “Aren’t I lucky?”

The night wore on, dinner eventually being ordered from the bar’s kitchen for everyone, and Merlin was the first to leave, saying that his wife was coming home late that night from taking care of a medical emergency with her mother, who lived on the other side of the States, and he wanted to be there to greet her.

The flyboys tossed peanuts teasingly at Merlin, Chipper and Mav whooping, Merlin flipping them the bird with both hands as he laughed, and said goodnight.

The remaining group continued on, and the vodkas Tom had drunk had loosened him up—he wasn’t drunk by any means, but his laughter was a bit louder, his eyes a bit brighter.

He was telling a story about one of the instructors from the TOPGUN session he’d been asked to help out with, since he wasn’t deployed this rotation.

It was a story she’d already heard, and so she allowed his words to fade slightly, just watching him as he spoke, fiddling with the straw of the second Old Fashioned Tom had ordered for her.

She smiled as he gestured animatedly, making the light glint off the gold ring on his left hand, which matched the one on hers.

Seeing it did funny things to her stomach, seeing the tangible proof that that man was hers.

Add to that the fact that Tom was in his summer whites… it was a cocktail more intoxicating than anything the bar behind her could ever offer.

She exhaled evenly, taking a sip of the water she’d switched to after her second Old Fashioned, admiring the figure he cut, an exemplar of US Naval excellence.

If you asked her later, she wouldn’t be able to tell you why she did it.

But the devilish thought of wanting to see if she could tilt him off-kilter entered her mind regardless, and she hid a smile behind the rim of her water glass.

She nonchalantly shifted her chair closer to Tom and innocently placed a hand above his knee, making him glance at her, and offer her a fleeting smile, while continuing the story.

Ever so carefully, she inched her way towards the inseam of his trousers, rubbing small circles as she went, which got her a minuscule narrowing of his eyes and a barely-there glance as he spoke.

She smiled back, stilling her hand, and he continued.

Once he had relaxed into his chair again, she began moving again, shifting her hand higher and higher, letting her fingernails catch repeatedly on the seam.

He cleared his throat and soldiered on, shifting in his seat, but the slightest tone of strain was beginning to creep into his voice now, and she mustered all the stoicism she’d learned from her husband to keep her face straight.

As her hand moved further up his inseam, she was treated to the sight of his jaw tensing, the sheen of sweat gathering at his temples, the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly, the sound of the strain in his voice, and the hitch in his breath.

She knew that if she continued this, she was playing a very dangerous game, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at that moment.

So she inched further up, letting her fingernails dig into the seam, flicking it almost audibly, which elicited a cough from her husband.

Slider whacked Tom on the back, saying, “You okay, Ice?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, “just—just swallowed the wrong way.”

At this point, she was mere inches away from being so obscenely high on his thigh that the other flyboys would probably see, but just to see what Tom’s reaction would be, she made as though she were going to go there.

Smoothly, he placed his hand atop hers, somehow managing to conceal the fact that he had plucked her hand from basically his lap, bringing it up to his lips as he finished the story, his eyes stormy as he cut his gaze to her.

Maybe, she realized, as she looked into his tempestuous eyes, maybe she had made a very, very big mistake.

After another hour, they began to wrap up, hugging and slapping each other on the back, and for the first time since she’d met Tom Kazansky, she was not looking forward to being alone with him.

When the final farewells had been spoken, Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulder, walking them towards the distinct shape of his Chevelle, visible now that they were some of the last people at the bar.

“I can drive us, if you want,” she offered, testing the waters.

“No, I’ll be the one.

Keys.”

His tone was unreadable, and she fished the keys out of her pocket, handing them to him.

He led her to the passenger’s side, but just before she reached for the handle to open the shotgun door, she found herself pressed against the back passenger door, looking up into her husband’s face.

She refused to buckle at his impassive stare, looking evenly into his eyes; depthless blue, the color of the sea at twilight, in the dim illumination afforded by the streetlamps.

His hand shifted, and her breath hitched, but he only moved his hand past her, the familiar click of the Chevelle’s door release echoing in the thick San Diego night air.

Tom pulled the door further open, inclining his head and stepping back.

She swallowed, but moved to sit in the passenger’s seat, the sound of the shutting door feeling like some sort of passage of sentence.

Moments later, he opened the driver’s side door, sliding in and shutting it, however, he didn’t start the engine.

She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do next, but he only started the car, the purr of the Chevelle doing nothing to ease her tension, serving only to ratchet it up, the familiar streets leading home passing by.

The silence in the car was almost a living entity, made worse by the fact that Tom kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road before them, and she would be lying if she said that her heart wasn’t racing.

She was beginning to see the reasoning behind her husband’s callsign, between his nonchalant attitude and his unerring patience to wait her out, wait for her to slip.

Well.

She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

…

She hoped so, at any rate.

She’d always been weak for him, honestly, and she suspected she always would be.

Much too soon, they pulled into their driveway, and Tom cut the engine, leaving her in silence, literally and figuratively, as he stepped out without a word.

She briefly debated whether or not to stay in the car, but knew deep down that that was not an option, so she got out of the Chevelle, also making her way inside.

After locking up the doors and checking the rest of the house, she exhaled and looked warily up at the stairs. “‘Screw your courage to the sticking place,’ woman,” she murmured, striding determinedly up the stairs.

The lights were on in the bedroom, and she saw Tom at the dresser, keeping his submariner in its box, his face somehow still impassive.

She moved to the bed, picking up the pile of night clothes she’d laid out that morning, muttering, “I’m going to the bathroom,” and darted towards the en suite.

However, before she could make it there, a hand wrapped around her upper arm, and once again, she got the breath knocked out of her, finding her body pressed against the wall behind her by the solid mass of her husband before her, his hands on either side of her head.

“What was that about tonight, hmm, milaya?” he spoke lowly, making a shiver run down her spine.

“What was what?” she replied, affecting a light tone.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he replied, implacable.

“Oh, that,” she shrugged, caving slightly.

“Yes, that.

And just what were you thinking?”

“Ehhh—nothing much, really.” Well, she mentally admitted, that much was true.

“Uh-huh.

See, I think you were trying to get me to lose it,” he declared.

She somehow managed to muster up an innocent expression. “Uh, nope, not at all.”

“Sure.

So your hand at my inseam was just complete coincidence, was it?”

“Has to be.”

He stared her down just like he had in the O Club parking lot, attempting to keep his expression stoic, but this close, she could see his eyes—how there was only a thin ring of midnight gray, his pupils blown wide from the desire he was trying to keep down.

She inhaled sharply, her lips parting, and his gaze immediately locked onto the sight.

When he spoke next, his voice was low and trembling. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I have some kind of idea,” she breathlessly murmured.

“Fuck—” he whispered brokenly before kissing her like he was at 38,000 feet and she was the oxygen he needed to breathe.

Caught in his riptide, she was helpless but to hold onto him.

Air surged back into her lungs as his kisses moved down to her neck, only to be stolen from them moments later, a cry halfway between pain and pleasure carried on her breath, when his ardor seared into the delicate skin there.

“That hand of yours—and you wearing my shirt—you drive me crazy,” he spoke into the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“I think you like it, though,” she whimpered, hitching her legs around his unfairly narrow waist, as he adjusted his arms to hold her up.

“Damn it, I fucking do,” he groaned, moving them towards the bed.

They had just collapsed onto the comforter, kissing like teenagers, when he broke away to breathe, “You’re still going to pay for what you did, though, you’re not getting out of that.”

“Oh, am I, because it seems to me like your mouth is writing checks your body can’t cash… Commander,” she cocked her eyebrow.

His jaw dropped slightly, followed by a shaky inhalation. “…I shouldn’t have told you about my rank thing.”

Her smirk was halfway to a grin by now. “What are you going to do about it?”

He tilted his head. “You’re asking for it, at this point.”

“Well, then, do what you’re going to do, flyboy; that’s an order.”

A wicked smirk quirked the corner of his lips, full of promise. “Yes, Ma’am.”

NMCSD: Naval Medical Center San Diego

The USS Carl Vinson is a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier commissioned in 1982, and she is still on active duty.

I stole @valmare’s headcanon that Tom drives a Chevelle, because if it’s good enough for Mir, it’s good enough for me!

I’m so sorry Mir!

According to a production photo, Tom’s full name is Thomas Jacob Kazansky, but since I headcanon him as Russian, his patronymic is missing.

So thusly, you have Thomas Jacob Vasilyevich Kazansky.

