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halfvalid · 8 months

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a live action Zoro smut where it's enemies to lovers (boy X girl). I don't mind how hardcore smut (18+?) but I would love if there was some tension (argument or fight!) 😁

speak teeth

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

alternate title: i need the lord

rating: explicit

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: you and zoro have never gotten along. after a incident in town escaping from marines, you resolve to sort out your issues with unconventional means. (aka sex.)

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, enemies to lovers, except it's more like frenemies to frenemies with benefits, kissing, kiss to distract trope, no use of “y/n”, reader calls zoro "roronoa", penis in vagina sex, creampie, pwp, cowgirl position

author’s note: thanks for the request! i kind of lost the plot on this one because i'm terrible at writing enemies-to-lovers and there's not much 'lovers' involved in this since i couldn't exactly fit that into a oneshot. hopefully you still like it anyway? i tried my best.

tags make it seem so much worse than it actually is.

Roronoa Zoro did not like you.

The feeling was mutual, so you didn’t mind the fact, really. Zoro was annoying, with his three swords, and that stupid low voice, and how he never seemed interested in conversation unless it was either about alcohol or beating someone up. You were undoubtedly annoying to him for various reasons not so different in number to your own grievances of his personality. You two didn’t like each other. It was fine. It was normal.

It was pissing off the rest of the Straw Hat crew.

In your defense, you were never outwardly aggressive towards the man. You didn’t purposely exclude him from conversations or avoid looking at him if he dared haunt a room you were in with his presence. You just… didn’t speak to him unless spoken to. And maybe you had a tendency to roll your eyes or mutter some insults when he was talking, but it wasn’t that big of an issue.

Zoro, on the other hand, was a master of discord. He’d killed and hunted so many people it only made sense for him to be, but it seemed he hadn’t skipped his lessons in petty fights either. Because he was bullheaded and a buzzkill and always opened his big mouth when you were around. Those sarcastic remarks of his were common, sure, but when you were in the room they were tenfold and laced with genuine venom.

You weren’t sure who’d even started the strife between you two. It had been so long that you’d forgotten. While everyone else had seemingly bonded after your journey together, you and Zoro remained firmly in the stage you’d been while trapped in Buggy’s green room—antagonistic. Obviously you didn’t hate each other—when Zoro had nearly died to Mihawk, you hadn’t been happy—but you didn’t get along, and both of you were just fine with that arrangement.

Nobody else was, though.

And so obviously you didn’t like it when Luffy announced, as you were docked, that you were assigned to scout the surrounding village together. Your lips twisted, but you refrained from saying anything up until Luffy finished his speech with: “And that’s the plan! Any objections?”

There were head shakes from all around the deck of the Going Merry. You eyed Zoro in the very corner—his arms were crossed, and carefully he raised a hand, just barely lifting it into the air as he motioned. “Why is she coming with me?”

You bit your tongue, suppressing the irritated sigh that threatened to escape. “Because,” Luffy said, bright as ever, “You two need to learn how to be friends. Think of it as a bonding activity!”

“I’d really rather go with Sanji,” you optioned, trying to be more civil than Zoro at least. “He could use a hand carrying the stock barrels.”

“Nope,” Luffy chirped. “It makes most sense for the two of you to be the one to buy the weapons, anyway.”

“He’s right. You both are the most knowledgeable on the subject,” Nami whispered, though she gave you an apologetic look. You sighed. Zoro opted to say nothing.

“Fine. Let’s go, Roronoa,” you said, getting up off the Going Merry’s railing to start walking off the ship. You heard Zoro grumble from behind you, but he soon caught up. You said absolutely nothing to each other for the first few minutes of walking, keeping to yourselves until you eventually reached the market.

“What kind of weapons are we looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at the man who trailed just barely behind you. “I know Luffy wants backups, but did he say specifically what?”

“Probably a few guns, maybe some swords,” Zoro replied. “A katana for me. Extra staff for Nami, in case hers breaks.”

“Right. Nami gave me five-hundred thousand berry. Let’s spend it wisely. No pit stops.”

Zoro gave you a look. “It’s not like I’m going to slip into the nearest tavern and abandon you. Luffy said we go together, so we go together.”

“Right.” You turned away so you could roll your eyes in private. You had to appreciate that, at least; Zoro’s loyalty to Luffy at least meant he wouldn’t be a bitch to you if Luffy told him not to, and Nami kept you more or less under wraps too. “Pistols first. Let’s just get two, and save the rest for a sword because those are more pricey.”

Focusing on business was fine. You could be a responsible adult and not be petty. And it really did go okay for the first half-hour, wherein you bartered one of the weapons sellers down to a reasonable price for two pistols and also picked up a bo staff on the way.

You were just heading towards another district of the town when Zoro slowed to a stop. You glanced over to see what he was looking at—a wall pasted with bounty posters, various pirates plastered on paper with big numbers shouting out their worth.

“Look, it’s Luffy,” you said, eyes catching a bundle of posters near the top. Sure enough, all six members of the Straw Hat crew were there. You noticed with distaste that Zoro’s bounty was higher than yours.

Zoro tore all of the posters off, and you were almost surprised when he took yours off too. He crumpled them up into balls, about to toss them behind his shoulder before you grabbed them, carefully tucking them away in your bag. “What’s that for?” he asked.

“So I can shoot darts at your face,” you replied. “Come on. Should finish and get back to the ship before anyone recognizes us.”

Zoro shrugged, but followed you as you led him to the closest armory you could find. The shop was small and rickety, and a silver bell announced your presence as you entered the building. There were blades of every kind in the shop; you could see a table of knives and daggers, along with a stand full of long swords by the front. Near the back, you glimpsed some hanging rapiers, and—

“Katanas,” Zoro muttered, pushing past you to slip to the back of the store. You sighed, but followed, glancing over the array of jians instead. Zoro was already picking one up and pulling it out of its sheath, checking the quality of the blade.

“Don’t—” you hissed, and he glanced up at you, brow raised in question as he spun the blade around in his hand. “You’re going to knock something over.”

Zoro sheathed the sword, a satisfying click filling the room with the motion. “Calm down.”

“I am calm,” you snapped. “If you’d just stop stomping around with those big boots of yours, though—”

Zoro looked far less affected by the entire ordeal than you did, and that pissed you off even more. Logically, you knew he didn’t show much emotion in general, and even his annoyances tended to be deep and quiet—but still. He strung the katana back up where it belonged. “I am not stomping.”

“Yes, you are—” You cut yourself off as the bell of the store rang again, announcing the arrival of more patrons. These two were whispering to each other, gruff voices that sounded almost scared. “He came in here, right?” One of them asked the other. “Are you sure it’s him?”

“He tore down his own wanted poster!” The other hissed back.

You caught onto what was happening quickly, letting a sigh out from between your teeth and grabbing onto Zoro’s arm to yank him further back into the store. You turned a corner, where a narrow hall cut off at a dead end, a wardrobe of swords blocking off the area to any prying eyes. “Now look at what you did,” you grumbled, before you could stop yourself. “You’ve got fucking bounty hunters after us.” You glanced through the stands of swords for a double take—the pair were standing at the front, outfitted in familiar white-and-blue uniforms. “Scratch that, even worse. Marines.”

“I can take them in a fight,” Zoro muttered, hand going to his swords. You grabbed his wrist and gave him a look.

“No. We’re not due to leave the docks for another two days,” you snapped. “Can you figure out a way to get out of a situation without stabbing someone?”

“How can you be sure it was him, though? The Demon?” The more timid marine asked. They’d started moving, and you shoved Zoro into the corner, attempting to hide his ridiculously broad figure with an armoire of weapons. He scoffed, but made no move to adjust, back flat against the wall.

“He had the three swords. And the three earrings, too. Of course it was him,” the other one replied. You rolled your eyes.

“Ever try being a little less obvious, Roronoa?” you muttered, shooting another glare in Zoro’s direction. “You’re like a flashing red light for every marine within a two-mile radius with your stupid swords. I’m Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter!”

“I don’t hear you yelling at Luffy to take his hat off,” Zoro hissed back.

“They’re coming this way,” you answered, entirely ignoring his retort. “Hide your stupid swords. Shove them behind a stand or something.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just—”

“No fighting.” You swiveled around, tugging his holsters off his belt and tossing the swords behind him with a graceless clatter. Zoro just sighed. “Shit,” you muttered as the marines turned at the noise, starting to move towards the back of the store.

“Now look at what you did,” Zoro mumbled, mocking your words straight back at you. You glared at him.

“Shut up and stay put,” you snapped. “Let me think of something.” The marines were coming closer, and you huffed out a nervous breath. Zoro watched you from his position.

“They know your face, too,” he said carefully. Almost derisively, like he was looking down on your idea; making you seem stupid. “Just let me fight them. It makes the most sense.” The footsteps grew louder, then, the marines moving towards the back of the store.

“I think I heard voices,” one of them muttered to the other. You shushed Zoro, unconsciously moving closer to him until your arm bumped into his. You startled, and then looked up, finding Zoro’s chest just inches away from your face.

“Is this some new sort of hiding tactic?” Zoro asked, voice dry as a desert. “Are you trying to melt us into the wall—”

The voices tapered off as the marines moved closer. Your hand shot up to cradle Zoro’s face, covering his dangling gold earrings with your fingers to hide them away. “Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, leaning back to pick up his swords. You shushed him, and he stopped, bent halfway over you so your faces were just inches apart.

“Just trust me,” you snapped. Zoro opened his mouth to argue, but then the marines’ footsteps got louder—they’d turn the corner any moment now.

“Fine,” he breathed. “But if it doesn’t work, I’m taking out my swords.”

Your mind ran a million miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. The marines were just around the corner now, and your breath caught, eyes meeting Zoro’s as you wracked your brain for something, anything that might distract the marines away from the two of you. Zoro’s lips parted, a split-second away from undoubtedly whispering some grand insult when the marines finally turned the corner.

You were kissing Zoro before you could even think.

“Oh,” one of the marines said, as your fingers nearly pinched Zoro’s earlobe, still covering his earrings. Zoro was frozen for a moment, but the marines behind you seemed startled enough that he realized it was working. A rush of satisfaction filled you for a moment—see, Roronoa, you don’t have to stab shit all the time—before Zoro was kissing you back.

And. Well. You’d started it, but you had not anticipated this.

Zoro was almost rough, his hand curling around the nape of your neck and tugging you down closer to him. His other hand came to rest on your waist, so impossibly big around your torso that you shivered. What had started out as a simple kiss slipped into one all messy, your breaths coming out in sharp gasps as Zoro barely gave you a moment to breathe.

His teeth dug into your lip, and you groaned into his mouth, tongue darting along his gums with the motion. He snickered at that, and you felt a little bundle of vexation starting at the pit of stomach at the sound. You ran your tongue into the crevices of his mouth, licking into him with ease. Another rush of satisfaction filled you as Zoro’s grip tightened on your waist. You were winning.

He fought back just as hard, practically merciless as his tongue slid against yours, prying into your mouth like he was trying to bare you empty of secrets. You felt stripped raw like this, but it wasn’t a terrible feeling—the opposite, actually, soft whimpers leaving your lungs as he dug more fiercely into you. Zoro sucked on your lower lip with teeth, and you barely managed to suppress the stuttered sound it tugged out from the back of your throat.

There were hasty footsteps receding somewhere behind you, which was the only sound that snapped you out of your motions. You were the first to break away—another score gained there—glancing over your shoulder to ensure the marines had really left before fully detaching yourself from Zoro. The silver bell rung again, signaling the marines had made their exit, and you let out a relieved sigh.

Zoro glanced over your shoulder, straightening his clothes as his tongue ran along his top teeth. The top teeth you’d had your tongue on just seconds ago. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.”

“I did not—” You sucked in a breath, all your general irritated feelings towards the man coming back at full force with just that one sentence. “Shut the fuck up. I got us out of the situation, didn’t I?”

“You have questionable methods,” Zoro replied, leaning over to pick up his abandoned swords and strap them back along his hip. “Don’t think about that all night.”

“You were not that good of a kisser,” you snapped, though you could feel your face getting hot. Your mouth tingled, like you could still taste him on your tongue; on your teeth; in your gums. There was a vaguely empty sensation at the curve of your waist you tried your best to ignore. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Roronoa. Now pick a sword to buy so we can leave already.”

Zoro seemed irritated, but he complied, brushing past you to inspect a few more of the swords before picking out one. You paid for it as quickly as possible, in a rush to get back to the ship; not even trying to talk the salesman down from his price like you usually would.

Zoro followed you languidly, absolutely nothing urgent about his motions as you trailed after you back through the village. You wanted to uppercut him so badly.

“Oh, there you guys are,” Usopp said upon stepping foot back onto the Going Merry. You shot him an apologetic smile before breezing past, beelining for your bedroom without a second thought. “Uh—okay! You good?” he called after you, but you were too far away to respond at this point.

You slammed the door of your room shut upon entering, heaving out a breath of jumbled emotion all in one go. Fuck Roronoa Zoro and his three stupid swords and his three stupid earrings. He was the most lumbering, bullheaded oaf you’d ever had the displeasure of engaging with.

He’d been a ridiculously good kisser. Now you hated him even more.

You locked yourself in your room for the next four hours, busying yourself with various tasks whilst simultaneously seething over Zoro. It wasn’t even that he’d done anything specifically to you in the past. You just—didn’t get along, really. He was irritating, and stupid, and always tried to solve his problems with a blade rather than attempting to use his wits. Not that he had any wits of any kind. He was—

He was, as you were starting to find out, kind of attractive. Which. Okay. You’d known his face was at least easy on the eyes, despite his personality and general attitude not retaining the same qualities. But this was an entirely unappreciated development.

Someone knocked on your door, snapping you out of your irritated haze. The sun had nearly set, a kiss of dusk coming in from outside as you shuffled over to the door. You yanked it open. “What—”

Zoro was standing in the doorway, arm propped against the side and keeping your door open even as you attempted to close it on him. “Roronoa.”

“You’re hiding,” Zoro said, a tinge of mirth just barely visible in his eyes. You glared at him.

“I am not.”

“Do you have to disagree with everything I say?” Zoro asked. He was still wearing his swords even now, though he’d dressed down as the hour grew late. “You skipped dinner.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered.

Zoro took that as an invitation to step fully into the room. “I told the rest of the crew about the marines,” he said, and you flinched. “Not about that. Just that we got away. Nami wants to leave tomorrow evening now, so we’ll be busy.”

You stared at him, suspicious right from the start. “And you care enough to tell me? Did someone put you up to this?”

Zoro stiffened. “I just thought you might want to know.”

Your eyes narrowed. He looked as normal as ever—face blank, leaving no expression to be seen. But his muscles were tenser than usual, and the veins running up his arm were prominent, like his hand was tightened into a fist where it hid away in his pocket. “You have ulterior motives.”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoro muttered, but he didn’t budge. You scoffed.

“What, are you here to admit that you were wrong and my plan really did get us away from the marines?” you asked, voice sugary sweet as you riled him up. His jaw clenched, a vein tracing up his neck bulging with the pressure. “You don’t need to inflate my ego—”

Zoro moved across the room swiftly, and you stumbled back in surprise as he pinned you to the wall, hand tight around your arm. Your words died in your throat as his lips sealed over yours with a bruising kiss. His fingers dug into the skin of your bicep—tight, but not tight enough to hurt.

“I don’t need to inflate your ego,” Zoro snapped, finishing your sentence from where it’d died on your lips. “You do that enough yourself.”

You stared at him, the tingle of his lips still left as an afterthought on your mouth. “If you’re going to make out with me, take your fucking swords off.”

Zoro barely suppressed an eye roll, hands working at his belt to slide his holsters off from his hip. “What’s your problem with them?”

“I think your emotional dependency on a bunch of oversized butter knifes—”

Zoro’s head jerked up, eyes dark when they met yours. “Don’t call them that.”

You couldn’t resist the quip off your tongue. “You asked.”

Zoro slowly made his way across the room again, steps careful and languid as he moved closer. “I take it back,” he said, voice a near whisper, every word crisp on his tongue. You shivered.

This time, you expected it when he kissed you. He wasn’t careful with it, and you didn’t want it any other way—your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging him down closer to you. It got aggressive quick, his fingers coming down to clutch your waist, one of your hands tight around the locks of his hair as you pried open his mouth with your tongue.

Neither of you complied easily, both trying to get the better of the other. Zoro’s tongue forced itself into your mouth before you tugged on his lower lip with teeth. Both his hands came to wrap around your waist, now, hoisting you up and onto your hanging bed in the center of the room. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises.

Zoro abandoned your mouth in favor of your neck, biting open-mouthed kisses into your jawline before moving down your jugular. Each one was more hasty than the last, wet and warm with licks of tongue and scrapes of teeth. You didn’t bother moving to give him better access—he had to do that himself, a large hand coming to rest on the back of your skull and pulling your head back to bare the rest of your neck to him. You heard him mutter something in Japanese—probably some obscenity, which pleased you more than you’d like to admit.

His kisses stopped at the hinge of your neck and shoulder, Zoro pausing to lean over and work his fingers up your spine. They danced over the clasp of your shirt, and you had to choke back a wry laugh, surprised. “I thought the Demon just took what he wanted,” you murmured.

Zoro didn’t seem to like that. He started unfastening the buttons going down the back of your top. “At least I was polite enough to ask,” he muttered.

“Just take my clothes off already,” you said, and he stopped his work, leaning back to glare into your eyes. You let out an annoyed sigh, and he rolled his eyes, going back to what he’d been doing. “Are we going to talk about it?” you asked, eyeing Zoro’s chest in front of you.

You pressed a kiss to his neck, sucking at the skin before grazing it ever-so-slightly with your teeth. His throat hitched under your mouth.

“Nope,” he grunted, finally unclasping the last button and pulling your top over your head. Since you didn’t have an issue with that arrangement, you didn’t say anything, even as Zoro practically shoved you flat on your back.

“Rude,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t bother apologizing; he just leaned down to take your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple. You weren’t fast enough to suppress your gasp this time—a point in Zoro’s favor then, one you allowed with a bitter taste on your tongue. Zoro’s mouth formed a smile against your skin. You brought your knee up between his legs, shoving into his crotch in retaliation.

“Stop,” Zoro hissed, the consonants of the words brushing across your skin when he spoke. You ignored him, and he let out a groan, hand clamping around your thigh to keep you from moving. “Do you have to be such a brat?”

“I am not a brat.” You hooked your ankle around his, causing him to slip from where he lay suspended above you, mouths mashing in another too-aggressive facsimile of a kiss. “You’re just a gigantic manwhore with an overinflated ego.”

“You did not just call me—” You shut him up with another kiss, teeth digging deep into the inner gums of his lip. You ran your hands up the sides of Zoro’s figure, trying your hardest to ignore the stiff muscles of his ribcage. He wasn’t that well-built. He wasn’t even that attractive, you tried to convince yourself. Still, you found the buttons of his shirt, trying to unfasten them quicker than Zoro had with yours.

One of them caught, and Zoro had the audacity to laugh. You grumbled something incoherent under your breath, tugging his shirt off all the way and tossing it somewhere behind you. “Shut up.”

“You’ve been the one complaining this entire time,” Zoro replied easily. He leaned down, tugging at your trousers to pull them off, pressing sloppy kisses down your torso now. You resisted the urge to say something in response, knowing it would just give him the satisfaction of being right. Were your points tied now? You couldn’t remember.

Zoro had pulled your pants down to your knees by now, and you kicked them off all the way, watching as he pushed them off the bed and leaned down to work at the inward slope of your hip. You shivered, legs trembling as you felt your core grow tight, the cloth of your underwear already wet with anticipation. Seeing the ever-steadying tent in Zoro’s pants made you feel just a little bit better, and you were nice enough to let a stuttering moan out as his tongue licked down to the band of your panties.

He pulled your underwear all the way off, then, but to your distaste completely ignored your fully exposed core to unbutton his own pants instead. “I hate you,” you muttered.

Zoro stopped in the middle of what he was doing, pants halfway down his thighs and length already out. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, voice careful—you could still hear the mocking tone beyond the coolness of his voice, though, and your jaw clenched in irritation. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, for you to shut the fuck up.” You pushed yourself up by the elbows, grabbing one of Zoro’s arms and yanking him down onto the mattress. You used both hands to strip him of the last of his clothes—God, his legs were long—before returning to press your own open-mouthed bruises along his neck. His hips bucked up against yours, insistently chasing any friction, but you tightened a grip on his thigh to get him to stop. “Give me a second.”

“I don’t like that I’m suddenly under you,” Zoro said drily, and you could feel the words as they formed in his throat, still biting hickeys into his skin. You rolled your eyes, lips disconnecting from skin with a dull pop.

“Deal with it, Roronoa. I’m not moving.” With that, you finally reached down to coax his legs apart, hovering your core over his hips as you lined your entrance up with his length.

There was an audible hitch of breath on Zoro’s part as you sunk onto him. Point.

One of his hands tangled in your hair when you started moving, the other coming to press on the small of your back as you worked yourself up and down around him. For the complaining he’d done about the position, he didn’t seem so bothered about it, pulling you into a rough kiss.

You bit back with force, breath escaping you as your hips bucked against Zoro’s. The wet pool in your lower belly only grew stronger with every thrust, pressure building up inside of you as Zoro’s tongue ran across your teeth. You moaned freely now, too lost in the daze of your pleasure to remember to be annoying. Evidently Zoro felt the same way—he swallowed every one of your gasps up, grunting as you pulsed around him.

Your hips stuttered, thigh muscles contracting with the effort as you clenched down on Zoro. Still, you pushed through even as your muscles started to tire, encouraged by the deep, throaty sounds that escaped Zoro's lips between each kiss. He was big, filling you up damn near wholeheartedly, the crevices inside of you seeming to mould to his skin as you worked yourself on him.

Zoro started moving against you, and you gasped as his angle changed, somehow reaching farther in your body and causing tingles to erupt all along your skin. Your mind buzzed as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, core pulsing as you felt yourself come closer and closer to the edge.

You came all at once, teeth biting down in Zoro’s mouth before you parted from him. You let out a gasping moan, attempting to toss your head back as stars burst across your vision. Zoro’s hand in your hair dragged you back into a kiss, though; this one was slower, less teeth this time, like him coming had lessened the urge to bite.

Your movements slowed, coming to rest against Zoro’s skin, warm and—although you wouldn’t say so out loud—almost comfortable. His hand hadn’t budged from where it was pressed against your lower back, holding you tight to him.

There was a sticky wetness spreading fast by your thighs, and you grimaced, lifting yourself off of Zoro and rolling beside him on your back in one fluid motion. He stifled a groan at the movement, clearly irritated at the fact you hadn’t given any warning.

You lay there, breath heaving, rising out your high and making no move to touch the man laying by your side.

After you’d regained some of your dignity, you sat up, eyes narrowing at Zoro. “Get off my bed.”

Zoro gave you an exasperated look, but he didn’t argue; he just climbed off your bed, retrieving his clothes from where you’d tossed them about the room. He donned them slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Your eyes traced along his figure while he did, and you only felt sort of annoyed by it.

“I still hate you,” you snapped, after he’d finished changing. Zoro just scoffed, picking up his swords and slinging them across one shoulder. You could see a bruise purpling by his neck. At least you’d done damage.

“Fine by me,” he replied, straightening his shirt and giving you a look—not quite irritated, not quite sarcastic. “Dinner’s still waiting for you.”

You glared at his back as he opened the door to your bedroom. “Get lost, Roronoa,” you said, and that was that.

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writella · 9 months

Note

hi, sweetie! Hope you’re doing well. I just had the cutest thought that I wanted to share. And maybe if you want to add on to it as a drabble or something please feel free:) if not, then please just enjoy todays shower thoughts lol.

I’m thinking about a friends with benefits! reader and Daryl who find themselves travelling by canoe for whatever reason. And how they might get into some petty argument or even play fight that ends with them flipping the boat and the two of them just stand in the water, soaking wet and staring blankly at eachother with disappointment. Bangs sticking to your both your foreheads as the canoe slowly floats down the river along with all your dignity.

Take care! xoxo

Rocking the Boat

Synopsis: Daryl has been back home for weeks; the first attack against the Sanctuary is complete; Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop are on their way to freedom; but nothing is the same as it was, especially not with you and Daryl. Maybe a house boat side quest will break the ice, or really, make some waves.

Details: This is set during the beginning of season 8, it includes violence, smut, a fwb relationship but feelings are involved, mutual pining, a little bit of switch Daryl and reader, and some sweetness because I think it’s just my thing at this point. ♡

A/N + Response: Hello, lovely miss T ♡ what a fun idea!! I love the imagery you set with the canoe tipping over, especially the bangs so cute— it was one of my favorite parts to write here! This is probably a bit unrealistic and much longer than I intended, so I think I might consider this a full one-shot as well as a concept, and… it’s also a bit sad? Just a little until we get to the good stuff, I promise ;) Anyway I hope you like it; let me know what you think!!

Daryl sat on Rick’s porch, his back against the poles, reloading his guns as you sped up the steps, “I think we should go back to the boats. Now.” Your voice was hurried, you had run all the way from your house, but he didn't even look up at you.

“Why would we do somethin’ stupid like that?” His voice was low, and annoyed. You didn’t expect to be greeted kindly, but at least he sounded like anything other than emotionless to you since the first time you saw him again; since the time he escaped the Sanctuary.

“There’s no one there. I saw it before I got back home. There were people with guns sitting outside the first time we saw it, but now there aren't.”

“A couple of guns ain’t gonna help us.”

“There had to have been a reason they were guarding it before.” Your words were urgent and your eyes pleaded for him to look up. “Any amount of guns could make the difference, Daryl. You know that.” You stare at him, waiting for nothing as he doesn’t respond. “Did you and Rick even find anything before you got back?” You cross your arms, “Cause it doesn’t look like it. And I think I just did.”

You had gotten separated from the group after the first attack against the Sanctuary: you ran without thinking, just trying to get away from the army of walkers stampeding the place. Straying off the usual path to Alexandria, you accidentally reencountered a place you and Daryl only saw once before. It was a time before Negan, before the Saviors. But now, remembering their jackets, and their weapons, and how their bikes looked parked at the shore, you realized those were three Savior cabin boats— fairly sized, a bit rusty, they had a shack like feel, but it was big enough to stand and sleep in. Maybe something of use could be in there, and at least it was something to do while you waited for the final attack.

Similar to Rosita and Michonne, you also got hurt by the scavengers— day zero of the war, when Sasha died— but the girls left you here, they didn’t even tell you they were going, you didn’t even see them leave. But you needed to get out too; you needed to help. “I’m going with or without you.” Your anger started bubbling at his indifference, “And I saw you talking to Tara, I know you’re planning something, so if you want to go off with her and complete your idiot side plan-”

“You’re the one with the dumbass plan.”

“- then that’s fine!” You glare at him, his eyes still so evasive, it infuriates you. “My objective is to find more weapons, before the final attack.” You lied, you both knew your objective was to rest before the final attack, “So I’m gonna go do that.”

You begin to walk briskly. You knew he was going to try to stop you. You knew he was going to come with you when he realized, yet again, he couldn’t stop you, or… you hoped he couldn’t… Sometimes you forget how much stronger he is than you. You had a smart mouth and you knew how to get a reaction out of him, or at least you did in the past, but he could pinned you down with one hand, making you completely immobile— it’s happened before. The thought makes you walk faster, heading for the nearest car. You were trying to make a point although you weren’t sure what it was. You were just tired of sitting around, tired of his treatment— mistreatment, actually. You knew he had reason to act curtly, what he went through was unspeakable, but you were still there for him, waiting, but he never came to you. Not even late at night. Not even to simply sleep.

Just as you’re about to reach the car you feel his hand wrap around your arm, you almost let it yank you. Your breath is a heavy mix of fear and excitement as he does so. Maybe you finally got something out of him. Maybe you still have it. Maybe you still have him. “We don’t got time for this,” he hissed. Then his jaw clenched, it almost looked like he was chewing on something, “but you’re forgetting the boat.”

“It’s a canoe.” You were pushing it with the retort, he was coming.

He grunts as he lets go of your arm, it slapping down to your side. You wait for him by the car as he retrieves the canoe and paddles from one of the house garages. You guys had found it a long while ago, never knowing when it would be of use. That time was now.

The ride toward the waterfront was irritable and depressing to say the least. You wanted to be around Daryl, you wanted to stop him from going off plan with Tara, but most importantly, you just wanted to talk to him; finally and for once. You all were on the biggest missions of your life, in the biggest war of your life… who knows where your fates would lie after this, but he has yet to say anything to you that didn’t involve fighting the Saviors, and even with that, he didn’t say much. He wanted to win. He was ready to do it fast. Whatever it took. That was all.

He kept shifting in his seat, short, low grunts coming out of the side of his mouth— he didn’t want to do this right now, but he knew you were just as stubborn as him, especially when it came to him. As dumb as he felt this was, it wasn’t time for another person he cares about to get hurt.

“Stop fuming,” you muttered.

He snapped back, barking your name, “We’re in a war! We could be doin’ better things right now and got me here for what?”

“Maybe so you don’t kill people we need alive right now?” You were talking about Dwight, you did more than just see Daryl talking to Tara.

His following grunt truly said typical. “You always got your nose where it don’t belong.”

You ignore him, “We should follow Rick’s plan.”

He shakes his head, ignoring you this time. He’s tired of talking about this. He’s going to go on the boat, see if there’s weapons, get Tara, and use whatever you two find to complete his own plan at the Sanctuary. This needs to be done.

“At least it’s a little over 5 miles off the out-post the Kingdom took out,” you reason, “that must be why no one is there anymore.”

Still no response. Typical, it’s your turn to think it. You let go of talking to him for now. The rest of the drive was silent as well as when you get to your destination, starting to put the canoe on water.

You look at the three small, now unguarded, boats. Only one bike was by the land and there was blood splattered on the middle house, the biggest one. Maybe the Kingdom took out the guy that was there, but there were no boats or canoes around, no way for someone to get close enough inside.

You two get in, starting to row. “There better be somethin’ good in there,” Daryl huffed. You hoped so too. Uncertainty started filling in with the reality of your awful plan. There really could be nothing in there and you really could have spent your day doing something that mattered to the cause. If these boats held anything important, why wasn’t a Savior there already? But even worse, the realization that you were acting out of desperation just because Daryl had been acting so cold… felt even more terrible.

You knew Daryl was scarred, far more than before and you were trying to be patient. You were going to let him come to you. You knew he needed time, and he was at the Kingdom for a little bit anyway, hiding out from Negan. You couldn’t even talk to him if you wanted to because of that. But now you had been planning that first attack for weeks, you were sleeping in the same place together again, but not in the same room, not touching. And again, you understood why, but then again… you didn’t. It was so hard to gain his trust, for him to open up to you, you thought that was something you gained for keeps; but now he wasn’t even allowing you to have a friendship anymore, let alone this in-between relationship you used to have. It made you upset how much power you realized you let him have over you. You missed him so much, and now you weren’t even sure if he missed you back, or if he had reason to. Maybe it was just a fling after all.

War feels long, but it’s only a short time in truth. Nonetheless, a short time that can define who you are thereafter. This could be him, and maybe it always was. And this could be how you two will always be. Forever.

You decide to break the silence again as you row, your thoughts becoming insufferable: “That’s actually not the right technique,” you stutter, “if- if you’re curious.” You start to row based on what you taught yourself, the canoe going just a bit faster now, “I read it in a book from Deana’s old library.”

“So you read somethin’ in a book and now you think you know everything?” His eyes were annoyed. “Hmph.”

Your voice raises, “Well just because you’re so experienced in the wilderness or whatever doesn’t mean you know everything either.”

“I’m doin’ it fine.” He wasn’t. “You don’t even know how to swim.” You didn’t. “So maybe just be glad you ain’t dying today.”

You repeat yourself, “Still- doesn’t- mean- you know how to do everything… You expect me to think Merle took you canoeing? Of all things?” You cock your head, “Pretty sure he was out finding the next score.” You knew it was a low blow to bring up the dead brother, but you were upset. No talking and now insults? You could be cold too, even colder, even if you didn’t like it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

Then you screamed. A walker with gills, swimming in the water approached your boat behind Daryl. Your voice made him turn around to see it. You take your paddle to try to stab it in the head, but the walker’s hands are along the canoe rim, coming closer to you, it makes you accidently hit Daryl with your swing. “Oh- Sorry!”

“Fuck!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry!” A realization comes, “Is this the guy?”

“If it was he’s been dead for a while.” Daryl shouts, taking out his gun and you take out your knife. He’s trying to shoot the walker in the head, it’s closer to your side now. But you’re thrashing and water is flying while you try to jab them in the head with your knife. The walker has one of your arms and you’re trying to pry it away with the hand that has the knife. Neither of you have a clear shot at getting the thing, all three of you rocking the canoe far too much.

“Stay still!” He yells at you.

“Im trying!” You shout with the same force, the same annoyance, “He’s not making it easy, Daryl!”

Daryl has a chance to shoot the walker in the stomach, and he takes it, but it does nothing. The walker’s hands on you do not quit. The two of you just keep yelling at each other, riling the walker up. You can hear the biting sounds they’re making near your arm.

He shoots again, but you and the walker are still moving too much and Daryl’s loosing balance. The walker is tipping the canoe with their hands, water splashing inside. The next bullet goes into the wood, making a hole.

Their starving mouth continues to try to bite at you. You pull using all your strength to get their mouth away, trying to use your other hand to slice into their head. You two have never seen a walker like this: they can swim and they’re so strong.

Water now fills the boat from the hole as Daryl moves forward on the canoe, pushing your head, his hand quite literally covering your whole face to shove you out of the way, getting a clear shot at the walker and firing at their head. He clicks twice: Boom. Boom. Guts and water fly everywhere.

The splashing of the water and the firing of his gun overwhelms all your senses. The weight of Daryl is on your side now, neither of you have balance; both your weights pull the canoe over the edge as it flips over entirely with you under it.

You scream, but your voice is muffled. You thrash around, trying to use what little experience you have. You come above water for a few seconds, wailing, and Daryl grabs you.

“Hey- Hey- Hey!” his words snap, rough like barks until he gets you to look at him, gripping your face so it’s forward. “It’s okay,” he’s breathing almost as heavy as you are. His voice becomes even now, “It’s okay.” You realize he has you in his arms— it really was okay.

Feeling he might make a comment about you almost drowning, you force yourself to speak through water filled lungs, “Don’t. Say it.”

So he didn’t. He just holds you tight, you even feel his thumbs squeezing into you at the waist now, and through half lidded eyes, you see his arms tense, working hard to make sure you never fall, but it’s at a half arm's length, his elbows bent. You blink rapidly, your wet eyelashes still flapping shut until you’re able to open them better. You can see Daryl more clearly now.

You try to swipe some of the hair out of your face. The baby hairs at the crown of your forehead stayed slick in place while some parts of your hair started to lightly form your wave or curl pattern, but in all, you were absolutely drenched.

Your hands now hold onto his forearms just as tight as his below. It was one of those rare moments where you remember just how blue his eyes are. Their narrow shape and the way his hair lays always hides them away. But the sun was behind you, casting its light directly on him and his hair was now slick to his head as well: only some of it resting on his forehead.

If someone were to describe Daryl’s looks, they would probably say something typical like dark and rugged. They don’t see what you see. God, you forgot how uniquely handsome he was.

His hair changed colors in the light, it wasn’t as dark brown anymore, flecks of it were a more golden brown in the sun. And you loved the mole that was just above his lip and facial hair. Almost no one else in the group had something like that. And now, there was the way his button down stuck onto his skin. The color was dark enough that it wasn’t see-through, but you saw every indent, every line of his bicep and tricep as you looked at his arms, trying to avoid his face, trying to avoid his chest or anywhere lower.

On the other hand, Daryl was trying even harder to avoid looking at your soaked body, failing even worse. His eyes couldn’t help but linger on how your chest huffed as you tried to catch your breath. Your collarbones are now exposed as your shirt slides down just a bit further, the light color almost see through because of the water, and your bra didn’t help much either. It was one of those without the padding, it was the only one that fit— your supplies, food and wearable, clean clothing, were running dangerously low at home. The thin material of both top garments showed how your nipples perked up now. And the way he had to grasp tightly on the smalls of your waist, feeling your stomach inhale and exhale as you calmed yourself down didn’t help either. It was like he felt your hold body moving… similar to a way he used to feel it.

It all makes him realize now how he hasn’t gotten the courage to look at you directly in the longest. God, he forgot how pretty you are. How lovely it was to hold you. Even if it was to escape death.

Your eyes are so big as you hold on tightly to his arms, you’re still shaken up. Trying to paddle your feet like you’ve seen on tv and in videos in the past. It’s adorable.

He didn’t dare look any longer, but part of him wondered if you were looking at him the same way. And you were. Specifically, the way you could see every line and ripple of his abdomen with his button up now glued to his body. As you let your eyes trail just a bit more form his arms, you noticed how magnified his chest looked, how his nipples were just as pert as yours.

It all made you feel something warm down below and it made something inside him twitch, but this wasn’t the time. He had been feeling so many things since he returned that he didn’t even know which ones to act upon first, so he reverted back to saying nothing, or at least nothing that had to do with how he really felt, how he really felt about you that is.

In the end, “You better hope I can make one of those shits run or we’re fucked,” was all he decided to say.

He moves your hands onto the back sides of his waist and he starts to swim. Your legs are off to the sides and he tells you to kick as he is and hold on tight as he swims you both to the middle boathouse, the one with the blood.

You hold onto the ledge as you finally arrive, allowing Daryl to go in first, checking for walkers at each boat. He does the side ones first. No one is there. Finally, he goes to the middle house: out of all of them, it’s the biggest wreck. The place is filled with pictures, Polaroids, scattered all over the place. It’s of the Saviors. And there’s all kinds of guns scattered on the floor, but he can’t help but to stare at the faces. He knew some of those faces.

You call his name, but he doesn’t respond. “What was in the other two?” You yell for him again, but nothing. You decide to go in the middle one as well, your eyes are amazed by the mess of guns on the floor. There were even ones still hooked up to the wall. There were knives and daggers too. Even glass cases with various bullets, you wondered what they did. Was this the emergency weapons stash? Had you reached it before a Savior could? “Why aren’t you picking this stuff up?” You look up at him impatiently, shaking your head and huffing, you’ll do it yourself you guess.

Daryl continues to look around, picking up a frame. The only framed picture in the boat. It was cracked on the ground: A Polaroid of Negan.

He takes the picture out of the broken glass to look at it closer. As if this wasn’t already the attitude of much of the Saviors, whoever lived and protected this place must have worshiped him. Negan stood proudly in it, his bat on the side of his shoulders, a big rifle strapped around his back on the other. His hair and beard was all black, and that notorious, all encompassing grin plastered his face from ear to ear. Daryl turned the picture over: the words, ‘Negan — The First Savior. My Savior,’ was written on the back.

It fired him up. It made him think of the dark, of that cell, of the food that probably wasn’t even food, when he was kicked and jumped by those Saviors in the parking lot, and that damn song— the saccharine melody would live on in his brain like a siren. There would never be silence inside him again. In fact, there never was. It was only louder now. So loud and so angry he feels it in his throat, traveling to his tongue, beneath his eyes, as he can no longer keep it in anymore; but he tries, and tries, and tries, quietly holding everything in while you keep collecting weapons, putting them in bags you find. The picture crumples in his closing hand, his fist turning red as he grips tightly, ruining the shining paper.

He slides down against the boat wall, sitting on the ground biting his tongue, stopping the feelings until you're done; until you two can leave and he can do what he needs to do. It’ll be without you, without Rick, without anyone. This needs to be done. He’ll do it.