When Mrs. Kazansky refers to Tom as Thomas Vasilyevich, that is considered a casual, informal, yet somehow in its own way, formal, method of referring to someone.

There’s cultural rules about that.

Tom calls Mrs. Kazansky “Mrs. Kazanskaya”, which follows the Russian and Slavic convention of gendered surnames.

CAPs: Combat Air Patrols

Summer whites are the white version of the khaki uniforms, and you can see them in The O Club bar scene in Top Gun ‘86.

“Screw your courage to the sticking place” is a quote from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”.

Did I basically steal a line from Top Gun, and completely change the context of it?

Yes.

Yes, I did.

Mrs. Kazansky calls Tom simply “Commander” instead of Lieutenant Commander, because of the convention regarding “double-barreled” ranks.

Russian Glossary

Disclaimer: endearments and translations taken from Google—please don’t hesitate to correct me if I’m wrong, which, odds are, I am.

Milaya: dear, darling (there are other translations of this word, however)

Lyubimaya moya: my darling/my one and only sweetheart

Taglist

@valmare

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

#not me 👀 at men literally old enough to be my father #officially in my val kilmer era #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #val kilmer

292 notes · View notes

yourmomxx · 1 year

Text

a pearl ⋆ .ೃ ࿔ *

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: There were many things in life that Dean Winchester learned to regret. Taking the mark of Cain in order to kill Abbadon and save the world had not been one of them. Until everything just gets way too much for him to handle, and you are the one that has to burn in the crossfire.

Warnings: canon violence, blood, angst, spoilers but not really, moc!dean, swearing so if you’re the CW look away

Word Count: 2.6k

Flashbacks are written in italics

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGAUGE

━━━ ❝ Iᴛ’s ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I fᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀ ❞ ━━━

Regret is a funny thing, somehow. At least I think so.

When you do something terrible, you can feel regret or remorse. So much, you get overwhelmed, forget to show it. So much you might start treating the people around you different.

“Sam?” Dean urged through the phone in a pressed voice. His breathing was ragged when he talked. “Sammy please, I need you to come here quick, something … something happened!”

“Dean it’s alright, calm down, where are you?” Immediately, Sam slapped his laptop closed.

Over the phone, he heard his brother stifle a sob. “I don’t … I don’t know Sammy, just please hurry, I-” His voice broke. “I think I fucked up, Sam, big time.”

“It’s alright Dean, just hang in there, I’ll come and get you.”

“Thanks.” Dean’s voice was small as he answered.

You can feel regret and decide that the outcome of the situation was worth it, and do it again.

When Sam arrived at the old warehouse and saw Dean, kneeling on the floor and covered in blood, he was worried.

You can feel regret, ask for redemption and forgiveness, but don’t get it.

As he let his gaze wander and it fell upon you, laying limb in Dean’s bloody arms, he was worried sick.

And even if you do get forgiven, who is to say that the guilt will stop haunting you?

“The doctors took her into surgery.” Sam carefully looked at his older brother, whose hands and shirt were still stained with your dried blood. “They said that she might not make it.”

“She will make it,” Dean said. The doctors were wrong, they are always wrong. They would be wrong this time, too.

Regret is buried deep in Dean Winchester. Rooted, even. He regrets many things. He was forgiven, then he was not, he pushed away the people around him in trying to not repeat his last mistakes, sometimes succeeded, sometimes he didn’t.

There were many things he felt guilty for. Too many, if you asked his brother Sam.

“What exactly happened in there, Dean?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Dean said. But that was a lie, because he did.

But he didn’t want to admit what he had done. Why he had done it. It turned his stomach around. There was a reason why Dean hadn’t looked Sam in the eye since he arrived.

He was sitting in your room again.

He was feeling regret about what happened. Again. He was doing that a lot, too, lately.

After the … incident, he mostly avoided talking to you. That had been just a few days ago.

He had even avoided seeing you since you returned to the Bunker, unless absolutely necessary.

Because just as he predicted, the doctors had turned out to be wrong: you had actually made it. After a light coma and a surgery, but you had made it.

When the nurse had told them you were free to go, Dean had been the one to bring you home. Still wrapped in the white clinical sheets and clothing that the nurses had given you, but he had brought you home.

So no, he hadn’t talked to you in days. Not seen you either, for that matter. Just cut you off like that.

And, to his genuine surprise, you had let him.

Normally, you would try everything in your power to talk to him, talk him out of his drowning thoughts, convince him that what had happened wasn’t his fault.

But not this time.

And that only substantiated his feeling that you truly hated him this time. Weren’t able to forgive him. And how could he blame you? He couldn’t even forgive himself.

But he missed you and it tore at him.

He missed the way that you would hold him when he ever so rarely let himself cry, and he missed the way your voice would whisper sweet words of reassurance in his ear in a low tone.

He missed your fingers gently scarding through his hair, and at his scalp, to soothe him.

He missed you humming the low tunes of some made-up song in the late evening, when you were laying in each other’s arms, right before falling asleep.

And he missed dancing with you. Just putting on whatever vinyl it was you could find in his room and then swaying to the sound of the music, wrapped around each other and being at peace, even if it was just for a few minutes.

He missed you so much.

On the shelf, leaned against the wall, the TV played some cheesy 80’s romance movie. It was the late night program.

Dean was tuning it out. He had stopped listening a long while ago, anyway.

No, his mind was playing a movie on its own. One that was specially designed for Dean Winchester. Written by Dean Winchester, starring Dean Winchester - and Y/N Y/L/N.

A tragic love story, with drama, hurt, betrayal, forgiveness.

In his mind, Dean could still feel the heavy weight of the blade resting in the palm of his hand. It hadn’t felt like this in the warehouse - or had it? He wasn’t sure.

Who was he lying to, it had felt light. Perfectly shaped for him, and him only. In that moment, everything had felt perfectly shaped.

It took the sound of the weapon driving through your skin and into your organs, that made him realize that nothing was perfect. Or carved out for him, that the blade wasn’t light but actually weighed too much to carry, that’s why he let it fall out of his hand and clatter to the ground, that’s why he rushed to your hurt body on the floor -

“Hey.”

Dean’s head shot up at the sound of your voice clear next to him, fast enough to probably break his neck.

He threw a quick glance at the door, then you again. “Hey,” he said back.

You stood awkwardly a few steps next to the bed, fumbling your fingers and trying to hold his gaze.

The only sound was the program still playing on the television and Dean decided that he should perhaps turn it off if he hoped for a conversation to start.

While he was fumbling for the remote, you turned your attention to the movie playing on the screen.

“Didn’t know you were a fan of Sixteen Candles,” you said, and so you were the first to talk.

“I’m not.” He found the remote, and pressed the small red button to turn off the TV.

You put your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and slowly whipped back and forth on your feet.

Dean’s thoughts were short circuiting and he felt his heartbeat fasten. He tried to not look into your direction too much, and his eyes flickered back and forth between the many items in his room.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he realized that you had moved to sit down on the bed next to him. Funny, he hadn’t even felt the mattress dip.

Dean straightened his back and moved his knees closer together, to minimalize every possibility of you guys accidentally touching each other.

He hated that, so did you. But neither did anything to change it.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, indicating that you were meaning to start a conversation, but somehow, you said nothing. Just sat there, looking at him, brows furrowed in concern.

Every once in a while, your gaze would flicker around his room, unsure of what to do, and eventually land back on him again.

“We should probably talk.”

“About what?” Dean knew the words were nonsense as soon as they left his mouth. Of course he knew about what, but part of him didn’t want to realize that you were finally here for it.

“About what happened.” Your voice was strong as you said it. He admired you for it.

Tears were burning in his eyes, and God, how he hated himself for it, because he had cried enough that day.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out. Your demeanor didn’t change.

“About what?” It was your turn to ask, your voice soft and silk and catching his fall. Dean almost laughed at you.

“What I did to you,” he sniffled, and shit, when did the tears start actually falling? He wiped them away aggressively. This is not at all how he figured this would go.

“Dean.” The feather light touch of your fingers on his naked skin made him turn. Goosebumps started rising where you touched him, your hand was so cold.

“This wasn’t your fault.” Now he was laughing. Bitter, biting and short, but it was a laugh. Unbelieving.

“Right. I was just the one that drove the Blade through your organs.”

You didn’t even flinch at his wording. Or the dark glare that followed after. Your eyes were so soft, and adoring, eyebrows scrunched together, and Dean knew he had never seen something as beautiful as the woman before him.