“Daryl,” you call out, not facing him, collecting the bags. “I think I counted 32, but it could be 40… I think there’s smaller ones by the wheel and I didn’t even get the swords yet. If there's about the same number on the other two, there could be maybe over 100 new weapons,” you gasp with disbelief. “Were the other two like this?“

You we’re relieved, you knew it was a dumb plan, but you came out of it with a win; it was worth it. “Daryl, come on-” you turn to him now, “oh.”

You almost couldn’t see his eyes with how much more narrow he made them, they were practically closed and his face was down. You wondered if this was the moment you would first see him cry: his lip quivered, his face was as red as his fists, and he wouldn’t look in your direction, his head was basically to the wall as you started to walk to him.

Your movements are slow as you kneel down to the corner in which he sat. You place fingers along his jaw until your whole hand wraps around the area. Your strokes are gentle, feeling the bristles of his beard on your palm. He had been so angry since he returned, hell bent on war and death, but you remembered… he must have also been so sad, so depressed too. Poor boy, you thought. Poor boy, you forgot; in some ways, he still was just a boy.

You turn his cheek to face you, but his eyes don’t dare meet yours as a few tears start rolling out. Your own emerge too. It’s heartbreaking to see him like this.

You put your forehead to his, your nose rubbing against his own, “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

You come even closer. Your lips lightly touch his, you’re tentative at first, not knowing if it was right, but then you feel his brush against yours just as light. You decide to move in, your lips parting his own as you kiss him.

Your tongue goes into his mouth, your hand raising his chin, you’re so delicate. He holds your shoulder, you lean into his bent body and your other hand slides against his chest. You’re both still wet and cold, but his heart beats warmly.

His head leans up against the wall as you push yourself further onto his lips. You hold his shoulders and he allows you to slide him down.

You look up at him, your hands on his shirt. This is not how you expected today to go. “Is this okay?” You ask softly. His nod is just as soft, you almost don’t see it, but his hands are lightly on top of your own as you unbutton his shirt, he lets you. It’s okay.

He’s unbuckling his belt now, pushing his pants down and your top goes over your head. He starts to unbutton your own jeans. It’s quiet except for your breaths, and the clinking of belts, and the undoing of zippers.

You pull him out a little more from the corner so you can straddle him. You start grinding your hips down into him and he pushes into your clit with his finger, circling it. The bit of warmness you felt below before is now almost pooling out instantly from just the littlest touches. Your back arches, you haven’t felt him in so, so long. You gasp and it accidentally turns into a moan. You’re so needy for it, but you remember: you want to help him.

Your hands move down to his stomach, your lips kiss his neck as your hands travels up to his chest and then back down, you start kissing him everywhere there as you do so, breathing him in, it makes him fidgety, little gruff sounds irruption from his throat, he’s trying to keep it in. Then you got even lower: you kiss down his cock until you’re at the tip. You lick at the pre-cum there. You put just a little bit of him inside your mouth, sucking, stroking the rest of it. His exhale comes out as a shaky gasp, he whimpers slightly.

Finally, you move back up and line yourself up with him, sinking down slowly as you look him in the eyes. You can’t help it, you start to ride him immediately thereafter. The stretch feels so good and so big and full as if you’ve never felt him before. Your moan is light and airy, you missed him. And he groans, “-ugh, fuck” and moans, “uh- mm- argh,” right after you do so. He missed you. You know that now, it makes you smile.

You lean up against him slightly. His mouth parted and you speak into it, your breast brushing against him as you rolled onto him, your stomached touching a bit. “I’ve got you,” you pant into his mouth, he’s panting too, “always.”

He holds onto your hips as you go faster, you’re holding onto his shoulders. “Does it feel good?” You kiss him right after you ask, his tongue going to the top of your mouth, sliding in wet and deliciously, it’s everything you’ve waited for. He hums into you as a response. You feel his dick twitch as your pussy grips on him tighter.

You feel like you both could be close until he starts kissing you more fiercely. His tongue only slipping in slightly as he pecks your lips, he bites down slightly, then kissing you deeply again. Then he turns you over. You’re under him now. His hands go right by your ears, flat on the ground and he thrusts into you. Hard. It almost hurts, you can’t lie. He’s grunting, short and quick, but his rasp, and his hair flying as he quickens the pace, and the fact that pain is slowly turning into pleasure… you’re fine with it. If this is what he needs, you’re fine with it.

His next grunt is almost a yell, it’s like a battle cry. He’s angry and you know it. You hold onto his flex arms tenderly, caressing him, silently telling him you’re there, but you allow him to continue.

His movements are faster now. More irate. His body comes closer to yours, but his movements do not stop their force. His thrusts feels like poundings, you feel like the floor is moving, maybe the boat is rocking, the bags jump with it.

He looks at your screwed shut eyes as one of his hands comes to touch your chest. Trailing your breast, then to the bottom of your stomach, staying there, pressing down, feeling himself inside of you has he shoves himself up and in, he’s deep, so deep. “Mmm,” You’re whining now, “-uuh.” It makes his eyes lighten, he’s humming, low and gruff and continuous, stuttering into you, eyes open waiting to see you come so then he can. It’s right there for him, but he wants to see you, he needs it.

Your moan mixes into a whine, “Daryl please,” you beg, “Daryl please- it’s- it’s too much, it hurts,” it makes him go even faster, and he can’t help himself as he comes in you first, sighing as he does so, but it’s exactly what you need to come undone yourself.

You grab the back of his neck, holding it close to you as you squeeze your arms around him and he does the same to your waist.

You both try to calm your breaths, “Never leave me again,” you say into his ear, breathing roughly. “Please.”

“Never.” He looks at you right in the eye when repeats it, “Never.” He wipes the tears from your face as you both nod, affirming a new promise to each other. “We’ll win. Together.”

After laying for a few moments, just looking at each other, he goes to the bathroom to find a washcloth, warming it with water, helping you clean up. He takes your hand so you can start doing it yourself and he kisses your forehead before he starts to get dressed. “I’ll be back.”

Soon enough, you hear the engine in the front start to rev up. He got it to work.

“You can drive a boat?”

“Gonna learn.” He turns to you, pulling you in front resting your hands on the wheel while he stands behind, his arms over your own. “We both are.”

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x afab!reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #wonders with writella #wonderings with daryl #💌 ask answered 💌

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oscarpiasstri81 · 6 months

Text

i wanna ruin our friendship - oscar piastri

part one / part two

summary ~ in which oscar and his childhood best friend discover their feelings for each other through an… unconventional way

pairing ~ {oscar piastri x childhoodbsf!reader}

content warnings ~ smut! vaginal fingering, oral (m and f receiving), language, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids!!), angst?, fluff, aftercare, probably horrible grammar, etc.

a/n ~ i’ve never written one of these before, so please be nice. also, english is not my mother tongue, do let me know if i’ve made a mistake, or if i missed any content warnings!!!!

word count ~ probably like 3.5k?

As you looked at the group around you, you had finally noticed there was no place to sit. You were meeting up with some friends from the grid plus their friends and significant others. In total, there were at least 30 people, so it shouldn’t have came as a surprise that even Charles’ Monaco home didn’t have enough seating.

After a minute of scanning the room, looking lost, you met eyes with your best friend, Oscar Piastri. He noticed that you had been clearly looking for somewhere to sit, with your drink in hand, and patted his lap, beckoning you over. Naturally, you had gone to sit with him without argument. As you sat down, he rested his hand on your knee.

This wasn’t unnatural behavior between you and the rookie driver. The two of you had been friends since childhood. Both having grown up in Melbourne and living on the same street, you were bound to grow such a strong bond. You’d been through everything together. From petty childhood arguments to friend breakups and even a real breakup at one point. As young, inexperienced teenagers, you had dated for a total of three weeks before deciding you were better off as friends and going back to normal. Now, you two were as close as ever, which is why the rest of the group didn’t bat an eye when you had chosen to sit on his lap, or when his hands suddenly moved from resting on your knee to gripping your hips.

You had just leaned forward in your seat on his lap to grab your drink when his hands shifted. You felt his breathe on the back of your neck as he softly whispered to only you, not wanting to grab anyone else’s attention.

“You’ve got to stop moving, y/n.”

He said in a low tone. It sounded as though he was almost out of breathe. You turned to look at him confused, not quite understanding why, but ultimately abided by his request and stayed still.

After a few minutes of drinking and conversing with some of the other people in the group, you had completely forgotten about what had transpired just minutes ago. You set your drink down in front of you, and wiggled a little to get more comfortable. Oscar took in a sharp breath, and spoke softly to you once again.

“Can you just stay still, please?”

He sounded a little more desperate this time, and you turned to look at him in the face, concerned.

“Why, is everything okay? You’re getting a little snappy” You said, jokingly.

A light blush dusted over his cheeks, barely visible, but still there. You hadn’t even noticed how his hands were still sat comfortably on your hips, and how his shallow breaths had picked up quite a bit. Still with a concerned look on your face, you reached your wrist up to check the temperature of his forehead.

“You feel a little bit warm. Are you feeling ill?”

At this point, you were wondering if he had somehow gotten sick over the last few hours, or if he was a little buzzed by the amount of drinks he’d had.

You shifted in his lap once more to face your body towards him better when you felt it. The obvious imprint of something rather… hard beneath your lap. Finally understanding what was going on, you looked up at Oscar with a matching blush on your cheeks. Eager to fill the awkward silence, you resorted to your best coping mechanism.

“Um… Oscar. You seem to have a bit of a growing problem. Down there” You joked as you inconspicuously pointed towards his nether region.

The awkward laugh that left you just made Oscar feel even more humiliated than he had already been.

“I’m really sorry, y/n. Trust me, this is just as uncomfortable for me as it is for you.” He said bashfully.

Maybe it was the look in his eyes, or maybe it was the amount of drinks you had already downed, but a surge of confidence came through you.

“Oh, I’m anything but uncomfortable right now.”

Again, you had no idea where this confidence was coming from, but the look on Oscars face when you said that made the feeling grow tenfold, and it seemed to have effected him as well. He did a quick sweep of the group, making sure no one was paying the both of you too much attention. Once he came to the conclusion that everyone was entirely invested in one of Lando’s stories, the grip on your hips tightened. He tested the waters by gently pulling you down onto his growing member, grinding your hips against his.

The soft moan that left your lips would’ve attracted everyone’s attention if not for the loud music playing in the background. You looked back up at Oscar with lust filled eyes, silently begging for him to do it again, and how could he say no to such pretty eyes. He gently ground his hips up against yours one last time, leaving a gently kiss on the back of your neck. Feeling how aroused he was growing, you leaned to whisper in his ear.

“We should go somewhere a little more private.”

With a soft smirk and a hint of mischief in his eyes, he nodding enthusiastically. You stood up from his lap slowly, ignoring the aching feeling coming from between your legs. You were too focused on how Oscar was making you feel to hear whatever lame excuse he told the group before taking you by the hand and leading you into another room.

You barely made it the whole way to the door before Oscar was grabbing you by your hips and pulling your back against his chest, rutting into you as he walked. You turned around against him, looking at him in the eye, feigning seriousness.

“Stop it, Oscar.” You said with a laugh and a gentle swat on the arm “What if someone sees?”

He let out a scoff, “Please, with the way you were just grinding against me in front of everybody, I doubt they’d care much.”

The cocky tone in his voice sent shivers down your spine and left moisture gathering in your pussy. You were already so wet from what he was doing to you while you were in his lap, there was no way you weren’t soaking through your panties right now. You turned away from him playfully, and started to walk up the stairs, only turning back to look at him when he planted a slap on your ass.

When you finally got up the stairs and into one of the many guest rooms of the Monaco penthouse, the nerves were finally catching up with you. Were you really about to have sex with your childhood best friend? The simple answer, yes.

Oscar shut the door quietly, the only sound to be heard was the lock on the door carefully turning. He shifted to look at you slowly, taking cautious steps towards you until your back was pressed up against the wall. The eyes that were previously filled with nothing but lust momentarily turned soft.

“Are you sure you want to do this, y/n. If this is going to make you uncomfortable, we can go back downstairs and pretend this never happened.”

Hearing his words made your heart drop into your stomach. Knowing that he could so easily forget about this entire situation, unbeknownst to your feelings, left a tinge of pain in your lungs. But this was too good of an opportunity to pass up, so you quickly nodded at his question. He let out a tsk sound, and let his hand to softly caress your jaw. He brushed your hair out of your face, leaning down until he was within centimeters of your lips. So close, you could feel his breath mixing with yours as he spoke.

“I need words, pretty girl.”

You closed your eyes slightly as he spoke, the feeling of his lips so close to yours so hard to pass up.

“Please, Oscar. Kiss me.”

He quickly succumbed to your request, pushing his lips against yours. The feeling was nothing you could’ve ever imagined. It was almost as if the universe had created his lips to fit perfectly against your own. He took the opportunity of your surprise to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned softly into it, the both of you fighting for dominance of the kiss. In the end, he won.

Without warning, he leaned down slightly to put his hands on the back side of your thighs, lifting you around his waist with ease. Wrapping your legs around him, you slipped your hands into his hair and deepened the kiss.

So caught up in the moment, you barely noticed him walking backwards towards the bed until he let go of his grip on you, letting you gently fall against the comforter. Without a second thought, he reached his arms to the underside of his shirt and brought it over his head, leaving him in just a pair of low rise jeans.

Without his shirt, you had a better opportunity to examine his toned body. You had seen him without a shirt before plenty of times, but something was different now with the sexual tension in the air. You let your eyes wander over his chest, collarbones sticking out so beautifully. His stomach was completed with toned abs, looking incredibly soft from where you were sitting below him. Gazing further down, your eyes resting on the defined v-line near the waistband of his jeans, the elastic of his boxers sticking out.

Too busy staring at his body, you hadn’t noticed the way he suck to his knees, and pushed the hem of your dress up to rest around your waist. You watched his as he looked at the pair of lacy white panties surrounding your swollen cunt. He couldn’t help but notice the wet patch near the bottom of the set.

You snapped back into reality when you felt the soft kisses he was leaving on your inner thighs, the occasional bite leaving you gripping the sheets on the bed.

He made eye contact with you as he moved his fingers to gently massage the wet patch covering your panties, his fingers exactly where you wanted them. He had a cocky grin on his face listening to the sounds that escaped your pretty lips when he applied a bit more pressure near your clit.

“Can I take these off?” His question broke the silence. Again, you found yourself without words and nodded in compliance.

“Words, pretty girl. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please, Oscar. I want you to touch me.” You whined in response.

With your consent, he wasted no time in pulling the panties off of your body, leaving kisses down your legs as he takes his time. Never once did he break eye contact with you, and the thought made the butterflies in your stomach flutter. At this point, all thoughts of the potential consequences from this moment in your friendship were lost in the back of your mind.

He made his way back up to you, smiling softly before planting his lips on yours in a slow, passionate kiss. You felt his fingers tickling their way over your chest, down your abdomen and stopping on top of your clit. He starts gently rubbing along the edge of your entrance, teasing you slightly. The feeling lets a loud whimper escape from you, your body desperate for his attention. He chuckles against the skin of your neck as he slowly drags his fingers down and into your tight hole. With a ‘come hither’ motion, his long fingers quickly find that spongey spot inside of you, caressing it. His kisses trail down from your neck until his face is between your thighs and you can feel his hot breath on your most sensitive parts.

He makes eye contact with you, silently asking for permission to put his mouth on you, desperately wanting to find out what you taste like. You nod with a whine and a quiet ‘please’ before he does exactly what he wants with you. His tongue expertly finds your clit and he begins sucking on it while his fingers work inside you with ease.

“O-Oh, Oscar! Please… please, go faster. I’m so c-close”

Your cries only seem to edge him on as he increased the speed of his fingers, working their way into you faster. He works his tongue around your pussy, trying to memorize the taste of you as you come.

Letting out a loud moan, the knot in your lower stomach finally comes undone. Oscar can feel the way that you clench around his fingers, and pulls them out of your hole before instantly replacing them with his tongue. He laps up all of your juices as they drain out of you, and your body falls limp momentarily from the overstimulation.

With his face still between your legs, you feel the vibration of his moans resonating through your core. Looking down at him, you see the way he is rocking his jean covered hips into the bed beneath him. Once he finally pulls away from your pussy, you take the opportunity to roll him underneath you.

“What are you doing?” He asks in a breathless tone. Not that he is complaining. The sight of you on top of him with your dressed pushed over your waist, and a sheen of sweat covering your flustered skin. It’s a dream come true.

Without answering his question, you slide your body down until your face comes level with his growing erection. You push his hips down flush with the bed, and begin working on undoing the tight jeans he is wearing. Finally undoing the buttons, he lifts his hips so you can pull them down, leaving him in just his boxers. You brush your fingertip over the wet spot in the front from his leaking precum, and palm his member, applying some friction. Hearing his groans, you finally pull the boxers down over his hips, throwing them aimlessly across the room.

His swollen, red cock hits his stomach with a wet smack, and you take a moment to really take in how he looks. He also has a shiny sheen of sweat covering his body, and the flush across his cheeks makes him look entirely delicious. His cock is lengthy and thick, the bright red tip still leaking precum. You lean down to run your tongue across it, making him moan out loudly. Sucking gently, focusing on the tip, you take your finger to run across the bulging vein on the underside of his dick. After a minute of teasing and listening to Oscars breathy moans, you take as much of his member in your mouth as you can. Hallowing out your cheeks, you bob your head up and down as a fast pace, hoping to get him to the edge as fast as possible.

Just as you think he is about to come, his hands come to grab your hair and pull you off his cock with a pop. You look at him confused for a second before he speaks.

“If you kept that up, I was going to come way too fast.” He says with a slight chuckle.

“Maybe that was my point.”

“Baby, if I’m going to come, it’s gonna be deep inside of you.”

His words leave you breathless and clenching your pussy around nothing. Oscar sits up only to grab you, and flip you back underneath him. Grabbing you by the jaw, he turns his face towards you and kisses you with the most passion he could possible portray through a kiss. Without warning, he aligns his cock up with your hole, and pushes in slowly. As much as he wants to go hard and fast, the ache between his legs becoming almost too much for him, he refrains. He pulls out of you slowly, almost all the way before grinding his hips into yours and pushing himself back into you fully.

The slow and intimate pace has you feeling things you shouldn’t, feelings you had so desperately tried to forget resurfacing. For you, this isn’t just sex, it feels more like the connection between you and Oscar you were so miserably wanting.

When you open your eyes, you see Oscar staring down at you with adoration filling his expression. He moves one of his hands from your hip to rest on your cheek, gently pulling you in for a slow kiss.

As your tongues wrestle together, you feel his remaining hand snake around your body to rub gentle circles on your clit. The combination of his cock stretching you out and his fingers rubbing against you has you seeing stars.

“I’m not gonna last long. I need you to be a good girl and come for me.” He says between moans.

Obeying his request, you feel yourself pulsating around him for the second time that night. Your vision goes white and you feel as if you are floating outside of your body. The most intense orgasm washes over your entire body as you let out moans you’re sure the neighbors could hear. Feeling your cunt squeeze around his cock has him coming within seconds. He moans into your mouth as he feels himself close to coming. Pausing his movements inside of you, he looks up at your blitzed out face.

“I’m gonna cum, where do you want it, baby?” He says with a desperate tone, obviously resisting the urge to empty his load inside of you. Your next words surprise him.

“Inside… please. I want you to fill me up, Oscar.”

Momentarily stunned by your words, he snaps out of his daze quickly. With a quiet string of cursed, he feels him balls tighten, and then he’s coming, burying his load deep inside of you.

The both of you lay there for a minute, his softened cock still deep inside you, trying to catch his breath. He takes this time to brush the hair out of your eyes and really look at you. The fucked out look on your face really isn’t helping his growing affections for you. Your eyes are glazed over, mouth parted ever so slightly. It is the most beautiful you have ever looked, and Oscar can’t get enough of it.

With a gently kiss in your lips, Oscar removes himself from you and walks around the bed to the connected bathroom for a warm towel to clean up with. When he returns, he gently wipes you down, making sure you’re not left sticky.

“Oscar?”

You break the comfortable silence with your sudden words, and he stops what he is doing to look at you.

“Yeah? Everything okay?”

You pause for a second.

“This isn’t going to ruin our friendship, right? Because… I really can’t lose you, Osc.”

Hearing the sad tone in your voice, he immediately wants to reassure you and tell you no, you’ll still be friends, no matter what happens. But he doesn’t.

“I don’t want to be friends, y/n”

He couldn’t even manage to look you in the eye as he said this, only after he heard you sitting up in the bed did he manage to meet your gaze. The tears gathering in your eyes almost broke him. You had wrapped yourself in the sheets, as if you were trying to hide your body from him.

“What? W-What do you mean you don’t want to be friends anymore?” Your voice breaking as you speak.

“I just-“ He looks up at you exasperated. “I don’t want to be friends because… I love you, y/n. I love you so much and I can’t go on any longer pretending that I don’t”

He meets your gaze once again, and the tears in your eyes are trailing over your cheeks, falling onto the sheets below you.

“Osc…”

“No. Let me finish” You give him a sad nod. “I have been in love with you since the first time we kissed when we were 16. Every time I see you, I get reminded how perfect you are for me, and then I have to remind myself that you see me as nothing more than a friend. I just- I can’t do it anymore. I’m miserable, and my life jus-“

While Oscar was talking, he hadn’t noticed that you had slowly gravitated towards him. He also hadn’t noticed the smile that grew on your face as he talked about how he felt. He did finally notice something when you cut him off with the most perfect kiss. Just as suddenly as you had kissed him, you pulled away. Laughing at his confused face, you began to speak.

“Sorry. I had to shut you up somehow. Oscar, I love you too. I have no idea how you didn’t notice, I mean, I’ve literally been in love with you since we were 12.”

Now it was his turn to cut her off. As he kissed her once again, he couldn’t help the smile that took shape on his face. He pulled himself away from you for only a moment to admire your face before pulling you into another kiss.

He slotted himself into the bed, next to you, gently covering the both of you in the soft sheets of the bed. Pulling you close in his arms, he left soft kisses along the back of your shoulders until he heard the familiar sounds of your soft snores. Letting himself admire you for a moment, his heavy eyes finally shut, leaving him to fall asleep in a way he’s always wanted, next to you.

a/n ~ I really hope this is good. If it’s not, pls don’t be mean to me :) thank you if you read this ¡hasta la próxima!

#oscar piastri #formula 1 #smut #fluff #angst with a happy ending #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lando norris #charles leclerc #op81 #ln4 #cl16

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aemoonie · 1 year

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𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒 - 𝗄𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 ✰

synopsis: as doyoung spotted a tiny birthmark on the back of your arm that seemed to be identical to his own, he panicked. of course it was you of all people – the person that he learned to loathe around campus. always a step ahead of him, always the better grades, and always the prettier smile. how could he not have noticed before?

a/n: lowercase intended. soulmate/college!au, fem!reader. mlist g: angst/fluff wc: 5,1k cw: mentions of food and alcohol, anxiety.

doyoung felt his eyes prickle with dryness as he tried to blink for the first time in a few moments. it seemed impossible for him to pry his gaze off the tiny mark right above your elbow. as if he feared it disappearing in the same way it seemingly had materialized out of nowhere today. or did it? he had known you for a while now and he never noticed it before? it was a dark maroon color, almost shaped like a crescent, laughing at him from across the room. it sent shivers down his spine. it was identical to his own.

panic tightened his chest as he blindly stumbled in the aisle behind him, a group of students passing him as they gave him curious looks. he felt as if his world was turning upside down. this moment was supposed to be something good, something pure, something full of love and light. at least that was what he had been told from the moment he was born. but as he peeked through the bookshelves at you, still sitting at one of the desks in the study hall, all he could feel was his dry throat and flat breathing. you of all people really had turned out to be the one.

it wasn’t that you were inherently a bad person – that was if you were to ask anyone but doyoung. you were smart, a diligent student, you worked hard and tried even harder to be kind to the people you met throughout your life. but for doyoung, you were something similar to the bane of his existence. ever since he started college, you’ve always been better than him. he could take whatever class he wanted, if you were enrolled as well, he could bid his goodbyes to the hundred percent for his grades. because you were always just a bit better than him, you always wrote just a tiny bit more, you always had the best arguments against his and it was driving him mad at best.

even his friends liked to tease and joke about his supposed “one-sided” rivalry between you two. because, to be completely honest, doyoung had only spoken to you not more than two or three times outside of class. though he had never exactly been mad about this, quite the opposite. he had always been more than happy for you two to be parting your ways wordlessly after you had completely humiliated him during class discussion. you even had him question why he was still studying law at the best of times. but doyoung was just as much of a diligent student as you were. you were just a little bit better.

and so, the last thing he expected to see on this thursday afternoon, on his way to study for the upcoming exam (the one you were probably also studying for in this exact moment), was his birthmark on your bare arm, while you were unconscious of anything out of the ordinary happening. at this point, he felt this was all a cruel joke from the universe, putting him with the person he learned to hate before he even had a chance to learn to love. how would he ever manage to get you on his good side, if all you knew of him was spiteful looks and petty remarks?

his thoughts were harshly interrupted as he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze.

“what’s gotten into you? you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” johnny joked, one of the few people doyoung still knew from high school. he was also one of the people that could never leave him in peace with his teasing. still, doyoung managed to rip his eyes off your figure, giving johnny a bewildered look. maybe he could play this off. or maybe johnny already saw him standing there between the biology encyclopaedias, creeping on you like some sort of stalker.

“i just talked to mr. choi,” he began, ignoring the burning on his cheeks to get through his lie, “and we’re fucked. the exam is gonna be fifty pages long, at least”

johnny let out a dry chuckle and motioned his head to get doyoung to walk towards the exit with him, his arm still tightly wrapped around the younger’s shoulder. who couldn’t really tell if this unamused laughter meant johnny had not a single care in the world for exams, or that he didn’t believe his lie at all. so, he let himself be pulled out of the library, risking a last short glance over his free shoulder to see you still sitting in your seat, hunched over your books, with the same mark on your elbow. nothing much had changed for you this afternoon, you were still focused on being the good student you always had been.

“you need to go out into the sun more, meet some people,” johnny said, munching away on his lunch. after he had dragged doyoung out of the library, he drove the two of them to the nearest restaurant, whining for something better to eat than whatever the university’s cafeteria had to offer.

“i meet plenty of people,” doyoung grumbled as he shifted in his seat. he poked his fries with the one he held in his hand, though if he was honest, he had lost all appetite for the day.

“the people in your classes don’t count. you probably don’t even talk to them unless it’s to say they suck” the older continued. he had a teasing smile on his face, taking a big bite out of his burger. doyoung scoffed at this, sending a salty glare to his friend.

“so who do i always go out with on the weekends?” he shot back, but johnny was quick to shut him down just as easily.

“my friends. that i made,” his smile grew. “by myself.”

doyoung could only reciprocate an emotionless smile at this, it was pointless to keep arguing against him because he knew johnny was right. this whole semester he had been so focused on being the best in his year (to be better than you) that he completely neglected his social life. if it weren’t for johnny, he probably would’ve never left his dorm on his own. let alone make any friends.

“and besides,” johnny spoke up again, “i don’t think there is anybody else in this world that would get so invested like this made-up rivalry of yours.”

the week of doyoung’s discovery had been flying by for you, barely having enough time to catch up with classes while preparing for the upcoming exams. sometimes you really loathed being a law student, though it sort of was the only thing you knew to be. you had spent nearly every minute of your spare time in the library, revising as many cases as possible and scattering through book after book until you felt your eyes burn and your blood no longer rushing through your legs.

the only strange thing you found was doyoung, the boy you had nearly every class with and who despised you for reasons beyond your best guesses, suddenly disappearing over the weekend. he had been at the library almost as much as you, sometimes you felt as if he was rushing to be the first to arrive. he definitely had the unfortunate habit of hogging all the books you also needed, so needless to say, you weren’t exactly mad when he was nowhere to be found after thursday afternoon.

but there was a curious feeling in the depths of your stomach when he didn’t show for the friday class he had with you. it was the first time you had ever noticed him being absent in a class ever, and it definitely got noticed by the other students as well. some suggested he got finally sick of the endless class discussions, others mentioned rumours of him secretly going crazy, locked away in his dorm room.

you, however, couldn’t help but feel the curious feeling grow into concern when he also didn’t show up to your monday class in civil law. it was hard to tell which confused you more; his sudden absence or your sudden interest in his whereabouts. it wasn’t that he was overly fond of you, to be fair. his attitude towards you made it incredibly clear that he did not like you one bit. and yet, you couldn’t shake your thoughts of him. he was a model student, he was surely smarter than you, and doing brilliantly at college, so why would he suddenly miss classes so late before the final exams?

you barely noticed how harshly you had been biting your bottom lip until your friend shook you out of your thoughts with a nudge. “your lips are bleeding, y/n” she said, her brows furrowed though she tries to force a sympathetic smile on her face.

“i’m sure everyone’s just exaggerating. mr. choi would never make us do fifty pages of cases, he’s way too nice for that,” she continued, spinning her pen between her fingers. if it wasn’t for that nervous habit of hers, you almost would’ve fallen for her encouraging words, but both of you knew better. you could never trust anybody when it came to studying law. it truly brought out the worst in people.

her defeated sigh told you that she noticed the unconvinced grimace on your face, yet she kept her eyes wandering through the room, as if to look for something else to talk about. you had a dim sense of foreboding of which topic she was going to choose next, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a split second as you heard her pronounce his name. it almost sent shivers down your spine, the way you didn’t even dare to say his name out loud. you really had no reason as to why his name suddenly felt so precious to form out loud, it was as if you were scared of summoning him suddenly, or rather, of him never returning again. as if his name was a curse and you were desperate for a last little glimpse of him. of the boy who never spared you more than a snide glance when he passed you in the hallways? of the boy who now seemed more like a dream to you than a real person.

“hello?” you felt your friend kicking your shin under the table slightly. not enough to hurt, but not exactly gentle either. “earth to y/n?”

with a short blink, you trained your eyes back on your friend’s face. she looked displeased, her thoroughly kempt brows furrowing at the sight of your absent-minded stare. “what if he really did… you know?” she said then, as if expecting you to have listened to what she said at all.

“did what?” you blurted out, confusion evident as you were the one furrowing your brows now. “who?”

“you know who! gosh, have i been talking to a wall this entire time?”

she threw the pen that was still trained in her hand over to your side of the table, her motions again just gentle enough that it landed safely between your crossed arms. blush burned deep under your skin now, if she only knew what was going through your mind while she was talking him. what thoughts clouded your mind.

“do i need to call someone professional for you too?” her voice lowered playfully as she continued to tease you, “maybe we need to give the psychology department another visit?”

you tossed the pen back at her, barely missing her chin as she leaned back and giggled. as you were fighting a smile, you still felt bashful, your cheeks were surely still tainted red judging by the way they felt so hot to the touch. but your friend was far from giving up on the topic as she explained that doyoung’s disappearance had been the hottest talk on the campus that week.

“i really don’t know what you want me to say,” you finally said, trying to stay truthful. because if you were being honest, you didn’t know doyoung at all. it felt wrong to admit this, but it was reality. you barely exchanged more than a few words with him, you realized. you wouldn’t even know what to talk about if he sat right next to you in this moment. just picturing it had you drifting off in thoughts again, but your friend quickly caught on this time and continued talking.

“aren’t you at least a tiny bit interested in all of this? remember how you said he was kind of cute at the beginning of the semester?” your cheeks burned even redder at this. you surely did forget that you had mentioned that, as you frantically tried to recall this supposed conversation.

“i thought he was like your archenemy or something,” she added, raising her brows at your fidgeting figure. you wanted to protest as your eyes caught something moving, or rather, someone appearing behind the big shelves shielding your table from the entrance view and making their way towards you. as soon as you took in the figure you felt that curious pit in your stomach again, and soon enough, your eyes locked with doyoung’s. confused by your sudden silence, your friend turned to follow your surprised gaze, not failing to shoot you a last expressive look as doyoung finally reached and stopped at your table, shifting nervously as his shoulders were only turned to you, ignoring your friend completely.

“are you free tomorrow after mr. choi’s class?”, doyoung breathed, he seemed as if he was already exasperated by it all, you couldn’t really tell if this conversation was already too much for his thin patience. he had dark rims under his eyes and a frantic look in them, his demeanour was weirdly nothing like you had memorized. and for a moment you wondered if you had ever remembered him looking this pretty, the way he stood there right this moment, but as he raised his brows expectant of an answer, you cleared your throat and tore your eyes from his frame.

“i – sure, i am,” you finally rushed to say, sneaking a worried look towards your friend, who was eyeing doyoung as if she had never seen him before. “i’d be here anyways, if you –“

“no, i really need to talk to you in private,” he interrupted, and both you and your friend couldn’t help but shoot each other a surprised look. and doyoung surely noticed as he shifted on his heels, cautiously darting his eyes back and forth between you two until he settled on your puzzled expression again. “if you don’t mind of course,” he added quickly and bit his lips before his voice fizzled out in an almost raspy whisper, “it’s just really important.”

it was as if all your nerves were tugging at you at once when doyoung didn’t even bother to show up for class. you kept staring at the empty seat two rows in front of you, and you found yourself missing the moments when you could still stare daggers into the back of his head when he was challenging you in class discussions again.

you mentally cursed him for making you feel so on edge, when you repeatedly had to remind yourself that you didn’t even know him at all. if someone had asked you two weeks ago if you felt anything for the boy, you would only have been able to answer with a nauseating feeling of annoyance. but ever since the day he so suddenly disappeared, you caught yourself staring at random doors, wondering when they’d magically open and have him walk in as casually as ever, seemingly as if he never vanished into thin air in the first place.

the professor’s voice was ringing through your ears as you watched your hands scribble on the paper. you hadn’t managed to write down a single coherent word, instead you drew the same three question marks again, and again, and again. it was not until the people around you started gathering their things and stood up that you noticed that class had ended. it was finally time for your dreaded meeting with doyoung.

you slowly made your way through the halls, merging yourself with the steady stream of students going back and forth between their classes. he had wanted to meet you in front of the library, but insisted on everything being a private matter. your hands felt clammy as you wiped them against your sleeves, but even the most oblivious person could see that you were more on edge than as if you were going to take the dreaded final exam right then and there.

and you tried to ignore the little warm feeling blooming in your stomach as you spotted his figure indeed waiting in front of the library’s stairs, impatiently pacing back and forth, eyeing almost every student that passed him. as if he was looking for someone in particular, and that someone was you. you again tried ignoring the way his eyes lit up when they met your own, and the way his small smile sent a rush of warmth into your cheeks. since when had you been acting like this around him? you had been sure the guy had hated you not too many moons ago and now here you were, almost melting on the spot when all he did was greet you.

“i’m sorry if i sounded so,” he paused, raised his hands as if he was reaching out, but then lowered them again as he continued, “- so cryptic. i hope i didn’t scare you or anything.”

his response almost had you reconsider if you were maybe dreaming this whole encounter, as the kim doyoung was audibly apologizing to you. not only was he apologizing to you, but he looked so sincere about it as well. as if he had beaten himself up about it, would have changed his wording in the past if he could, but he didn’t and here you were, gawking at him as if he said the strangest thing you had ever heard.

“you – you’re sorry?” you heard yourself say, your voice sounded as much in disbelief as he had expected you to be. instead of justifying anything, he silently nodded ahead, motioning you to walk along with him. it was silent between the two of you for a couple moments, up until you left the dense grouping of university building behind you and entered the park area of the campus.

spring was slowly making itself known here, as you noticed the trees growing greener than the last time you had seen them. some even had a few blossoms here and there, and it made you wonder how long it would take until the whole ground would be covered in petals again.

“i should’ve been honest with you,” doyoung suddenly said, keeping his eyes trained on the ground before him, watching his feet as they took step after step, ignoring your confused glances. he surely didn’t waste time when it came to matters of the heart, you thought, he just barged right in. or maybe he didn’t know how to sugar coat. not that he ever did in the past.

“but to be honest, i myself didn’t know until last week,” he continued. “last thursday, i just came to the library to study like always. but then something felt strange,” his eyes shifted to you for a split second, but he was desperate to escape your boring gaze as quickly as he could.

“and when i came to the study hall, i saw you sitting there, but –“ he took in a shaky breath, “i saw your mark for the first time.”

your brows furrowed in confusion as you finally trained your eyes on the ground as well, much to his relief. initially, you were unaware of what mark he was even talking about, almost completely forgotten about the birthmark you had on your left elbow. since it was out of your line of sight, you must’ve not had a proper look at it for months.

“do you know why some people have those marks?” he then asked, cautiously mustering your profile as you still had your thoughts running away from you. your mind was starting to become an intangible web of dots and points in time, eagerly trying to connect as to what all this had to do with his disappearance over the weekend. from this point on, doyoung knew you were smart enough to figure all of it out by yourself, but he wanted to have this conversation, or so he reassured himself. he needed to hear that you understood. he needed to know your reaction.

“i do,” you said, sounding careful, almost frightened. at this point, he didn’t know what feeling was tightening his throat more; the relief of not having to explain it all to you, or the hanging dread of one of you having to say it out loud regardless, and whatever may come after. for you, the puzzle was still coming together. this seemed to be why he suddenly vanished from the face of the earth, he was avoiding you. and why you suddenly felt so different towards him, and even still felt it now. you couldn’t spare him one glance without noticing how the light danced on his skin from between the trees, or how his voice never sounded this soft and melodic before, and how he seemed to have gotten even prettier since he last talked to you, or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

what doyoung had indicated was nothing that happened all to seldom, you had heard plenty of stories of people meeting their soulmates throughout your life, you just never thought you could have been part of that. let alone be an actual soulmate of someone. of doyoung, of all people. your simple words seemed to entail so many things none of you dared to say out loud, and whatever was to be said next could only feel bittersweet on both of your tongues, none of you were ready to face what was inevitable.

it was hard to tell for you to pinpoint the moment doyoung had stopped walking, slowly turned towards you, and finally took in your features. the way his eyes danced on your skin made you feel almost shy, it was as if all previous spite had left him and was replaced it with only warmth. the universe had really gifted you something inexplicable in this moment, as you watched him glance to his feet again, seemingly preparing himself for what he wanted to say next.

“so you also know what it means when i show you,” he lifted his arm slowly, pulling the sleeve of his sweater up as it exposed more and more skin to the march sun. “that mine looks exactly like yours.”

as his sleeve finally revealed the dark spot just above his elbow, you couldn’t help but take in a sharp breath. your eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the sunbeams dancing around you two, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t staring right back on your own birthmark, on doyoung’s skin, as he carefully watched your expression. it felt as if the sight of it finally put the final piece of the puzzle where it belonged, it felt as if the spring sun herself settled in your chest as you slowly raised your hand to let your fingertips brush over his skin. in the beaming sun you could even see goosebumps forming just where your touch had lingered only seconds prior.

none of you dared to let out the breaths each of you were holding, and it suddenly dawned you what you were dealing with. everything he had told you meant that he was the one the universe had chosen for you. he was the one fate had decided to be with you, and to not be able to be without you.

“but why did i never feel anything before?” you said, and if he hadn’t been standing so close, the wind could’ve whisked your words away. but he gave you a gentle smile, almost an apologetic one, as he slightly shrugged his shoulders. “for some reason we had to see it for ourselves.”

and you finally wondered what he had been doing for the past few days when he was avoiding you, you wondered if he felt as scared of this as you were starting to feel, a cold shiver spreading through your veins as you eye his features for the hundredth time this hour. and he seemed to recognize the panic in your eyes, as he took both of your hands in his, his warmth immediately spreading over your fingertips.

it was a strange feeling, you thought, standing here with doyoung holding your hands in his, pulling at them to get you closer, probably as unable to pry himself away as you were in this moment. because as much as you wanted to let the panic take over your hazy thoughts, as much did you only have his warmth in mind, his hands in yours, and his eyes mirroring your own curious expression.