When you reached out to rest a hand on his cheek, he found himself leaning into your touch. Your fingers were still cold.

“Dean,” your voice barely above a whisper, and when had he closed his eyes?

“I know that wasn’t you. You were controlled by something so purely evil, that it was eating you up. You had no control over the things that you did. Look at me.”

Dean shifted his gaze. “I know you would never hurt me.”

And you said it with such force, and certainty, that Dean felt it practically piercing through him. His shoulders slumped, a hard breath left his mouth, and before he could register what happened, he was slumped against you, breathing in your warm scent of woods and perfume, and wrapped his arms around your torso to hold onto you for dear life.

He noticed your hands carefully scarding through his hair, and thought, that this was all he had been dreaming of for the past few days.

He loved you so much.

Minutes felt like hours, and those felt like seconds, as the two of you held each other, bathing in the other’s presence, warmth, comfort.

A pathetic whine almost left Dean’s throat as protest when you carefully pushed him off you, but he held it back.

He watched as you stood up, smooth and elegant, and walked over to a different corner of his room. Your steps were eaten by the carpeted floor.

Dean saw you take a vinyl from the shelf and carefully pull it out of the cover, laying it on the record player.

A crackling sound was the first thing to be heard, before the needle reached the engraved lines.

Then, the first tunes of Kitty Kallen’s It’s been a long long time sounded through the room.

You took a few steps closer to him, hips swaying lightly to the tune. Your arms were stretched out in an invitation, and at the sight of your joyous grin, Dean couldn’t do anything else than smile back.

He knew if it came to it, you could make entire armies fall knee to that smile.

He took your invitation to join you gladly. Your skin didn’t feel as cold against his anymore, though that could be only because his hands were warm.

The smile didn’t leave both of your lips as you dragged him closer.

And though he wasn’t inhaling, to Dean this felt like the first breath he had taken in days. Your lips were soft against his, and he felt feverish, in the best possible way one could do.

It was soft, and loving, and he adored it.

As you pulled away from him, you carefully nestled your head under his chin, resting right on top of his chest.

Absentmindedly, Dean closed his eyes, let the tunes of the song wash over him, and lazily swayed side to side with you in his arms. He was sure you could hear his heartbeat under his shirt. A heart that beat only for your love.

This was what his hands had been shaped to do, since the dawn of time. Not for the blood, or the murder, or the irrationality. No, for this right here, holding you close to him, his head on top of your hair and bodies pressed against each other as if it was the last time he would ever see you.

“Kiss me once,” you drew your head back from his chest, a mischievous glint in your eye, “Then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again.”

Dean smirked and raised his eyebrows. “You’re unreal.”

“I know.” You grinned and pressed a chaste kiss on his pink lips.

When you looked back at Dean, a soft grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked him reproachfully, but your playful undertones gave you away.

“I just love hearing you talk,” he admitted.

Then why did you kill her for it?

“Is that so?” you asked him teasingly.

I didn’t.

“Yes.”

Your smile was beaming up at him and filling him with the warmth of a million suns, and he suddenly didn’t know how he could believe that you would ever be able to hate him.

He pressed a kiss to your hairline, a kiss that said more than his words possibly could, and with a comfortable sigh, you snuggled into his chest and closed your eyes.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and never wanting to let you go.

He would never let you go.

—

The sound of the slow song carried through the hallways, a faint melody like the whispering breeze of a wind.

Sam Winchester heard its soothing tune from where he was standing in the library, next to him a black haired man in a trenchcoat, an angel, Castiel.

The pair was looking at the massive wooden table that the hunter and his brother often used to keep their research. Today, that table was empty, empty of books and laptops that was.

A bundle was laid on it, wrapped in white linen and laced up with split thread. Like a macabre package.

Sam felt sick, staring at the covered, dead body of another fallen friend. A sister to him. And to Dean … to Dean a lover. A rock. A spark of good in his sea of bad.

Sam still didn’t know what exactly had happened in the warehouse that night. All he knew was that Dean had his blood on your hands, in the literal sense of the word, and that his eyes had held a vacant expression.

He remembered the moment the doctor’s informed him about your death and how he had grieved you, and how he told Dean, but how it didn’t seem to get through to him.

He remembered Dean carrying your body out of the hospital, and retiring to his room the moment they had reached the bunker, and how he hadn’t come out since.

We need to bury her, Sam, Cas had said. It can’t go on like this.

Sam’s answer had always been the same. Let’s just give him more time.

But Sam knew that Castiel was right, there was no use to dragging this out any longer, and still, he hesitated.

No, he wouldn’t hold the funeral without Dean. And Dean was nowhere ready to attend a funeral.

“We should tell him,” said Cas. His gaze was fixed on the white bundle lying on the table.

Sam slowly nodded. “Yeah, we should.”

But neither of them moved an inch, not even as they heard Dean’s soft mumbles out of his room, while the slow record in the next room gently came to a harmonic end.

━━━━━━ ❝ ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪᴛ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ❞ ━━━━━━

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thatsdemko · 1 year

Text

falling in love again - p.gasly & c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: y

pairings: Pierre gasly x fem!reader & charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of cheating + anxious thoughts + established relationship + love triangle +mentions of affairs

a/n: boy oh boy has this been a challenge for me to write. six drafts later and this is the final product! and yes there will be a part two! there was a second part to the ask that’s not yet complete! ☺️ also a Pierre girl thru and thru 🫡 so this PAINED me to write. would really appreciate some feedback on this xx

weddings are supposed to be happy occasions. the joining of two people coming together as one. the day every little girl dreams of, has finally come for you.

except it’s not a beautiful dream. it’s far worse.

for the past six months of your engagement, the man who once brought you so much joy and happiness no longer gave you that same excitement. you blamed the cold feet, anxieties, and stress of planning the wedding, but the moment has finally come and you still feel that way.

Pierre gasly, is your fiancé and the most perfect man on all paper and of any girls dreams. he’s kind, sweet, caring, and so beyond loving you swear you don’t deserve him. and truth be told, he doesn’t deserve you. he doesn’t deserve a wife who won’t love him the same that he feels.

matter of fact, since the beginning of the engagement your eyes began to fall towards a particular groomsman— the best man may you add, charles leclerc. you never noticed him right in front of you all this time until it was too late.

charles was the other man, and probably the worst friend ever, because for six months he was the reason you arrived home late, you held off on picking a date, and took away all your fears. he’s the man you so badly want to be walking down the aisle to, but he’s not.

charles has convinced himself he’s okay with it. in fact, he’s more worried you’ll say ‘I do’ instead of I don’t because he knows for a fact you don’t love Pierre. at least not anymore.

he knocks quietly on your door of the church. the music is faint but the over excited giggling from your bridesmaids fills his ears. he’s been given the task by Pierre to check on you and make sure you’ve been eating and staying hydrated. it’s sweet how much he cares, but all you care about is that Charles is there to do the same, and maybe worse.

convince you to leave the alter.

“is it safe for me to enter?” he pushes open the door a smidge, his accent rings through the room to let the girls know it’s not your fiancé, and he’s pulled inside by your maid of honor quickly.

“don’t linger for too long out there! he can’t see her.” she hisses, making sure the door is locked behind them, “she’s in the bathroom.”

she points to the door that’s cracked open, the only person in there is you. you’re crouched on the floor next to a bottle of vodka and a fan. the train of your dress is fluffed out all around you. he can hear your mothers voice over the phone, she got too sick to attend, and is trying to now calm you down. you’re terrified of what you’re about to walk into, you can’t marry him.

you hear the shuffling of dress shoes, and you’re greeted to a man in slacks, but when you look up it’s like he saves you from the worst phone call of your life, “I have to go, mama I’ll call you later.” you hang up quickly trying to get up from the floor, and he rushes to help making sure to not step on the white dress.

he swallows the lump forming in his throat, he can’t believe how gorgeous you look. there’s no amount of words to describe how he feels because he’s on the worst rollercoaster of emotions of his life right now. he wants to be happy for Pierre, but part of him holds onto that hope that you’ll disappear with him. leave all this behind.

“mon amour, you look breathtaking.” he breathes out allowing a tear to slip down his cheek, you frown wiping his cheek with your thumb. it almost would be better if he wasn’t here, but you know why he had to be. he’s Pierre’s best man, and it’s his job to check on you.

“don’t be this way, charles. you’re making it hard.” you whisper watching his back lean against the cracked door to gently close it all the way. you don’t have time for what he’s thinking about, you’re supposed to get married in an hour.