“how do you do that?” you finally said, and your eyes fell to your held hands, maybe searching if you could see the kind of spell he was putting on you. but his hands were just as human as they were before, and the way his brows were furrowed when you looked back up told you that he was equally as lost for words. perhaps the warmth you felt wasn’t one-sided after all. maybe he felt as warm as you, judging from it radiating off him as if he was the sun himself.

“i don’t know” he replied, sounding breathless. his cheeks looked as rosy as yours, and it felt like an eternity of just standing there, letting the moment have it’s space, none of you ready to speak out the lingering questions that were eating away in each of your minds. the one thing that had your thoughts spinning still, was the absurdity of it all. you had heard of soulmates before, you had heard stories of how magical it was, though in the same breath you had been told how rare it was, over and over again. and because of this rarity, you never thought you would experience having a soulmate yourself.

the birthmark you had never was something that kept you up at night, it felt like a part of you, something that just happened to be on your body. but now you could feel it tingling the longer you looked at doyoung and it felt strangely exposing to be looked at in the same way from him. after moments of stillness, you finally broke the intense eye-contact, lowered your intertwined hands and trained your gaze on the pebble stone beneath your shoes. but doyoung could intervene before you had a chance to pronounce your worries.

“i did a lot of research about this while i was gone, you know,” he began, and he sounded hurried now, as if your sudden change in demeanour had caused him to panic. “and this doesn’t happen, like ever. I bet your parents also told you about it growing up, but i’m telling you, it doesn’t happen as often as they made us believe. it only happens every few years,” he continued. his eyes widened as he went on, and he even stepped closer, making you take half a step back in order to not bump into him. you let out a shaky breath when your shoulders touched, but through the whole ordeal he didn’t once let go of your intertwined hands between you.

“so what are you saying?”, you replied, it was your turn to sound breathless. you were lying if you didn’t admit that this all scared you to death. the guy who would have had you rather gone in order to be the best in class was now pouring his heart out in front of you, claiming that you two were soulmates. if you had told this to any bystander right now, they’d laugh in your face.

“i’m saying maybe give it a shot,” doyoung said with a mellow voice, he seemed almost timid now, with a sentimental smile playing on his lips and his shoulders slightly raising in a shrug. the soft look in his eyes threw you completely off your previous track of thoughts, and brought back the warmth in your chest. the effect he had on you so suddenly felt ridiculous, and it felt completely foreign and familiar at the same time.

it was a strange thing overall, you thought. this whole ordeal made your head spin, but you had a hard time denying him when he was standing so close to you. additionally, you still had a suspicion that a spell was involved somehow, since there was no way that you’d feel like this just because. perhaps this strange feeling was proving his point? maybe everything he said was true, you definitely saw his birthmark, and you knew something bigger was pulling at your heartstrings at this moment.

doyoung was still eagerly scanning your face, awaiting an answer from you. he felt like an idiot if he was honest, because he had planned to be way slower with his approach, way more gentle. but as soon as he saw your uncertainty he had the need to pull you back to him, not only physically, but now he wanted to persuade your mind as well. because he could tell the gears were turning in overdrive behind your eyes, and your furrowed brows gave away how worried you were. he knew this was a scary thing to be a part of, and he also knew that he had no right to pressure you into anything either. he was the one who almost had a panic attack and ran away for days to come to terms with this, after all. he was the bigger coward between you two, and he had always known that.

“i understand if you need some time to … process this all”, he said carefully, meeting your eyes as you finally looked back up from the ground. “this is a lot to take in, isn’t it?” he flashed that small smile again from earlier, and you could feel the blood rushing into your cheeks. no matter how many times you had considered all options and played the events over and over again, the feeling in your stomach made your preferences very clear. you couldn’t deny that you felt yourself losing to the pull he had on you, even after this short amount of time.

“i think it’s about time we stop arguing over everything” you said finally, shooting a familiar small smile towards his questioning gaze, swallowed the last of your pride, and pulled him towards you, finally crashing your lips onto his own.

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peachesofteal · 7 months

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Hi! I reread On a Slow Night, and at the beginning, darling and Johnny had an argument, I was wondering if the guys and darling had any other fights? If they did, what were they about and how serious were they? How often do arguments happen between them? How fast (or long) does it take for arguments to get resolved and how do they usually make up? Do they think that those arguments and the resolutions of those fights make their relationship stronger? Or do they feel the opposite? How do they individually feel or think about any fights they have?

Sorry if that's too many questions, I just love reading your thoughts about those three 😅

Hi! I'm always happy to talk about these three, and I expanded on some of your questions below, sort of. I don't want to elaborate on it too much or too specifically because in the upcoming arc of the story... a lot of the flashbacks are more tenuous times of the relationship (take that for what you will) and I don't want to spoil anything. 🖤

They fight. It would be impossible not to. There are too many variables regarding their relationship for it to not happen.

Johnny and Darling fight more quickly, easily, than any other combination. Sometimes they misunderstand one another, or someone takes something to heart, or someone is out of patience and snaps. They rub against each really explosively sometimes, and things can just... catch fire like that, you know? Johnny and Simon fight the least, because they're so just in sync, in tune, and spend so much of their time together. They also spend so much time in very stressful situations, so it puts a lot of things in perspective. Petty bullshit matters less, because even if Simon gets irritated with Johnny over something he did or said, or vice verse, is it life or death? Is it worth speaking to your partner in anger, knowing it may the last words he ever hears? No. Simon and Darling's fights are probably the worst. They have more of a dom/sub relationship, more so than Simon and Johnny or Johnny and Darling, that the arguments cut deep. Those fights seriously wound Darling, and they hurt everyone in the house, not just those two, because Johnny always feel caught in the middle. Darling may be a bit of a mess, but she's not past pushing and prodding and being stubborn (as we know) when she wants to be.

They all stand staunchly on the side of 'what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger' and they believe that of their arguments too. They try to never, ever go to bed angry with one another, always working to resolve whatever is going on the best they can. They're all able to move on, together. Even when communication isn't at it's best, they really do try to make sure they get it all out, if that makes sense.

Obviously, we know everything isn't perfect. If it was, Chapter 1 would have never happened and we wouldn't have a story. But the outright fights are not what has gotten us here in the first place, I think that's important to note.

They all have a fight, that sticks out in their mind. That haunts them. Simon's is coming up in Chapter 11ish? In a flashback. And then Johnny and Darling's are both after that.

Also I will add that the marriage debacle when Darling left the flat and Simon screamed FUCK in the flat, that was pretty bad. Rare occasion where he fought with Johnny.

Thank you so much for this question! I love any opportunity to talk about my characters like this, and I hope even those this was pretty vague, it helps answer some of your Qs!

#peaches asks #dead disco #don't mind me just talking about my characters like they're real apparently

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feverishly-kpop · 6 months

Text

Seungmin & SKZ - Argument

Seungmin was seeing red.

He had been frustrated all day. Mostly with himself to be honest. He had been off of his game all day, just feeling generally worn out.

“I’m not trying to be rude but the lyrics are right in front of you” Jisung said pointedly, only adding to Seungmin’s sour mood.

“It’s not the lyrics, Jisung” Seungmin snapped back. “It’s the rhythm. It doesn’t make sense to me. I’m getting mixed up.”

“It’s really not all that complicated” Jisung replied, his eyes rolling as he clapped the beat out twice over before dropping back to his seat, clearly too irritated to continue.

After a moment of silence Chan stepped in, realizing that the petty bickering between Jisung and Seungmin was teetering a bit too closely toward an actual argument for his liking. “Jisung, step out and get some air please” he said calmly, trying to bring the overall mood down, but, just as he suspected, Jisung was far too heated to let it go without a fight.

“If I step out, I’m going home” Jisung said, his eyes cold and still locked on Seungmin.

“He’s got a point, hyung.”

Great, just what Chan needed. An actual coup in the vocal studio at 10:00 PM.

“No offense, Seungmin, but you’re the only one who hasn’t gotten your part yet” Jeongin continued. “We’re so tired.”

Hyunjin nodded along in agreement, quickly taking the opportunity to interject. “Minho-hyung, Felix, and I have been here since noon. We didn’t have a break between dance and vocal. If we all can’t leave its only fair for the three of us to be excused.”

Seungmin glanced at Minho and Felix who kept their eyes cast down, but their expressions confirmed that they were in agreement with Hyunjin.

Of course they were.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

“If they get to go, so do we” Jisung yelled as he sprung from his seat.

“Jisung sit down” Changbin shouted over the chaos.

“Bold of you to assume that you guys should be able to leave just because you got here a little earlier. Seems selfish…” Jeongin grumbled at Hyunjin on the other side of the room.

“Bold of you to talk to your hyung that way, Jeongin” Minho clapped, coming to Hyunjin’s defense.

“Guys, that’s enough” Chan said firmly but it fell on deaf ears.

Seungmin had heard enough.

“Shut up” he shouted, a sudden sharp pain sparking behind his eyes. “Seriously, stop it. Go home. All of you.”

The rest of the group suddenly grew silent. Seungmin was far from the most emotionally volatile member. He almost never raised his voice but when he did it was alarming to say the least.

“Seungmin” Felix started but Seungmin held up a hand.

“Just…go.” Seungmin understood that they were all tired. The dance line had a full day before vocal practice started, he knew that they must be dead on their feet. Just this vocal practice had left Seungmin exhausted.

Without another word Chan nodded to the rest of the members, who quietly grabbed their belongings and scrambled out of the room.

“I’m so sorry, Minnie” Chan said, his head hanging as he massaged his temples. “Jisung hasn’t been sleeping very well….”

Seungmin was too frustrated to listen to anything more.

“Hyung, just go home.” His tone made his mood clear.

And with that he reached into his bag for his headphones, making it clear that he was done with the conversation. He could see Chan’s lips moving, probably telling him not to stay too late, but he couldn’t bring himself to care what his hyung was saying. He just wanted to be alone and, within a few moments, his wish was granted and be was left to continue working by himself in the quiet studio.

*~*~*~*~*~

It didn’t take long until the pain behind his eyes had turned into a full blown migraine. The low lights in the studio and the backing track playing in his headphones soon became too much to deal with, but there was no way he could walk home in his current condition. And he absolutely wasn’t about to call one of his members for help. He was still beyond angry with all of them.

Instead he tossed his headphones aside, unbothered as they slid across the table and landed on the floor, and curled up in the corner on the floor, using his bag as a pillow. Was there a lounge with a couch just down the hall? Yes, yes there was. But Seungmin didn’t have nearly enough energy to get himself there. The floor would be just fine as long as he could close his eyes for a few hours.

*~*~*~*~*~

Then next morning came early which was absolutely not surprising to Seungmin. There was only so much rest he could get on the hard floor but he had hoped that it would be enough to shake his bothersome migraine. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect. On top of his migraine his entire body ached, the pain exacerbated by the chills running through his body.

After a slow stretch in an attempt to regain some sensation in his arms and legs he stood up and checked his phone for the time.

5:00 AM.

Well shit.

Chan would be up any minute and would be on his way to bust the studio door down when he found that Seungmin hadn’t come home. Grabbing his bag he resolved to take a fast walk home, hoping to get there before Chan woke for the day.

*~*~*~*~*~

Much to Seungmin’s surprise it was quiet when he arrived home. He glanced at the table and noticed a note from Chan:

No practice til noon tomorrow. Try and sleep in - BC

Seungmin felt the tension in his shoulders dissipated, relieved that he’d have a few hours to rest before dance practice today. After the feud that erupted the prior night Seungmin held out no hope that Minho would go easy on them.

Not wanting to waste another moment Seungmin slipped into his room, quickly changing into his pajamas while being careful not to wake any of his sleeping roommates. A few hours of sleep before leaving again would be better than none at all.

*~*~*~*~*~

He felt like he had just closed his eyes. There was no way that hours had passed. Even minutes would be generous. It couldn’t have been more than second.

Yet Hyunjin was standing in the doorway dressed and ready to go.

“Seungmin you’ve gotta get up. Jisung will lose his shit if he finds out you’re still sleeping” Hyunjin said sympathetically. Seungmin couldn’t help to feel a little guilty about how mad he still was with his members, but his thoughts were immediately redirected to the pain in every inch of his body. Somehow it seemed to have gotten worse than it had been this morning, something that Seungmin didn’t seem to think was possible.

“Okay, I’m getting up” Seungmin said as he swung his legs over the bed, forcing himself to sit up. His stomach lurched at the movement, the pain in his head so intense that it was making him nauseous. Unfortunately for him, however, he didn’t have time to do anything about any of it.

He knew he’d be in for a rough day.

*~*~*~*~*~

Practice was tense, just as Seungmin had anticipated. They had all taken the opportunity to get some much needed sleep that morning but that left them with no time to discuss what had happened the previous night.

Seungmin muddled through song after song, doing his best not to draw any attention to himself, but he could feel the pain wracking his body growing worse by the minute.

He made it half way through their run through of Domino before he hit the wall.

“Hyung” Seungmin called out weakly, hoping to get Minho’s attention but the music was too loud and he could hardly get his voice above a whisper.

Then his feet stopped moving. Despite his best efforts to keep up with the music his feet felt cemented to the ground. Before he could give it a further thought he felt a body crash into his, sending both of them to the floor and, just like that, Seungmin vomited on the floor in front of him. For just a second he couldn’t help but notice how much better he felt after getting sick, but that feeling was short lived as he was overcome with a sudden sense of absolute exhaustion followed by darkness.

*~*~*~*~*~

“Jisung sit down, please.”

That was Minho’s voice. Or maybe Chan’s? But maybe Changbin?

Seungmin’s head felt foggy as he came to.

“Sit your ass down, Jisung-ah. And get the ice back on that bump. Hyunjin didn’t run across the building to get it for you for his health.”

Well that was definitely Minho’s voice.

“Hey, there you are.” Felix’s soft voice and face came into focus simultaneously. “Take your time opening your eyes, okay?”

Chan immediately joined Felix on the floor when he saw Seungmin stir. “What happened, Seungmin?” Seungmin could hear the stress in Chan’s voice despite his best efforts to mask it.

“I think I fell…” Seungmin said, trying to remember exactly how he had ended up on the floor but coming up with nothing. “Yeah I fell I guess.”

Chan and Felix exchanged a knowing glance before Chan turned back to Seungmin. “I think you did a little more than fall, Minnie. You froze during the run through and Jisung backed into you.”

Neither Chan or Felix could miss the look of confusion and pain on Jisung’s face.

“Jisung knocked you over and then you got sick and passed out” Felix added, trying to jog Seungmin’s memory.

“I’m sorry…I can clean it up” Seungmin responded before making an attempt to sit up only to find resistance from Chan’s hand on his chest.

“Don’t try to get up. You’re really sick. When did you start feeling unwell?” Chan’s tone was serious in a way that made Seungmin guilty for having been so upset with them all just a few minutes ago. He tried to respond but only a sob came out.

Just then a cold hand grabbed his and squeezed it.

“I’m so sorry. Last night. There’s no excuse” Jisung said, a tear falling down his cheek.

“It’s okay, water under the bridge” Seungmin replied, squeezing Jisung’s hand a little tighter, trying to warm it up a little. “I hate to say it, but…karma?” The room erupted with laughter at that comment, even Jisung couldn’t help but let out a chuckle despite the joke being at his expense.

“Yeah, turns out the floor is hard when you fall and whack your head on it” Jisung responded with a smile. “Who knew?”

After taking a few more minutes to get his bearings Chan sat down next to Seungmin again, setting a palm on his forehead. “All jokes aside, Minnie, you need to be in bed. Let’s get going.” Chan and Jeongin helped Seungmin to his feet, the woozy feeling that Seungmin had been feeling all day slowly creeping back.

“You’re going to bed when we get home, understood?” Minho said to Seungmin as he grabbed his bag off the floor. Seungmin responded with a silent nod, honestly too exhausted and sick to even consider doing anything but sleep. “And you too, Humpty Dumpty. Straight to bed.”

Jisung blushed but nodded in response, still holding the bag if ice to the side of his head. And with that, any hard feelings that Seungmin was still feeling from last night disappeared as they locked up the dance studio behind them.

#kpop sickfic #sickfic #skz sickfic #stray kids sickfic #Seungmin sick #Seungmin sickfic

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firstelevens · 2 months

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No. 20 from the eras tour prompt list for sambucky ? ?

did I hear someone ask for a Sweet Home Alabama Louisiana AU? no? well I wrote the start of one anyway, so here it is

20. all your dirtiest jokes

Pebbles go flying as Bucky pulls his rental up in front of Sam’s house. He kind of wishes there was the satisfying screech of tires on asphalt to emphasize his mood, but he slams the car door twice as hard to make up for it, and feels just a little bit better afterwards.

Back when they were kids, the Wilsons’ place had been close enough to the neighbors’ houses to wave at them from the porch. The house that Sam bought when he came home from his first tour is set back a lot further than that, wooded where it doesn’t back up onto the water, so Bucky has no compunctions about getting a little shouty.

“Sam Wilson, I know you’re in there!” he calls out, walking up to the front door. “You can dodge my calls as long as you want, but I’m not going anywhere until you open up.”

It’s not a big house, and there’s at least three open windows, so there’s no question that Bucky’s voice is carrying through loud and clear, but there’s no response. Bucky raps sharply on the doorframe.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Sam. I know this town just as well as you do, and I will follow you everywhere.”

It takes another five minutes, but finally, Bucky sees a figure approaching through the frosted glass pane on the front door. When it swings open, he’s met with a bare-chested Sam Wilson, breathing heavy from a workout as he pulls his earbuds out of his ears.

For all that he was yelling a second ago, Bucky suddenly can’t seem to make words come out of his mouth. To add insult to injury, Sam seems perfectly unaffected by the sight of him, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Bucky Barnes,” he drawls, and Bucky hates how comforting that voice still is after all this time. “What can I do for you?”

In a second, the ire comes flickering back to life. The nerve of Sam, to ask that question when he knows perfectly well the only thing that Bucky’s been asking him for for the past year.

He holds up the envelope that’s the whole reason he had to drag his ass back here, a thousand miles and twenty years removed from home.

“You could start by giving me a fucking divorce.”

Bucky spent so long working himself up over this, back in New York and on the plane here and on the almost-two-hour drive from New Orleans. He’d written and rewritten a hundred different speeches, rehearsed so many arguments with the Sam in his head that he was sure he’d know exactly what to say.

But now he was here, and he’d gone and delivered what should’ve been the last line of his scathing speech way too early, and what more was there to do except stand there on Sam’s porch and glare at him expectantly?

Sam, for his part, looks at Bucky consideringly for a moment, then peers around him to look out towards the yard. “You should come inside,” he says, and then steps away, leaving the door open.

The petty part of Bucky wants to refuse, wants to make a nuisance of himself right here on the porch so Sam can’t ignore him, but then he stops to take in his surroundings for longer than a second. The air is thick, the heat more sluggish than it was when his flight touched down. Beyond the trees, the sky has gotten darker. It’s been a while since Bucky lived on the bayou, but the signs of an oncoming storm haven’t changed.

He huffs and steps into Sam’s house, closing the door behind him just as thunder rumbles in the distance. It’s cooler inside, at least, and as Sam moves further into the house, Bucky figures he’s supposed to follow. He’s still not completely over his need to be a nuisance—or so he tells himself—so he goes slowly, glancing around at the house that Sam bought long after Bucky wasn’t a part of his life anymore.

Bucky knows it’s a completely different building, but part of him still expects that it’ll be the house that Sam grew up in, all warm wood and quiet chaos. Somewhere in his head, he thinks that if he just went up that staircase in front of him, he’d end up in Sam’s childhood bedroom, sixteen years old and laid out on the floor with the boombox between them, laughing at the dirty jokes that Sam heard in senior calc or trying to figure out just what the deal was between their grade’s latest on-again, off-again couple.

But this isn’t that house, Bucky reminds himself, and this isn’t back then. He’s not looking to go back in time; he just wants to go forwards, and he could if Sam would just cooperate.

“What happened, you get lost in that hallway?” asks Sam, when Bucky finally makes it to the kitchen. He doesn’t bother answering, but Sam’s back is to him, so there’s no way to tell whether he’s even noticed. “Hey, cream and no sugar, right?”

“What?”

Sam turns around with a mug of coffee in his hand, and Bucky’s pretty sure he can’t hide how he immediately perks up when the cup is set in front of him. For a second, he thinks about telling Sam that he does take sugar now, just to be contrarian, but then he remembers he’d actually have to drink it and throws that plan out the window.

“This is fine, thanks,” he eventually says, setting the envelope on the island and picking up the coffee. He hasn’t had caffeine since before his flight this morning, and he can feel the first sip right down to his toes. His eyes actually close for a second, and when he opens them, Sam is back on the other side of the counter, looking amused. There’s no mug in his hands.

“You’re not having any?” Bucky asks. “What’d you do, poison it?”

Even if he did, Bucky’s not convinced he’d be able to put it down. It’s really good coffee.

“I will,” says Sam. “But my Mama would kill me if I entertained company like this, so I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home; the view’s nice from the family room if you missed the water.”

He breezes out before Bucky can argue, his footsteps thudding up the stairs between one sip of coffee and the next.

After a moment of looking around incredulously, waiting to see if maybe he’s being pranked, Bucky decides this is just Sam trying to annoy him into leaving, and he won’t let it work. He marches into the family room just as the rain starts in earnest, and just to spite Sam, he turns his back to the French doors and surveys the rest of the room. There’s art hanging up, intermingled with family photos. Lumpy ceramics that are definitely grade school art projects sit beside beautiful crystalline sculptures, tall and spiky and somehow familiar.

Along one of the walls is the credenza that Bucky recognizes from Sam’s parents’ house, the one that Mr. Wilson had hauled home from an estate sale and refinished just because Sam’s mother had lingered beside it for a few seconds longer than anything else. It’s a different color now than it was before, but Bucky would recognize it anywhere. Sitting on top of it are what Bucky guesses are the important photos: Sarah’s wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson on the boat together, Sam with a toddler beside him and a baby in his arms.

Furthest to the left is a picture of the dock behind the Wilson house. Two figures sit at the end of it, leaning into each other in the sunshine. One of them wears a t-shirt, gangly arms braced behind them. The other has a letterman jacket on, and that’s what tips Bucky off when he picks up the frame to look at it more closely: that’s him and Sam, sitting out where they did almost every day after school. Sam had gotten his varsity jacket for the baseball team when they were sophomores, and Bucky was pretty sure he’d worn it more often than Sam had. He’d always liked the way it felt on his shoulders, and when fall rolled around and the wind blew in a little cooler off the water, Sam always passed it over to him without needing to be asked.

They’d gotten a little more refined, once driver’s licenses were acquired and curfews were lengthened. Sam would drive the Wilsons’ old pickup truck a little ways out of town, to an empty plot of land flanked by trees on one side and water on the other, and they would sit and soak up the wind off the water until they could both breathe a little easier. Bucky had started thinking of it as their piece of the island, the safest place he could ever remember being.

When the future had barreled towards them with no signs of stopping, it was where Sam had driven them, nothing around but the birds in the trees when he quietly suggested his plan for getting out of Delacroix and taking Bucky with him. Nobody else had been around to see Bucky fling his arms around Sam’s neck and whisper a muffled yes into his shoulder, either: both of them a little bit scared of the future but determined to make it better for each other.

Maybe they can be reasonable about this. Maybe he and Sam can look at each other and see exactly what the other person needs, the way they did when they were younger. Maybe there don’t have to be questions and discussions and the kind of passive aggressive emails they’ve been exchanging through lawyers for the past year.

The rain is still coming down hard, lulling Bucky into a daze, so he can’t be blamed for the way he startles when Sam’s voice sounds from behind him. He scrambles to grab the picture frame before it falls out of his hands, setting it down and taking a beat before he turns around.

Sam is holding the envelope with the divorce papers in his hands, but Bucky has seen his ‘I give up’ face and that definitely isn’t it.

“The entire year that we’ve been going over this, I’ve asked you the same question, over and over, and you’ve never answered,” Sam says.

“Fuck,” says Bucky, scrubbing a hand down his face. “This? Again?”

“Yeah, again,” says Sam. “Because if I’m getting a divorce, I at least deserve to know why. I deserve to know what changed.”

“I have told you every single time you asked, Sam. Nothing changed. Nothing changed, because this was never a real marriage, and you know that. We got married so we could both get the fuck out of this town, and so I could stop being so terrified all the time, and we did that, and now we’re done.”

Sam crosses his arms, setting his jaw, and it occurs to Bucky that this is the first battle of a long war. “We did all that fifteen years ago, easy. That’s not what this is about. What changed, Buck?”

But Bucky can’t answer Sam any more now than he could the first time he asked that question a year ago. He can’t remind Sam of all the things he missed out on because he was tied to Bucky, he can’t bring up Riley or Sam’s parents or all the little ways that Bucky managed to steal things from him without even trying, because Sam would never see it. Even now, squaring off against each other with no possible middle ground, Sam would never see it, so Bucky can’t say it.

“Just sign the damn papers, Sam,” is what Bucky says instead.

It’s the first time he’s ever evaded the question in person. Somehow when he pictured Sam reading all those emails and messages he’d sent, Bucky had never imagined a flicker of disappointment on his face, gone as soon as it appeared.

Sam turns to set the envelope on an end table and picks up a wristwatch from beside it, doing up the strap before he turns around again. When he does, he’s got a determinedly cheerful smile on his face, the kind that Bucky has always known meant trouble.

“Gee, Buck, I wish I could, but as it happens, I’m running late for something,” he says, with an exaggerated look at his watch. “Maybe later?”

He’s already heading for the door, leaving Bucky to hurry after him. “What do you mean you’re late for something? Where the fuck are you going in a hurricane?”

Sam snorts. “You’ve been away too long. This is barely even a storm.”

An enormous crack of lightning punctuates his words, and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“It’s a drizzle,” says Sam, pulling on a jacket. “And I have a date.”

Bucky is not entirely prepared for the feelings that those words stoke in his chest, but worse still is what Sam calls out before the door swings shut behind him.

“Guest bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the left. Don’t wait up.”

He’s not entirely sure how much time he loses, fuming in the foyer of Sam’s house, but eventually, that rage sharpens into something else entirely as he remembers what he yelled out standing on Sam’s porch half an hour ago.

He knows this town just as well as Sam does.

He knows this town just as well as Sam does, and unless fifty years of corporate development hit Delacroix in the last fifteen, there’s only one place to take a date if you’re an adult who doesn’t want to get accosted by the entire senior population of the island over the course of your evening.

Bucky pulls his keys from his pocket and and umbrella from Sam’s coat closet. If Sam means to drag this out, Bucky’s going to make sure he feels every single second, until he decides for himself that this marriage is more trouble than it’s worth.

(And if, before he leaves, he swaps his comfortable traveling clothes for a short sleeved button down that’s a size too small and not buttoned enough, well, nobody ever said Bucky was perfect.)

#sambucky #ok admittedly i lied emma did in fact cheerlead the writing of this and encourage me the whole way but what's new #this is truly just like. the opening half a chapter of this au but I have THOUGHTS #to be clear the rest of it is never getting written unless a miracle occurs #but here have this nonsense on the occasion of bonky's birthday #zainab does ask meme things #taylor swift prompt fics

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lullaebies · 8 months

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I’m sure you’re slammed with request, but if you find the time, I was wondering if you had any headcanons about what an argument for the helaegon family would like? And how you think that they would solve their arguments? Sorry if you’ve already gotten this ask!!!💓💓

I have not gotten this ask yet no worries <333 took me a while but got to it!

Helaegon Family in an Argument Headcanons

⇥ first of all, arguments in this family usually occur among three different pairs: Aegon II and Helaena (as the parents and decision makers), Aegon II and Jaehaerys (father and son chewing each other's ankles), and Jaehaerys and Jaehaera (if they have different perspectives about an issue and do not agree they can claaaash)

⇥ With Helaegon arguments, they don't fight in front of the kids, Helaena would death glare him if he even tries to open it by them, but they all know because helaegon fight as siblings do - its very clear when they are upset and even clearer when they start getting petty. The level of side eye is crazy. It could be over serious stuff or really small stuff but no can tell so you can feel the tension. The thing is with them is that they need the right amount of push (usually from Jaehaera who is septa Maegelle reincarnated, Daeron who is kinda like baby no. 1 and family therapist for all of the Greens but is brother, or Maelor who shuts down fights with only pouts), and also need a heart to heart where they can spill everything. Usually Aegon folds first to apologize, when Helaena is angry it's very present and very clear and his guilt creeps up on him, but Helaena would also apologize for any point she hurt him at the end. If she was the one who hurt him first somehow, she probably didn't realize what she said/did was hurtful and it would settle quicker because she would just settle it when she realizes her mistake. In these hcs they are kinda older so they just have understandings and are past having any explosive fights. btw Jaehaerys roots for his mom. Every time.

⇥ With Jaehaerys and Aegon they are the next in the generational family trauma line, so Jaehaerys ends up feeling a lot of what Aegon felt towards Viserys - he feels the neglect sometimes and although Aegon got a bit better as they grew and with Maelor for example its not really the same Jaehaerys still has some anger at him, especially when mom/Jaehaera/Maelor get hurt in the process. These two can end up fist fighting but usually it's petty shit like Jaehaerys bringing Aegon his glass of wine but accidentally dropping it like "oops I lost my grip" with his six fingered hand like 💀 Helaena and Jaehaera can conciliate in these matters, they usually do, but every now and then Aegon has a spark of "I fucked up but I still love you" and comes himself. He would ask Jaehaerys to go on rides with him on their dragons and talk somewhere a bit far away from KL or something like that, and the peace will be restored again. For a while at least!

⇥ And the fights of Jaehaera and Jaehaerys... it does not happen often. the twins usually get along very well, they have established roles in their siblinghood (is this a word? lmao) and they work very well together... but when they disagree, or when Jaehaerys teases Jaehaera too much, or when Jaehaera puts too much stress on Jaehaerys - practically fire in the house. They're younger and they can get into physical squabbles too when upset and namecalling and everything - the twins are usually considered very mature (read: repressed) for teenagers, but when they fight they become their most childish selves and all of their hurts get out. Helaena and Aegon would have to sit with them seperately and try to calm them down, Maelor is like ????? 'why do I gotta choose a side' and generally it's like a very weird split in the house and NOBODY likes it. It can last a while, but is usually broken when one twin sees the other too distraught, about their fight or about something unrelated. I think for Jaehaerys especially it would be hard to stay angry at Jaehaera because I hc him as a wee bit of a protective brother. Generally at the end they would have issues without the presence of the other and solve it - these two are very reliant on each other due to the family dysfunction, and at the end they find their empathy for each other once more.

⇥ Maelor doesn't get into fights. He ends them. When he's young, my guy will pull up a fairytale book saying "you shouldn't be mean to each other" with a cute face and no one can refute him. When he's older it can be the same but with an actual book of laws or philosophy Aemond/Daeron gave him and with actual clauses. He kinda mad they never fight in front of him though. "But mom it was just getting interestingggggg!! I'm not a baby anymore I have an opinionnnnnn I can weigh in on thisssss😭😭" Sorry Maely but you will always be baby.

#helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #helaegon #prince jaehaerys targaryen #jaehaerys targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #maelor targaryen #hotd #my headcanons #answered #team green

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mses-mist · 10 months

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Jegulus microfic

PRE-PARTY HANGOUT

It really doesn’t surprise James that his apartment is the designated pre-party hangout spot for the night. Sirius is in the bathroom with remus hugging sirius from behind, nose tucked behind sirius’s ear as he watches sirius do his eyeliner sharing a bottle of firewhiskey and soda. Sirius had offered to do remus’s eyes earlier, but remus had flinched and chickened out as soon as the eyeliner wand had gotten too close to his eye.

Peter is today’s designated driver and has been ready to go since he got here, sipping moderately at some fruit juice in a glass bottle and chatting with mary, who has also volunteered her car for the night. Marlene’s been queuing music from sirius’s phone for the past ten minutes, laughing at dorcas’s joke, but she’s also been downing a bottle of plain firewhiskey and she’s at least halfway through it, so james is about to be real worried about remus’s sensibilities with regards to whatever Marlene chooses to blast through the apartment.

James’s three beers down, swinging his legs in his desk, watching Regulus crouched in front of his standing mirror to do his makeup. Really, he could get sirius to do it for him, but this is faster, and less likely to start another petty argument between the brothers and it also means james can participate in at least three conversations at once with the door open like this, instead of having to watch remus and sirius be sappy lovey dovey couple.

"Evan sent you another Snapchat,” James tells Regulus, looking at the notifications. Regulus is busy trying to line his eyes without stabbing himself, so he just grunts.

“The passcode is 03271960,” he looka at regulus in the reflection of the mirror and grins. Screwing the brush back into the liquid liner and resting it on his thigh Regulus take another sip of his drink. James holds the snapchat up so Regulus can survey it. It’s a Evan classic: the outfit reveal, only this time Barty is standing with his chin on his shoulder and his hand on Evan’s bare stomach.

“He’s using the t-shirt I got him. Good,” Regulus says. James turns the phone back toward him and snaps a picture of regulus as he starts on the other eye. Regulus can see him typing, but there’s no reflex instinct to make him stop. James’s not the type of person who would do anything insane while holding Regulus’s phone. Weird how much he trusts him.

“James!” Marlene yells from the living room. “pandora says hi!”

“Pandora?” James responds back loudly, even though he knows it’s just a text. “Tell her she’s my favourite ravenclaw!”

“Second-favourite ravenclaw, ya little shitbag,” Emeline calls back from somewhere in the room, and James cackles wildly, hears Emeline laugh her high piched laugh, before her conversation turns back to something sensible and polite with Amelia. There’s a faint tinge of amusement to both of their tones now; and he can hear lily and mary laughing together, mary’s laughs coming short and breathy like she’s struggling to get them out around tears. Sirius is squawking faintly from the bathroom, which means they’re probably making fun of him, and James mourns missing out.

Regulus smears glitter on his face, carefully traces the shape of his cheekbones and the slope of his nose, adds a little in the dip above his top lip and then reaches for his mascara for a thin coat. James watches him as if he were watching Regulus perform open-heart surgery.

“Want me to do yours next?” Regulus asks

“No thanks. I let Sirius try once, but I really don’t like the way it feels on my skin.”

“Fair,” he squeezes his eyes shut spraying setting spray around his face, trying not to accidentally inhale it, “fuck foundation, actually, nevermind i look fine.”

“Reg” sirius yells from across the bathroom walking towards the room , and regulus cracks an eye open to look up at him, where he’s hovering in the doorway, “can I borrow your glitter?”

“Yea,” he extends the little bottle to sirius, who takes it, glances around James’s room, “somethin’ else?”

“Did I leave my hair-tie here? The red one with the little stars.”

“Top drawer of the desk ,” James gestures, vaguely to the designated sirius’s lost and found drawer, and Regulus rolls out of the way so sirius can access it. He rummages through, pulls up his hair-tie and snaps it around his wrist, before seizing a box of candies and reading the back.

“Were these any good?” He asks James thinks about it. It’s been a while since he’s ate any but when sirius turns the box toward him, his brain comes up with a pretty decent recollection of last time moony was green and almost threw up eating one of those.

“Yea, think so. Tho you should probably keep it away from moony he didn't really appreciate the wine-y taste it left on his tongue,” Sirius hums, pockets few, and then pats Regulus’s head on the way out of the bedroom.

"Sirius get your filthy hands off my hair. It took me forever to do it,” Regulus says, sounding aghast. Pushing sirius's hands away from his head, taking another swig of his drink,packing away his makeup.

"Come here, I'll fix it for ya" James says giggling.

“I'm starting to understand how your friendship works,” Regulus mutters,admiring his reflection on the mirror. James steps over him and tucks Regulus's makeup kit back into its proper designated shelf, and then turns and places a hand either side of Regulus’s thighs, gripping the seat of his desk chair and leaning in to accept the kiss Regulus places against his lips.

“you're so cute, reggie” James cooes, ducking out of the way of a head-smack.

“Nothing about me has ever been cute.”

“That’s cute.”

“Shut up,” Regulus shoves at his shoulder.

Regulus gives up and rolls away from him with a finality. James laughs, and re-routes to pick up Regulus's forgotten drink, wandering out into the living room. Mary and dorcas are watching Marlene try to teach them the choreography to some K-pop song that she’s probably learned from pandora, while Regulus helps sirius highlight his face with glitter, tongue stuck out between his lips. Remus and lily have both twisted in their seat to watch mary try to replicate whatever the fuck Marlene is doing while dorcas laughs from the couch.

James does what any good friend would do, when presented with a prime opportunity to catch up with their life-long friend: he takes several quiet steps forward and then leaps into peter’s lap. Peter starts, violently, hand instinctively coming up to grab at James as he laughs loudly.

“Fucking hell, Prongs,” peter says, but he’s laughing too, “way to give a guy a heart attack.”

“I missed ya, wormy,” James says, wraps an arm over his shoulders and squeezes him in a tight hug. Peter squeezes back.

“I’m like, an hour away, not dead,” peter sounds amused, gently clapping James on the back. “Thanks for invitin’ me out, though. Gets lonely up there sometimes.”

“You should move back in with us,” James tells him, watching as Regulus exits his room hair now decorated with the Star-shaped hair-clips and perches on the couch arm next to Remus, watching mary and Marlene with interest. “we still have the room unused since last you stayed”

“That’s sweet,” Peter says, “but if I’m ever sharing room with you three again, it’ll be too soon" he says pointing at sirius and james. "The two of ya gave me premature gray hairs.”

“Liar,” James sing-songs, gripping Peter’s chin and forcibly tilting his head his way “ya miss me.”

“Sometimes, yeah. When I’m having a shit day i wish you would be there to crack a joke or moony to offer me hot chocolate or pads to go on a bike ride that feels more lke a death ride”

“we are good at that,” James agrees, and the pair of them laugh. Peter squishes into one corner of the couch, James settles next to him, and then Regulus settles between him and remus, hooking one arm over James’s shoulders.

“Good to see ya again, Baby black.”

“Pettigrew,” Regulus says by way of greeting.

“You can just call me peter or pete,” he offers with a little laugh, “no need to be so formal, you are datin’ one of my oldest friends after all.”

“or wormy,” james says with a mock sniffle

“shut it, ya little shit,” peter pulls his cheeks, making james yell and lean back into Regulus, trying to shove peter away from him.

“Okay then,” Regulus says, “just peter. And please just call me… just Regulus.”

“Cool,” Peter says

lily calls for Regulus's attention “Remus was just tellin’ me about the topic he’s working for his class on how sexist stephen ki -”

And just like that they’re off, the three of them talking about literary forms that James couldn’t give less of a shit about. It still makes him warm, though, seeing that genuine sparkle of interest in Regulus’s eye as Remus gestures grandly and lily nods thoughtfully. Three different loves (Remus his bi-awakening, Lily his ex crush of many years and reg the love of his life) from three different path of life coming together and making each other happy. James excuses himself for a drink before he does something embarrassing like hug them all for no goddamn reason.

Sirius has now joined in on trying to learn Marlene's dance, and he’s dragged peter and remus into it too. Mary seems to be getting the hang of it the fastest, but she’s laughing so hard that the movements still seem kind of half-hearted. Remus is flashing James the ‘ fucking-save-me’ eyes, so James breezes through and slides both arms around his waist, walking away with the claim of super-secret roommate business.

The super-secret roommate business is actually just escaping to sirius and remus’s room to rummage through his personal snack stash while remus re-checks his hair to make sure non are as untames as james's. James selects some chocolate frog from honeydukes that remus likes, rips open the packet and sits on remus’s bed to offer him some. Remus bites off a huge chunk.

“So,” remus says, “Regulus.”

“What ‘bout him?”

“You have a sperate compartment for his stuff in your room now?”