“do you have to marry him?” he asks, it’s a dumb question, but it’s the right one to ask considering you don’t even want to answer it. you don’t want to marry him, but now there’s thousands of people arriving to France today for this particular day. it’d be horrible to not walk down the aisle now.

“charles,” you breathe out, mouth going completely thick and dry you can’t speak. you’re blinking away tears to try to keep your makeup intact, you hate this. absolutely hate it.

“I think if you really want what’s best for him, you’d call this off. you’d leave with me instead and we can just go anywhere. anywhere but here.” he takes your shaking clammy hands in his beginning to kiss your knuckles. he strokes your ring finger that for the first time was bare to the bone. the big rock that once sat there was about to be replaced with a promise. one you couldn’t keep.

“cha–“

“no, y/n. I love you and I know you love me. you told me at rehearsals you don’t love him. I can’t see you being happy with him.” he drops your hands from his and he’s twisting open the bathroom door leaving it open for the girls to rush in and check on you. there was now thirty minutes left until the wedding bells would ring.

he slips out the room and heads back to where Pierre is nervously pacing with yuki attempting to get him to drink water. when Charles walks in Pierre is relieved, “how is she?”

“nervous but good.” charles plays a fake smile patting his friend on the back before taking the seat next to yuki who had inhaled the after smell of your perfume on his suit jacket, “you sneaky bastard.” yuki just mumbles shaking his head.

the time is a ticking bomb, it’s now ten minutes and everyone is beginning to line up. charles has been given the honor to walk you down the aisle since neither of your parents or close family could attend.

your hand presses against his back, allowing it to linger longer than it should’ve, “so where would we go?” you whisper hoping the wedding planner and photographers aren’t listening. you take the bouquet from him using it as a shield to protect your privacy.

“anywhere you want, amour. just say the words.” you both watch the first bridesmaid and groomsman walk down the aisle, both moving up closer to the door. it’s t-minus 5 minutes until your arrival in the church.

there’s a long pause between you two, he’s beginning to grow nervous you won’t back out. you’re beginning to have reality settle in for the first time. this is real life, not a fairy tail or a movie. there was no redos, but there was a chance to bolt.

“how about Asia?” you offer, eyes flickering down at the white flowers in your hands before looking up at him. he shrugs giving you a nod, moving up one more space now.

“I could do Asia, but where in Asia?” he asks, one more step closer. three more groups ahead of you both now.

“Japan? heard it’s beautiful.” you loop your arm through his, you throw the flowers to the side both of you watching them silently fall to the ground making the wedding coordinator pick them up.

“your flowers, mrs.gasly—“

“it’s miss y/l/n. just tell him I’m sorry.”

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buckactuallys · 10 months

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hiiiii, from the soft prompts how do you feel about absent mindedly fixing the others' clothes?? i feel like it's already sooo buddie coded

i feel VERY good about it, thank you for the prompt!! i hope you like this 🩷

send me a soft prompt

[read on ao3]

Maddie and Chimney’s patio is lit by strings of fairy lights and candles on the high tables they’ve placed everywhere they would fit. Everyone they love is still there, talking and laughing and dancing in the tiny space they’ve cleared to serve as a dance floor.

The main couple of the day are there as well, swaying in the middle of it like they’ve forgotten the rest of the world around them. Judging from the fact that they’re slow dancing regardless of what’s playing on the speaker from the carefully curated playlist, they probably have.

Buck looks at his sister's face, the happiness she radiates, and sighs wistfully. This is everything he’s ever wanted for her. The fact that she gets this happiness with Chimney, who was kind of like a brother for Buck before he even met Maddie, is only a bonus.

He smiles down at Jee, asleep in his arms, and whispers, “This is pretty good, huh?”

She doesn’t reply, obviously, but a moment later, a glass of water is placed on the table in front of him.

“Thought you could use this after all that dancing,” Eddie says, and Buck smiles at him.

“Thanks, yeah. Had to tire this one out.” He points his chin down towards Jee, careful not to jostle her.

“Looks like it worked,” Eddie grins. “Do you want me to take her so you can drink something?”

Buck loves his niece, but she’s almost three years old and her sleep-heavy little body is starting to put a strain on his arms, so he nods gratefully. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

They have to step close to transfer the sleeping toddler from Buck’s arms to Eddie’s, and when they’ve managed it, Buck kind of forgets to step back.

Eddie is always beautiful, but tonight – he’s fucking breathtaking. He’s lost his jacket somewhere along the way and his shirt is rolled up to his elbows, and unbuttoned far enough for Buck to get a good look at his collarbones and the smattering of chest hair below. The crisp white of his open collar stands out against his skin and Buck stares, enraptured.

It’s crooked on one side, folded up in what Buck assumes is a look Eddie wasn’t going for, and he reaches out to fix it without thinking.

His fingers brush Eddie’s throat and he feels the sharp inhale there, freezing when he realizes what he’s doing. His eyes flick up and their gazes catch, and hold.

“Thanks,” Eddie says, and it breaks the spell.

Buck drops his hand, takes a step back, and clears his throat. “Sure.”

He downs the glass of water Eddie brought him in one go, feeling Eddie’s eyes on him the whole time. He’s not sure what just happened – he really didn’t think he drank that much, but he guesses his brain simply turning off around Eddie was bound to happen eventually. He’s kind of surprised it took this long, several weeks since he realized that he’s head over heels in love with his best friend, and probably has been for years.

And well, tonight, Eddie looks beautiful and happy and bright, and he’s holding a baby (a baby Buck loves!), so is his brain really to blame?

“Hey,” Eddie says, and Buck turns to look at him, because he always wants to be looking at him. Eddie smiles, but there’s a little edge to it – nerves? “I heard the Lees are taking Jee tonight. Once we’ve both got our arms free again, do you wanna dance?”

Buck loves him and loves him and loves him.

“Yes,” he manages to get out. “I’d love that.”

Eddie’s smile grows, but some of the nervousness stays, sticking to the corners of it. Buck wants to reach out and smooth it away, but he’s not sure he’s allowed.

“I’ve been wanting to ask all night,” Eddie admits quietly, and Buck bites down on his undoubtedly giddy grin.

“Yeah?” he asks, just as quietly. “I would’ve said yes at any point.”

Buck’s heart is in his throat and he watches Eddie’s smile transform into a new one, slightly different from all the ones Buck already knows. It’s a good one, though, definitely good. He smiles back helplessly.

“Cool,” Eddie says, and it’s so dorky that Buck is tempted to ignore everyone around them, including his sleeping niece in Eddie’s arms, to get his mouth on Eddie. At this point, he’s pretty sure it would be welcomed.

Thankfully for everyone else, Mrs Lee picks that moment to step up to them to get Jee from Eddie. It puts some space between Buck and Eddie and gives Buck a second to catch his breath, even though watching Eddie gently hand Jee over should officially be considered a form of torture too.

“We didn’t want to interrupt the lovebirds,” Mrs Lee says with an indulgent smile towards where Maddie and Chim are still swaying. “This was the plan all along but if they ask, can you tell them we took Jee-Yun home with us?”

“Yeah, of course,” Buck promises. “Thanks, Mrs Lee.”

“Buck,” she says in that gently stern voice of hers. “We’re family now. It’s Anne.”

Buck laughs. “Okay, thank you, Anne. And good night.”

“To you too,” she says with a smile at them both, and then Buck and Eddie are alone again.

Immediately, Buck is right back where he was, heart racing and fingers itching to touch Eddie.

“So,” he starts, drawn-out, and Eddie steps closer to him.

“So,” he echoes, and smoothes out a nonexistent wrinkle in Buck’s shirt with the flat of his hand, right over his thundering heart. He’s still smiling that smile, like he’s keeping a secret, the good kind. “Wanna dance?”

Buck shakes his head. “Hold that thought. But first – come with me?”

Eddie looks confused, but not worried when he nods. It makes Buck feel giddy, knowing that they both trust this.

He leads them away from the patio and grabs Eddie’s hand as soon as they’re out of sight. Eddie tangles their fingers and squeezes, following Buck to the dark front porch.

There, he stops and turns to look at Eddie. There’s enough light spilling out through the windows and from the street light to see the smile on his face, his beautiful glittering eyes.

Buck takes a deep breath. “I didn’t wanna steal Maddie and Chim’s thunder, but I really, really want to kiss y—“

Eddie’s grabbed him by the lapels to pull him in, but the second Buck starts kissing back, he loosens his grip and slides his hands up Buck’s neck to cup his jaw tenderly.