#james potter #regulus black #marauders era #starchaser #dead gay wizards #james being james #the marauders #marauders microfic #lilly evans #mary mcdonald #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #dorcas x marlene #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller #peter pettigrew #this fandom has too many angst content so i decided to make some non angst for once #just the marauders era characters hanging out in marauders apartment before a party #i had this in my notepad for a while i believe i copied if off aome other fandom at some point but idk #just marauders being marauders #james has a separate compartment designated for people he is close to in his room if you couldn't tell #for someone who is like a open book james potter prefers to have his own space i.e. his room #and he only lets people close to him in there #jegulus microfic #jegulus fluff #regulus x james

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harpagornis · 1 year

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Phyrexia and Black mana

As much as this man was an entitled incel, he still believed in a specific philosophy.

Phyrexia in MTG has been tied overtly to Black mana. In old flavor all phyrexians were black aligned (barring a few errata'd ones) and even by the time of New Phyrexia, when Phyrexia had access to all colours, it is still predominantly in Black (though in Scars of Mirrodin Green was framed as the second most phyrexian color, and an All Will be One and March of the Machine White has essentially become the de facto phyrexian color after Black).

A lot of this essentially boils down to three things: "elemental" aspects of the color pie, old villains being mostly Black, and marketing.

Is Phyrexia a Black system/philosophy?

I'd argue no, not really. "Progressive evolution" as Phyresis means simply means acquiring perfection through mettalurgy (Blue) and eugenics through survival of the fittest (Green). Both new and Old Phyrexia had strict religious hierarchies and scriptures, so White always felt at home. Overally, I'd see Phyrexia as a civilisation as a dark take on Bant, which seems to be the direction New Phyrexia under Elesh Norn is heading.

Now, Yawgmoth WAS Black aligned. The Thran throughly depicts him as an entitled, narcissistic freak, and you can argue that by the later stages of the Weatherlight Saga he abandoned all philosophy for the sake of petty revenge. But given his philosophy at least in The Thran, there's an argument to be made that he is Sultai, since he does believe in phyresis in its eugenicist purpose.

Ultimately, Old Phyrexia was mono-Black simply as an extension of Yawgmoth, and even then I'd argue other colours were present. The pneumagogs, for example, were pretty white aligned.

The elemental reason

MTG may have complex philosophies, but often things are of a certain colour just because that color controls an element. This is why you often hear of "wet blue" among the vorthos, where giant creatures better fitting in Green are mono-Blue due to being aquatic.

Phyrexia is matter of factly an undead faction. Phyresis destroys the body and implicitly the soul (though the Pneumagogs and Jin-Gitaxias experiments show that the soul can be preserved), so a compleated being is always brought back as a husk via necromancy. Black is the colour of necromantic magic, so it makes sense Phyrexia is Black aligned due to that.

However, other colours have steadily have had necromancy. Best seen is in the Lorehold College of Strixhaven, where spirits are ressurected, the mummies of Amonkhet which are mostly white aligned (albeit thanks to some curating and embalming) and the various Blue zombies we've had since Innistrad. Both Green and White have ressurection mechanics, so it's not out of flavor to depict them as engaging in necromancy, albeit perhaps a more "bring back to life" style than Black's puppet style.

Thus, while the elemental aspect probably means phyrexians will always be at home in Black, other colours can do it too.

Fundamentalist Shenigans

During the late 90's/early 2000's, MTG banned demons due to evengalist protests. The satanic scare wasn't satisfied with Pokemon or Harry Potter, so even an innocent card game had to pay. On the plus side, we've gotten quite a biting satire in the form of the Church of Tal.

To replace demons, horrors became Black's iconics, replacing the satanic with the lovecraftian. And Phyrexia was horror-haven, so for a while they were depicted as THE Black aligned faction. This endured even well after demons returned to the game.

Note that White here is represented by an angel while Black is represented by a horror, presumably phyrexian.

Prior to phyrexian being a creature type, horror was the default type for phyrexian creatures, so unsurprisingly this further enhanced their image as horrorland.

Eventually, horrors would spread to other colors, and eventually so did phyrexia.

Tentative Steps

Scars of Mirrodin was when New Phyrexia debuted, the glistening oil charged with the mana of all five suns of Mirrodin. This meant a phyrexia now equally divided into five colours. Even then, there was still the overt connection to Black; all colours were given mechanics and effects more in line with Black than how they usually operate, and the default phyrexian token, the germ, was still Black aligned.

From Kaldheim onwards, Phyrexia has been become more "normal" mechanics wise, the only deviation being White having access to poison counters. The redesigned praetors are now not out of place for normal MTG cards of their colours, and the germ was replaced by the colourless mite as the default phyrexian token.

Conclusion

Had phyrexian been designed today, I guarantee a five colour menace would be there since day one. As it stands, we see a slow but meticulous process of lessening Black's role in the Phyrexian identity, and I hope more non-Black phyrexian cards are to come in March of the Machine.

#mtg #magic the gathering

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radishthefool · 1 year

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Kindness Goblins, Three-Leaf Clovers, and Mariana Trench Divers: About flooding the internet with words of kindness, calling out to the invisible majority of kind people, and finding each other at our lowest points.

I'm currently going through yet another episode of deep shit due to an unsnarlable mix of deep shits. I feel helpless and alone, and often it gets so bad that I end up having a nonverbal breakdown on top of everything else.

I realised one of the reasons that latter snarl happens is because my adhd masking behaviour becomes more and more untenable to maintain, and I end up either needing to write entire essays or not communicating at all.

And if I know the other side won't understand or maybe even read my essays because they're not familiar with neurodiversity, I lose all willpower and hope to even begin the unsnarling process.

So this time, I decided that my coping strategy was going to be to post kind and helpful and fun comments underneath youtube videos. I also call out trolls and bigots, and explain in excruciating detail why I think their comments are unkind. I call it being a kindness goblin.

Even if only I do it, and nobody reads them, at least I fulfill my urge to be kind and helpful. But already I've gotten comments back thanking me for writing a compliment, or sharing an idea. So already I'm cheering up some people or helping them.

For too long, trolls and bigots could foul up the internet unfettered. Despite not being fed, they thrived, and have now also contaminated the real world. Trolls and bigots could easily imagine they were the loud majority, and kind people felt invisible, isolated, and alone.

But if stupid trolls and bigots can change so much for the worse by repeating the same three flawed arguments over and over and never getting into actual conversations, and if the host of the waffle house can spread far and wide, then surely us kind and diverse and creative and empathic people can manage to start a movement towards a culture that is kinder and more fun. First on the internet, and then beyond.

And if I explain my goal in the comments and on tumblr, the kindness may even spread, inspiring others to be kind and helpful and fun. And then if comment sections are filled more and more with kindness and empathy and true attempts at connection and communication and helpfulness, surely that will have real-life effects further down the road.

I've seen kindness and (neuro)diversity going hand in hand time and time again. (Neuro)diverse people flock around kind and creative youtubers like Brennan Lee Mulligan and Dimension 20, Drawfee, and so so many youtubers/tiktokers who live in the art, diversity, feminist, and progressive corners.

We've seen what people can do when they're too sensitive to injustice and too aware of nitty gritty details to gloss over a company's attempt to replace an open-source agreement with a greedy stranglehold. Especially if they retalliate without having to fear for their livelyhood or safety, let alone their country's stability.

The current world calls out for that very same mix of petty, unrelenting, thorough consequences for those many petty, greedy, openly hostile and mean companies' actions.

We need visible kindness, we need to visibly try to help and support other people, kind people need to find each other and connect, we need to combine all our diverse forms of kindness and creativity to address the world's current infestation of meanies in totally new ways that don't have to involve violent revolution, poverty, and chaos. The many kind people don't need the few meanies, especially now that we have the internet to help and support each other.

So by now impulsively writing this rambling long text, I hope I can reach the people who already kind of think like me, who are used to having to work hard to understand and be understood. Who get me without me having to kindly and patiently work around bigoted insecurities, around translation issues between different modes of thought. And especially who don't require my unending patience and creativity to work around the privilege like the people who've never had to change anything about themselves to fit in, and now feel as if they have suddenly and unfairly come under attack when those who've worked so hard to be allowed to play along at the fringe in return start demanding a fraction of the effort we've been putting in all our lives.

Thanks to the Black Lives Matter activists, I realised black people asking and explaining nicely time and time again meant it was easier for those who are content with the current situation to ignore them. Most of us non-black people literally only heard them once they got angry. Some of us finally got it, many more responded to the perceived slight of their familiar and safe status quo with increasingly open and heartless viciousness.

I realised the same was happening to other non-white people, to women, to neurodivergent people, to LGBTQ people, to (mentally/chronically) ill people, to all those people who find themselves in multiple of these groups, or different ones altogether (to a lesser extent than the cruel effects of systemic racism on black people of course, but the process of exclusion is similar every time).

It was happening to me, and I had never realised that that was what was going on. The world sucks right now, and especially kind and (neuro)divergent people cannot ignore that pain and injustice. Either because we can't escape it, or because we can't forget it, or both. We feel bad, but a lot of that stems from us not being able to just continue on while the world is so bad.

I feel so angry. And so sad. For myself, but especially for all the other marginalised and excluded and suppressed people. And I will not stay conveniently invisible any longer. If I feel super bad because the world sucks, and because my body and brain suck, and because nobody around me actually helps me, and because I know there are so many kind people out there suffering at least as much as me, while maybe even blaming themselves like I did. Trying not to be a bother, like I did. Trying to get the people we (think) we depend on to finally get it when we explain it just right, like I did.

So I will speak up. Not as neatly and concisely as I'd like, because my brain and my body and my emotions are severely snarled. I thought I'd have to condense my entire adhd web of thoughts into a catchy single headline, or many neatly organised and well-structured chapters to maybe get to get one step forward. And I'd still like to do that. As you can maybe tell, I love writing (and when I'm not bone tired from everything, I can actually edit my writings very well).

But I know there are others out there who think like me, who will get me, or who are willing and able to work on getting me. And all I can think of right now is to throw out my snarled windweb on the internet, and hope it tangles with some like minds whose cognitive networks of associations and ideas and ideals can connect to mine.

I'm realising so strongly that the more I feel like I'm going off into the deep end, the more I'm actually connecting with my true self that's usually so well hidden behind that neurotypical mask that even I don't really know her yet.

And until recently I had no idea where I could find like-minded people. I had honestly given up on the idea that it is even possible for (neuro)divergent people like me to talk to people without exhausting ourselves and then still more often than not ending up disappointed because they still didn't get us at all.

And often, they were the ones who got angry or upset from that interaction. Because it 'didn't make sense,' because they didn't expend any effort to try and understand, because it was easy for them to turn around and just continue living their life as before.

But now I do know. There are so many similarly-thinking and/or similarly-feeling, and/or similarly-motivated people out there.

And if their minds are as associatively wired as mine, they will come across either this message or the ones hopefully following from and spreading outwards from it, and will spread their own messages that got inspired from reading these.

And if their thought processes work differently, but somehow their mind latches on to something I've written here, or something someone else writes or says or creates or does because of it, then these ideas and thoughts can get translated and transformed into other types of ideas and other forms of thought. And then we've got ourselves a stew going.

I hope that by bothering the world with my long-ass writings, I will find my fellow long-winders, wide-thinkers, and high-hopers.

So step one is being a kindness goblin in youtube comments. And I'm doing that. Step two was writing this, and I did it. I've been wanting to do this forever, but my (mental) health was never good enough for long enough to work on it consistently. To structure it properly. To develop the ideas in a sequential way.

But maybe it's better this way. My mind actually prefers working in many parallel and not-so-parallel processes at the same time. Of connecting and associating and spreading out and circling around points of interest and then reconnecting and rewiring but differently. But more.

I kind of like the idea of approaching these boringfied and invisibled world problems in my adhd way, just seeing where my thoughts and ideas and impulses takes me, and then watching what happens because of it.

After all, creativity does not happen after well-structured, logical, and well-worn sequential steps from a single rock solid axiom. It happens through a more divergent thinking process (which contrasts with convergent, more linear thinking).

Creativity happens if we allow our mind to meander, when we feed it with potentially connective thoughts and ideas and experiences, taking everything into consideration, not suppressing or dismissing the 'bad' or 'silly' options, trying to find new areas of overlap, of crossroads where diverse concepts can come together in new and previously unpredictable ways that only make sense once they've been connected.

For that, we need flexible, widely-connecting and widely-connective minds where many tabs can stay open. Mental systems that allow for empathy, uncertainty, comparison, connection, reasoning, feeling, and change. A mental network that isn't so strictly and narrowly wired that it can't accommodate any new information without threatening to collapse in on itself, thus triggering extreme reactions.

Step three will be adding some tags. Tag one will be 'kindness goblins.' I enjoy the image of many wildly different little creatures, hyperactive and stoic, flexible and stubborn, unpredictable and rigid, fast-talking and quiet, all of them unique yet unhasitatingly supportive. Our unified chaos would surely overrun and overwhelm lumbering trolls and rooted-in-place bigots.

Tag two will be 'three-leaf clovers.' Initially I just added that icon at the end of my youtube comments as a little present. A gift of kindness, and a small token of my appreciation for reading until the end.

But after another commenter asked about its meaning, I came to realize it's a beautiful symbol: three-leaf clovers are more common than four-leaf ones, but you'd never know it when looking at how often we see them represented online and in different media. Similarly, kind people are an invisible majority. There are more kind people than jerks, but you'd never know it from all the jerks we see online and in most media.

Tag three will be for people who are in the deep end right now, or know what it's like to end up there. I will call us the Mariana Trench Divers, because we go deep, explore all the nooks and crannies of our own minds and the entire world until we run out of breath, but we always end up coming back to give it another go up there.

Often those returning from the deep bring cool but weird stories. However, it can be disappointingly tough to find the people who will listen and care. Or who do listen and care, but that's it. Causing our stories to never move beyond these passive listeners. The stories run aground at the first stop.

There seem to be so few of us, and we've always been told we're uniquely different and nobody could ever understand us because our minds just don't make sense. So it's no wonder all of us feel like nobody else cares.

But I care. I love hearing new information, or old information but through a different lens, I genuinely adore weird ideas, unexpected connections, and unfinished thoughts. They get my own mind going. And then, if I can throw my own ideas and connections and experiences back into the mix, and then that gets absorbed in other people's mindwebs and gets their creative juices flowing, and those results come back around to me, and so forth, then I'm at my happiest.

And plenty of other people care as well. Did you know neurodivergent people make as much sense to each other as neurotypical people do to each other? It's true, researchers found that autistic people find it quite easy to communicate with each other. And I've experienced time and again that the same is true for adhd people.

And sure, those two groups, and all those other marginalised groups, can think very differently from each other as well. However, we can find each other in shared experiences, in a shared awareness that we need to work towards understanding and connection, in a shared willingness to actually do so, and a shared capacity to explore options of making it possible.

We don't actually have to fit in the world as it is now. It has been sterilised and monocultured until any trace of diversity and creativity and kindness has been driven to the fringes. Except the fringes are now online, and we can find each other, and all our beautifully different minds can surely come up with ideas that, compared to the boring, mind-numbing world of today, will be kinder, more creative, more diverse, and more fun.

☘️

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eristic-kaleidoscope · 1 year

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Glass Onion | Erik Azrael | Trial 1.4 | Re: Ae-ra, AIRika, Eureka, Eri

This marks the third time from the third separate person in the last twenty-four hours that Erik and AIRika are simultaneously accused for being closer than friends, apparently. Frankly, if it wasn't for the fact this was getting really tiresome, the thespian might have laughed at the literary significance of the rule of threes, especially given how hypocritical it all was that every single one of those people had someone they probably cared about just as much and would chomp at the bit to defend just as well. But he is really sick and tired of people accusing AIRika for simply existing, and also harping on him for wanting to defend people he cared about. What made him so separate from them? Just the fact he could articulate things politely without resorting to shouting and petty insults? Manipulating people with pretty words? Was that what made the fucking difference?

Sigh. Right now, he was just severely annoyed at the pinkette two podiums to the right. Both Eureka and Eri had gotten the point of his argument against accusing blindly across, at least, so he'd simmered down from boiling point a bit ago.

"If accusations based on assumptions are what you prefer, never mind the fact that you are, to put it, simping just as hard for Mx. Lapis and gutting me about it, then it stands to reason you will have no objection to us dropping the subject now that neither has panned out." And as much as the first source of anger had all the destruction and rage of a hurricane, the second source was the eye of the storm. Perfectly calm and placid on the surface, but bottomless in its depth. "Woe betide me to admit it, Eureka has gotten my implication that I honestly could not think of why Mx. Lapis would go through so much trouble to try and circumvent their restriction, only to be shocked if they knew something had a good chance of undoing everything they had worked for. And as I knew, and as Ae-ra has helpfully pointed out, Mx. Lapis has decent knife skills, which makes them going through this whole song-and-dance routine of sandwich-making even more suspicious in hindsight. They undercooked their fish, grated their cheese, and ate that with lettuce on bread. That is an observation, not any indication of guilt unless it means something to someone else here."

He sighs. "I am not directly accusing Mx. Lapis because those are circumstantial evidence pieces, and therefore they should be allowed to explain for themselves before we settle on anything. I do not intend to accuse them further until they have clarified Eureka's point." And Erik will magnanimously drop the matter at that.

"In the interest of transparency about the knife situation, you all saw me with the cake knife last night. I returned that to its stand after cleaning, and it was present this morning while I was cooking. When our group re-entered the Eatery to look around, all but the one knife was still present, so I imagine it was taken sometime during the investigation." He glances at the fallen plate. "Presumably, by Eureka to make her French Toast. If it is still missing, I can at least say that I am currently not in possession of any knives from the Eatery myself."

Erik pulls out his tablet. "I cannot comment on why her purse had blood over it, but I did want to bring up the fact that Miss Murphy's final letter in the Trampoline Room had been written and rewritten with some length, and the apples had been cut into but not eaten, perhaps because she was busy writing.. I may not have known her long, but I do not suspect in this environment that Miss Murphy would willingly enter a room with someone in it to write her letter since it was not meant for anyone else to see at that point. The only two people that I think she might have been comfortable with were asleep or engaged with Erik A at the time." He means Kaguya and Byrne. "With all sincerity, I do believe she was the one who brought the cutting board and fruits to the Trampoline Room a lot earlier, which matches up with the last time Miss Danger and Ae-ra saw her depart, the knife having already disappeared by then because she took it. Whoever entered next then sparked the chain of events that led us here."

#Azr #chapter1 #trial1 #submission

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uncpanda · 2 years

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Search for the Missing Child

Prompt: Forever and Ever Amen (One of my favorite songs) by Randy Travis

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem reader

Requested by: @roguesquadron11

“Hey, are you still mad at me?”

You glance at your husband in the mirror. He’s sexily casual in jeans and a tee-shirt. And the way the t-shirt stretches across his chest and outlines his muscles is really unfair. Especially when the two of you are in the middle of a fight. It’s a petty fight. A petty fight that got blown out of control. You can’t even remember what it’s about. You just know it ended with the two of you yelling at each other in the foyer after a family trip to the farmers market. Your only saving grace had been keeping the argument under control until you’d gotten home.

Dick, who has only been with you for around three months, had happily run up to his room after a day of family fun. So at least he hadn’t heard anything.

You look back at the water running over your fingers and splash it onto your face several times, washing away your face cleanser. You pat your face dry and begin to moisturize. You rub it in gently and methodically. A hand slides against your hip and you turn to face Bruce. His serious yet concerned face is on. “Sweetheart.”

You suppose it’s time to end the petty fight. You narrow your eyes, and then swipe a goop of moisturizer onto his face. He breaks out into a smile and tugs you to him by your hips as your arms snake around his neck.

He pecks a kiss onto your nose, “I’m sorry.”

“Mmm sorry too.”

You kiss him long and slow, and then move back to rub the moisturizer into his face. “Am I pretty now?”

You pat his face, “You’re always pretty. It is also nearly nine o’clock which means its’ time to tuck Dick in. You ready?”