Buck shivers with it and pulls Eddie closer by the waist, their entire bodies pressed together.

“I love you,” Eddie says against his lips, barely pulling away. “Buck. I love you.”

“I love you,” Buck says back, and his smile is making it difficult to keep kissing, but at least Eddie’s is the same.

“You still wanna dance with me?” he asks.

“Yes,” Buck says decisively. “Not sure how well I can hold back so we don’t immediately spill the beans, but I really want to.”

“We can do it,” Eddie promises, but they get lost in their kisses again first. He’s laughing when he puts some space between them. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the party, we can continue this at home. And then we’ll tell everyone in a few days.”

Buck nods, reeling him in for one last kiss. “I like the sound of that.”

#buddie #911fic #911 #pia writes #maddie when they tell everyone: yeah you really aren’t as subtle as you think #we all knew it happened at our wedding. thanks for trying though #chimney: also #we have a security camera on the front porch #ask #zahlibeth

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harlowsbby · 1 year

Text

Circles Part Two

“What would you do that for Neelam? I don’t really understand the reason or understand why you felt that it was necessary.”

After everything that just went down Jack was trying to figure out just exactly how everything blew up. One minute you were all dancing and laughing and just enjoying each other's company and the next you’re running out crying and everyone is pointing fingers at Neelam.

“I was protecting you and you can’t even get mad at me when you’re the one that brought it up.” To be fair Neelam was right Jack had mentioned brining up an NDA but that was before he got to know you as a person now, he knows you aren’t like all those other girls he’s been with.

“That was in the past Neelam you had no right to say all that shit to her.” He was fuming Jack knew you’d probably never speak to him again and honesty who couldn’t blame you.

“Whatever, I’m done with this conversation I didn’t mean to come off strong I just… I just want what’s best for you alright.” Neelam started getting emotional. “You’ve been through a lot, and you didn’t come this far just to lose.” Jack wasn’t angry anymore he was more so understanding.

He knew Neelam had good intentions when it came to him, but she just wished she would’ve talked to him first. “I appreciate you looking out for me Neelam but all of that with Y/N wasn’t needed.” He took a seat next to her. “She’s different in a good way she doesn’t care about all of the glitz and glamor. I just hope she can forgive me.”

“I’m sure she will and if she’s down for it I’d love to meet her again and apologize.” Neelam suggested. “You promise you won’t make her cry this time?” Jack threatened, “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” Now that he talked things out with Neelam, he can only hope and pray you'd talk to him.

————————————————————————

“Babe come on I feel like you ignoring him just isn’t fair.” Your friend Mia said. You had Drama drop you off at Mia’s house after everything went down because you knew Jack most likely would probably be at your house the next day.

“I don’t wanna hear anything he has to say I just feel like it was a set up and for him to have been already discussing the NDA with Neelam it just makes me feel some type of way.” Mia understood how you felt and you had every right to feel the way you felt mainly because you went in with open arms and a open heart, you wanted to be friends with everyone but that clearly didn’t happen.

“Well just get up out of bed and go shower at least you’re kind of smelling up my entire bedroom.” She joked which earned her a pillow to the head. “Fine I’ll get up and shower but why?”

Jack had messaged Mia via Instagram and had messaged her and explained everything that went down and asked Mia if she was able to make it seem like she was taking you out, when in reality Jack wanted Mia to bring you to Morris Deli so you’d be able to talk.

“I’m kind of hungry and I’m really craving a sandwich from Morris Deli.” She was being oddly specific. “Alright I’ll go get ready I’ll be downstairs in 10.” She nodded and left the room leaving you alone.

You sighed and got up you honestly weren’t in the mood to go anywhere or see anybody you just wanted to honestly cry. You knew Jack didn’t deserve the silent treatment or just being completely ignored you felt guilty knowing he was probably worried and stressed over the fact that you weren’t talking to him.

After you showered you tossed on the pair of leggings with one of Mia’s hoodies, after looking yourself over one last time you made your way downstairs. “Wow look at you all showered up and looking fresh and so clean.” Mia joked.

“Yeah whatever but lunch is on you today.” She raised her hands in defense. “Yes ma’am.”

The car ride over there didn’t take as long as you expected it to be, once Mia pulled up you got out of the car and went to walk inside the deli but stopped when you realized Mia wasn't following behind.

You quickly walked back over to the car and went to open it just to find out she locked the car doors, she rolled the window passenger window down. “Uh hello what are you doing?” You we’re getting irritated because you didn’t understand what was going on and you were getting looks from individuals passing by. “You see I’m not actually hungry.” Your eyebrows scrunched together, she wasn’t making any sense right now. “Okay so let’s go home then.” You went to open the door again just for her to drive up forward a bit.

“Are you crazy you almost ran over my toes.” She giggled. “Look you’re going to hate me right now but I promise you’ll love me later babe, good luck Jack.” She waved at someone standing behind you.

“Jack?” You turned around when you noticed another shadow appearing right behind you. “Oh it’s you.” Jack's smiled faintly. “It’s me you know your boyfriend the one you’ve been ignoring.” He song sang it was awkward for a few seconds the two of you not really knowing what to do or how to start the conversation.

"Look.” He sighed and looked up at you. “I’m sorry baby I didn’t know any of that was going to happen. If I knew Neelam was going to react that way I wouldn’t have taken you there I hope you know I’d never willing put you in any situation like that." Jack was being brutally honest with you and that’s something you deeply cherished about him.

“I’m sorry for overreacting you didn’t deserve to be ignored but it hurt when I heard her say that you’ve talked to her about having be potentially signing an NDA.” Jack took your hands in his. “I did discuss the NDA to Neelam and Drama but that’s only because I told them it wasn’t going to be needed.”

You titled your head to the side. “Why wouldn’t it be needed?” He grinned and looked down at the ground before drawing his blue ocean eyes back to you. “I truly and honestly love and adore you Y/N, I don’t know and maybe I’ll sound like a fool but ever since we’ve met I just feel like we have this never ending chemistry and I’d love for you to officially be my girlfriend?”

You felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest, you couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on your face even if you tried. “I’d love to be your girlfriend Jack.” He smiled and took your hand in his. “Well now that we’ve settled that I’d like for you to come back to the house later, Neelam wants to talk to you.” Your eyes widened. “Round one wasn’t enough? She wants to give me more shit.”

He chucked “No babe she wants to apologize so just hear her out she means good.” You we’re a bit skeptical at first but hearing somebody out never hurt, you just hoped you’d be able to amend things with Neelam.

————————————————————————-

Later that night you arrived to Jack’s house once the two of you were inside you were greeted almost immediately by Druski and Urban.

“Wow look who came back I’m honestly surprised you did.” Urban joked and brought you in for a hug. “Me too I’m glad you aren’t letting that wicked witch keep you away from Jack.” Druski said. “She’d never be able to keep me away from any of you."

Your little sweet moment was interrupted by a cough, looking behind you is when you noticed Neelam standing there. She looked at Urban with a smug look on her face. “So I’m the wicked witch now Urban?” Urban’s stood there frightened as if he’s seen a ghost. “What? No I never said you were a witch I’d never.” He lied but Neelam dismissed him.

That’s when she focused her attention back on you. She gave you a half smile. “Y/N do you think we can talk for a minute?” You looked up at Jack who gave you a small smile and nodded his head. “That’s fine.” Jack gave your hand a little squeeze before following after Neelam outside.

Once the two of you made it to the porch you both sat on the steps, you wrapped your arms around yourself the cold crips air sending shivers down your arms. “I’m sorry for how I acted Y/N, I’m just very protective when it comes to Jack and the company he keeps.”

You understand completely where Neelam was coming from but at the same time you knew who you were and you’d never treat Jack like how he’s been treated in the past. “I understand Neelam but you need to understand that I’d never use Jack or put him through all of that I’m a good women and I love Jack just as much as he loves me, I just want everything to be okay between us especially since I know I’ll be around for a long time.” You confidently stated.

“You’re right you’re nothing like them and I’m sorry for making that comparison, so what do you think about us starting over?” You thought about it for a second just to tease her. “I think I’d honestly love that.”

Jack sat by the window and peeked at the two of you through the blinds. “What’s going on? Are they fighting.” Urban asked. “No, it looks like they are both laughing.” Druski started laughing, Jack pulled back from the window not wanting to get caught spying.

“What’s so funny?” He narrowed his eyes. Druski shrugged his shoulders and took a bite of his pizza. “You know with the two of them being friends I just hope you know they’ll both be bickering with you and I’m sure Y/N will side with Neelam 99% of the time.”

Jack had an uneasy feeling in his stomach now. “Shit you’re completely right I didn’t even think about it, is it too late to make them hate each other?” Jack innocently asked making Druski laugh. “Oh no man you’re stuck for life now.” Druski laughed once more and walked back into the kitchen.

When Jack went to turn back around to look outside he jumped when he was met face to face with Neelam and Yourself looking right back at him. “Jack!!” You both yelled from outside the window. “Stop being a weirdo and go sit down somewhere.” Neelam demanded. “Yeah being a creep isn’t cute.” Jack groaned and muttered things under his breath in a way he wished the two of you would’ve never made up.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

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aphroditeslover11 · 6 months

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the time is tough, I need some Oppie x student!reader fluff!!! Something like the one of the exam🥹🥹 I don’t have any specific request, surprise me🫶🏼

Sorry to everybody else who has sent in requests, I’ll try to get to them soon but everything is a bit manic at the moment. In the meantime, I hope that this will tide you over, especially the Oppie lovers out there. This idea just came out of nowhere, so fingers crossed it was what you were thinking of! 🩷

As always requests are still welcome, im just not working at the speed of lighting at the moment!

It’s All French To Me

As always, based on a very fictional portrayal by Cillian Murphy.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, Oppie smoking as usual, a spot of academic stress.

Usually the first person that you would turn to when you had a problem was Robert. He was always ready and happy to help, in fact he almost seemed to like the fact that you needed him sometimes, but this was something that you felt like you had to hide. You were struggling to get your work up to the level that you wanted it to be at and if you were honest you were embarrassed to tell him. You were seriously considering dropping the course, having said as much to your professor who supported you as you were studying French with him and the body of your degree was politics and philosophy. Your professor was Robert’s best friend though, and you didn’t know how he would react if you told him you were pulling out. Robert seemed to be a genius about anything that anybody ever brought up, he had never had your problems and you didn’t want him to think any less of you because of it. You had spoken to some friends who were having similar problems, but exams were approaching and despite the improvements that a lot of them were seeing in their grades, you had not been so lucky.

It wasn’t unusual for a Chevalier to ask Robert to meet with him, the pair were best friends after all, it was just usually at a local bar rather than in the formal setting of his office. They had arranged to meet during a gap between their lectures, though Oppie was confused by how illusive his colleague had been when he had asked for a reason. When he got there, knocking on the door gently before letting himself in, Chevalier was sat at his desk with a glass of whiskey, signalling for him to come and join him.

“Hoke, nothing’s wrong is it? If something has happened why do you want to talk about it here, I’d be happy to have you over this evening. Y/n’s staying over tonight, bring Barbara, I’m sure she’d enjoy a bit of female company.” He seemed to be fumbling with his words, which was uncharacteristic, unless he was anxious.

The French professor poured a glass of whiskey for his friend before beginning his explanation, a perplexed yet awkward expression on his face.

“Oppie, I don’t want you to think that I’m criticising y/n, because I’m not, I actually think that you are largely to blame for this one, but she’s struggling in my class. We’ve even had extra time working together outside lectures and she’s a natural linguist, but probably the most inexperienced to ever take a French Literature course at Berkeley.” Robert didn’t really know why he was being spoken to about this, surely this was your own personal problem.

“And why is that my fault?”

“Because you were the one who talked her into taking it, she turned up on the first day telling me that she hadn’t finished the intermediate course at school because her teacher was as good as shit and the school fired him and couldn’t get a replacement in time to do the exams. Did she tell you that?” This was all news to Robert.

“No, but we did have a very illuminating discussion about the Proust that I read in Corsica, so I just presumed that naturally…”

“Robert, she loves you and puts up with all of your quirks and eccentricities, I dare say she was nodding along like I do when you talk about physics. Take it from me, sometimes you can have an entire conversation with yourself in a room full of people and not realise that nobody else has joined in.” He was aware that this was one of his faults, but wasn’t keen on his friend lecturing him on it, swiftly trying to move the conversation on.

“Regardless of what caused the problem, what do you propose to do about it?” He pulled a pack of Chesterfields and a lighter from his jacket at this point, anything that made him think always required a cigarette.

“She came to me last week saying that she wanted to drop the course but couldn’t because she didn’t want you to think that she was stupid, so I’m going to suggest that she pauses the course and you, as you’re fluent, help her get to a standard where she can resume it next year if she can stand the language after being taught by you. God, the holidays are nearly here, take her to France for Christmas, make it seem exciting so she doesn’t think she’s letting you down. She’s a natural as I said, just inexperienced and lacking confidence, so immersion would probably be the best teacher anyway.”

After a bit more conversation on the subject, it was agreed that this would be the best plan, Haakon sending his friend home to try and persuade you around to the idea. Robert walked out of the office with a warning to remember that he had to be convincing about the whole thing being his idea.

It had become a bit of a Friday night tradition that Robert would take you out on a date, picking you up from the little room that you rented in a house nearby. It was always lovely hearing the beep of the horn from outside your window, taking one last look at yourself and fixing your lipstick before going down to meet him. He had this sort of old world charm to him, always opening your door for you, helping you in and out of his car, and tonight was no exception. The drive to the restaurant was pleasant, he mentioned a new book that he was reading and you talked about how disastrously your orchestral rehearsal was the other day, trying to plough through Tchaikovsky’s fourth symphony for the first time.

“Well, that’s what you get when you go near Tchaikovsky, it’s bloody awful don’t you think?”

“I don’t hate it as much as you do, but I certainly prefer a bit of Beethoven, the symphonies are nice to study to if you’re ever looking for some background noise.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“I can’t stand the fifth anymore though which is a shame, it’s just overplayed.”

“I agree, at least it isn’t Pachelbel’s Canon, I know how much you string players hate that!” He took his eyes off the road briefly to watch you as you laughed at his last comment. You were always beautiful, just more so when you smiled in such a carefree way.

Robert helped you into your seat when you finally arrived, you were quickly brought menus and ordered, opting for the wine pairing that Oppie had guided you to as usual. He may sometimes drink a little more alcohol than was healthy, but at least he had good taste in the stuff. He was halfway through a steak, telling a story about some ridiculous thing that Chevalier had done at a party when he suddenly came out with the question that you really didn’t want to hear:

“Speaking of Hoke, how are you finding French Literature?” You spent a moment debating on whether to make up a lie, say everything was going swimmingly, but he would find out eventually anyway.

“Actually, it’s not going so well. I love languages, I just don’t really have the kind of grounding that I think I need for this. I’d have said earlier, but I didn’t want you to think badly about me for having second thoughts, especially with Haakon being your friend. He’s not the problem by the way, it’s definitely me.” You waited anxiously for his response as Robert considered his next move, knowing he had a plan to stick to.

“When you say second thoughts, do you mean stopping the course?”

“Well, I was considering stopping for now, teaching myself a little more French and resuming it again next year. Though, I’m not sure they’d have me back after this one.” Brilliant, he thought, you were walking right into his little trap.

“I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem, your delightful and very persuasive inamorato is friends with the professor after all, which could be used to your advantage.” He saw you cringing as his mention of special treatment, which you were always desperate to avoid, and quickly moved on to save himself. “How about you do what you were thinking of, we’ll speak to Hoke together next week and make sure that you’ll have a place next year. In the meantime I can help if you’d like, I’m fluent, not as good as Chevalier but passable.”

“Would you? That would be really helpful.”

“Of course. I love you, why would I not want to help. It’s not like you’re stupid, just inexperienced. Hoke says your a natural, just need a bit more practice.” You were flushing a bit at his praise, you always did when he suggested that he viewed you as a fellow intellectual. His attitudes towards those in his circle that he didn’t weren’t always pleasant, so it meant a lot coming from him.

“There was one other thing. I was wondering if you might want to come and spend the Christmas holidays in France with me, immerse yourself in a bit of the culture. It’s the best way to get fluent that I’ve found.”

“You want to go abroad together, for winter break?”

“If you’re comfortable with it, yes.”

“I’d love to.” He reached for your hand across the table, taking it in his to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.

One conversation with Oppie and, just like that, all of your worries were gone.