He tucks you into his side and kisses your cheek, “Always.”

You make your way down the hallway while Bruce’s fingers dance under your shirt, or play with the top of your pajama pants. You push him away with a look and move knock on the door. You frown when you don’t get a response.

You knock again and then Bruce tries, “Dick, buddy are you in there? It’s time for bed.”

When you still don’t get a response you get worried. You jiggle the door handle and find it open. You peek your head in and call out his name. The room is empty and you feel your heart jump into your throat. You move further into the room, and you’re just about to start searching under the bed when Bruce says, “He’s not here.”

“How do you know that?”

“His bed hasn’t been touched since he made it this morning, he dropped the stuff for the farmers market on his desk, and his homework isn’t out. He always has his homework or a book out. Let’s start searching.”

After thirty minutes of searching you’re freaking out, and cursing Wayne Manor. When you meet up with Bruce in the dining room you’re near tears, “As soon as we find him, we’re moving somewhere smaller.”

Bruce, who is frustratingly calm, reaches out and settles his hands on your arms. He pulls you into his chest when the tears start to fall. You’d only adopted Dick three months ago, and while you may not be his birth mother, you already love him like your own. He had alleviated every fear you’d ever had about being a mother. He was the sweetest kid on the planet, and if something had happened to him you would burn the world down.

“We’ll find him. It’s going to be okay. Let’s search the west wing next.” You stick together as you search this time. Your sniffles fill the air, and then you hear very light snores. You’re filled with relief when you turn the corner and find Dick asleep in one of the window seats.

“Oh thank God.”

Your hands hover over him before settling on his shoulder and gently shaking him. His eyes flutter open and his face goes from peaceful to worried. He quickly schools it. Bruce catches it too.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Oh . . . I guess I should get to bed.”

You and Bruce share a look, and then look back at him. You’re a little hesitant, “Dick, sweetheart, is something wrong?”

“No. Everything is great.”

“You’re lying.”

Your mouth drops open and you turn and glare at Bruce. You swat his chest, “Could you be any more blunt?”

He winks at you, “I could try.”

“Are you guys going to fight again?” Dick’s little voice has the both of you freezing. You screw your eyes shut.

“You heard that?”

“Yeah. You guys were really mad. Are you getting a divorce?”

You spin to face him, “What? No! Why would you think that?”

He hesitates, before Bruce gently nudges him, “We can’t fix what we did wrong unless we know where we went wrong.”

Dick exhales, “Some kids at school call you Bruce’s trophy wife. They say he’s going to dump you once you put on a little weight.”

Bruce snorts and then he starts to laugh. You raise your eyebrows, “What’s so funny about that?”

“Just people thinking I’d be the one to leave. No one else can put up with my shit or emotional baggage. And to bring someone up to speed on it would probably leave them in the fetal position.”

Dick giggles at that and you roll your eyes, “Bruce is stuck with me Dick. We love each other very much and the kids at your school don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“They said you only took me in for publicity.”

Bruce snorts, “We don’t need anymore publicity. We don’t want any.”

“What about all the yelling earlier?”

You and Bruce exchange a look, and answer in unison, “We don’t even remember what it was about.”

“Really?”

You debate on how to explain, “Sometimes we argue. We can’t help it. It’s human nature.”

“But we can control where we argue. We’ll do our best to keep from doing it in front of you. Just know that I’m going to love her even if her hair goes gray.”

“And I’ll love him even if all of his hair falls out.”

Dick starts to giggle and Bruce keeps going, “I’ll love her for as long as old men sit and talk about the weather.”

You smile and wink at Bruce, “And I’ll love him for as long as old women sit and talk about old men.”

The two of you finish together, “Forever and ever amen.” And then you move and crush your son in a bear hug as the three of you all dissolve into giggles.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman #batman x reader #batman x you #batman imagine #DC comics #DC Universe #dc #dick grayson #nightwing #robin

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my-tin-can-mans · 3 years

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Gone Too Far, Crosshair x Reader

Soooo I'm thinking about writing another part to this let me know what you think, this idea had been festering in my brain for awhile now and I finally had the patience to sit down and write it. Also I got an idea to a Rex x reader one shot so be prepared for that soon if I get the motive.

Pairings: Crosshair x Reader

Warnings: None? Kinda Angst? I'm not sure.

It was late, incredibly late. And as the pilot of the Havoc Marauder, you had to be up early to take the ship out of hyperspace and land it. That meant you needed sleep, enough to at least fly a ship, but that was sounding impossible at this hour.

Wrecker and Crosshair were still up, bouncing a ball on a wall back and forth. You knew this because on the other side of the wall happened to be your room. Granted you shared it with Echo, but this noise didn’t seem to be a bother for him as you could hear his soft snores from the bunk beneath you. Unfortunately, as the two newest members to the bad batch, you both got to share the room closest to everything. Which meant when someone was up and moving around in the hull, you two were the first to know.

You huffed, raking your hand down your face, and throwing your GAR issued blanket off yourself. You climbed down the ladder trying to make as little noise as possible as to not wake Echo, but you were sure nothing would if he couldn’t hear the loud bounce against the wall ever thirty seconds. You quietly opened the door and walked into the hull. Wrecker was laying with his back against the floor and his feet propped up on the seat in front of him while Crosshair was sitting up in the seat beside his feet, infamous toothpick wedged between his lips and ball in hand.

The look on your face was not a nice one, and the two men knew that. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” Crosshair spoke as he went to bounce the ball again against the wall in front of him.

But as it started to bounce back you swiftly came in and grabbed it. “Hey” wrecker whined, “we were having fun.”

“Well too bad” you grumbled, “I've got to land this ship in less than four hours and if I don’t get any sleep, we’ll all be crash landing.”

“What does our ball having anything to do with your sleep?” Crosshair spoke up with a rather knowing look on his face.

“Considering the fact that it's bouncing up against the room I sleep in, a lot.” You cocked you hip and put your hand on it, threating him to fight back.

But it was crosshair you were talking to, of course he was going to argue. “it's just a ball princess, ignore it. You’ll find you sleep a lot better that way.”

“Damnit Crosshair can’t you for once think about anyone other than yourself?” you raised your voice, officially becoming a little more than frustrated.

“I still don’t see how you ever made it as a slave once, all you ever do is whine.” This hit hard. It wasn’t the usual back and forth banter between you two. It was way more personal than that. You’d grown up a slave and had eventually escaped with the help of the republic, specifically Senator Amidala. You two had grown close and you felt you had a debt to pay off the republic for saving you, but it wasn’t in the same sense as before, you were gracious for this, and she took you under her wing gave you a job in the GAR and you had a place to sleep and eat and free will. You were a great pilot; you’d like to think. You spent much of your time and a slave being forced to run spice. You knew how to get out of tricky situations. So, when commander Cody had seen you in action one day, he knew just the new position for you, pilot of clone force 99 because, with all due respect, Tech was great at many things, but your specialty was flying. And they needed a good flyer with all the close calls they had.

You hadn’t thought about that part of your past in a while. You were leading a good life now and had been trying to forget. As you stood there stunned by Crosshair’s words you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want him or Wrecker to see you cry, you weren’t that close with the bad batch to let down your guard that much, so dropped the ball that was still in your hand, and you swiftly turned to retreat to your room.

You managed to keep the tears in long enough to climb back on the top bunk above Echo and get situated. The ball had stopped bother you and it was dead silent for once, but you were never getting sleep now.

_____________________________________________________________

Your alarm went off, but it was useless. You hadn’t slept at all. You heard Echo starting to stir as well. You let out a sigh. Throwing the blanket off yourself again and climbing down the ladder. Echo was sitting up of the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his face. “Morning” he whispered.

“Morning,” you said back just as quietly, “Echo I need to change real quick do you mind?” you and Echo had gotten pretty close, but you still felt a little uncomfortable changing in front of him. It was the one thing that sucked about having to share a room, but he was always a gentleman about it, always giving you the privacy you needed.

“Of course not,” he responded laying back down and covering his face with his arm.

You switched from the old, battered shirt and shorts you owned to your flight suit uniform. “Okay,” was all you had to say to let Echo know you were decent. He lifted his head up and began placing his own amour over his blacks while you fastened you harness and put your blaster and a couple of other necessities back into their rightful place. The whole while Crosshair’s words from just a few hours ago played on repeat in your mind damping your mood for the day before it had even begun.

You were tired. You hadn’t gotten a drop of sleep last night and now needed to prepare the ship to drop out of hyperspace and land it. Although it wasn’t a hard task, very mundane for being a pilot, it still took a lot of focus, which was something you weren’t good at doing without sleep.

You walked to the cockpit with Echo. Tech was already in the co-pilots seat and Hunter was sitting in the seat behind him. You took yours as the pilot and Echo sat behind you. “We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace in 6 minutes.” Tech turned to you to say.

You grunted, beginning the routine of checking the hyperdrive and stabilizers. About a minute into doing this a mug of caf was harshly placed in front of you on the dashboard. You looked up to see who had done this and were unpleasantly surprised by Crosshair standing beside you looking down at you with a scowl to his face. “What’s this?” you asked like you didn’t know what a cup of caf looked like.

“Caf” he responded, sliding it closer on the dashboard to meet your face better.

“No thanks.” You said back, sliding it away from you and trying to focus on the blinking buttons ahead of you.

“Three minutes till drop,” Tech and interjected, popping his head around crosshair to give you a questioning look, “you ready?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, trying to get back to work with Crosshair still standing there.

You were hoping he would take the hint that you were still pissed at him and just leave you be, but of course that wasn’t the case. The mug of caf was slid back in front of you and you looked up again to see an even more pissed off crosshair than before. What was his problem? He insulted you and took it too far and now he was mad you were declining his caf? It was starting to make your blood boil too; you were the one that deserved to be angry not him.

“Look,” he said, “I made it just how you like it, two sugars one cream. I even put it in your favorite mug. Just take the kriffing caf.”

If this was some sort of pathetic excuse for an apology it wasn’t going to work, you were truly upset and a cup of caf wasn’t going to fix that.

“And I said no thank you.” You told him harshly and forcefully pushed the cup back in his direction.

You could go for a cup of caf right now, but you weren’t going to let him get away with this. He was always pushing your buttons, making snarky remarks at you and this time he had gone to far.

He huffed, grabbed the cup, and walked out of the cockpit.

Right on time, Tech and began to start the countdown to drop out of hyperspace and you now need to focus the most.

_____________________________________________________________

After you had landed you stayed behind in the cockpit, while everyone else around you had started to get up. You closed your eyes, leaning back in your seat and taking a deep breath. The day had just started, and it was already going horribly.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you jumped, turning to give the perpetrator a dirty look expecting it to be Crosshair again not taking the hint that you were still very clearly upset but softening when you saw Hunter instead. The sergeant of the bad batch and you had grown close, mostly because he could read you like an open book, whereas the others tended to not pick up and any hints that your moods had changed. “Mind telling me what that all was about back there?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you.

You signed and he went to sit in the seat across from you while you began to tell him about the incident last night.

“So he was trying to apologize to you this morning.” Hunter stated.

“Hunter, you know my past and the pain that comes along with it better than anyone else on this ship. I've reluctantly shared bits and pieces with all of you out of trust, for him to use that against me in a petty argument really hurts. A cup of caf isn’t going to make me forgive him, especially when I know he isn’t truly sorry.”

He sighed leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees to place his head in his hands. “(Y/N), I know you and Crosshair haven’t ever really gotten along but he’s not good at talking about things, I'm sure he truly is sorry, but him giving you a cup of caf is the biggest apology I've ever seen him give anyone.”

This whole situation was really one you just wanted to forget. But at this point you also just wanted an actual apology.

“Well he’s going to have to bite his tongue and do better than that.”

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #star wars tbb #star wars x reader #crosshair #crosshair x reader #star wars #star wars the clone wars #starwars the bad batch #angst #crosshair x you #clone force 99 #clone force 99 x reader #the clone wars #crosshair x y/n #crosshair angst #the bad batch series

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skeezsbbygirl · 4 years

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kiss it better + bang chan

hello lovelies! (づ￣ ³￣)づ

im back with another bang chan scenario <3 hope you guys enjoy this one!! (oh and tmt hit 1k+ notes ahhh thank you so much >.<, also i might be uploading a prince!chan fic soon, stay tuned sunshines)

STRAY KIDS EVERYWHERE ALL AROUND THE WORLD.

"Chris, baby, please."

It's been two hours, nearing three, since Chris decided to give you the silent treatment. The cause of your current suffering rooted from the events that took place last night.

A college friend of yours happened to be visiting the city, and what better way to celebrate a rare occasion than dressing up and going for a girl's night out with a bunch of your other friends. Chris happily agreed to let you go, he didn't need much convincing since he trusted you with everything and that included you getting home in one piece.

As the late hours of the night passed and shifted over to the wee hours of the morning, Chris grew worried, checking his phone for the nth time as he expected a call or text from you to reassure him that you were fine, or that you were at least still alive somewhere.

Fortunately, he managed to get a hold of your situation through one of your friends, credits to Jisung for grabbing her number that one time you guys set them up for a date.

"Hyung, she said that (y/n) got into a cab ten minutes ago," Jisung explained over the phone. "Her phone also died, so that's probably the reason why you haven't heard from her," he added.

"Alright, got it. Thanks, Ji."

Strike one.

Your drunk self thought that it was a good idea to call for a cab, even declining your girlfriend's offer to drive you home. You insisted that you were fine and that you would only derail their way home since your apartment's route leads to the opposite direction. So, in your semi-intoxicated state, you hopped into a cab and made your way home.

Strike two.

You came home last night, struggling to keep a certain level of sobriety. Heels in one hand and your clutch in the other. You weren't completely hammered, but it was still enough to piss Chris off as he took in your drunken state.

Strike three.

Nevertheless, Chris patiently took care of you. He helped you out of your clothes, took your makeup off for you, and tucked you in bed with him.

You could've gotten away with what happened, until your hungover self decided to betray you.

When Chris sat you down for breakfast, he managed to ease in the happenings of last night, carefully bringing it up as to not agitate you or make you feel like he's blaming you for going out and having fun.

He was just worried, especially having known that you went home all by yourself without even contacting him.

"Baby, you could've borrowed one of your friends' phone and asked me to come pick you up," Chris sighed as he reached out for your hand, placing his on top of yours, his fingers tracing circles on your skin.

"I know and I'm sorry, but can you just scold me later?" you said, your tone a little harsher than you intended it to be, probably due to the lingering headache and side effects of your drinks last night. You felt like your skull was being split into two and you just wanted to eat and recover in silence.

"Babe, I'm not scolding you. I was just-"

You cut Chris off. "Alright, I get it, you were worried but I took care of myself. So let's just argue later, yeah?" you snapped.

And you're out.

Upon hearing your reply, Chris' jaw clenched, visibly appearing offended and irritated. He retracted his hand from yours, opting to cross his arms over his chest.

You bit your tongue when the words you spat out finally settled in. It sounded wrong and you definitely shouldn't have said that. You readied yourself for the argument that was about to ensue, but nothing came.

"Okay."

That was all he said before he stood up and left.

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization that slapped you back into reality, the ugly outcome of your sudden outburst.

You were about to get up and follow Chris to apologize, however, the sudden throbbing pain in your head disabled you from getting out of your seat. Instead, you were forced to sit back down and wallow in guilt.

And that's how you ended up getting the silent treatment.

You left your boyfriend alone for a few hours, hoping that his anger would dissipate by the time that your hungover got better. But much to your dismay, he wasn't having it with you.

"Baby, can I come in?" you knocked on the door of Chris' home studio.

Silence.

"Chris, baby, please," you tried again, but you were still met with silence. You let out a sigh as you ambled back towards the living room, deciding to just give him space and talk it out whenever he's ready.

Chris was naturally a forgiving person, a little tougher on his members, but a complete sweetheart when it comes to you. So when he gave you the silent treatment for the very first time that day, you didn't know what to do.

So, you waited.

A couple of hours passed, three and a half, now, to be exact, you heard Chris' door unlock. You immediately perked up at the sound, quickly scurrying on your feet to meet him.

"Chris, I'm sorry," you apologized with your head hung low, eyes on the ground, and fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

Nothing. Nothing, but the cold breeze of Chris passing by, giving you no due attention. He sauntered towards the kitchen and opened the fridge, paying more attention to the cold food items that were displayed in front of him.

How you wish you were the half-eaten cheesecake now, huh?

Having enough with his torturous act, you were set on using the two tricks you had up your sleeves -- 1) faking an injury, as petty as that sounds, you were desperate, and 2) luring him with something he likes, be it an innocent gesture or a daring one, you would practically do anything at this point.

With your first plan in mind, you crept up behind him and positioned yourself near the edge of the marble kitchen island, placing your hip at the sharp corner so that it would appear as if you bumped against it.

From a third person's point of view, you probably looked stupid, scratch that, you did look stupid, but you were set on breaking Chris' silent streak.

"Ah!" you yelped in pain, hands quickly coming up to clutch your right side. You dropped on the ground, still maintaining your hold on your "injured" torso.

As soon as you cried out in pain, Chris hurried to your side.

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked with a worried expression plastered on his face. His cold demeanor immediately melting once he saw you clutching your side. "What happened, babygirl?" he crouched down to meet your level.

"I accidentally hit the edge of the counter," you said. "Come here, baby," Chris placed your arms around his neck as he scooped you up from the ground, carrying you bridal style towards the living room.

"Show me where it hurts, love," Chris ordered as he sat you down with him. He carefully moved you on his lap, making you straddle him.

"Right here," you pointed towards a random patch of skin on your right side. Chris placed his hand over the supposedly injured area, gently soothing it with the warmth that radiated from his palm.

Adding the icing on the cake, you hissed in pain as his hand came in contact with your skin. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I got you," Chris cooed as he planted a kiss on your cheek, in hopes of making you feel better.

He lifted your shirt up a bit, allowing him to inspect for any cuts or damage to your skin. "Do you want me to go get an ice pack?" Chris offered. "No, it's fine," you replied.

"Alright, just tell me if need anything," Chris responded as he leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your exposed skin, tugging your shirt back down as he pulled away.

You nuzzled your face into his neck, in an attempt to conceal the grin that was forming on your lips. Completely fooled by your actions, Chris continued rubbing your side as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"Does it hurt anywhere else, baby?" Chris asked and you nodded. "Here," you pulled away from him and pointed towards your chest. He shot you a puzzled look, confused as to why your chest would hurt when you claimed that you bumped your side.

"Because I was trying to apologize to my boyfriend a couple of hours ago, but instead, he gave me the silent treatment," you pouted.

Chris bursted out in laughter as he heard your response.

"It's true. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he locked himself inside his studio. Totally unfair and uncalled for," you continued and Chris shook his head in disbelief, his laughter coming to a stop as he calmed down.

"I could say the same thing about what happened last night," Chris challenged, raising one eyebrow at you.

"I'm sorry. I know I was being stupid. I should've called you or at least shot you a message from my friend's phone to let you know that I was coming home late. I just thought that if I called, I was going to end up bothering you, considering that it was such an ungodly hour," you explained, fiddling with the string of his hoodie.

"(Y/n), you could never be a bother to me," Chris said, "And did you honestly think that I could sleep knowing that you were out there?"

"I was so worried about you. Thank Jisung for having one of your friend's number because I was this close to losing it," Chris stated.

"I know. I'm really sorry," you pressed a kiss to his lips. "I promise I won't do it again, forgive me?" you added, pecking his lips once more.

"I can't stay mad at you," Chris let out a defeated sigh. "Of course. I forgive you, babygirl," he gave you a small smile.

You cheered and pulled him in for a hug, momentarily forgetting about your said injury.

"Do you feel better now?" Chris teased as he poked your sides, making you jolt in surprise. "Christopher!" you squealed, bursting in a fit of giggles as you realized that you've been caught red-handed.

Well, at least the intentions of your plan worked.

"You know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures," you shrugged and Chris chuckled in amusement. He leaned in and gave you a kiss.

"You're lucky you're cute."

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