#oppenheimer #1950s #american prometheus #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #christopher nolan #j robert oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #french #fanfic #request

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bestworstcase · 6 months

Text

ok wait. ok.

some roses will never bloom some dreams will rot on the vine some lives will end much too soon some evil will never ever die […] sometimes it’s worth it all to risk the fall and fight for every life

vs.

’tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone […] i’ll not leave thee, thou lone one to pine on the stem since the lovely are sleeping go, sleep thou with them thus kindly i scatter thy leaves o’er the bed where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead.

...hm. anyways.

"the lies come out of you so easily. like-minded souls, indeed."

summer rose telling lies! first time for everything—but the first first first inkling we get of summer's character is "now i'm nothing but a liar and you're thrown into the fray."

the way yang tells the story in 2.6 draws a direct line between summer disappearing and the fact of raven's existence being revealed to her; tai and summer withheld this information.

in 7.4 ruby asks qrow if summer's last mission was "another oz secret" and qrow answers "there were a lot of those back in the day" but that no, "this one was a summer secret."

9.10 we see summer put on a mask for tai and then a different mask for raven. "you're... just going to leave them?" raven asks, and summer deflects like a pro: "you're one to talk!" and "if i get this right, there's nothing to worry about. trust me."

"saw you in a dream/are you who you seem?"

"you were born to hypnotize them all."

she lied, ruby says.

summer rose is the reason raven has Trust Issues.

listen.

ozma lied. salem trusted him. he lied to her for years let her support his ambitions in the only way she knew how for years before he told the truth. "this isn't what he asked of me." "ozma told salem everything: the true reason the god of light had brought him back, the relics that lay scattered around the world, and the day of judgement he had been told to prepare for."

"if i get this right, there's nothing to worry about. trust me." "let's get it over with, i guess."

the god of light's mandate, the divine relics, the day of judgment he had been told to prepare for. don't you see? none of that matters anymore.

summer left her kids behind, but the spring maiden, a child whom raven loved enough to have a kindred link, died that night.

raven blames herself for that girl's death. salem blames herself for the deaths of her daughters.

"leave." <- there is a reason these scenes are paralleled. also

"and so we must... press on." / "and now i have to live with that forever." she blames herself.

anyway--the point is--

"if humanity were ever to stand a chance at being united, one thing was clear..." "he had to destroy salem."

"how can i destroy salem?" "you can't! :)"

"we don't have to kill you to stop you; and we will stop you." "your mother said those words to me. she was wrong, too."

listen. listen to me.

what happens if ozma chooses to stay with salem?

what if—after he tells her everything, after he pours out all the things he's kept festering inside of himself for years because the god of light told him salem lives, but the woman you hold dear in your memories is gone and where you seek comfort, you will only find pain—after he tells her about the relics, about the mandate, about the blade hanging over remnant's neck—what if, when she says none of that matters, he answers you're right, and takes her hand?

what happens if salem chooses to stay with him?

what if, when he tells her that the world is doomed and that he alone is meant to save it because the god of light anointed him for the task, she says very well. let's get this over with, i guess. what if it's salem who balks in the end?

summer rose is both of these questions. she is the ozma who convinced salem to embrace the mandate and she is also the ozma who rose out of the smoldering ruin of the world she couldn't save and decided to take the hand salem held out to her.

(tai never leaves his isolated home in the woods. raven retreats into the wilderness to lead her bandits. ruby rose believes that the world is worth fighting for. summer left him—summer stabbed her in the back—summer lied.)

#i can see the way wind is blowing because the wind is a goddamned hurricane

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mirisss · 8 months

Text

SKZ reaction to Asexual partner

SKZ x asexual! afab! reader

Wordcount ≈ 700

Warnings: Reader being anxious about telling SKZ she’s asexual, pretty much it.

Thank you for the request, I wasn’t sure whether you meant a poly relationship or not but I wrote this as a non-poly fic. If I misunderstood, please let me know and I’ll write a new fic but with a poly relationship.

Asexual pretty much means that the person who is asexual doesn’t experience sexual attraction and/or doesn’t desire sexual contact.

(Y/n) was a bit scared to tell her partner that she was asexual as previous partners and even friends have been unable to understand how she could feel like this, calling her names, and leaving her. (Y/n) was worried that SKZ would do the same even if she knew they were different, but who could blame her? Based on how many others have reacted, her fear is valid. One evening as she and her partner were sitting on the couch watching a movie, (Y/n) asked if they could talk about something. Her partner paused the movie turning toward her to show that she had their entire attention. As (Y/n) told her partner she began crying, fearing that he would walk out of their relationship.

Bang Chan, Changbin, and Han had the same or similar reactions:

“Darling, please don’t cry. Come here, let me give you a hug. I love you and that means I love you for the person you are, I would never ask you to change. You being asexual changes nothing for me, I have loved being with you so far and I haven’t felt like anything was missing. I would never leave you for such a reason, don’t ever apologize for being yourself,” (Y/n) was relieved and hugged him until she calmed down and stopped crying.

Lee Know, Hyunjin, and I.N would have similar reactions:

“Okay? So what?” The reaction at first might seem cold, but I promise it’s not. “Does it change the way you look at me?” “No? Why would it? Look, I couldn’t care less about that, as long as you’re honest with me I don’t care. I love you, you love me, that’s enough. I don’t need more than that. Now, tell me the names of anyone who has ever made you feel like this is a fault, I just want to talk with them, with my fists,” (Y/n) was shocked but soon enough understood that he wouldn’t leave her and it truly changed nothing about her for him. The reaction might have seemed cold but after that as soon as it was brought up in conversations they would give the other person a threatening glare if they so much as dared think a mean thought about (Y/n).

Finally, Felix and Seungmin would have somewhat similar reactions:

Felix would first of all, before touching (Y/n), ask her if this meant she didn’t like his skinship or if it was purely the sexual touches she had no desire for. Once she said that hugs and cuddles were all she wanted he smiled and gave her a warm and tight hug. “I can give you all the hugs and cuddles in the world, so much that you’ll be sick of it. As long as I can do that and make you happy, then I’m happy.” Seungmin would also ask just to make sure that she was fine with holding hands and such things before comforting (Y/n). Once she had calmed down he would ask her to explain all things she liked and didn’t like so that he could make sure he never did anything to hurt her. After that, the two of them would say something along the lines of: “I much rather be with you and live without sex than be with someone else and have sex, because the sex isn’t essential to me, what’s essential is you,”

Overall, none of the boys would be angry or say anything to hurt their s/o regardless of their sexual orientation.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x asexual reader #asexual #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x afab!reader #afab reader #skz reaction #stray kids reaction #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #Mirisss

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thescrumptiousstuffs · 8 months

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Only Friends Episode 4 - Emergency Contact

Where very much needed conversations between most of the casts are done. And the water becomes murkier with even more messy connections and entangled characters. This is me again just trying to process what I saw and keeping my thoughts straight before the next episode

Mew and Ray

Well, we learn more about Ray and why he is fixated with Mew. I feel like he has put Mew up in this pedestal of a perfect man/friend. Ray seems to have an obsessive personality and he has the need to be taken care of, which Mew has done so far as his closest friend, bar from one aspect - the one as a lover, and now with Top in the picture, he feels neglected somehow. It doesn’t help his poor self-esteem or his lonely soul.

Khaotung as usual nailed it with his opening performance of someone who was (may still be?) suicidal, using prescription pills and alcohol to numb his sorrows and loneliness. Mew being his emergency contact because he truly has nobody in his corner - no other close friends (maybe Chuem? certainly not Boston), an absent father and a dead mom (who we also learn probably don’t love him when she was alive, and Ray blaming himself for her death 🥲). And so, when Mew saved Ray that night, fiercely reminding him “I’ll always be in your corner. I love you, all our friends love you”, I don’t blame Ray for ditching Sand that night (he could have explain and handle it better but Ray as we now know is a disaster muffin 😫).

In some way, Ray is immature. He loves wholeheartedly but also selfishly, which in turn means he sometimes makes questionable decisions. Like him kissing Mew without consent? - a big 🚫🙅🏾‍♀️.

And I’m glad Mew called him out for it. It was a needed scene. Khao and Book handled the scene impeccably (both the aftermath and Ray’s subsequent sincere apology to Mew in the latter apartment). Similarly, I’m glad Mew made it clear to Ray while he will always think Ray as his dearest friend, that’s all they will ever be - yes it’s heartbreaking for Ray, but it’s a step for Ray to hopefully move forward, although I doubt he will be able to forget Mew as his first love/crush quickly, and my worry is as the episodes progresses and we see RaySand blossoming while TopMew in crisis - Mew calling Ray for help, the latter may again drop Sand (unintentionally or not) like a hot coal 🙃….

Ray and Sand

Which brings us to my bias couple 😅….Sand was absolutely in his rights to ignore Ray’s messages after being ditch like that on the night. He has enough self-awareness about his burgeoning feelings for Ray but knows Ray is not ready for it (he may not know about Mew (yet),but Ray’s immaturity and selfish nature means Sand is wary to start anything deeper).

But well, we all know Ray is a persistent gremlin and he is a sweet charmer when he wants to be. Paired that with his effective puppy eyes (gawd…I think we have seen it in effect 3-4 times now!!!), and Sand fold each time (I don’t blame you sir! 😂)

My favourite scenes from this episode (which I’m sure hold true for most SandRay bias) will have to be the guitar 🎸 shop and music record store scenes. The whole conversation between Sand and Ray in the guitar shop was 👌👌👌- Sand making it clear he is uncomfortable with Ray throwing money around, bluntly saying friendship and love cannot be bought and Sand advising Ray should be mindful of other people’s feelings. But we are again reminded how low Ray’s self-esteem is that he asked Sand to yell at him as a “burden to the society”, thinking it will make Sand forgive him. And when Sand does the opposite, I think there is a genuine surprise from Ray, which brought upon the soft scene of which we see Ray admits he cares about Sand feelings, wanting to make amend…

And then we penned to the music store scene where further much needed conversation between these 2 happen - that whole conversation about fav band and music was 🫶. As a metaphor of Ray being stuck and living the past, never taking the opportunity to embrace the future or open up to his present (with Sand again gently but firmly pointing it to him).

Plus the whole scene of them listening to the music record, sneaking glances at each other and their fingers gradually drifting closer while eventually intertwining 🥰🥰🥰(First killed it with his yearning and soft eyes in this episode, and Khao’s genuine smile light up his whole face - I’m a goner for these 2 🫠)

We finished this episode with Ray now focusing all his energy in wooing Sand (do I think it means he has forgotten Mew as his first love?Not really, and I think that will be a contentious matter once Sand finds out, and I still think Ray alcoholism +/- drug habits will also rear its ugly head soon. Because as we can see, Ray has no interest at present to change or confront his trauma. For now, he is using Sand as a substitute (if I can put it this way? To run away from his problem and loneliness). But I have faith these 2 will hopefully come out relatively unscathed 🤞

Mew and Top

Sigh…these 2 are so sweet together with Top always so attentive towards Mew. And I do feel he genuinely likes Mew. And Mew likes Top (he said it himself to Ray, Top is the first person his heart beat faster for). But urghhhh, Top’s lies are piling up. Not only did he betray Mew with Boston (and yes he regret it, but he didn’t come clean about the incident, even after finding out MewRay had done nothing more than 1 kiss TWO years ago). He also lied about Beam and his drug habits until Mew pressed it out of him. And yeah, I wasn’t a fan of the whole Top saying he wants a reward if he gave up his drug habits, suggestively indicating to Mew what he truly wanted was the sexual relationship he desired and up until recently being denied. And even when Mew said “no penetration”, he sneakily then volunteer another tidbit about his ex, trying to persuade Mew not to worry about the past.

You know, Mew’s list of what he thinks make a good partner/BF - I don’t think Top filled any of it (he doesn’t get along will ALL of Mew’s friend - Ray being the prime example and Mew knows this, he can see the tension and snide comments whenever these 2 interacts, he doesn’t respect Mew and he had lied countless of times 😩😣).

But I guess, love is blind and Mew may think he can change Top’s behaviour? (Kudos to Force and Book though, their actings were also amazing to watch! Can’t believe a sweetie like Force acting so arrogantly on screen that it made me want to throw my remote to the TV👌)

Top and Boston

Which then comes to Top and his strenuous relationship with Boston. If anything, I’m at least glad Top expressed his regret about his lapse of judgment - having that ill-advised encounter with Boston. And I’m so glad he finally confronted Boston in the lift, putting a stop on Boston frankly disgusting behaviour (isn’t it twice now he sexually harassed Top? Once in the shower cubicle when he said No as well). No means No and Boston doesn’t seem to have learn his lesson (which frankly worries me about his other sexual conquests, are they all consensus??? And now we learn his father is into politics, so a scandal of any sorts by Boston will be a disaster; plus him taking pictures/videos without consent, like what he did with RayMew and using it to spin a web of lies on Top - yeah this guy is a massive red flag 🚩)

Boston and Nick

Another big sigh from me. Nick is now realising how much of an asshole Boston can be, but I guess Boston has never really hid his intention. He has bluntly told Nick that he is not looking for a relationship - at most, FWB and I don’t think he promise exclusivity as well. Boston is promiscous and proud of it - his friends know it, and even Sand as an outsider has heard of his reputation.

But what I’m truly devastated for Nick is that how manipulative Boston can be. He knows how to twist words and sweet talk to placate Nick (not that Nick is trying hard to go against him because he loves Boston even if everyone of us here can agree he deserves better 😣). Boston gives false sense of hope to Nick, in order to basically have someone at his back to fulfill his sexual needs. Does that mean Boston stop his other “relationship?” I don’t think so, in fact, I won’t be surprised if he had other sexual partners (other than Nick) going on at the same time.

We can also agree Nick is not truly innocent in all of this mess - his obsessive love for Boston is spiraling out of control and bringing the worst in him. Him bugging Boston’s car? (A big 🙅🏾‍♀️), and then snooping on Boston’s phone (also not good behaviour). Plus, him listening to the sound of TopBoston going at it in his room (yeah..that’s a worrying sign 😫)…

(Again kudos to Neo and Mark, they played their roles 🫡🫡🫡 that I’m cursing everytime Boston opened his mouth and shaking my head whenever these 2 are on screen 😅)

Nick and Top

Which brings to the scene of Nick confronting Top, asking Top to stop meeting Boston. And when Top clarified and say, it has always been Boston who did the chasing despite Top being uninterested, well…you can see Nick face fell.

And Top giving some advice on how Nick should be careful with Boston as he is truly a piece of work (well, it’s warranted but it’s like the pot calling kettle black, yeah?)

However, I think it’s truly sad (and quite ominous) when Nick calmly say he knows how nasty Boston can be, because he is nasty too (is that a foreshadow that Nick will seek revenge and destroy Boston’s future? esp now we know Boston dislikes getting his pictures taken with Nick for the fear of the scandal ruining his dad’s political aspiration??)

Top and Sand

It’s alluded in previous episodes that these 2 had a connection. And now we know, Top seduced (Is that the right word for it?) Sand’s ex. Sand is obviously still bitter about it but I’m thinking if your ex dump you for someone like Top, Sand is better off without him (just saying 💁‍♀️). But I am curious if the ex will come crawling back to Sand and cause havoc in SandRay newly blossoming relationship??? Or even to TopMew? - Esp with Top finally informing Mew about Boeing (seriously what’s with Thai’s nickname??? I snorted when Top said this out loud), an ex who gave him the plane model, which Top reassure Mew is no longer of consequence (if he is not that important, why did Top keep the plane? I might be wrong but I do think Boeing is the ex of both Sand and Ray??)

Sand and Nick

Ahhhhh, finally with all the headaches and mess from the rest of the characters, I’m glad to see some friendly, brotherhood like relationship between at least 2 of the characters 🥹🥹🥹🥹

I love their easy banter and the way they tease each other about their crushes (although said crushes are essentially disastrous in different ways). In a way, both Sand and Nick are also lonely individuals (or at the very least, we don’t see much outside of Sand/Nick working in their respective jobs and uni (presumably). So, having a genuine friendship that is not complicated - 🙌 I am super glad for them!!!

(Also, I’m still petitioning for Sand at some stage to go all protective bear on Nick and use the baseball bat that we saw in the pilot trailer to destroy Boston +/- Top’s car(s)?)

03/09/2023

(This episode was I think a pivotal one, where we are starting to see everyone’s motivation and character development - be it good or bad…as usual, I can’t wait for the next episode…is it Saturday yet?)

#only friends the series #episode 4 #khaotung thanawat #first kanaphan #firstkhao #firstkhaotung #sandray #force jiratchapong #book kasidet #mark pakin #Neo trai #just me gathering my thoughts and trying to put it in a coherent manner so that i can keep it straight for next episode!!

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